#anyway yeah this is a post-arkham look the next morning

[talesfromthenorsesmouth]

fucking uhhh obsessed with the possibilities of this as a riddler look, suit jacket + jeans, leg warmers, boots, the look of a man who is having to put his attempt at a criminal empire back together for the nth time, starting with his wardrobe, keep on keeping on Edward

[thequeenxofhearts]

Jason Todd x Reader | Recovery 2/3

SUMMARY: Reader is home from the hospital, but now has to recover from the injuries, and emotional trauma.

WARNINGS: This chapters talks more about readers injuries, but not in full detail.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be two chapters, but I decided to write a third, which will be up soon!

WORD COUNT: 1284

Previous chapter: https://thequeenxofhearts.tumblr.com/post/620167346577965057/hospital-jason-todd-x-reader-13

“Hello, and welcome to Good Morning Gotham, I’m Sarah Howard. It has been nearly two weeks since an explosion in a small house outside Gotham City took the life of Y/D/N Y/L/N, and police Commissioner, James Gordon, confirmed that the explosion was caused by a bomb, left by the Joker. Y/D/N Y/L/N’s only daughter Y/N, survived the explosion, but has been left with severe injuries. Mr Y/L/N’s funeral was held yesterday at Gotham Cathedral.”

You heard Jason mutter something from the kitchen. You didn’t hear what it was, but you guessed it was probably something about the news; he hated the news.

“Gotham’s own Batman has been seen around the city every night since the explosion, as the Joker has yet to be arrested for the crime. Other vigilantes, including Nightwing, Red Robin and Batgirl, have also been seen searching for the clown. But question is, will they find the Joker before he kills someone else?”

You heard Jason come in from the kitchen, he snatched the remote off the arm rest of the couch, and he changed the channel.

“You shouldn’t watch the news, baby. It’s all lies anyway.” He said, and he put the remote onto the coffee table and returned to the kitchen, leaving you to watch the cartoon he had put on, Tom and Jerry.

Normally you wouldn’t have minded watching cartoons, you and Jason got up early on Saturday mornings to watch Scooby-Doo, Tom and Jerry, and Sylvester and Tweety Mysteries, but since you had been out of the hospital, Jason had been extremely protective, and he hadn’t left your side since you came out of the hospital.

He did not like to leave you on your own and had only been out on patrol once since you came out of the hospital, but he came home early when you didn’t answer your phone. Leaving Nightwing on the roof of Wayne Enterprises, Jason raced home thinking the worst had happened, but when he arrived at the apartment, he found you asleep in front of the TV.

Your arms were still bandaged, and they had to be covered with burn cream every morning, afternoon and evening, as well as your legs but you were grateful that the burns on your legs were not as bad as the burns on your arms.

Jason made sure your cream was applied and you took your antibiotics. Jason has been looking after you every day, and he never failed to do anything for you. Every morning he made you pancakes with strawberries, blueberries, and chocolate sauce. At lunchtime, he would make you a sandwich, or sweet potato fries, or he would cut up a watermelon and you would watch TV together, maybe a movie or watch cartoons. At dinner, he would make you your favourite food, or he would order take out; Big Belly Burger and Dominoes Pizza were always your first choices.

You were grateful to have Jason, and have the care he was giving you, but you missed your dad dearly. It had been less than 2 weeks since you lost him and you were not expecting the pain to go away quickly, but it made it harder to carry on when the news were reporting about it 24/7.

“Do you fancy going for a walk later, Babe?” Jason asked as he plopped onto the couch next to you.

“I don’t know, Jay.” You responded. You had not been out of the apartment since the incident, only to go to your doctor’s appointment, you had another one due at the end of next week.

“Come on Y/N, you need to get out of the house.” Jason replied, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, and Bats will be out on patrol tonight.”

You sighed, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Of course, you are, you’ve been out to go to the doctors.” Jason replied, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek.

“That’s different Jason.”

“How?” Jason asked.

“People will see me.”

Jason sighed, you looked away from him and stared down at your bandaged arms. “Hey, everything is going to be ok.” He said softly.

“What if reporters see us? You know what they’re like, Jay.” You replied.

“Sssh.” Jason pulled you in close to him and you wrapped your arms around him. “You’re going to have to get out of the house at some point, it’s not good for you to be inside all the time.”

“Things are different now, Jay.”

“How so?”

“I’m not the same.”

“Do you think I care about that?” Jason asked, “You’ll always be my Y/N, everything is going to be ok.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss your cheek. You smiled.

“Alright?” He asked, you nodded, “That’s my girl.” He smiled.

Jason’s phone began ringing, he had left it on the kitchen counter, he got up to get it. You looked up when Jason said, “Hi Bruce.”

You studied Jason’s face while Bruce spoke, you didn’t know what he was saying and all Jason kept saying was ‘uh-hu’, ‘yeah’, ‘ok’.

You weren’t sure if it was good news or bad news, you wondered if it was even about the Joker, or maybe it was something else entirely.

Jason hung up the phone.

“That Bruce?” You asked, Jason nodded, “He and Tim are going out soon, they think they’ve found where the Joker has been hiding.”

Your eyes widened, and you sat up, “Where?” You asked.

Jason chuckled, “If I tell you, you’re going to want to find him yourself, aren’t you?” He asked, you shrugged.

“Baby, listen, Bruce will find him, he’s going to take him back to Arkham when he does, and then you won’t have to worry about him.”

“He’s gotten out of Arkham many times before, Jay.” You added.

“I know, I know.” Jason said, lowering his head. You knew Jason wanted to kill the Joker, you could tell just how furious Jason was at the hospital when Bruce had explained to you both what had happened on the day of the explosion.

You knew Jason would have searched for him by himself and killed him too.

“What if he gets out again?” You asked. “Then I’ll talk with Bruce and make arrangements for him to be taken to a more secure facility.”

“You wouldn’t kill him?” You asked.

Jason looked away from you, he stared down at his hands. “I’d want to.” He muttered. “After everything he has done, all those civilians he’s killed, he��s killed me, almost killed Barbara, almost killed you.”

You studied him. His hands were fisted, and you could see his jaw was clenched, “Do you think Black Gate could hold him? Or Belle Reve?”

Jason shrugged, “If they can’t, then I’ll kill him.”

 A few hours had past, and you had fallen asleep on the couch after Jason changed your bandages.

Jason stood in the kitchen, waiting for a phone call from Bruce or Tim, regarding their capture of the Joker. He stood at the kitchen counter looking through a cookbook, wondering if he could make something out of there for dinner, or just order from Big Belly Burger again.

As he was flipping through the book, his phone rang.

“Bruce?” He asked, followed by a sigh, “Ok, I’ll be there soon.” And he hung up.

 He stared at you for a few seconds, deciding whether he should wake you up, or just leave you sleeping, and leave a note on the table.

“No.” He muttered and began to gently shake you awake.

“What is it?” You asked tiredly.

“Bruce and Tim caught the Joker, they’ve got him at the GCPD.”

You jumped up from the couch and put your coat and shoes on.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART FIVE: LIBERATION

Story Summary:  They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Trigger Warning: Mention of suicidal thoughts, blood, stalking, assault, and explicit language

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Word count: 5414

When her alarm sounded on the morning after her weekend, Elianna was under no circumstances ready to wake up. Vaguely ominous dreams had plagued her for the third night in a row, and although she couldn’t recall a single detail, they had left a looming sense of foreboding hanging over her head.

Unhungry, she decided to skip breakfast and took advantage of the extra time that the decision bought her after getting ready to pick up a coffee from the shop down the street from her apartment on her way to work.

The uneasy feeling redoubled as she parked in her spot and shut off the car. “Something bad is going to happen today,” she said aloud to herself. “But at least I can be ready for it.”

She picked up her week’s schedule from the front desk, and one glance over it told her exactly where the trouble would come from. Her first session of the day was with Zsasz, right in the morning. She sighed when she saw it and shook her head, thanking the receptionist begrudgingly, and made her way up to her office.

Upon arriving, El retrieved her notes from the other day to look over them and compare them to the pre-existing information in Zsasz’s file. A knock on the door caught her attention, and she looked up at it, lifting herself out of her seat with a sigh. Opening the door, she found Jonathan on the other side and let herself relax.

“Good morning, love, come on in,” she welcomed distractedly and stepped aside to let him in. Looking at his face, he seemed as tired as she felt. “You look terrible, Jonathan, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not much,” he admitted as she returned to her seat, and he settled into the guest seat opposite her. He cast a weary look around her still bare office. “Knowing you, I thought you would have decorated a little more already.”

“Hm?” El asked distractedly, looking back up from her notes. “Oh, yeah, I just haven’t thought about it much, I guess.” She looked around at the naked walls for herself. “Although now that I am, I suppose I’ll bring some stuff tomorrow. Care to help me?” She leaned her weight upon her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on the lattice of her fingers.

“Do I have a choice?” He cocked an eyebrow, to which El smiled in response, absentmindedly noticing once again the way the light would catch in his eyes with the slightest shift of his head.

“Of course you do, but if you loved me, you would anyway.” She gave a wide, innocent smile and blinked sweetly at him, earning an eye roll and a tiny smile in response.

“Oh, and who says that I do?” he challenged.

“Well, there’s me, of course,” El began, counting off on her fingers, “and the fact that you made extra sure that the warden would read my application so that I would have to come here and work with you. So there you have two pretty solid sources, but I’m sure that I could think of more if that isn’t enough.”

“Alright, alright, you’ve got me, you win,” he replied tiredly, raising his hand for her to stop, to which Elianna chuckled softly, before finding her attention back on Zsasz’s file. “What are you so distracted by?”

“Ugh, just my first session this morning.” She sighed, shaking her head and beginning to gather everything she would need into her briefcase; she had fifteen minutes, and she liked to be early to things. “Have you ever worked with Victor Zsasz?” El asked her friend as she stood, to which he shook his head and stood with her. “Well, wish me luck and hope that I don’t get killed next time he decides to escape.” She opened the door for Jonathan to leave first and followed him into the hallway.

