#Gotham likes him well enough but the curses are a bitch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vitzi9 · 2 months

Text

Pretty gifts

Joker X GN!Reader

TW/CW: reader is androgynous, murders, talking about kys, work in catering (it needs its own warning), reader curses a lot, mention of vomit, stalker, reader throws up, racism, Gotham is hell and fuck capitalism, blood, violence

tbh i'm a little sad bc nobody ever give their opinion on my works. I put another divider (like the red heart below) in the middle of the story, not really to separate as it's following directly but bc some people find my stories too long so it's like a checkpoint. So when you leave, you know where you were. (It's really long)

also the end is a little weird bc I have no idea if this fandom is still alive so, yeah :) if people are reading, I might continue it. Thing is some ppl find this Joker ugly so...

I hope you'll enjoy this. (19/02/2024) (17k)

You weren't weird by any mean, okay ? Life in Gotham is just really hard. You got harassed, robbed and assaulted more times than you can count. And each time by a new profile type ! Old, young or teen, it doesn't matter, everyone is desperate.

Some of your colleagues at work are prostituting themselves and you for sure considerate selling feet pictures.

That's how life is in Gotham.

But weird ? You stare at the angry man before you, unimpressed. You can't believe he called you weird as well as an incestuous result. You're neither of these. Fuck, how is weird and incestuous his first thought when insulting someone ? Like, he could've called you a fucker, a bitch... Anything !

Your aggressor, if you can even call him that after this, shows you his middle finger while walking background. Quickly though, he loses his balance and fall on the ground. Well, at least he didn't beat you up !

You already got assaulted for your money, which you don't even have, you got two jobs and barely reach the minimal wage. But at the end of the day they, well, stole the few you have, you know ? When you think about it, he strongly smelled like alcohol. That's probably why he failed his attempt.

Even stealing is death here. You never know who you're facing. Hell, just yesterday a guy was killed because he tried to assault some big chief of a mob. Someone with a clown face. TV says the man's limbs were still not all found.

Shit, getting killed by a clown must be mad humiliating too.

You sigh, trying to ease your tired traits by passing your hand on your face. At least the day is over, right ? Another day closer to death. You drag your suddenly much more heavier body on some few meters/yards more, silently praying that no one else will bother you.

Thankfully, your cries were heard. Pushing the old creaking door of the building, you rush to the mailbox. Never have you been comfortable staying long here. The door is only behind you and you don't know if someone is able to enter with bad intention.

Speaking of the devil...

No mail except for this weird card yet again. It's cardboard displaying a drawing of a joker, withdrawn from a poker package. It's certainly not the first time someone pull this kind of joke on you. Though, you have no idea who this is and it creeps you out a little. You turn the card to see if a message was left and sadly, (or not) you were right.

You've been trying to understand who this was for a long time now but in a big city like yours, with god knows who or what ? It's just impossible.

As always, you hate to think this because you don't want this creepy card to become part of your habit, a messy handwriting greets you in black ink.

"I'm everywhere in this city, no one can touch me yet some are fond of me."

You stopped school kind of early so your IQ is probably not high enough for you to understand that. Plus, you don't fucking want to.

You grab the card with you in order to throw it once at home and rush to the stairs (some says someone got killed in the elevator plus it's not working since months so you're not taking it anymore). Finally home. Your hallway still smells like piss and a deadly cold reign here (Nobody knows why). Two of the four bulb of the ceiling has burnt out and a faint static noise is resonating in the whole property.

This building is not even in a neighborhood that bad. But in Gotham, not that bad is still bad. Because bad is sleeping to the sound of gunshot and broken windows. While here, there's still these but not as often as in bad neighborhood. But you can add the moans hearable in the night in it as well.

Your building is really old though, which explains (partially) the bad state it's in.

Taking out the key off your pocket, you start to unlock the door. Unconsciously, your mind goes back to the card of the day. "I'm everywhere"... What's everywhere? There's air. But they specified 'in this city' so air might be too simple.

No one can touch me yet some are fond of me.

You can't touch air and you're not sure people are fond of it particularly. Like, air's fine. It's cool as fuck but are you fond of it ? No. Then what is it ?

You didn't even realize you were looking at the card again, your door wide open while standing in the middle of the hallway ridiculously. Slapping yourself mentally for being so careless, you enter and close the door and all your locks shut.

Some are fond of me, huh ?

In Gotham, what are people even fond of ? Misfortune you'd say. These fuckers love to see others suffer and even make sure they do by engaging in others people life.

But you don't know if that's really the answer. Damn, can't they just give you simple question? Or even better: stop giving you any ?

You drop your bag on the floor, slouching your shoulders and throwing yourself on the couch. Fuck, you hate your life. Why are you even here? You don't deserve this life. Nobody does !

Haphazardly moving your hand, you end up successfully grabbing the remote. You need to empty your mind, or have a background noise at least.

The screen lights up displaying you the newest information girl. The last man disappeared after he made the mistake of letting show his politic side. It's obvious everyone is corrupted here but the mystery in this story is ; who erased him ? It could be mob, politics themselves, everyone.

This city is lost.

The woman is talking about the incessant inflation and how numerous factories and business saw themselves forced to close for good. You just hope your business won't shut down, you need money. What if it does close, though ? You were already sweating trying to live with two jobs, but what if you end up jobless ?

It'll be impossible for you to pay anything. To keep your apartment. To eat. What are you supposed to do if this happens ? You already thought about that and all of your long reflection session always end up on one conclusion: kill yourself.

Because there's no way you're living without job in Gotham while being in the streets. You would have left the city if you had money or even family out there but it's not the case. So yeah, killing yourself that is.

Sure it looks a little extreme but isn't earth overpopulated anyway ?

It's better than being killed. At least, you choose your death ! But you're gonna hope this still won't happen. Up to now, your job is yours so taking such drastic measures won't be necessary. And you hope it'll stay this way.

Damn, you're depressed again. You drown out your worries by hiding your face in your couch's pillow. Man, what capitalism is doing to one.

You switch the channel without looking where your fingers pressed, this time a man is talking. He's saying something about a criminal and quoting every one of his crime. It was going crescendo, at first robbery, assault and burglary but just next to all of that was terrorism and mass murder.

You want to turn your head and watch the profile of this man but are too weak to move. So you simply listen closely to the man voice to get answers.

"Yes, he's a dangerous criminal and he's in town. He already break free from Arkham asylum twice now. If one of you see this man; do not engage, hide and call the police immediately. He is incredibly unstable and may not be alone. If you think you can win against him, you're wrong. He's a manipulative man and a mastermind. If you're seen by him, you better start to pray. Ends the man on a serious tone. Man, this guy knows how to reassure people...

-Indeed, a true monster. But please do not scare our audience. Batman was able to capture him twice, we'll be fine. The man chuckles but does not sound really honest. To answer all the questions you've been a lot to send us, we'll have the pleasure of meeting mister Harvey Dent here, chief of the police department to answer your worries. Harvey Dent ?"

And the voice switched to the other man. You like Harvey Dent. You like to think he's the only man in Gotham who's not corrupted. He's helping the citizens. Unlike that Wayne man. This guy could single-handedly resolve the poverty problem, but does he do it ? Of course not. He's rich after all, why should he care for bum like you ?

Harvey Dent is talking but you're not listening. All you know is that he's trying to ease the population. The men on TV are always saying the same things: empty promises. How the police is already taking care of the problem, that it'll be better soon. Like the police isn't already too fucking busy harassing the wrong people.

Harvey Dent is your last hope. The only man who can change things.

You deeply hope his promises aren't as empty as the other man before him. You turn off the TV and relax in the silence of your flat for a moment, breathing in the perfume impregnated in your couch.