“Well, I don’t have any appointments scheduled until this afternoon. Want some company?”

“Please.” The pair started down the hallway to the stairs. “So how’s…our mutual friend? Is he the reason you didn’t sleep well?” El inquired, looking to change the subject.

“Mostly. I also had some paperwork to finish before the weekend was over, and that took a while.” They chatted about Jonathan’s disorganized work habits as they followed the stairwell to the third floor.

Waiting for them were the same three guards from the day before. Once again, one posted himself at the glass—now joined by Jonathan—and the original two accompanied Elianna inside.

“Good morning, Victor. Sleep well?” She asked politely as she took her seat and once again removed her notepad and pen from her briefcase along with her trusty voice recorder.

“Like a rock, doctor. That’s the upside of a padded room; you can get comfortable anywhere.” Oh, that voice. Once again, El found herself fighting off a shiver.

“Why don’t we pick up where we left off a few days ago?” El suggested amicably and made a small note when she didn’t receive an answer. “How about you tell me what made you begin liberating people?” Immediately, Zsasz’s mood shifted; he clearly loved to talk about himself. Narcissistic??? El scribbled in her notes as he began to speak.

“One might say that I had it all,” he mused. Oh, dear, thought Elianna, he’s rehearsed this too. “Wealth. Family.” The word fell to the table and dripped with sarcasm. “Until one fateful day, my dear, sainted parents died in a boating accident. Consumed with grief, I soon gambled all that wealth away, and made my solemn way to Gotham Bridge.” The lilting of his voice reminded El of a dramatic narration over a soap opera. “As I prepared for the plunge, I was confronted by a homeless gentleman with a knife, who demanded I give him all of my money. Of course, I had none left, but he simply wouldn’t believe me. A struggle ensued, and I ended up with the knife.” The memory makes Zsasz smile dreamily. “I stared that man in the eyes and saw the meaninglessness of life. The desperation, the hatred, and the hardship that I felt in myself, and I realized something…significant: it’s all for nothing. You could say, in a way, I owe my existence to that man. With that first kill, I became what I am today.”

“I see. May I ask you a question, Victor?” El looked up from the diligent notes she had been taking during his story.

“Isn’t that what you’re here for, doctor?”

“Well, your work liberating people gives you a purpose of sorts, doesn’t it?” Zsasz remained silent, but his eyes narrowed, and his smile faltered slightly. “To your mind, it gives your life meaning. In which case, life can’t be meaningless. In fact, I could argue that my purpose is to tell you this now, couldn’t I?” She hadn’t meant to get philosophical, yet there she was anyway.

“Very well spoken, Doctor Montgomery,” the criminal’s wide grin picked back up, and something in his voice had changed. Once again, the feeling of impending danger spiked, and El rose to her feet slowly in preparation to make for the door. “However, if that’s the case, then that would mean that your purpose has been served, wouldn’t it?” Suddenly, Zsasz lunged over the table, cuffs flung to the floor, and El heard one of the guards shout ‘he’s got a knife!’ and on instinct, her arm flew up to cover her face as she stumbled backward. A slicing pain rippled through her forearm near her elbow before the guards had a chance to catch him, and at the moment, she found herself stupidly upset about her now ruined yellow shirt before kicking herself mentally. That isn’t even close to important right now!

Forcing herself back to the situation at hand, Elianna fumbled to open the door behind her as her escorts surged forward to subdue the enraged Victor Zsasz. An alarm suddenly blared through the asylum when the outside guard pressed the emergency button beside the door, the sudden noise making Elianna flinch hard.

When she finally managed to wrench the door into swinging open towards her, El practically fell through it, and Jonathan was already there half supporting and half dragging her into the hallway as the third guard rushed past them into the room to help his peers. “What the hell happened?” She demanded, defensively angry. “Why weren’t his damn cuffs secured?” El felt herself trembling as her mind raced, gradually realizing that she had been in danger from the second she entered the room. Was it his sadistic enjoyment of suspense, or his desire to talk about himself that had kept her safe for that long?

“I don’t know, whoever brought him in must be helping him,” Jonathan explained breathlessly, raising the redhead’s arm to look at the gash. “This looks bad, come with me,” he did a good job of hiding the distress in his voice for his friend’s sake but kept a firm grip around her shoulders as he escorted her to the infirmary.

As soon as they walked in, a nurse was there to greet them, having been informed of the situation.

“Is it bad?” El asked the nurse, who shook her head.

“It’s a shallow cut, nothing to worry over. I’m going to clean and bandage it, and you should be good to go.”

“He went straight for your throat.” Jonathan recounted. “If you hadn’t thrown your arm up so quickly-” he shook his head, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t want to think about it,” El closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “At least we know I have good reflexes,” she added quietly in an attempt to lighten the mood and earned a smile from the nurse as she began wrapping a bandage around the wound. When she finished, she handed El a spare roll.

“You’ll want to take this one off before you shower and rewrap it afterward to be safe, but it should be alright in a few days.”

“He’ll be assigned a different doctor by tomorrow,” Jonathan commented as El stood, and she looked at him sharply.

“What? No!” she exclaimed, her adrenaline still pumping, and Jonathan looked at her as though she should be admitted. “I want to keep working with him; I can’t just let my first major case go like that!”

“Absolutely not,” he argued firmly, keeping his voice steady.

“We can have extra security next time, and have them double-check the-”

“No!” El stopped in surprise. He had never snapped at her like that before. He sighed exasperatedly. “Look, it isn’t up to me, the administration won’t reassign you to his case, but even if it were, there’s not a chance that I’d let you back into a room with him.” El stared him down defiantly, but upon seeing his resolve, she gave in.

“Fine.” She conceded begrudgingly. “I’ll just find another way to prove myself.” Jonathan nodded in response.

“That’s much better, and you will. Now come on, you’ll have to make a statement and fill out a report.” El nodded, and they made for the warden’s office together. Unfortunately, the pair needed to pass through the corridor in which the session had been held. It seemed that Zsasz had put up quite a fight; he had only then been successfully subdued and was being escorted back to his cell surrounded by guards (several of whom looked worse for wear) with three pairs of cuffs securing his wrists. A small crowd had gathered in the hall of people curious about the disturbance, forcing Elianna and Jonathan to stop as the twisted parade passed.

Zsasz caught sight of Elianna as he was marched through and grinned at her, forever unblinking. “Leave your door unlocked for me.” He taunted, earning a hard shove from the guard nearest to him. Jonathan stared the criminal down and put his arm around El’s shoulders protectively, pushing through the crowd and pulling her back into motion.

“You’re not going home.” His tone of voice left no room for protest.

“Fine, but I need to get some things first.”

“Then we’ll take tomorrow off and buy you whatever you need, but you can’t go back to your apartment for a while.”

“Jesus, fine,” El said exasperatedly. “When did you get so protective anyway? You’ve never been like this before.”

“When the only person I give a damn about was almost killed in front of me for the second time, now stop arguing and just keep walking.” Despite her displeasure of being chastised, El smiled to herself. She had gotten him to admit it openly when she wasn’t even trying. That in itself registered as a small victory in her mind.

Without another word, she did her best to match her pace to his much longer legs, clinging to his forearm in an attempt not to fall behind.

“Welcome to Gotham,” she muttered to herself and shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Gotham badly needed saving from itself; that much was clear to her. Only one question remained: who was going to do it?

.xXx.

Despite Jonathan’s insistence that she was to drive straight to his apartment when they left work, Elianna made an executive decision to go and get what she needed from her place first; she couldn’t let Jonathan buy her all new things when she could just get what she needed in ten minutes. She was sure that Zsasz would be heavily guarded that night, and she would call Jonathan while she packed to justify her actions.

“Jonathan? Don’t be angry; I’m just packing a few things, I promise I’ll be in and out.” There was an angry sigh in her receiver as she unlocked the door.

“Check every room first.” He instructed, knowing that he couldn’t convince his friend to get right back in her car.

“Yes, boss,” she replied sarcastically but did so anyway, thoroughly checking every nook and cranny. “All clear, everything is fine.”

“Stay on the phone while you pack, put me on speaker.”

They stayed on the phone, and in just a few minutes, she had everything she needed to stay with Jonathan for a week and was locking her front door as she left. See, love? Everything is fine.

“I’m on my way to the car now. I’ll be there soon.” She assured Jonathan. Satisfied that everything had gone smoothly with no further need of his supervision, he wished her a safe drive there before they hung up.

Once outside, she held her pepper spray firmly in one hand and her car keys in the other. It was dark out now, and even in the chaos of Gotham, the darkness drew out more crazies than the daytime. Once her keys were securely in her right hand, she returned her attention forward, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she breathed to herself and ducked behind a car. What she had seen was the distinct and unmistakable figure of Victor Zsasz turning from the sidewalk and into the parking lot, moving directly toward her building. A hundred questions hurtled through her brain: How had he escaped so quickly? Was his escape route in his cell somehow? How could he have gotten away from Arkham without being spotted? How had he learned where she lived? How many people were helping him on the inside, and who were they?

It was too late for her to do anything about it now, but God help her, she would track down whoever was responsible for this monumental screw up first thing in the morning, and she would make them sorry. But first, she needed to focus on avoiding the unthinkable.

Swallowing hard, she did her best to shove down her terror and quiet her breathing as she peeked up through the windows of the car she had hidden behind to track Zsasz’s progress. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, and for some reason, all she could think of was that goddamned Poe story. At that moment, she abandoned her atheism and begged desperately to God or anyone listening that he couldn’t hear the wet thumping of her heart over the echoing sound of his careless footsteps.

Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! —no, no! They heard!—They suspected!—They knew! Again! Hark! Louder!

Louder!

Louder!

Louder!

As the solitary figure steadily approached the alligator green sedan that Elianna had found herself crouched behind, she slowly crept around toward the front of the car opposite him so as not to be seen. He passed the rear bumper close enough that she could hear him humming contentedly and breathing in the “fresh” Gotham air as though he were on a simple, pleasant stroll, and not on his way to construct his most recent gruesome crime scene.

I should have listened to Jonathan.

When El finally made it to the opposite side of the car, and Zsasz seemed a safe enough distance away, her heart leaped at the thought that she was in the clear—freedom! Safety!—and she was just standing up to break for her car, only a little further down the row, when her bag—my fucking duffle bag!—swung off of her shoulder and down her arm, swinging hard into that ghastly green car.

In slow motion, she watched the contact, unable to move to stop it, and jumped as the car alarm went off. Her head snapped back up just in time to see Zsasz spin around to observe the sudden disturbance. The fear rolling off of El was palpable as she watched in real-time Victor’s recognition of her face, his target, his victim, his newest zombie. His bald head turned almost skeletal as his grin built slowly, steadily transforming into the most horrifying thing that Elianna had ever seen.

“Doctor Montgomery! Is this a bad time?” He had already begun strolling toward her, to which El began walking backward shakily. “I’d like very much to discuss my philosophy with you.” The gash on her arm was throbbing, a reminder that she hadn’t escaped her last encounter with Zsasz unscathed. And here she had no guards.

“You see, since you obviously didn’t meet your death in that dismal room,” here he paused to laugh, “the universe is off balance!” He declared grandiosely, spreading his arms wide and tipping his head back as he continued. “How can things function properly if I allow a zombie to escape her fate?” His words filled El with heavy dread, rendering her muscles useless as he came closer and closer despite the screaming need to move, to do something!

She couldn’t help taking a mental picture of the moment as he continued steadily toward her. The tableau was almost cinematic: the dingy, yellow street lamp between them hummed loudly as it strained to stay on, and the resulting shadows were starkly black against the pavement, so sharp it was as though they had been stenciled on the ground; to say nothing of the man—the beast—that came toward her, almost Lovecraftian.

Thin, and stretched up tall compared to her small frame, the skin stretched tight against the sharp bones of the face beneath it, the bald head and teeth prominently displayed in a deranged grin reflecting the sickly yellow light, reminding El of how horribly insane the creature approaching her really was. Not to mention the scars—oh God, the scars!

The slim, raised tallies that marred his skin seemed ironically countless, and they almost glowed in the light of the bright moon and the stale light from the street lamp, and those eyes just continued to stare, as unblinking as ever.

Elianna processed all of this at once and was suddenly struck with the realization that if she didn’t act right then, she would be reduced to nothing but another of those haunting, alien marks; a trophy.

The thought hit her hard enough to release her from her stupor—just in time!—and raise her arm, releasing a stream of pepper spray into what was hopefully the direction of those too-big eyes as she turned on her heel and sprinted as fast as she could toward her car.

The wild laughter from behind her told her instantly that she had fully missed her target, and she pushed herself faster. Something struck her in the back of the knee, and she didn’t have time to wonder what it was as her head hit the ground hard, her hands scraping against the asphalt when she was sent sprawling. She groaned at the burning in her forehead, and something warm dripped down her face. If I can just get to my car, was her only thought as the pumping adrenaline took over, compelling her to start to her feet.

A cold hand wrapped around her ankle, and without thinking, she kicked out hard with her other foot. Something that felt like a nose cracked under her heel, accompanied by a sharp grunt of pain and the hand loosened, so she struck again, earning her a cry of agony and a free leg. Elianna scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, not bothering to look behind at the damage she had dealt, focusing all of her energy on stumbling to her car. Get to Jonathan’s now.

Suddenly, a large, black mass swooped over her head, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground hard and another cry of pain from Zsasz. El risked a glance behind to see a figure shrouded in black yanking Zsasz to his feet, and that was good enough for her. She finally fumbled her way into her car. She didn’t know who the hell that was, and she didn’t care to know. She peeled out of the parking lot, wiping at the blood dripping into her eye.

She checked her reflection in the visor mirror at a stoplight to assess the damage. As was to be expected, she was bleeding profusely where her head had connected with the asphalt. She tried not to worry too much; head wounds always bleed more than seems necessary. Even so, looking at her reflection made her lightheaded, the sight of asphalt sticking in her skin, and her hair matted with blood. She slammed the visor shut, and when the light turned green, she drove as quickly as she could to Jonathan’s apartment.

I almost died twice today.

As soon as she parked, Elianna snatched up her bag from the passenger seat, and for reasons that she didn’t quite understand, locked the car eight times before running into the building and then the elevator as fast as she could. Once inside, she pressed the button for her desired floor and then jammed the 'close door’ button frantically, bouncing anxiously as it made its slow ascent—can’t they make these things any faster?

As soon as the doors opened enough for her to slip through, she sprinted down the hallway, miraculously keeping from tumbling over on the way. She needed to get to Jonathan’s door now, every second that passed inciting more paranoia of some fresh horror presenting itself.

By the time she made it to the right door (a ten second run from the elevator), there were tears in her eyes, and she knocked frantically, needing for him to open the door right this damn second, Jonathan Crane!

Luckily, he seems to respond to the urgent knocking and flings open the door in seconds, the confusion written on his face quickly replaced by shock as he ushered her inside.

“Elianna, what the hell happened?”

“You were right,” she breathed, shutting the door quickly behind her and locking it. “You were right. I-if I hadn’t been on the way t-to the car already….” A tear slipped out of her eye and down her cheek as she finally began to process that had happened.

“Okay, okay, come on,” Jonathan took her bag and her purse from her and set them on the floor. “Bathroom, come with me.” He led his still trembling friend into the bathroom and helped her onto the countertop to get a better look at her head, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Just don’t let me die, okay?” Elianna hadn’t even meant to speak, and nearly didn’t recognize the meek voice as her own.

“Not a chance, just hold still,” he replied as gently as he could, using a sterilized wipe from the first aid kit beneath his sink to carefully brush out the bits of asphalt from her bloodied flesh. Her eyes closed in pain when he moved on to cleaning off the mostly dried blood. “Okay, it isn’t as big as it looks,” he reassured her when he could finally see clearly; he was able to cover the source of the bleeding with a large bandaid. “There, you’re okay.” He concluded the treatment by gently dabbing antibacterial goop onto the divots left by the asphalt down her cheek.

She dropped her freshly clean forehead onto his shoulder when he finished. The light was so bright, and unsurprisingly, her head was killing her. Oh my god, if I had hit much harder, it might have.

“El?” He asked, resting his hand on the back of her head, worried that she had fallen unconscious.

“Lights.” Quickly catching on, he helped her off the counter and guided her back into the living room. She laid on the couch with her eyes shut tight as he went back into the bathroom and proceeded to make far more noise rattling about in the medicine cabinet than seemed necessary.

“You can have Tylenol.” She opened her eyes and sat up to look at the two little pills offered to her in his palm.

“Tylenol? Are you f-” El cut her off and forced a deep breath, taking the medicine from him. “It’s better than nothing. Thank you.” She didn’t even wait for water before she took them.

Jonathan sat on the couch by her head and guided her back into a horizontal position, guiding her head gently onto his lap, knowing that she found the intimacy comforting (regardless of his lack of understanding for it), while she closed her eyes again.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I know.”

After a minute, he turned on the television with the volume low and began to run his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and El risked a look at the screen just in time to see Zsasz’s mugshot on the news.  The sight made her nauseous, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.

Almost immediately, she began to sweat. Her anxiety quickly rocketed almost out of control, and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe as her chest tightened painfully. “C-can you feel yourself going into shock?” She asked meekly. She had meant it to come off as a joke, but unable to achieve that goal, she realized that it was a genuine concern.

“Deep breaths,” Jonathan replied calmly. “Put your feet on the armrest; you need to elevate your legs.” She did so without arguing, doing her best to keep her breathing deep and steady. “You know, you should consider yourself lucky, El.”

The statement hit her hard enough to make her forget her anxiety immediately, and she took a long, shaky breath before sitting up, swinging her feet to the floor so that she was sitting next to him properly.

“How. Could this possibly. Be lucky?” She asked slowly, doing her best to remain calm. “I have been attacked, threatened, slashed, bandaged, stalked, and practically bled out all today.” She had started slowly but found herself steadily speaking faster and louder. “I think most people-no actually, everyone on Earth would not consider that lucky, except for you. So why the hell are you smiling right now, Jonathan Crane? Do you think this is funny? I could have died tonight!”

“Of course, I don’t think it’s funny that you were attacked again. I just forgot how entertaining it is when you get angry.” For a moment, El stared at Jonathan, baffled by what he was saying, before hitting him with a throw pillow, to which he looked almost offended.

“It’s not entertaining, you bastard. Not now, in this circumstance!” She swung the pillow at him again, and he jumped up, ducking out of the way when she threw it at him instead.

“No, El, look,” he raised his hands in surrender, doing his best to backtrack and catching the next pillow that was flung at him. “You managed to escape Zsasz twice. Both times, on sheer dumb luck. Before today his mortality rate was 100%, so yes, that’s what I call lucky-don’t you dare throw that at me.”

El froze her with her arm up, ready to hurl another pillow at his face. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She reluctantly dropped the pillow back onto the couch, and he relaxed.

“Fine. But you’re making dinner all week, and tomorrow you’re going to find out who let him escape so that I can shatter their kneecaps. What?” She asked in response to the puzzled look on his face.

“Weren’t you going into shock a minute ago? How are you fine right now?” He put the back of his hand on her forehead as though to check her temperature, to which she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away.

“Through denial, all things are possible, love.” She paused for a beat before adding, “if I say that out loud, do I stop being in denial?” More to herself than to him. Another pause and then, “can we have pancakes for dinner?”

Jonathan stared down at his friend, a little impressed by her sudden resolve, before conceding and walking toward the kitchen.

“As long as you make that hot chocolate that I like.”

[middlearthmerchant95]

like hell; ch1

“You’re crazy...”

“So are you sweetheart”.

Jerome Valeska x OC

Summary: The Maniacs of Gotham, a load of bullshit in Grace’s eyes. That is until she’s one of them. But what peace can she find among monsters just like herself? A monster she wishes she wasn’t. But a monster that someone loves..