There's screams outside. You can't tell if it's the neighbors or someone outside. Either way, you stand up feeling your eyelids getting heavier by each passing second.

But before leaving to your room, you stop in front of your window and stare outside for a moment. It's nighttime now. The city won't go to sleep, oh no, it's just waking up. The police can already be heard in the distance with its loud sirens. This city really is chaotic. It's just everywhere, you can't escape it. Touching it isn't even possible, you can't grasp it, nor resolve it completely; it's in the air. You can't fight against it. Nobody fights against it.

Fuck, it's like they're fond of it, here.

Chaos, it's scary when you think about it. Because you can't guess what's going to happen. There was a time when you thought that anarchists could be right but if anarchy looks like this, you don't want it anymore. You just want some peace and respect. But it seems too much to ask for Gotham.

You fucking hate chaos.

The next morning, your limbs were so sore you almost didn't make it on time to work. Your boss reprimanded you about your delay, pressuring you by recalling you the time one of your colleagues got fired for it. You were only late of something like one or two minutes but it didn't matter to him.

He only wanted to feel superior. He didn't even need real reasons to yell at you.

The restaurant wasn't packed. Only the usual rich families wanting to spend a pleasant day. They were here to eat breakfast. You try not to think too much about the fact that one single of their jewelry is equal to your salary.

The streets were alive; people running, cars honking. Your colleague hitting your shoulder to bring you back to earth, everything is normal.

"You think you can ask Mike to make another one ? she asks you with a sweet voice. The kid threw a tantrum. It's not salted enough and he hates sausages.

You lift up your eyes towards the crying kid in the back. Cold eyes stuck to his face. You're sure he specifically asked for sausage. You're the one who wrote down his order. And the salt ? Can't he just fucking put some himself?

-Don't question it. They're regulars. Plus, I don't think having beef with a kid is good for our reputation." Tells you your friend after seeing the death look you were giving him.

So you take the plate that looked absolutely perfect and delectable to bring it to Mike. Mike is an old man once passionate about cooking. Now he's forty three and stuck cooking eggs and toast to some crying kids.

"No fucking sausage and more salt please. you say, throwing the plate on the counter in a loud clatter. The man laughs at your anger and don't even need to ask to understand. 'Got it boss !' is your answer.

You lay your weight on the counter, back meeting the freezing temperature of it. Different smells invade your senses; fresh bread, warm oil and eggs. Well, lot of different smells were here as well but they're the one that really stuck out to you.

"You were late this morning right ? Did the client touched their plate ? You can eat it otherwise, it looks fine.

-Because it is, it was made by the best cook of Gotham after all.

The man laughs, mimicking someone blushing by putting his hands on his cheeks. He tells you that you're lying and that you're saying that to flatter him only. Mike had buzzed his hair a few months ago but they were back already; small rough curls mocking him.

You sigh and look back at the plate, it did look really fine. The kid hadn't even touched it ! The eggs and the bread were intact, left in the same state it was neatly put in earlier.

You spend your sweet time talking with Mike before your boss comes in infuriated, ordering you to come back at the front. And you're forced to do so. Grabbing a water jug on your way and putting on a fake smile, you walk towards a new family sitting so straight your back hurts just looking at them.

All of them laid down their menu and are waiting. You arrive, apologizing for the wait. 'Have you decided ?' you ask while putting the water on the table. The man takes the menu and start listing his orders without a smile nor even a look in your direction. The woman is busy keeping her children calm and asking them to calm down. The other tables are side-eyeing her while the husband doesn't even acknowledge his wife.

"Noted, you smile and turn your head to stare at the woman for her to start ordering.

She smiles awkwardly, and tells you her kids orders before ordering for herself. You thank them, "I'll be right back." and you leave to the kitchen. You sigh, scotch the orders on the wall, grabs the plate left for you to take and head back to the crying kid from earlier. The demon who ordered fucking sausage before saying he hated them.

But as soon as you place the plate before him with a smile, the kid slams his fists on the table resulting in his glass of water to splash on you and break on the floor. The mother gasps while the dad gives a slap in his son's head without even you registering the whole situation. Your clothes are completely soaked, you want to say something but his mother is sending daggers at you with her eyes and you know not to mess with this stupid fucking family.

Did he did it on purpose ? Yes. Are you gonna say something ? No.

"It's okay, I love children." you don't.

And you leave. Deeply humiliated. But you can't do anything. Because you're no one compared to them, they're gonna win. Always. Your friend asks if you're okay, you shrug. She's unable to question you further as she has to continue working. You head to the back in search of a broom.

The small closet is all the way behind the kitchen and you're already tired just thinking about it. Once you're in, you frenetically search for your item only for a shelf to fall apart behind you and destroy itself on the ground. You bite your lower lip with all your strength to retain you from crying and cursing the whole world.

It's okay, it's just a shelf. It's okay, you try to think but it's hard when it's not even noon and too much shit already happened to you.

You crouch down and start gathering everything you can when your eyes falls upon another one of these poker card. You frown and take it in your hands, examining it deeply. Uh, wow, okay. It's a little weird. You just happen to receive these daily in your mailbox and suddenly there's one here. Okay, totally normal.

You stand up, looking around you for an answer, trying to see if a camera is here somewhere. But nothing. So you turn the card to read the new message: You need one to live, I often rip it apart and yours is mine to steal. A heart ? you immediately think. You definitely need one to live and the sentence 'steal your heart' is kinda famous. But rip it apart ? Is it, like, a metaphor ? Glancing back quickly, you notice a small note left in the bottom right corner of the card. It reads: what a shitty shelf.

You laugh nervously, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What the actual fuck ? it's not even funny, what the hell ? Sorry for the fucking shelf ? They knew this was going to happen ? You definitely have to talk to someone.

You pass your hand on your face, rubbing it strongly as if to wake you up from a bad dream. Then you take the broom and head back.

Rushing to the kitchen, you accidentally pushes someone in your haste. You see Mike from afar and don't even need to approach him that you yell your question for everyone to hear:

"Mike, do you happen to play poker ?" the man faces you, his confused expression told it all, he didn't. And from the other's cook faces, they probably all thought that you were crazy. None of them looking guilty. But you'll investigate that later.

Not wasting any seconds, you almost run to the main room to find your friend. Luckily for you, she's cleaning glasses at the bar.

"Hey, is it yours ?" you're a little out of breath when showing her the joker card. Your friend simply shakes her head. When you asked her if she knew if one of your colleagues was playing poker, she shrugged and told you she didn't know with an apologetic smile.

"Why ? she asks.

-It's complicated." you say.

It can't be from the same person, right ? If it is anyway, that probably means one of your colleagues is the one putting these at your place. Which is a terrifying idea because you sure never gave your address to anyone here. Trying to see the bright side of it all, that means that you may know your 'joker'. And if that's the case, there's a way for you to stop them. It's better than the cards coming from a total stranger, because you can't act against them. You'll probably leave some clues at work to see and trap your joker.

The rest of the day was terribly hard. You were dying from the inside. Your tummy was growling like a beast; you did not have the time to eat. As you're juggling between two jobs, your boss thought that he had to exploit you as much as he could before you left. Because you're joining the bar, your second working place, at two pm.

"You're gonna leave in the middle of the day, when most people are coming. I'm losing money here, you see ?" he had said to you that day. Yeah, he does not give you any breaks because to him, you don't need one as you leave earlier. Of course you tried to negotiate and he was agreeing with you, on the condition that he pays you less.

"Mike, I'm leaving. you tell him, taking off your apron. Have a nice day, say hi to your kids for me." he smiles warmly to you, wave and you're out of the room in a quarter of seconds. You already bid goodbye to your friend so all you had to do now was to leave.