Word count: 3,667

Rating: Teen/Mature

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, Arkham in general (insanity kind of stuff)

A/N: This story is literally 2 years in the making and I’m finally starting to post the chapters. I know everyone is all into Jeremiah now (love him) but this story was started a long time ago and I know we all still love Jerome so. I hope everyone reads it and enjoys it, my writing has really improved and I’m so proud of this, I hope you all like and reblog it. It’ll be an ongoing story so be ready. XOXO

Good behavior. That’s what this was. Staring down at a silver square plate that consisted of brown mush, saltines, and room temperature tap. This was my reward for good behavior. After months of complying, taking my meds, and staying quiet when I wanted to scream, I was written off for having this so called “good behavior”. But the more that phrase crossed my mind the more unreal of a term it really seemed. Like all things in my life I guess.

But despite the less appetizing and probably unedible meal before me, I was happy. Happy because my meal wasn’t slid under the door in the pitch black, happy because when I heard a voice nearby it wasn’t the sad realization of it just being in my head. Because this was the goal on my slow and lethargic mission to good behavior: being released from solitary confinement. And as I sipped on my stale water with the rim of the thin paper cup almost soggy against my lips, I couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with my accomplishments.

“No, no! Shut up, n-not now!”

I turned to my left at the voice beside me, a frown forming on my face as I overlooked the lanky man as he tried desperately to cover his ears.

“Bunny, keep it down. If the guards hear you yelling at the voices they’re gonna throw you back in, you know what happened last time..” I explained to him gently.

He shuddered in his seat, scratching at his arms while he looked at me with wide worried eyes. “I-I know, I know G-Gracey.. They just keep talking and, I-I dunno” he stuttered out. I watched him while he rocked back and forth on the bench, peering over his shoulder every now and then to get a glance at the guards. If he got any more anxious then it wasn’t going to turn out well for him.

“Hey, cut it out. Sit still freak”.

A guards first warning. Which meant the next one wasn’t gonna be any nicer.

“I said sit still freak!”

“P-please! Leave me alone please! I c-can’t help it!” Bunny wailed, his body now violently rocking back and forth. The guard came out of nowhere in the corner of my eye, appearing behind Bunny, and the moment my eye caught a glance at the taser in his hand I turned my head as quick as I could. But when the taser reached Bunny there was nothing I could do to not know it was happening, the sounds of his screams and the zap from the taser was just enough as the guards dragged him away.

Closing my eyes for a moment I let everything slide away, letting out a slow breath as the moment evaporated like swallowing a dry pill; slowly and painfully. I dropped my face into my hands while I looked down at my half empty cup of water. Even if things started out good, it would always turn out bad some way. This place was a perfect example of that. When I came in they wouldn’t stop preaching about there being hope, that no one was excluded from it and help was always going to be available to us. But it didn’t take long to learn that it was all just bullshit. There was no hope. At all. We’re all just as insane as when we came in, lots of us even worse. And now look at Bunny, a good morning and a good afternoon just for it to end with more pain and suffering. No one to soothe his cries, no one to dull his pain, just a straight jacket and some drugs to aid in all of his problems. And somehow, my cup looked even emptier…

I wanna leave.

Stop. Not now I don’t wanna hear it.

I shoved the thought away as quick as it came and as hard as it tried to linger. The one thing these drugs couldn’t fucking get rid of. And for someone who’s been here 5 years you’d wonder why I had those thoughts anyways.

Pushing the thought even further back I finished off the last of the mush and crackers on my plate and swiftly slid off of the bench; it was probably best for me to be somewhere else now, somewhere where my thoughts couldn’t bug me..

My rested legs took me where I needed to be, walking down the long, cold, guard lined hallway away from the rec room and into somewhere much more warmer and a lot more appealing. At least to me. The one inmate who visited it.

The Arkham Asylum Library. Well, more or less. It could easily be, Arkham’s Book Cupboard, but it was something. And I appreciated it nonetheless.

It’s only been established for 3 years, but still, it seemed to be my only salvation in this hell hole. The one place where I could reach out beyond the confines of these walls and into somewhere better, somewhere where I wasn’t insane, or angry or scared. It was a salvation to me. And today as I looked it over while I stood in the doorway, it seemed to look a bit brighter.

The walls were the same: cold, gray and dank. The six book shelves were draped in a fine blanket of dust that was still unbothered, but there were tiny details I could spot that told me things were different, better in a way. But I was the only one who came here anyways so of course I noticed. Tucked into the far corner of the room now sat a soft worn in leather chair, and next to it a dark green reading lamp, its glow making the chair look even warmer than it should be. And while these both added to the otherwise dull environment, it’s not what caught my eye in the first place. I walked till I stood right before the book shelf, the dust mixed with the old book smell heavy with my senses. Then my gaze found it, six brand new books settled right in front of me on the middle shelf where it was once empty.

I reached out to run my fingers down the spine of one book when a soft voice called out and stopped me in my tracks.

“I see you’ve found our new arrivals already”.

My hand dropped and I turned to the doorway, Ms.Claire the librarian standing there with her small arms wrapped around a book and the peek of a smile on her face. “Anything peak your interest?” She asked coyly.

“Mm.. I’m not too sure yet” I replied.

Her eyes turned down to the book she held then looked up at me with a confident smile. “Well, maybe this one will”. She came over to me briskly, her eyes down at the book, uncaring of my own actions like most of the staff here. All of them are slow and careful walking up to me, eyes trained onto me like a guard dog. But not her, she’s the only one not scared of me. I couldn’t thank her enough for that alone.

“Open your hands” she said. “And close your eyes”. I did what she said, and before I knew it a heavy book was placed in my hand; a hardcover, I could feel it, so it was even heavier than it looked. “Now open and look down”.

What happiness I could have I was feeling right now. An abnormal warmness in my heart that thrummed gently, only stopping for a moment as I took in the book in my hands. It was big of course, and the hardcover looked brand new. And in large beautiful shiny words along the top it read: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The fourth book in the series, and the one I haven’t read yet..

I couldn’t think of anything to say, I really couldn’t, it all seemed lost in the moment. This was a book I wanted to read for so long, it almost feels like a past life with how long it’s been. I was supposed to have read this book long time ago… “I.. I don’t know how to thank you” I muttered softly.

“You don’t have to Grace” Ms.Claire told me sweetly. “I know how much you liked all of the fantasy books we have and.. Well I thought maybe this one might be your favorite in the end”. She smiled brightly at me and gave me a soft pat on my shoulder before peering over her shoulder, a guard lingering in the hallway like a hawk. She turned to me and sighed “well, I guess I better get back to work before they think I’m trying to help you escape”.

Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

“But why don’t you get started on that book okay? And I’ll see you later Grace”. As softly as I could I smiled back at her as she left, the guard taking one last glance at me before leaving with Ms.Claire down the hallway. I sighed. Alone again.

Forget about me?

Shut it. It’s time for me to actually have some peace and read this book. Get my mind away from you and this place.

K.. But I’ll be here when you need me.

With a huff I fell into the leather chair and opened up my book, it’s crisp edges calling me to a different world. Oh, and I don’t need you.

* * * * * * *

Some things you never forget how to do, like riding a bike. For me it was two things: using a gun and falling into the story of a book.

Really, for Harry Potter it wasn’t all that hard, the story was so easy and fun to follow that it felt like I was reading it for hours. But I think it was only one.

“Ay, that’s him right? That one that killed his mom in the circus? Crazy, spoiled ass brat”.

“I’d shut up if I were you rookie. That kid hears you talking about him like that, and you’ll be mangled up in a heartbeat. Don’t underestimate the inmates here. You give em the wrong look and you’re done”.

I craned my neck back to look at the hallway, seeing if I could get a look at who those guards were talking about, but nothing. They must’ve been closer to the rec room. Which means whoever they were talking about was in the rec room. Killed his mom in the circus? Hm. Whoever it was, I didn’t know them. Must be someone new.

“Fine whateva’. But he better watch out for me” continued the first guard.

“Yeah, sure” scoffed the second one.

Averting my attention back to my book I tried to drown out the rest of the conversation and outside noise. I wasn’t that much in the mood to hear gossip about some psycho kid.

You’re one to talk.

“Ms. Porter, it’s time for checkup”.

I snapped my attention to the doorway to find Hanson there, one of the regular guards around here who often took me back and forth to my room. He wasn’t too bad I guess. But on the days when I had checkup.. I really did hate him. He was like the bearer of bad fucking news. And as much as I didn’t wanna put my book down, I knew I had to. I was good remember?

“Sorry Grace, I gotta take ya over to the doc today. I know you don’t like it” he said with a frown.

Damn, it’s like he read my mind.

But I just shrugged and put my book away, moving towards him with my wrists raised as if on cue. “Nah it’s alright kid, I don’t gotta handcuff you today. Doc’s orders” he told me. I raised a brow at him but didn’t question it, I wasn’t gonna argue about not being handcuffed. But at the same time, I guess the feeling was the same as having your last meal before you go to the electric chair; a nice gesture for something so fucking awful.

The walk there was dreadful but familiar. Always the same. Cold and expectant. But the walk back.. Always different, and always a little piece of me gone as I came back.

Hanson left me with a pat to my shoulder though I barely felt it as I stood in front of the cold metal door before me. It was like my unconscious was getting my body ready for the numb pain that was about to proceed upon walking through the door. God, how many times I just wanted to run away from this… The only thing keeping me here was what they told me. That I was doing good, ‘good progress’ they said…. Somehow I was almost starting to believe them.

*Beep Beep Beep*

The door unlocked with a click and the doorknob turned and opened, but I kept my eyes down, like always.

“Hi Grace, come on in”.

I looked up under my lashes like I always did at my doctor; hesitant and compliant. And my doctor stood there with her clipboard in hand and her brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, looking like an angel of death or something. She always looked so innocent and kind, but with the way she opened up old wounds, it was like she held a scalpel instead of a pen and paper.

I took my usual seat across from her desk and waited for her to start. The anticipation was always the worst part. Or maybe that’s just how I felt every time I was in here.

“So. How are you feeling today Grace? Are you having a good day?”

I shrugged, trying to relax at the same time. “Yeah”.

She smiled then jotted something on her paper and continued. “And how have you been sleeping?”

“Fine.. Not too bad”.

Again she jotted something down. “And have you been dreaming?”

This time my answer didn’t come quick, I was silent. And she pressed on. “Any nightmares Grace?”

I bit my lip and let my eyes travel around the room, knowing I had to answer the question but doing anything to avoid resurfacing the shit I had to see in my sleep.

“Yes” I finally muttered.

She nodded and wrote something down, her face careful and considerate. “It’s been a while since you’ve had any huh? That’s good”.

All those damn drugs is why.

Not now.

I nodded, knowing exactly where this was going. And like usual, never ready for it.

“Okay Grace. I want you to do your best and tell me everything you can remember from it. Just take your time. We’ll get through this..”

What a bullshit lie. Here we go..

“Was it about your father?”

Gracey, it’s okay honey.. It’s okay. Daddy’s okay, Daddy’s gonna be okay…

My head felt like it took a beating from a metal pipe as I made my way out of the room, everything thudding and booming around me. It felt like I was half awake, the nightmares still looming in and out of my head while my vision tried to focus in on the ground in case I tripped over myself. Fuck it was really bad this time…

Maybe they should give us some drugs for after those mind fuck sessions.

The only thing you’re right about..

I’m right about a lot of things actually. If only you’d let me have some control some times then-

Fuck you. The day I let you out is the day I’m really fucked.

Is that really so bad? Do you really wanna be so normal?

“Whoa, whoa, Grace. Hey, kid you okay?”

My vision came back into focus of the hallway and found Hanson crouching to my level, his expression slightly worried as he looked me over. Did I look that bad?

“You look like you’re gonna fall over, maybe you should get some rest?” He asked, but was quick to answer for me. “Yeah, let’s get you to your cell kid”.

I nodded as best as I could, feeling more fucked up than anything else, but still attempted to thank Hanson for being so kind.

The new set up in Arkham, and a pointless one at that, was that inmates had to constantly be signed in and signed out of the rec room or wherever if they weren’t in their cells. And the process was ridiculous with how many fucking inmates there were. But it was made worse when I saw who it was signing people in and out, the only bitch whose sole purpose of this job was to flirt with Hanson at any given moment. So lucky for me, I’d be waiting here a while.

“Hey Hanson, working hard huh? I wish they’d give you a break hon”. Here we go. Just like I thought. Fucking bitch.

Five minutes passed and I was still standing there. Still listening to this bitch’s terrible attempt at flirting while she slowly paged through the list of names. And all the while I could feel myself getting more pissed off.

Ooh, you haven’t been angry in a while.

I know I haven’t. It was probably that fucking doctor making me worse. Or… No. I can’t think like that. It’s just the after effect… That’s what she said, it’s.. Normal.

Whatever you say. But I say, you act on it. Shouldn’t be keeping things bottled up..

Again, I’m not taking advice from you. The last thing I need is someone fucked up giving me advice to do bad things. Remember? I’m not that person anymore.

Oh but you could be…

“Hahahaha! Wow Richard, I had no idea you were so funny!”.

Jesus Christ, who’s fucking obnoxious laugh is that? I spun around on my heel to face the rest of the rec room, my knuckles whitening as I did so. With how shitty my head felt I really wasn’t in the mood to listen to some bitch cackling…

Me either. Maybe you should fix that..

I was expecting to turn around and find some bitch sitting at the bench behind me laughing  in my ear just to annoy me, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But the entire rec room was empty, all except for one little group smack in the middle of the room, all closely sat together, minding their own business… What the hell?

For all the weird and abnormal bullshit that happened here in Arkham, sitting with people together as a group, actually conversing with them was probably the weirdest. No one here willingly spoke to someone else, let alone sit in a group with them. Most inmates were too far gone to even give a shit. Some of them just too far gone.. It was just so… Odd.

Another horrible laugh rang out then, the same one; loud, proud, and obnoxious. My eyes darted to the direction of the group it came from and landed on a head of wild blonde curls, her head tilting back as she laughed again while she gripped onto the smiling man next to her. He looked pleased with himself, smiling smugly at the giggling blonde girl beside him. God did she sound annoying… Though from the looks of everyone else in their group they didn’t feel that way, all eyes on them like they were their leaders or some shit. It seemed ridiculous considering the setting we were all in, there wasn’t much point in looking up to someone just as crazy as you.

Couldn’t that just be it though?

*Sigh*. Couldn’t what be it?

Maybe they’re not looking up to them because they’re just as crazy… Maybe they’re looking up to them because they’re even more crazy. I mean, it doesn’t seem that weird. Not in our case anyhow…

Whatever. We’re all fucked up. I just hate the idea of followers; no independence, no strength, always being someone else’s puppy.. I mean, just look at this fucking group. All of their eyes on them like they owned this place, it was so-

Hm. Not all of them after all… Interesting.

I thought for a moment, if there was ever a time in my life that I could remember when the feeling of someone watching ever creeped me out…

It didn’t.

So when I found a pair of eyes on me the feeling I got wasn’t from fear or worry, it was different, and I couldn’t explain it.. And that pissed me off.

He’s young… Guess you’re not the only wacked out kid in here.

He was young.. My age even. Pale with red hair. God his hair is red… With green eyes. Eyes that never left me, or at least… Didn’t want to. What’s his fuckin problem?

I tilted my head to the side, beginning to not like the idea of him staring.

Well then maybe you should stop checking him out and go ask what his fucking problem is.

Fuck off, like that’s what I’m doing. It’s not my fault he can’t stop staring… But now it started to feel like a competition, both of us not giving up on this bullshit little staring contest. He was enjoying it I could tell, the little glint in his eyes gave it away. But enjoying what I wonder.

“Alright Grace c’mon, sorry for the wait”.

Hanson appeared then, keys in hand, his body now blocking my view of the boy. Good riddance, I thought. He adjusted the gun holster around his waist then glanced back over his shoulder, right at the group. “They giving ya trouble Grace?” He asked.

Hanson moved his body just enough to where I could see the boy again. He looked at Hanson, just briefly, then looked right back at me. A smile peaking at his lips. I just glared back, and his smile grew.

I thought of Hanson’s question and answered as honestly as I could, another chill running up my spine.

“Not yet”.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 42

Hi guys, okay this one I wrote quite quickly and tbh nothing really happens in that is particularly exciting but I wanted to write this scene and its already 2000 words (probably because I describe things waaaayyy too much) so I'm going to cut it off here otherwise it would be a really long part.

So anyway, yeah, sorry it's not particularly exciting - the next one will have the Joker and probably be a bit more interesting!

Enjoy anyway! :)

As always let me know if you want to be tagged!

Masterlist

 I sat in silence as Frost drove us to the ‘safehouse’. I didn’t know where we were going and I couldn’t make anything out particularly through the windows - the night still too dark and the street lights only illuminating small patches of pavement and walls.

I stared, without really seeing, out of the windows, my mind elsewhere and my eyes slowly growing heavy – the fact it was still the early hours of the morning catching up on me.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I suddenly snapped my head upright, opening my eyes to find Frost turning the car into a garage, am automatic light having sprung on and lit up the driveway.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice croaky from lack of use, and I glanced around in an attempt to get any sense of bearings.

“The mansion.” Frost told me, “Boss thought this was the best place for you.” He parked the car and got out, hitting a light switch somewhere in the dark that caused a sudden eruption of harsh artificial light to fill the garage and temporarily blinding me. I blinked rapidly, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Finally, I could see we were in a huge garage that was filled with numerous other vehicles. I climbed out of the car, staring wide eyed at the collection before me. There were at least 4 other 4x4s, a couple of motor bikes and several very expensive-looking sports cars that were probably worth even more than the mansion itself.

Frost didn’t linger, leading me straight to a small, discrete door in front of us. I followed him down a short passage and up a small flight of stairs before we reached another door which Frost unlocked, and opened into yet more darkness. I followed blindly behind Frost as he strode out without hesitation, hitting another light switch on his left. The sudden light dazzled me again, but it didn’t take as long to recover this time and was soon able to look around at the new room, quickly realising we had just come out from a door positioned under the grand staircase I had seen the first time I had been in this house. The wall of knives I remembered was on my left, the hilts jutting out at odd angles from where the blades were embedded in the plaster, some obvious gouges out of the wall where a knife had clearly hit but not become stuck in the wall.

I continued on behind Frost as he led me around the stairs, revealing the familiar scene of the large entrance hall to the mansion, multiple doors leading off from the left, the stair case to the right and the front door directly in front of me. The walls were still as I remembered, riddled with bullet holes and decorated in graffiti. And he wanted me to stay here?

Frost didn’t stop, leading me across the marble floor and up the wide stair case. I was slightly out of breath when I reached the top but Frost didn’t let up, showing no outward sign of fatigue and continuing down a long hallway. He finally stopped outside a door at what I believed to be the back left of the house. He unlocked it with a small key he already had in his pocket pushing it open and standing back to let me in first.

I warily stepped into the room and was amazed by the sheer size of it. The walls were dark green with gold embellishments swirled in a chaotic pattern. Directly in front of me were two large glass doors framed by dark curtains, which appeared to lead onto a white stone balcony. To my right was a huge queen four-poster bed with a purple and gold bedspread that matched the dark purple curtains hanging from each bed post.

To my left were two doors which I quickly discovered were a large modern en-suite and a walk-in closet. It was - as I stood in the spacious closet (which was probably the same size as the room in my flat) that I suddenly remember I didn’t have any of my possessions.

“Frost!” I called from the doorway of the closet, turning to where he had stood silently, just inside the doorway, whilst I had explored, “I don’t have any of my things – don’t I need to go get them?”

He shook his head at me, “No. Everything will be provided here.” He told me. “Of course, I can send someone to get any odd possessions you feel you need.”

“But what about clothes?!” I exclaimed, “I don’t have anything but this!” I said, gesturing at my current outfit, which - now I looked at it – was a bit worse for wear. The knees of my trousers were scuffed and dirty from where I had knelt on the tarmac, my blouse twisted and missing a few buttons and quite grubby.