Putting on your jacket, your thoughts can't stop but think back about this other card you found. Yours is mine to steal. In what sense ? You could've thought it was some creepy flirting but it's just too much. You found these at home, at work. Everywhere. Are they going to rip your heart apart, too ? Are these threats ?

Hopping in the bus, you try to stay away from Gotham's crackhead as much as possible but it's hard when they're drunk and staring at you like they want to beat the shit out of you.

Fortunately, your stop arrives and you hurry to get out. It's 2:36 PM (14:36), the bar is not open yet but cleaning and organizing everything is part of your contract.

It's at five pm (17h) that you open the bar, standing behind your counter and waiting patiently for clients to arrive. You're happy Sean is here. He's a big man of 2m3 (~6'8), practices combat sport and knows how to handle different weapons. In a neighborhood like this, you're more than grateful to have him.

He's also the son of the owner. So it's really just the two of you here. The first persons starts entering the place and it quickly fills up entirely. It's quite a famous area, cops never comes here as mobs are doing their own laws. Sean puts on some background music you can't even hear anymore over the loud voices of the men laughing cavernously.

You're busy serving people's drinks. Moving as fast as you could but it being hard when your thoughts are plagued by cards and your mind is not here. Who's this joker man ?

The street lamp are all finally on, meaning it was past seven already. You didn't even see time pass, the incessant flirting and bickering of the men here enough to keep you from being alone with your thoughts.

"Thanks baby." says a young man when you give him his beer. He has a really bad scar going from his forehead to his lower lip. It's no surprise, you saw men with less limbs, other talking unknowns languages, some with sight or hearing completely lost. Sometimes normal people like you would come, women even but more rarely as the men here were true animals.

You wonder what type of people there is with you tonight. You're not naive enough to think all of them are innocent, in fact, you're sure 85% of your client here are criminals. This bar is situated apart from the city, in a corner more secluded with abandoned looking buildings and scary dark alleys you certainly don't want to visit at night, or even at day for that matter.

This place sucks.

Honestly, with your cards problem, you even considered engaging a spy to see who put these creepy notes in your mailbox. But two things prevented you to do so; first, you do not want to do business with criminals, second; there was a chance that your joker was one of your client.

Some of your clients here probably have mental illness as well, worsening their state. And maybe someone fixated on you and decided to follow you home. It'd be really awkward to engage a man to scare your joker away, only for him to be the same person you're trying to avoid.

But now this idea starts to disappear. You found a card at work after all, your boss is not stupid enough to let anyone break in. So the criminal track wasn't the one. It's one of your colleagues. There's just no way one of the bar's client could have followed you home and at the restaurant.

But on the other hand, it's difficult to see one of your colleagues following you home too. Because after working at the restaurant, you're not heading home right away. You're working here. Is it possible they waited outside until you finished ?

"A whisky for me." is what tears you away from your misery.

You do not look up, instead turning your back to him and reaching the shelves to search for the bottle. You grab a glass, throwing ice cubes in it and pouring the harsh liquid in. You then slide it to him, he nods and drink a first long gulp.

You follow his arm to his face before blocking on it. It's a man with a skin so pale it's getting worrying. His eye bag are terribly dark that you thought he had put black eye-shadow on them. And for a second, you truly thought it was the case. He had really bad scars going from each corner of his lips up to his cheeks, like a badly drawn smile. In the small crevices of his scarred skin, there was faint white and red paint, or make-up that did not left during shower. Is he like, a mime or a clown ? He looks like he haven't showered for a while, no judgements or anything, but his green hair are greasy.

He continues to savor his drink quietly while you're here, astonished by such weird scars. You saw scars, a lot of them. But they all looked accidental, caused by self defense or anything. But his clearly looked volunteer. You could clearly see that the goal was to create some sick form of smile, whether it is successful or not. What the hell happened to this guy ? Has he been tortured ? Did he make these to himself ?

'You got some nasty scars' you want to say. But the wicked grin he gives you is enough to make you gulp and smile awkwardly. Of course he saw you looking at him, you did not move an inch/millimeters. And he does not look like the type of guy to be nice.

"D'you like them ?

-Sorry ? you blinked.

-My scars. Do you like them ?

-Uh, yeah, yeah.

Fucking creepy. What the hell ? What did he do to have those ? Why is he even asking you this ? Why is he looking at you like that ?

-Do you want to know how I got them ?

-No." you answer at the mere second he ended his question, by pure fear he was going to destroy you. Or try to recreate those scars on you. Hey, you never know.

The man grins and chuckles at the quickness of your answer and stops talking for a while. Did you just escape death ? You think so.

He stopped drinking, though. You try to look busy but you're just organizing and disorganizing things on loop. Sean is having the time of his life chatting with the clients towards the tables area. But you, you're stuck behind the counter. You can't even count the times you got your ass slapped or got whistled. Plus, some of these guys often try to threaten you with knifes to make you give them free drinks.

It could've work if Sean wasn't here.

But it's comical in a sense. The morning, you're busy being the little dog, the little slave of these stuck rich people crying when their plate arrives one minute late, with prices on the menu so high it's clearly a scam for some eggs and bacon. With a ground so perfectly clean you could lick it.

And at night, you're here. Surrounded by criminals, drunkards and God knows who. With bad music taste rumbling in the background and place so dirty you could throw up and not even see it through the trash lingering on the ground. Well, in your defense, because you're the one cleaning, it was clean before. But everyone arrives with their disgusting shoes or bleeding and then they spill their drinks, and they fight and, yeah. At the end of the day, this place is a mess.

Your back is still facing the mime guy but you know he's staring at you. You know it because you can't stop shuddering. Your works are sure keeping you in touch with reality at least, you've seen both extreme.

"What's your name ?" You face him, afraid to offend this weirdo.

Telling him your name out of all the people ? Never. Smiling the best you can, you tell him your coworker name from the restaurant. He grins like a Cheshire cat, his smile accentuated by his prominent scars, nodding. You know better than to ask him back his name, he's probably, surely, a criminal. You don't have a death wish at the moment. You usually don't like to lie but this job at the bar taught you better.

-You know, he starts again and you pray he does not start to harass you with questions, he licks his lower lip before continuing. There's one thing I truly hate in this world. He pauses. You wanna know what ?

-Tell me. You say reluctantly, not wanting to anger him.

He lays one of his elbows on the counter, raising a brow and looking around him as if going to tell you a secret he wants no one else but you to know. Then, he looks at you again, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

-Liars.

Oh.

-They're such... he squints his eyes, moving his hand in the air to the flow of his thoughts. Vicious, little bitch, you know ? If we want to change things, he licks his lips, they're the first people that have to go. Don't you think ?

-Yes, I'm with you on that. you hurry to answer, nodding frenetically, feeling your blood run cold and a sweat cross your spine. Myself I really can't stand lying, you know ? Liars are really bad, they're manipulative and all. you were just trying to save your ass at this point. You received a lot of threats in your life, but this man right here ? There was something deeply wrong with him. He was fucking traumatizing you. You did not want to mess with him.

The only thing plaguing your thoughts is; does he know ? Does he know you lied about your name ? Because he specifically asked this question right after you presented yourself. Does he know ? No, no he doesn't. How is he supposed to know you ? You don't even have any name tag on.

The man chuckles deeply before you, licking very briefly his lips again; is that a tic ?

-What's his name ? he asks, looking straight to Sean, as if judging his soul. Does he have to stare at people like he wants to kill them all the time ?

Now you understand. He scared the shit out of you to ensure you wouldn't be lying to him. And now he's testing you. Why, you don't know. But you answer honestly this time. He smiles mischievously. Maybe that wasn't even his plan, maybe he's just deeply weird and unsettling. Maybe he doesn't even know you ever lied to him. Maybe you see things where there's none.