“Have you actually looked in there?” Frost asked, nodding at the closet behind me. I frowned in confusion. Of course I had. I went back into the closet which had a huge full length mirror at one end, a long pouf-like seat in the centre of the room and numerous wardrobes and drawers lining the walls either side. This times however, instead of just standing in awe, I opened one of the many ornate doors to the wardrobes. Inside was a large array of blouses and shirts in varying colours and styles. I stared at it for a few moments before I closed the door once again. Now I moved across choosing instead to open one of the drawers which I soon found out to be full of jeans.

I had a whole new wardrobe.

I practically ran around the whole room opening each drawer and closet door, finding all manners of clothing ranging from lingerie to dresses and jumpers to shoes and even some things I wasn’t sure what you were supposed to do with.

It was only when I reached the left side of the closet that something hit me. I was seeing suits, shirts, ties and men’s shoes. And - in particular - a very familiar looking coat.

This was the Joker’s wardrobe as well.

I froze where I was before I quickly closed the door to the wardrobe. “Frost?” I called, my voice shaking slightly with the sudden realisation.

“Yes?” He asked and I spun around in surprise at how close his voice was, realising he was now stood in the doorway.

“Who’s room is this?” I asked.

“Yours.” He replied simply.

“Who else’s?”

He hesitated, but clearly knew there was no use trying to hide it. “The Boss’s.” He admitted.

I didn’t say anything, letting it sink in. I was expected to not only live in his house, but also share his room?! Then it got worse. There was only one bed. I had to share a bed with him?!

I shook my head, “You’re kidding, right?” I practically begged. “There’s hundreds of rooms in this house! Why can’t I stay in one of those?!” I demanded

Frost shook his head, not looking over joyed at the situation either - or maybe it was the fact he now had to deal with a distraught woman. “They haven’t been used in years and haven’t been made up.” He explained, “We didn’t know anything about this until we were given the orders earlier this evening.”

“But he never stays here, right?!” I demanded, “That’s what you said before!” I knew I was clutching at straws now - anything to make this situation better.

Frost shrugged in response, “I don’t know. He never used to.” He said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

It was enough for me now – it provided a small bit of comfort.

“I imagine you’re tired,” Said Frost brusquely, “so I’ll leave you to it.” And with that he had turned and left me alone in the huge room, clearly not wanting to handle me and my questions anymore. I didn’t blame him – it had been a long night and, now he mentioned it, I could feel the tiredness starting to drag me down.

I turned back to my side of the room of the closet, returning once more to opening the drawers - this time searching for the one with pyjamas in them.

When I eventually found the correct one I pulled out a few pieces of clothing, holding them up to examine them in the light. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I breathed. They were the smallest, skimpiest thing I’d ever seen. “This is what they think constitutes pyjamas?” I asked myself, screwing it into a ball and dumping it on the floor. I dug deeper into the drawer but could find nothing but silky or satin pieces - none of which would even reach half-way down my thigh.

I sighed, giving up on finding anything more practical in the drawer. As much as I hoped the Joker wouldn’t come back here I wasn’t fooling myself there wasn’t a chance he could. I was also well aware that there was likely to be henchmen wandering the place - and I doubted Frost would give me the key to my door to lock myself in. I didn’t trust any of the other men as far as I could throw them - they were thugs after all. The last thing I wanted to do was to wear something so revealing – it made me feel even more vulnerable than I already was.

And so, I returned to the other drawers, rummaging through the rest of my side in search for anything comfy and loose that might serve as makeshift pyjamas.

Nothing.

All the trousers were tightly fitted, the tops and dresses all skin tight. I groaned at the cabinets, getting increasingly tired and fed up and wondering what to do now. I wasn’t going to sleep in my underwear – that definitely come under ‘too revealing’.

Then I remembered. The Joker’s side.

I moved over to his drawers, pulling them open quickly, trying to find what I was looking for but paranoid someone might walk into the room and catch me rummaging through the Boss’s stuff – or maybe even the Joker himself. “Come on, come on.” I muttered under my breath as I searched.

“Bingo!” I exclaimed quietly, pulling out and holding up my find. The trousers unfolded to reveal the Joker’s blue sweatpants with ARKHAM printed down the left leg.

I held them up to my body. Large and baggy. Perfect.

I slung them over one arm and continued my perusal through his cupboards, finding a rack of shirt and picking the softest one. I hurriedly changed into my improvised pyjamas, throwing my old clothes into a pile in the corner of the room. I head to the bathroom - not surprised when there was no lock on the door -  and washed some of the grime off my face and freshening myself up a bit with what was available.

Finally, I returned to the room and stared at the large bed.

It was so inviting.

But even as I stood there, dreaming of the comfy pillow only a few metres away from me, I still couldn’t get over the fact that the Joker could wander in at any moment - and I certainly didn’t want to end up sharing a bed with him!

But what else could I do? I thought as I stood in the middle of the large room staring at the bed.

Frost had said there was other rooms - they just hadn’t been made up – but I wasn’t in a position to quibble over whether something had a sheet on it or not. Just a sofa would do me right now.

So, I opened the bedroom door quietly, peering out onto the landing to see if anyone was around. The immediate area appeared empty so I stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind me, and I made my way along the corridor once more, waiting a while before I started trying doors.

Frost was right - it was like a large portion of the house just wasn’t used anymore. Some rooms were locked and those that did open were completely empty of all furniture. It took quite a few trys before I managed to find an open room with a bed and mattress.

I snuck in, closing the door silently behind me and fumbling for a light switch in the dark. When I finally found it, the small chandelier-like light bathed the room in a soft gold glow and illuminated the cobwebs caught amongst its brackets.

The room definitely hadn’t been used in a while, some of the furniture covered in white sheets, those exposed were coated in a thick layer of dust. There was no en-suite or a walk-in closet in this room, but the bed looked just as functional and still as inviting even without any bed sheets.

Before I succumbed to the bed however, I took one last precaution towards the inhabitants of the house and used my remaining strength to push the nearest piece of furniture - an old (luckily empty) chest of drawers - in front of the door. Hopefully I wouldn’t get any unwanted visitors overnight now.

I turned off the main light and stumbled my way to the bed, collapsing onto the bare mattress and momentarily wishing I’d thought to bring a blanket or something from the other room. Instead, I just pulled the Joker’s shirt tighter around my body, snuggling into the fabric and the soft bed - soon fast asleep.

Tags: @theartistdetective @6fish6 @viraldragonrider @carouselcurls @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

[teacherunicorn]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 68)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15  Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24  Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69

Tag List: @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom, @does-it-matter129, @dcgoddess

Jamie Philips had spent the majority of her life hating Gotham. Even as a child she had never been too fond of the city; the bigger kids at school used to tell horror stories to scare the younger kids -- and the worst part was that most of the stories were true.

Aside from that however, she had a complex relationship with the city. This was where she had been born, where her original family had lived and eventually fallen apart. Not that it hadn’t been on rocky ground from the start; she knew that now. It was still difficult to not see memories of another life in these streets, and it was hard to know where Jamie Connors stopped and Jamie Philips began.

But they were the same person really, even if they had almost nothing in common. Jamie Connors had been a naive little girl who did not notice the terrible world she lived in because she was too busy playing in make-believe worlds of her own. Jamie Philips was the child who’d been jolted out of that dream and bombarded by everything all at once.

She had been adopted by a couple unable to have children almost immediately. Slowly but surely Jamie Connors and everything about her was forgotten, and she settled into her new life.

She couldn’t hide from the past forever though, especially since she’d learned she had the story all wrong. That was one of the reasons why she’d asked to do her residency at Gotham General, giving her the chance to return to the city of sin. Jamie was very proud of the med-school path she was on, and the part of her that was still the innocent little child liked the idea of bringing healing into a city of so much hurt.

She was also excited to see her big sister. Since their rekindling, Jamie and Alyssa had been doing their best to figure out a healthy sister relationship. Alyssa called Jamie at school every Thursday, Jamie sent pictures of herself and her friends at college, and they even made plans for the occasional weekend visit.

Now she was returning to the city for at least until future notice. Her sister, both knowing her way around the city and being it’s mayor, had arranged an apartment near the hospital for her and Jamie while apprehensive, was ecstatic.

The apartment was just a simple studio apartment, but Jamie was practically jumping up and down to decorate it. Her sister being the artist, she helped put her ideas into place, as well as surprise her with a painting she had done specifically for Jamie’s wall.

It was immediately hung above the couch, and the two stepped back to admire it. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Jamie smiled at her sister.

“Me too.” Alyssa smiled back.

“So, catch me up on things! How’s being mayor?”

“You know how people used to complain about the government in this city not doing anything? Apparently doing things is harder than it looks.”

“Well you choose a career in politics.” Jamie said, walking towards the kitchen area and pulling a pair of beers out of the fridge. “You had to know it’d be a thankless job.”

“Yeah, but I forgot to add in the Gotham factor.” Alyssa said, taking the offered bottle. “Seems like every bit of good idea something in this city pushes back on it and we end up taking three steps backward to every one step forward.”

“Its an up hill battle. Last I checked you specialize in those.” she sipped her beer. “What are you working on now?”

“Keeping my personal life separate from work.” she gestured to where her bag had been thrown on the nearby chair. “All my mail comes to the same address and the post office won’t answer my calls. It’s getting hard to split up what I need to address as mayor and what I need to address as me.”

“Let’s tackle it then!” Jamie flipped the bag open and pulled out the pile of envelopes that had been rubberbanded.

They made a ‘business’ and ‘personal’ pile on Jamie’s coffee table. There were the usual things Alyssa often saw in her mail; letters from the DA’s office -- business. Letters from her Mama Gotham kids who had grown up and moved out of the city to start their lives -- personal.

Then there was the Arkham letters. Those had to be opened to know where they should go; there was the response from Strange from her continued investigation -- business. The letter from Jerome as she had made sure he had gotten his mail privileges given back -- personal.