If there's one thing Gotham has taught you, it's to be wary of everyone.

-Are you fucking him ? he asks again, still looking at Sean laughing with the others.

-Why ? this thought never even crossed your mind before. Why would you fuck Sean ? He's nice, he's good looking but, you don't know, you wouldn't fuck him. You just, don't want to ? He's a friend.

-He's quite the tall guy. Are you fucking him ? he insists, ignoring completely your question.

Wow, that is getting incredibly uncomfortable and personal. You know you're supposed to entertain them and all but damn, this guy is killing you. You throw a glance in Sean's direction, hoping to catch his attention so he could help you but he's busy laughing with other clients.

-Why're looking at him ? I'm the one talking.

-I don't think this is appropriate, Sir. It's quite the personal questions you're asking me here. you laugh nervously, hoping to relax the mood but the man before you doesn't even react. Can I maybe offer you another drink ? It'll help...

-You got something to hide ? he licks his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

-I have to stay mysterious in order for you to come back, right ? you do not want this weirdo to come back, but that's the default sentence you usually say to avoid answering intimate questions.

But the make-up man does not insist, he gives you a cheeky grin.

-You want me to come back ? How flattering.

Most of the time, what you implies when saying this is that you want them to come back to consume more, so you have more money because you're kinda the bartender of this place. But this guy just plainly wants to fuck you up. Where's Sean when you need him the most ?

It's like no one around you is seeing you. They're all drinking their sadness, trauma, day away, not caring that a creepy guy is keeping you in his weird conversation you clearly do not want to participate in.

-Do you want to play a game with me ?

-I'm... Quite busy, actually. So...

But he knows you, now. He knows you're a bad little liar. Listening to you is now optional to him; he clearly doesn't care. The man stands up and you start to get scared. What is he going to do ? Is he going to hurt you ? Your hand is holding firmly the bat under the counter, fingers shaking with adrenaline. You never used a weapon before, less against someone. You never hurt someone, intentionally at least.

Sean, move your ass over here, now.

The man grins, eyes trailing your arms. He knows you're hiding something under this counter, but can he blame you ? You're surrounded by criminals, he's one himself ! It's impossible to know what to expect. Honestly, you're ready to scream to get attention and get helped. Even if there's high possibilities for a general fighting to start resulting in this poor bar to be destroyed.

But the man does not try to hurt you, he smiles, put his hands in his pocket and you now realize how well he's dressed for someone like him. A nice and well maintained purple suit.

"It makes me live and follow you at dark, keeps me up at night and makes you fall apart."

No...

-Who am I ?" He ends slowly, torturing you.

Your shoulders slouched down, tension leaving your hand on the bat. Your body become a big, useless puddle. Eyes as big as owl ones.

"I-I don't want to play. Your stutter had gave away your uneasy feeling, you step back, eyeing this man from head to toe.

You've come to despise those damn riddles. You don't want to hear more of them.

-But this one's so simple sweetheart. He mocks you. It starts with a pretty little O and ends with a N. I'm sure you'll find out.

You shake your head slowly; no, it's not simple, no, you don't want to find out, no, you don't fucking want to listen to him. But he simply chuckles, relatively amused by such a big reaction. Well, with that kind of huge revelation, you can't quite control yourself.

He's rummaging through his pocket, heart almost leaving you. What is he searching for ? A weapon ? What is he thinking ? But against all odds, the joker man takes out something so small you can't even see it behind his palm. You know he's doing it on purpose, hiding it from you to destroy you more, to see the look of surprise, fear or shock, or... Whatever, on your face.

-That's my business card, as a little... Reminder." You deeply doubt someone like him own any business, less business card. So what is he going to give you ?

He lays gently his hand on the counter right before you, not letting you see what he was hiding until he removed completely his hand, confirming your theory of him hiding it on purpose. You'd recognize them anytime. Your heart is beating faster, so fast you're scared it might explode. Nothing is written on the side you're staring at, you grab the cardboard, praying that it's just a crazy coincidence even if the drawing of the joker smiling stupidly on the card is taunting you.

But when you turn the card, the answer is given to you. For the first time since you've started to receive these.

-Obsession." you sigh, breath getting stuck in your throat. You were petrified. "You're... You're the joker man." you say in a shaky voice. Was it finally him ? Answers, you needed answers. But when you looked up, the man had disappeared. Leaving you with nothing but deep fear.

Silent tears slide on your cheeks, you bring your hand to your mouth in order to hide your muffles. Looking back at the card, you feel your legs give up under you when your real name is written in bold black letters in a bottom corner. Bile is rushing to your throat.

It's him. He's the one sending you these.

But you don't know him. You don't fucking know this man. And he's a criminal. You're fucked. Smiling like a madman, you start to laugh nervously, not realizing the situation. It's a joke, right ? You cough, progressively choking on your saliva. You bite your lower lip so hard it starts bleeding. You pray, you pray so hard this man isn't your stalker but you're lying to yourself. It's literally the worst case scenario that could happen.

You've never seen this man in your entire fucking life. Where does he even come from ? Why you ? Why him ? With his fucking creepy scars and fucking riddles. He knows your address ! Your name ! What else does he know ?

"You okay there ?" You nod without even looking at the person talking to you. You choke out a quick answer before rushing to the back towards the private toilet.

Immediately collapsing to the ground, you throw up everything you had in you, which wasn't a lot to begin with. You barely even ate anything. But you can't stop. You empty yourself, only vomiting water.

Sean finally comes get you, he rubs your back and help you get up. "What happened ?" He asks you.

"I don't fucking know." Is the only thing you can muster.

What you do know however, is that you're scared to go home.

"Are you heading home tonight ?" You ask him, voice hoarse. "Well, yeah" is his answer. So you asked him, begged him to come with you. Because you were horrified by the mere idea of going home alone. Maybe he would be here.

"You can come to mine if ya want." he offers. And you think that the guy from yesterday probably was right, you were weird. Why aren't you going to the cops, after all ? Probably because they'll think you're lying, that you're insane. A joker ? Harassing you with riddles ? You'll end up in a asylum in no time.

But wouldn't you be safer in a asylum ?

When Sean and you closed the bar, it was already well past one am. You didn't had the strength to redo this all over again tomorrow. But Sean was of good company, cheering you up and trying to ease your mind. Multiples times he tried to ask what was wrong, but he guessed it alone. "Was it that weird customer in purple ? The one with the suit ? I saw him lingering a really long time at the counter." You shrugged when he said that, completely worn out. What could he even do against him anyway ? The Joker man wasn't known to any of you. It was a lost cause.

Chatting with your friends wasn't even crossing your mind, you were terrified. The long walk to his apartment was as quiet as a church. What the fuck were you going to do now ? You were dead, yes, you were just dead at this point. What can you even do against some psycho following you around ? Fight back ? Yeah, if you have a death wish. You have to get out of this city, there's no other plan. But how ? And to go where ?

"We're here." says Sean. You've never been to his apartment's before, and to be honest, you would have preferred for it to happen in other circumstances. Trying to escape a criminal wasn't in this year plan.

Before you stood a tumbledown grey building, not much different from yours in reality. After all, Sean's not that rich, he's payed like you and live with his dad's payment. Though, you're pleasantly surprised to see the coziness of his place.

Warm lights were turned on, his sofa looked quite mellow and the general smell of the apartment was lovely. Not that you're judging him, but you wouldn't have thought he was such a clean guy. Because he's like, well, some kind of mafia man. So, yeah, he often smells like sweat and dirt himself, it's a surprise his place is so neat. Sure, it's damaged by humidity then and there, there's cracks in the walls but so do yours. The paint is peeling in some areas as well, you're used to it enough to not notice it. You take off your shoes, but keep your jacket. Probably in search of a safe feeling, maybe by fear of being vulnerable.

"You can sit on the couch, I'll order something.

You don't even have the will to eat right now, the ugly feeling everything entering your body might be threw back out instantly bothering you too much. However, you did sit on the couch. It smelt like him; you hated it. You were violating his property, his intimacy. You shouldn't be here.

But do you really have a choice ?

Sean is talking in the background, on the phone, yet, not a single word is understood by you. It's like he's speaking a whole new language. The red flowers on his TV stand keeps reminding you of the joker's card and his damn hat.

He hung up, that you heard, and left for another room. You hate to bother him, he probably only wanted to go home and sleep after a hard day but you messed up his plans. Grabbing the remote, you turn on the TV to empty your mind. You search for series, documentary or cartoons, only to be disappointed at the sight of obnoxious ads.

You end up watching the news, it being the sole channel not drowned in ads. A woman is speaking in a professional neutral voice, wearing a white shirt. She talks about the inflation killing our country before going onto her next subject; the outgrowing insecurity. The two preoccupation of the government, or at least, what they want you all to think about.

From what she says, a hold-up happened in a bank yesterday, in plain sight. (Why do they talk about it now, you don't now.) The building stank laughing gas. Only one man declares having seen the main suspect. Her chair slides to the side, leaving space for the video to appear and for the victim to testify; "Green disgusting hair and some fucked up clown make-up. That's the only thing I saw. He has no value, I'm telling you, criminals used to believe in things ! He has no respect for anyone, he killed his own team ! He's gonna come back for me, I'm sure of..." and he's erased from the screen at his outburst, for everyone to forget his trauma.

Did he say clown ?

"Indeed, the woman vigorously resumes, a faint smile on, was she laughing at the victim ? green hair and clown make-up is on brand today as everyone only talks about this mysterious criminal. After disappearing for months, the troublemaker is back in town and seems unstoppable. But has he truly ever gone away ?

It's not the same man, right ? No, no of course not. If he's a famous criminal, he has better things to do than harass insignificant useless civilians like you with stupid riddles. He robbed a bank ! Why would he even look in your direction? Fuck, what if he thinks you have some kind information? What if he think you're related to a criminal ? What if you are ?

-He calls himself Joker, always wears his clown make up and has a habit of wandering at night." The woman straightens her posture and clasps her hands together. "After yesterday's fiasco, the famous criminal already perpetrated his next attack. Earlier, at noon, the biggest hospital of the city was targeted. Cops were able to evacuate everyone urgently. Gotham is in shamble, people are afraid and angry. The police is trying to calm the crowds, in vain." Images are shown behind her of people running, yelling, stretchers evacuating and flashing cops car during her speech.

She continues talking but you stopped listening when finally a picture of the Joker was displayed on the screen, his face horrifyingly reminding you something. Too many information are going to your brain in so little time. You try to rationalize everything but it's hard when your mind is too tired to cooperate.

He's called the Joker. And you happen to receive joker cards. He wears make up. The man at the bar looked like he did. Hyperventilating is the only thing seemingly still possible from your body. You stand up, inking, sinking, learning, engraving his face to memory.

Two big scars, both going from each corner of his mouth to his cheeks.

Like a badly drawn smile.

"Sean !" you call. Your friend runs out of the bathroom, disheveled, shirt loose and no pants, only in underwear. He rushed out, scared something had happened. Your shaking pointer aim at the TV screen, at the face of the man on it. "It's him. He was at the bar."

When Sean looks at the man, a chill runs down his spine. He understands what might have happened earlier. He could see the purple suit the man had on on the picture, which was the exact same one he saw at the bar. Fuck, it is the same man. He knows the Joker, hell, everyone knows him here.

And that's bad news.

He's everywhere in everyone business. He has no sense of loyalty whatsoever, killing even his best allies and no one has the slightest clue what he wants. At the bar, he probably scared the shit out of you, he probably threatened you, too. Why, it's impossible to know. He's quite the unpredictable.

-Don't worry, he says, he probably forgot about you already. He's a scary man, likes to shock people a little. He always attack for a reason and you're not a criminal, so you're good."

But you couldn't believe it. He does not have all the information. He doesn't know about the tons of cards you received until now. Eyes completely stuck to the screen, you observe the face before you, knowing you probably wouldn't be able to escape him.

Somehow, this emission confirmed to you that he was real, that you weren't dreaming. And that you really were in it deeply.

Sean insists you shower to relax a little bit, you're holding onto the remote for dear life, nails digging in your palm. When in the bathroom, your eyes automatically gravitates towards the mirror, discovering your new face scarred by sleepless nights and cries. You're almost scared of your reflection. Sighing, your hands find themselves in your pockets alone but you're startled by the coldness they are greeted with. What have you in your pocket that is freezing like that ?

Your unease comes back in a rush when you take out another one of these cards from your jacket. Are you for real going crazy ? What is going on ? When did this get here ? How did it get here ? It's your damn jacket ! You had it in the work closet all day !

You're tired and doing this little fucked up game is not doing any good. A greasy almost wiped red is the first thing you see, his lips, you guess. He wears some kind of paint as lip stick, he fucking kissed the card, creepy bastard.

Turning the stiff paper, your eyes meet once again one of these painful riddle.

"I'm everywhere, you can't escape me and I'm coming for you. Who am I ?" tears slide quietly on your cheeks, the only sane reaction your emotionless state can give. You're not even moving, eyes staying fixated on the card; the tears are just physical. Body exhausted from it all. What is this now ? You know he's not talking about an object anymore, he's talking about himself. It's not riddles, it's threats. He's coming for you, what is he going to do ? Kill you ? Torture you, or worse ?

The shower did nothing to ease your nerves, you've never been so tensed in your life. What could you even do against this man ?

When Sean called you to eat, you let him know you weren't feeling the slightest hunger. He said nothing, simply keeping a plate for you on the kitchen counter.

You did not even blink an eye that night, paranoid at the slightest noise, a knife slept cautiously under your cushion. The windows and doors were completely shut and you would have loved to do the very same thing to your brain. You fell asleep, eventually, when you should have been up.

Sean was still asleep when you awoke the next day. You were late, and terribly so, the clicking clock on the wall warning you. It was already way past nine. You don't like to leave his house without even thanking him for his hospitality once again. But you'll see him tonight, at the bar. You'll probably have to quit, though. Not yet, as you have to secure another job. You can't risk being here without money, after all. Joker knows where you work at, no way you're staying more than necessary. But... he has to know about your restaurant job too, somehow.

You had a card in the closet, with his stupid shelf trap, after all.

You're safer there, maybe. It's quite the chic area. There's camera, people. Socialites are here, nobody attacks socialites. Usually, at least. Doubts subsists, the journalist on the TV affirmed the Joker attacked in the middle of the day, in plain sight. Would he attack the rich ? They're untouchable, their lawyer always know what to do and they know everyone. You can't kill a famous advocate, right ? It's like attacking the mayor. Remembering his face, you keep the unsettling impression he could kill anyone.

Fuck.

You take a piece of paper, write a few words on it, scotch it on the fridge and leave, dashing outside to not worsen your lateness. You were dead, oh you were so dead. Late couldn't even describe your situation by now. You boss was going to kill you, de-materialize you and send you in another world.

You ran until your legs couldn't support you anymore, people were side-eyeing you in the streets. Certainly thinking of you as some kind of thief or at the very least a criminal of some sort.

Jumping in the nearest bus, your legs being too weak to support you anymore, you finally arrive at your workplace ten minutes later. It was quarter to ten.