But there was a third one that Alyssa genuinely did not know what was inside. Opening it, she saw the familiar stationary given to the Arkham patients and the perfectly neat handwriting she’d know anywhere.

Dear Alyssa,

I run the risk of you burning this letter the second you recognize my handwriting, but I’m going against that probability in favor of the foolish hope that you’ll read to the end.

I’m sorry. I know that, probably doesn’t mean very much, but it’s true. Of all the things I did, hurting you is the only one I regret. I’d like to be able to say I regret everything else as well, but I promised I wouldn’t lie to you.

I understand that the change I’ve gone through has altered me. You said you didn’t know who I was anymore. Believe me though, the man you knew is still in here, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.

You always encouraged me to be more confident, more sure of myself. You always said that what made me different was something to be embraced, not something to be ashamed of. I’ve simply listened to your advice; I’ve embraced all that I am. This doesn’t excuse lying to you however, and though I’m more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have been, I want you to know that I’d give that up if I could turn back the clock to when I still had you in my arms.

The science of that is impossible though, I’ve checked, by today’s technology it would take about six lifetimes. Regardless, my point still stands.

I’m a very logical man, Alyssa. I won’t deny being similar to a machine at times; you of all people should know of my tendency to want to apply finite answers to everything. You were also the one who told me that some things can’t be explained, and I think I finally understand what you meant.

By all logical reasoning, I should just let everything lay as it is. I should leave you alone, let the past fade into nothing.

I can’t though. I’ve tried, it hasn’t worked. You have a hold on my heart that I could not break if I wanted to. And there have been times, when I wanted to. Alyssa, being in love with you is, overwhelming, and humbling, and even painful at times. But I could not stop loving you anymore than I could stop breathing.

So...here we are. You don’t have to answer this letter, I just wanted you to know that.

                                                                              Eternally yours, Edward Nygma

P.S. What did the painter say to her boyfriend?

Despite being stunned by the contents of the letter, Alyssa couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that last line. It was a cheesy riddle she’d come up with back when they were dating; the answer was ‘I love you with all my art.’ She was actually surprised he remembered it.

“Wow....” Jamie said, reminded Alyssa that she was there. She had been reading over her shoulder without her knowledge or permission. Alyssa was about to scold her, but she continued. “Be really careful, okay?”

“What?” she frowned. “Why?”

“Like he said, he’s going against his logic. From what you’ve told me about this guy he never does that.”

Jamie had a point. In fact, Alyssa could not recall a single instance in their entire live that Edward Nygma had gone against his almost mechanical logic unless she was personally involved. When you actually thought about that it was a scary thing. The smartest person she knew, someone who could predict the movements and actions of nearly everyone, had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

And he was doing it anyway.

******

It seemed that Edward wasn’t stopping there. Letters like the first one continued to arrive almost weekly; he talked about everything from past experiences with her to the man in the cell next to him that apparently liked to recite Shakespeare at three in the morning.

Each letter was signed the same way: ‘Eternally yours’, and a P.S. with a riddle that more often than not had a romantic answer.

‘What makes grown men cry but humanity would go extinct without it?’

‘Begins with L and ends with Y with its presence relationships survive through slightest inkling of its loss instant separation can be caused’

‘I represent love. I'm the daughter of Heaven and Sea. You may find me in the sky above, and many envy my beauty. What am I?’

Love, loyalty, and the goddess Venus.

Against her better judgement, Alyssa continued to open these letters even after she knew what was inside. What’s more, she kept every one, hidden away in a drawer in her desk.

It was the sort of thing that felt good when you were doing it but made you hate yourself afterwards. She most certainly was not blushing at a complement he had written, and she was absolutely not flattered to find that he remembered details and events of there childhood together that had slipped her mind a long time ago.

Alyssa twisted the question mark charm on her bracelet. Even after Edward’s deeds had come to light, it had never occurred to her to take it off. It simply didn’t seem right, it was one of the first charms -- though the logical side of her brain sparked and burnt out at the thought that she had removed Oswald’s charm when he had wronged her. The dove was back in its place now that the issue had been resolved, but the question mark had never moved. She and Oswald had new issues now of course, but that was beside the point.

She didn’t really know what was wrong with her. On a day to day basis, she wanted nothing to do with Edward Nygma. He was a liar and a killer and most certainly not the man she had fallen in love with.

But when one of his letters came....It was as though he actually had succeeded in turning back the clock like he’d said; suddenly all of that seemed to fade and all that existed was the man who had written such sweet, loving words that she could feel the emotion on the page.

Damn. She was so screwed.

[ladyfogg]

Sick Like Me - Part 2/20

Sick Like Me - Part 2

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: Due to some plans changing around, I was actually able to get this posted today. Enjoy!

The yard Arkham offers isn't much to boast about. It’s a flat, square bit of grass surrounded by high walls. There are a few dead trees here and there, and a rather sad looking garden in the corner that had been abandoned long ago. Since, by law, they need to give you some fresh air, it was their solution.

You’re actually enjoying it this time, having been off the permission list after a brief incident with a guard. Honestly, his eye was just fine. You don’t know what all the fuss was about.

It’s sunny, a rarity for Gotham. You mosey around the yard, your friend, Aaron, trailing behind. You wave him away and keep walking, pausing by a bench to kick your shoes off. The cool grass feeling amazing between your toes. As you walk by one of the trees, Jerome seems to materialize out from behind it. You wonder if he was watching you from behind there the whole time you were wandering, waiting for Aaron to leave your side.

“Morrringggg,” he sings, hurrying to cut you off. You keep moving forward however, forcing him to walk backwards.

“Morning, Jerome,” you smirk.

“Thought about you last night,” Jerome says proudly. He looks good today, his hair slicked back except for that one strand that doesn’t seem to want to do what its told. His face is bright and he’s absolutely giddy to see you.  

“Of course you did,” you say. “A lot of people do.”

Jerome giggles and falls in step with you. “True,” he says.

“Was it good?”

“Oh, sooo goood,” Jerome assures you. “Toes curled and everything. Made quite a mess.”

“Hmm, well maybe next time I’ll be there to clean it up for you.”

Jerome makes a noise that’s between a grunt and a bark. “Now there’s a mental image I won’t be getting rid of any time soon,” he tells you. After a few seconds, he shakes his head as if to clear it. “Unfortunately, I'm here on business.”

“Shame.”

“Right?” he grins. “Do you know Richard Sionis? Big shot CEO. Killed—”

“Yeah, yeah, killed twenty-something people just for shits and giggles,” you say, dismissively. You've heard it a billion times. “What about him?”

“Well, he wants to be one of your friends,” Jerome says. “A fact I maaaay have forgotten to mention yesterday.”

“If I recall correctly, you offered yourself to me,” you remind him.

Jerome grins. “That I did, Queenie,” he says. The grin fades. “But I was supposed to offer him.” He leans in and puts his finger to his lips. “Shhhhhh, don’t tell him. It definitely won't go over well.”

“I know all about Sionis,” you say. “He’s rich, so he likes to buy people's loyalty. Which is actually a really effective way to get them on your side. Just doesn't really help him in this situation. He’s come after me before and it didn’t go well. Never does. Pass.”

You find a nice, mostly clean spot of grass and collapse onto the ground, laying on your back. The sun rays feel wonderful, though they get blocked out when Jerome leans over you, face eerily serious.

“He won’t like that,” he says.

Eyeing Jerome curiously, you ask, “Why are you following that imbecile’s orders? You're so much better than that.”

“Survival,” Jerome answers. “Everyone’s got friends but me. Like I told you yesterday, guards don’t care what happens to us. If you know Sionis, you know that he’s the shot caller around here. A lot of people seem to be in his pocket, so when he ordered me to try to get you in as well, my options were fairly limited.”

You allow yourself a luxurious stretch, relishing in the feeling of the soft grass. “And so you thought you’d try your luck with me why?”

Jerome laughs and holds up his hands, making a square with his fingers. He pretends to bring you into focus as he says, “I like the look of you, Queenie. You’ve got the potential to be a real star, kid!”

You laugh as well, rolling your eyes. “I’m pretty sure we’re close to the same age,” you say. Slowly you slide your foot up between his legs, stroking his inner thigh. “It’s not my pocket I want you in. I am way more fun than Sionis.”

The slow smile you’ve come to adore makes its way across his face. He looks off into the distance, contemplating your offer. “Hmm...okay!” he finally shouts, and falls to his knees. Crawling over your body, he presses his forehead and nose to yours and asks in a low voice, “That mean we’re friends now?”

Chuckling, you shove him off to the side. “Yes, it does,” you tell him. He falls next to you. “But, if you’re friends with me, you’re done with him. I’ve got plans and I won’t have him or anyone else interrupting me.”

“Done. You’re prettier anyways,” Jerome states. Rolling over onto his stomach, he folds his arms under his chin. “Alright, Queenie, what’s the plan then? Whatever it is, I want in.”

“Not here, too open,” you say. “Also, ‘Queenie’? That a new nickname?”

“Well, a certain someone is being all secretive with her real name,” he huffs. “Had to come up with something to call you when I came last night.”

Speaking of images being stuck in your brain. The thought of Jerome thinking about you with his hand around himself is almost too much for you to handle. Pants around his ankles, free hand fisting the bed sheets, hips jerking upward with each tug…

Focus.

Smiling, you tell him your actual name, but he just scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Nah, I like ‘Queenie’ better.”

You kind of do too. Or at least, you like the way he says it.

“Queenie, let me ask you something. I know you’ve got friends that you whore yourself to and that’s all well and good, but how do you stop the guards from doing bad things to you?” Jerome speaks rapidly, almost as if his brain is on overdrive. “I’ve been here near a year now and I have seen and heard some awful, awful things. Truly. Terrible. Things. But I've never seen anything happen to you.” He pauses, and you can see he’s breathing heavily.

“Been watching that closely, huh?”

“I'm always watching you, Queenie. Always.”

You roll onto your stomach, bringing your faces close because you need to be in his space. It’s a compulsion you just can’t shake. Breathing the same air as him is becoming necessary when he’s this close. He smells like grass and a hint of soap, mixed with his natural musk. It draws you in, invading your senses.