You're breathless, rushing once again to the rear of the restaurant. You push the back door open but to your surprise, it won't budge. What ? The guys never lock the door that early in the morning, they know you'll arrive, eventually. You knock a few times, knowing you had the key anyway but if someone was passing by inside, it would be quicker.

You don't have to wait that long as your boss himself is the one opening it for you, as if waiting beside it until your entry. He probably was. He crosses his arms on his chest, eyes glaring holes in you. Damn, you'll have to fight with him, again. You promised him you wouldn't be late anymore, he will never trust you again.

Well, it's not like he trusted you much before to begin with.

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry I'm late but... he scoffs.

-As If that was the only problem ! The man tightens his jaw, talking between his teeth. He approaches his head to yours, almost colliding your forehead together; he talks lowly, scared to be heard. You know damn well what's wrong.

Wow, okay. You were not expecting his reaction to be that dramatic. You're just (incredibly) late. It's not new. What's gotten into him ? You squint your eyes, at a loss of words.

-I was just... You start, ready to recite him once again your preposterous apologies.

-I don't give a fuck about you being late, he cracks, get out of here now ! You are not to put a single of your foot in this restaurant anymore ! You're gonna scare my customers ! In the process, a postilion left its house to attack your cheek. You cringe, immediately wiping it with your sleeve, shuddering in disgust.

-What ?

-What, what, he mimics you with a grimace and a weird voice, Get out of here ! He articulates each words slowly as if you were a foreigner, except his tone was harsh and firm. Haven't you seen the news ? If they hear a criminal is working here, I'm screwed.

-A criminal ? But I'm not... I'm, what the hell ? I'm not a criminal Tony.

-Yeah, yeah, and I'm rich ! Get the fuck out of here or at least, do me a favor and let me turn you in to the police." his face changes to disdain, suddenly thoroughly repelled by your being. "Man, you have to be some dirty criminal to have 600 000$ put on your face. What kind of shit have you done, huh ?

Six fucking what ?

-Uh, listen, I think there's some kind of misunderstanding here. I'm no criminal and I'm definitely not worth that much money.

Hell, in all your life, you did not even earn that much money !

-Hey, his tone changed to deviously adopt one sweeter. I don't want any problems okay ? With you, the cops or whoever is fucking wanting you dead. I'm an honest citizen.

What a hypocrite, he was literally yelling at you seconds ago.

You frown, trying to even understand what he's implying. You scratch your cheek, eyeing him from head to toe. He's in a tux, like always. He never do shit here, settling for bossing everyone around while trying to make you believe he's an irreplaceable element in the team.

Judging by his eyes, he is not kidding.

Is he for real firing you ? Just like that ? For some imaginary story he just made up ? Jobless, you will be jobless. He is firing you. A nervous chuckles escapes you, earning you a raise of the brow from Tony. No, oh no no ! You have this job, you did nothing wrong ! Life is already more shitty than it ever been ! Stalker, debts, fucking serial killer wanting your ass and now you lost your main job ? No, that won't do.

You were already planning to leave the bar, how are you supposed to find back two jobs ? One already was an ordeal.

-Honest citizen ? Are you blind ? You were more so than him at the moment. You don't even have an ounce of honesty in your fucking body ! Are you even aware of everything I did for this shitty place ? You can't fire me and you won't because no one else want to be your fucking slave ! Your job is slavery ! I don't want to be some kind of toy you throw away after you've had enough fun with it !

Tony was outraged you could talk to him like that. He was similar to a bourgeois in the eighteenth century, acting shocked after being the most gruesome person alive, putting his hand displayed on his chest and playing innocent.

-Me ? You should be honored to even be working ! You never understand, do you ? You are wanted, that's it ! There's nothing more, nothing less. You are fired. I am not hiring trash.

You hope the worst criminal of this town gets you, right here, for his fucking ugly disgusting restaurant to be destroyed to the very last crumbs. You'll use his body as a human shield while you're at it, after all, what else can he be useful for ?

Your body is boiling like lava. Hitting, jumping, crying, you don't know what you want, need, to do to externalize all of these toxic feelings. Never in your life have you felt more used, humiliated.

You knew he was an asshole, of course. Everyone does, but hell he fired you ! After years of being his toy !

You understand why people in Gotham are crazy. You understand why they suddenly breakdown and fall into crime. Their life, just like yours, was wasted by some self centered prick like him. Some self centered prick who are not even much richer than you, but think they will be when disrespecting you.

Your face isn't even warm, it's seething.

Your life is flashing before you, old friend, family, home, Mike. You won't even be able to pay your rent ! Of course chaos would be loved in a city where trash rules. Why the manifestation are so violent, why insecurity and banditry are prominent ? Because everyone is tired but nobody is listening. Because nobody wants to talk, they think they're at the top of the food chain.

And he won't change his mind. You're fired, that's all. Nothing can alters his decision. It's too late. He probably just created some poor excuses to get you out, you know it. Because you're not a criminal, and no one is giving away 600 000$ for your ass; he's lying. It's too farfetched.

You muster the calmest voice you can get while in such a boiling state, and God knows how hard it is. Wasting more time here is useless, he'll pay but not now, and not by you. You have a new problem: you need to find a job.

-Why don't you kill yourself, Tony ? Right now ? your eyes were empty against his outraged ones. That's why your wife left you, by the way. That's why she left you and took your damn kids. You don't even deserve to live, really, kill yourself, jump, it'll be better for everyone."

You shrug and turn away to never come back. You really hope he disappears forever.

And without anything else to do with your day, you went back home, body functioning by its own. With no diploma and no driving license, how were you supposed to find a job ? You had little experience, mostly having worked in little jobs everywhere. Cashiers, cleaner, babysitting, gardener (you really just cut bushes and mowed the lawn), security guard, fuck, you did it all. Plus, you have a second job and companies hate to arrange their schedules according to yours, in their point of view, you're the desperate one, you should manage your life.

It was safer to wander in Gotham now, the sun was bright in the sky. It was a clear day, really pretty. A shame you couldn't enjoy it.

You open the always creaking door of the building, feeling the freezing temperature inside. Truly a mystery, though a benediction in the hottest summer. A night out and it's like you already don't know this place anymore. You stand in the middle of the hall, staring at each crack in the walls, each suspicious stains, inhaling the disgusting smell emanating from it all.

Yeah, you hate this place.

Sighing and rubbing your tensed shoulders, you approach your mailbox. Opening it, you're pleasantly surprised when no cards is in sight. Maybe he finally got bored ? Your reaction back at the bar probably wasn't what he expected, not satisfying enough so he gave up. You hope so.

What's inside however is a A4 white sheet folded in two. Thinking a neighbor might have wanted to contact you, you open the paper. Yet, on it, the photo of your identity card in huge format, above it, your whole legal name with just below a price, written 'wanted' for treason. A chill run down your spine.

Okay, that is not funny. What the hell ? Did Tony did that ? If yes, how and why ? You pass your hand on your face, harshly rubbing your eyelids to wake you up. This is a joke, everything's a joke.

An echo brings you back on earth when someone goes down the stairs, upon seeing you, your neighbor halts. You offer him a tight lip smile out of pure politeness, which is a an act he does not even try to imitates as he eyes you as if seeing an animal. Do you look that bad ?

Awkwardly, you shift your weight on your feet to ease the tension growing in you. Why is he still looking at you ? The man, even though you were already well far away from him, distances himself and instead of going straight to the door to leave, bothers to make a detour in order to skirt you completely, without daring to approach a millimeter. Does he think you're going to bite, or what ? You two have talked in the past, briefly sure, but still. Fuck, his behaviour does not comfort you one bit.

When the door shut, you're left standing alone once again.

Things are definitely going in a direction you don't appreciate, you may need to hurry up before something really bad happens. Your hand fetches your phone in your back pocket, calling Sean. When he answers, he does not even bother to greet you.

"You okay? You left really early. You're at work ?

-I got fired, long story. I really need your help, again. I'm truly sorry I myself don't quite understand what's going on and... you stop your ranting, breathless and a lump in throat.

-It's okay, really. I don't mind. Tell me everything, how did you get fired ? Why ?

You called him for several reasons. The first being that he's kind of the only friend you have. The second being that Sean's family know people. They're all criminal at different degrees, whether it is gang leader, small thief or hitman. He's the only one actively trying to live an honest life.

-It's complicated and I'm still pissed about it. you tell him seriously, walking in circles in the hall. I have a question and I really need your answer.

-Not stressing at all. He tries to ease the mood, in vain.

-Am I wanted ?

Sean doesn't answer for twenty seconds too much. His silence is starting to worry you, why isn't he saying anything ? Is he confused ? Does he know ? Please, may he not hide something from you. Wanting to distract yourself, you take the stairs to join your flat. Your fingers were creasing the paper sheet in your hand so hard you could have ripped it.

-In like, he finally starts with a strained voice, a personality kind of way ? Relationship ? He chuckles awkwardly while you frown. Well, no offense but uh, I don't think I am attracted to you, I like you but I wouldn't say I want you, you know ? But you shouldn't be insecure, you're a really great person you know, and I mean, you're not ugly so...

-Sean, what the fuck ? You finally cut him when it hit you that he wasn't answering. You were on the floor just below yours, wanting to walk and not quite go home for the moment.

-I'm sorry, was that mean ? That was definitely mean. He clears his throat. Listen, what I meant was...

-No Sean I'm not insecure, everything's fine. I did not mean... Argh ! You're in this kind of environment, you should know !

-What environment ...?

You want to pull at his hair and shake his head back and forth to punish him for being so stupid. Or maybe you were just not being clear, it was surely that. You were incredibly stressed. Traveling between the different floors or the building to stretch your legs.

-Like, criminals, mafia, I don't know. It's... You sigh, your anger dissipating when you realized you were being a little harsh to him. Weird things keep happening to me and I think I'm going crazy for thinking I may have a price on my head.

-Oh, wanted wanted. No because I thought... He coughs. Never mind. I can definitely tell you that. But honestly, odds are low. No offense but you have nothing to give to anyone. You don't have a lot of money. So I don't think anyone wants you.

Damn.

-Why do you think that anyway ? he asks.

Very briefly, you explain to him why Tony had fired you, still using the stairs and floors as a distraction. Of course, you then told him about the paper you found in your mailbox and the weird encounter with your neighbor.

-I'm just really fucking lost, Sean. I'm sorry, you've been nothing but nice to me and I keep snapping at you, I-I don't know what's going on.

-You're freaked out, it's normal. I don't blame you. I'll help you, send me the wanted poster you got. Maybe it's fake."

Of course, you tell him. You'd do pretty much anything to get out of this situation. You want it to be fake, but there's just an accumulation of bad things that tend to make you believe it's true. Looking around you, you notice to be on the last floor of the building. Flattening the paper sheet back, trying to erase all the creases, you lay it on the dirty floor of the hallways. You tear your phone away from your ear for a simple moment to take the picture. You press send.

You wait impatiently for him to say something, anything. But his reaction is clearly not the one you were waiting for:

-Oh fuck.

-What ? you panic, feeling your heart rises in your throat. What do you mean 'oh fuck' ? Sean ?" But the nauseating ringing of the call being cut short echoes in your ear.

He hung up.

You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as hard as you can. Your fingers find your closed lid, pressing on it as if calming an upcoming headache. What the fuck is going on exactly ? Why did he hang up ? Did you say something ? Did he see something ? You can't keep doing that, nobody answered any of your questions since this morning. You are tired.

You give up. You'll go back home, sleep a little. Research a job in the newspaper and hope for things to get better. Sighing, you walk the stairs once again, only this time to really move on.

Has everyone given up on you ? It feels like it, no one seems akin to want to help you. You never did any wrong to anyone. You always hold the door open to people, you give the few you have to homeless people in the streets. You payed what an old woman lacked in money for her groceries. You work everyday of the damn week, with no holidays.

What have you done ?

Sure, you're starting to break down, you told Tony to kill himself, you yelled at Sean. What the hell ? Never would you have done that in your life. What's happening ? It's getting scary out there, yet, no one's here for you to confide in.

You never should have left your hometown, you punished yourself.

The first thing you do once inside your home is falling head first on the couch. Feeling tears filling up your eyes. You don't fight them, letting them slide freely along your cheeks. After all, it's the good part of having a place to yourself, you get to cry alone in the safety of it.

You'll have to give it up, though. Without necessary money, you'll eventually need to move. Probably find a roommate and live in a red light district.

You spent the next hours trying to read classified ads, key word being 'trying' as your watery eyes didn't allow you to see much. And you ended up watching TV, like you always do. You couldn't fathom the idea of being that alone. When did it all go wrong ? Are you a horrible person ?

The news-woman kept talking and talking without stopping, saying the same things as yesterday and probably tomorrow as well. Inflation, criminality, inflation, criminality. Where were you in all of this ? What about the population ? Where were the solutions ? Is this city really stuck in a loop of chaos ?

The screen now displays a cop in a police station, sharing his feeling and impression about the improvement of the city. You don't listen to him, more struck by what's behind him: a poster on a cork board. Yours. It's your face, with the price, 'treason' shit and everything. The exact same poster you had in your mailbox. The situation is that bad, huh ? Your wanted poster is right next to The Joker one. Is there a link ? Are they hoping to find him after finding you ? They're wrong, then.

You wait, impatiently trying to decipher whether the policeman will talk about you or not. But he does not, so you lay back down on the couch. How does wanted people live freely ? You've been researched for a few hours and you're already going crazy with the feeling everyone's watching you.

Do you even know a criminal in this town ? Well, the only one you do know is Sean. You briefly meet them at the bar, as part of your job. Befriending them is not for you though, so you have no useful information to give the Joker. Then what does he want ?

The doorbell rings through the flat, screaming at you to get up and do something with your life. A chill run through your body, breath stopping for a second out of fear to be heard. For a while, you don't move. Who could it be anyway ? Surely bad news. Now that you're wanted, it could be anyone. But the rings echoes again, forcing you to get up. Slowly and as quietly as possible, you slide to the door. Eye staring through the peephole, you're surprised to discover Sean standing anxiously outside.

How did he get your address ?

Opening the different locks on your door, you however keep the small chain closing it. It wasn't much of a protection to be honest, but you needed to lie to yourself a little bit.

"You hung up on me. Is the only thing you say when your eyes meet.

-I know, I'm really sorry. Are you okay ?

-How did you get my address ? It's weird.

He explains to you how your information are given on your work file. You stand inside, judging him from head to toe. He welcomed you at his place, you have to be polite or you'll really look like an opportunistic. But it's hard when you don't know his exact thoughts.

-Why did you hang up ?

-I talked to my uncle, he has a bar in the center of Gotham. Every criminal goes there, he knows everything.

-And ?

-You're safe, it's false. You're not wanted. He... He didn't see your poster. So it was a bad joke. Silence, you don't believe him. I promise. You're not in danger.

Then why is your face plastered in all Gotham ? Is he completely sure about that information ? You hate to act this way but, it's too late for him to tell you that anyway. False or not, the poster of your head is everywhere. People will try to find you. The veracity of it all doesn't matter anymore.

Though you can't shake that uneasy feeling inside you alerting you of his lie. You saw your face on TV, in a police station. It's not nothing !