“You know how Sionis is rich?” you question in a low voice.

Jerome nods slowly, grinning. “Yeaaaahhhhh.”

You nuzzles the side of his face, inhaling the scent of his skin. He’s practically panting as he does the same to you, and he’s so close you can feel his soft eyelashes brushing your cheek.

“I’m richer,” you whisper in his ear. “And I’ll have even more money when I kill my stepmom.”

Jerome is growling now, low in his throat, drawing back enough to touch his forehead to yours. “Money is a powerful motivator,” he says. He pulls away suddenly, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Doesn’t really do it for me. But if it works on these pathetic halfwits, than who am I to complain.” He extends his hand, that ever present grin plastered across his face. “Shake on our new friendship?”

You’re so turned on you can’t even stand it anymore. Taking his offered hand, you give it a firm shake, then let your smile drop. He’s watching you carefully, smirking, waiting to see what you’re going to do next. Using his hand for leverage, you pull yourself up and onto his lap, cupping his smooth face. His mouth is already open when you kiss him, diving your tongue in as far as it can go.

If he's surprised, you don't even notice. There's no hesitancy as his arm wraps around you immediately, while one hand buries itself into your tangled hair. You can feel his growl return, his teeth clacking against yours painfully.

It's like a strange tug of war. He kisses harder, tongue shoving past your lips, pushing you until you're nearly bent backwards. Grunting, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and resist, trying to push him back. After a few seconds, you succeed, rolling his bottom lip between your teeth. He tries to wrestle you for control of the kiss, but you’re not backing down. Neither is he.

No other kiss compares to kissing Jerome. He’s hungry, demanding, painful. Oh such sweet, wonderful pain. From the way his long fingers twist and pull your hair, to the way his teeth bite your bottom lip when he draws away. Both of you try to catch your breathe. He tastes like pure sin and you’re just about to dive in for more, when out of the corner of your eye you see something across the yard.

One of the inmates who had actually noticed the exchange suddenly looks fearful, and he turns around and runs into the building. Shit. It’s hard to see his face from his distance, but you know it can only be Sionis’s little snitch, Arnold.

Jerome sees he no longer has your attention and grows angry. “Hey, focus,” he snaps. Both hands fall to your ass and he thrusts up against you, grinding his growing erection into your thigh. “We’re in the middle of something here!”

“Sionis’s pet just ran into the building,” you tell him, getting off his lap. “Come on, I want to follow him ”

Jerome sighs dramatically and hauls himself to his feet, scrambling to keep up with you. The both of you hurry across the yard, only stopping so you can retrieve your shoes from where you left them earlier. Aaron gets to his feet to follow, but you motion for him to stay behind. This calls for stealth, something he doesn't understand.

Arnold is just turning a corner when you and Jerome get inside. You're quick to follow, making sure to stay a bit behind him so that he doesn't realize he's being followed. After a few minutes, Arnold slips down hall that leads to one of the abandoned wings that has yet to be redone.

“He's going to Sionis's office,” Jerome tells you.

You figured as much, you've been there before. But you don't tell him that. You just look around to make sure the guards are distracted, before slipping into the wing, Jerome right behind you.

By the time you get your eyes on Arnold again, he's knocking on the door to a room at the end of the hall. A few seconds later, the door opens and he disappears inside. You and Jerome silently creep towards the room, but you can't hear what they're saying inside. All you hear are muffled noises.

You motion to the door next to Sionis’s office. Jerome follows your lead and the two of you slip through it. It’s an old broom closet, with barely enough space for the both of you to move in. Once the door is closed, you drop to your knees.

“Mmm, what sort of plans you have for me in here, Queenie?” Jerome teases, but you pull him down with you so he can see the small hole in the wall, peering into the next room. The voices stop and you both hold your breath, hoping they didn’t hear Jerome.

After a few seconds, Arnold speaks. “Sorry, Richard. Sorry. But you said to come to you if I saw something.”

“What is it, Arnold?” Richard asks.

You chance a look through the hole, which is partially hidden by a desk. It makes it difficult to see much, but you’re able to make out Richard lounging on what was once a sofa. The bodies of other people are also around, but you can’t determine exactly who they are. However, it’s clear they’re fellow inmates.

“He was talking to her again,” Arnold says hurriedly. “They were talking together.”

“Arnold, we went over this,” Richard responds. “I told Jerome to talk to her.”

“But you didn’t tell him to kiisssss heeeerrrr.”

You lose sight of Richard as someone moves to block your view. Next to you, Jerome has buried his face in your hair and is currently smelling it, humming under his breath. It distracts you for the moment, your hand reaching up to cradle his cheek. You close your eyes and just savor the feeling of him being close. He kisses along your cheek to your lips, but Richard’s angry yelling brings you crashing back to your current situation.

“He is dead! That little shit is dead! You hear me?!” Richard explodes. “Him and the slut picked the wrong guy to mess with! And another thing—”

Jerome isn’t listening to the rant. He's clearly annoyed not to be the center of your attention and he gets to his feet. As you look up at him questioningly, he grabs your upper arm and pulls you stand with him, lining his body flush against yours. He’s kissing you now, pressing you to the wall. It's even more demanding than it was outside, and his body trapping you sends you into a fit of excitement.

The sounds of Richard screaming in the background is actually a major turn on. While he rants and raves about betrayal and other bullshit, you worm your fingers through Jerome’s hair, tugging. He moans, so you do it again, knee sliding up to press on the bulge jamming into your hip.

Every sensation sends a fresh wave of wetness between your legs. You claw at Jerome’s shirt, trying to bring him even closer, while his hands run along every part of your body he can reach. He’s giggling between kisses, the sound drowned out by Richard’s yelling. The way you're kissing...it's like you and Jerome are trying to devour each other.

You pull on Jerome’s hair harder than before, yanking his head back. He lets out an obscene sound as you run your tongue up his neck, sucking on the spot just below his ear. The bulge you're rubbing twitches as you press your teeth into that pale throat. Your face is seized in both his hands and he practically smashes his mouth to yours, stealing what little breath you have left.

And still Richard rants.

Jerome’s kisses are quickly becoming a drug. One that you are already hopelessly addicted to. His tongue is buried so far into your mouth you can’t even move your own tongue. Well that won’t do. You bite down, just enough to force him to withdraw. He doesn't at first, so you bite harder. He jerks away, breathing heavily and you taste copper in your mouth, the lingering reminder that you actually drew blood.

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious,” he giggles, “if I were to just fuck you right here against the wall while he swears vengeance on us?”

“Oh it would be,” you agree. But then you put your hand on his chest and push him back, breaking almost all contact. “Except for the fact that while I fool around with my friends, I don’t fuck them.”

Jerome’s arms drop to his sides and he fixes you with an incredulous look. “Are you shitting me?” he asks, chest heaving under your palm.

“Nope,” you smile. “Only special people get that privilege. Been a long time since I’ve granted it.” You bat your eyelashes at him, playing coy as you let your fingers trail down his chest. “How about it, sweets? Do you think you have what it takes to be my special person?”

“You don’t get more special than me, doll face,” he says, coming at you again. He just manages to get his arms around your waist when the door to the closet flies open.

Blinking in the sudden light, you can’t help but smile at Richard’s angry expression. “Hey there, Richie,” you mock. “Been a long time.”

His goons seize you and Jerome, yanking you out of the closet. You struggle of course, while Jerome lets them manhandle him.

“Fellas, fellas, easy,” he says. “Queenie will be absolutely heartbroken if you damage the goods before she has a chance to sample.”

Richard isn't amused. He steps right up to Jerome and punches him in the gut. You scream angrily, fighting against the two inmates who are holding you. Jerome wheezes and doubles over, laughing.

Richard doesn’t find it funny at all. He grabs Jerome’s face and pulls him up so he can peer into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be fucking laughing if I were you, asshole,” he snarls. “After everything I've done for you? This is how you repay me?!”

“You have to admit, it’s just so funny!” Jerome exclaims. At the lack of reaction from Richard, he laughs even harder. “Come on! Think about it! You send me to go talk to the girl you’ve been lusting over, and has rejected you over and over and over and over…” He coughs slightly as Richard tightens his grip. He’s still being held by the Arnold and another inmate, not bothering to try to break free. “Only to learn she likes me more than she likes you! For all your money and power, you lost out to a skinny, pale, guy with nothing to his name! It’s fucking hilarious!” Jerome laughs louder. “To be fair, I have a wonderful sense of humor!”

Richard punches him in the gut a second time and you see red. Self control snapping, you turn and sink your teeth into the arm of one of the men holding you, only to yank off a chunk of skin. As he screams in pain, you wrench your arm free and spit the skin at him, before turning and sinking your fist into the face of the other man.

“Woooo! Look at Queenie go!” Jerome exclaims excitedly through his laughter. He's looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Richard, not expecting such a violent display is temporarily stunned. Arnold is sufficiently terrified and immediately lets go of Jerome, taking off down the hall. You wipe the blood from your face, smearing it across your mouth as you grin. His men take off running, leaving just you, Richard, and Jerome. Well, and the man with the missing chunk from his arm who is currently bleeding all over the floor.

“We talked about this last time you came after me,” you growl at Richard. “Do you really want to do this again?”

“You need to be shown your place!” Richard snaps, seemingly over his shock.

“My place is standing on your fucking grave, Sionis!”

From the other end of the hall, there’s suddenly yelling as guards finally come to investigate the noise.  

Jerome grabs your hand and starts to pull you back the direction you came. Richard is also backing up in the opposite direction, so you allow Jerome to pull you away, not even bothering to spare your enemy a backwards glance. Jerome’s laughter is ringing in your ears, but that quickly stops as you both round a corner and smack into more guards.

They grab you and Jerome, trying to separate you from each other. Jerome fights hard, managing to reach out and seize the back of your head, yanking you into one more painful kiss. His eyes still shine with awe and you barely get a chance to grin at him before you’re both carried off to your cells.