-How are you so sure ?

-I told you, you have nothing that could interest such a dangerous man as the Joker.

He's right, on the other hand, something's definitely wrong.

-What do we do, now ?

-You could let me in ? I want to help you but we can't talk if I stay outside.

Halfheartedly, you let him in. He thanks you, admires a few seconds his surroundings before plopping down on the couch. You stay standing even after closing the door shut, crossing your arms on your chest and awaiting his arguments.

Should you tell him you saw your face in a police station ? No, you need to know what he's going to tell you. He's lying, you know it now. But why ?

You thought he could be a friend, turn out you can't trust him that much. Or are you losing it ? Policemen are quite dumb here, they are completely capable of believing everything they see and considering they're desperate to catch the Joker; they could have took your poster as a track.

-What's your plan ? you ask.

-It depends on what you want.

Well, you want a lot of different things. Money, happiness, freedom, family, equality, peace. Right now though, one will be enough.

-I need a job, I can't pay my rent this month otherwise.

-That one's easy. He crosses his arms on his chest, sinking into the sofa cushions. Try ask your bank, they'll lend you some.

-No they won't Sean, I'm indebted. Seriously, did he really think life was this easy ? Did he really think you haven't thought of doing just that ?

He sighs and shrug, crossing his legs, he put his feet on the table. Your eyes are enough to tell him to put them back on the ground. He's a little bit too comfortable for your liking.

-It's these immigrants my friend. We lack money because of them.

What ?

-No, it's just poor distribution of resources. With the ongoing inflation and such, it has literally nothing to do with immigration. You frown, confusion lacing your tone, answering him as if asking a question, because what ? That was so out of pocket ? It's stupid to think like that, it's too easy to accuse others. They're as fucked as we are, you know ? Don't say that.

That's what Gotham thinks ? That each one of their problem is caused by others ? Industries, Government, Politics, they're the one causing all of this. How does someone get to this conclusion ? You thought Sean was good, hell, his family was poor. They survived thanks to drugs and banditry. He's bold to think immigrants are the problem: His family literally embezzles money.

-Jeez, calm down.

Well, it's difficult to be calm towards this kind of stupidity. But at least it keeps you in check, you know who he's voting for. Never trust anyone. It's true you don't know him that well, after all.

-You want my help or not ?

It's harder to see him in the same light as before after this, but if he's the only one willing to help, you can't waste this chance.

-Yeah. You sigh, ashamed with yourself. I need people to forget about me.

-Good, meet me at the back of the bar at the end of our shift. He's not waiting for an answer as he gets up to leave.

-Wow. No ?

He stops in his tracks as you block his way.

-What do you mean, 'no' ?

Is he serious ? With everything you risk ? Criminals at the bar know you, hell, some of them see you every night. No, you are not joining him in the dark in a creepy alley late at night when people want you dead. Also, you need to think a little before jumping straight back to work, it's dangerous.

-Because I don't want to die ?" You need to tell him. "Okay, Sean, I may not understand everything but I know you're lying to me. Am I wanted or not ?

He already lost every ounce of respect you had for him. First with the lying, then with the whole immigrants things.

-You don't believe me ? Is he trying to make you feel guilty ?

-I saw my fucking head on the TV. I believe that's enough proof for me. You cut the conversation straight, not wanting him to keep lengthening things uselessly.

Sean doesn't answer, seemingly hesitating. What is he thinking ? He has to respond. He's constantly trying to avoid the subject and it's getting frustrating.

-That means I'm in danger, right ?

-Yes." he finally answers. Thank God, you think, God why, you also think. "But not because of the Joker. He's not responsible for what's happening to you. All the cards and riddles are from him, yes, but someone saw you two talking at the bar and thought they could get to him by killing you.

You entirely stopped trusting him after he mentioned the cards and the riddles. Because never, in all your discussions, have you mentioned receiving these. He knows too much.

You don't bring it up, of course.

-Explain.

Who could have told him about the riddles, if not you ? The one sending them ? Yes, but Sean's terrified of him. Plus, he couldn't talk to him, even if he had the courage to. It's the Joker, from what you understand, you don't approach him easily. He's not the small local criminal. He's something more.

-The Joker's well known. Everyone wants to defy him. And someone saw you.

-Who ? you ask, finally getting some well deserved qualitative answers.

-His name was, uh, Korej I believe.

-Ko...Rej... you repeat, unimpressed, frowning.

Is it you or does it sound vaguely similar to Joker, but with the letters all mixed up ?

-It's his pseudonym." He hastily answers. "But his real name is John, he lives in the richest part of Gotham. He's a mob leader. He fucking despises the Joker, that's why his name is Kojer.

-Korej, you corrected.

-Yeah, it's difficult to remember. It's quite the shitty name.

He really think you're dumb, right ? You clasp your hands together, catching his drifting attention.

-Okay, well, thank you for everything Sean. It was a pleasure, truly. But now I'm gonna ask you to leave.

-You don't believe me ?

No, no you don't. Everything he ever said to you since he first came here was either weird or false. And sometimes weirdly false.

-Please, leave my house.

You'll go to the nearest police station, ask for help. And if nobody helps you, you'll find a way out of here. This city is dead anyway, there's nothing for you anymore. It's too late.

-Don't you want to talk about it ? he asks hurriedly, displaying his open hands in the air as if ready to grab your shoulders.

-If you want us to talk, okay, you yield. But choose somewhere safe, with a lot of people. I am not joining you at the back of the bar at night where everyone could kill me.

You're going crazy. Why are you even accepting this ? It's not a dream, nor a joke, you really are wanted. People want to kill you. There is money on your head. Sean is deep in thoughts before getting the enlightenment he needed, suddenly vigorously saying:

-Shopping center.

-What ?

-Let's meet at the shopping center, in two hours. I have things to prepare, people to call. You have my number, I'll call you. Is it good for you ?

His behaviour is screaming danger, on the other hand, a rendez-vous in a crowded shopping center at 3PM is not as risky as the bar. And if things turn bad, you still have a chance to run away, hidden in the mass. You hope the things he'll prepare will help you, and not worsen everything.

"Okay. You yield, once again.

-Thank you so much, he exclaimed." Why is he thanking you ? "You're a real sweetheart. It will be worth it."

And with these last words, he left.

You won't go. Of course you won't go damn, you don't want to die. He's so suspicious ! Why so much relief ? He's the one supposed to help you, you're not doing anything for him. You absolutely changed your mind. Yesterday, he was that nice man who saved your life, welcoming you home warmly. Today, he's, well, you don't know who he is anymore. You want to understand, discover what's wrong, but at the same time, it's not yours to do.

Fuck, you need to empty your mind. It's tiring, to be suspicious of everyone, to always have to thoroughly think about everything you do. You plop down on your couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. There's a cartoon going on. Tom and Jerry, a cat chasing, or at least trying to, a mouse. But the mouse's well smarter than the cat.

Each time he thinks he'll catch it, the mouse finds a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Because in fact, the cat will never win. He has the illusion of strength because of his height, when the mouse is vicious, malign.

Also, if the cat caught the mouse, well, the show wouldn't have any interest anymore.

On the screen, the mouse finds a way to slam the door in the cat face, who's dizzy. To illustrate it, stars and birds are rotating around his head.

You don't know why the mouse does all this, maybe to survive. The small animal found the comfort of a warm house with good cheese and doesn't want to leave. The cat, however, is forced to chase it all day. As his owners force him to. It's his role, as the house guard, to chase rodents. Otherwise, he'll be replaced.

You have to be really damn fucked for you to start analyzing a stupid cartoon.

Jeez, it's a cat chasing a mouse, it's silly, it's fun to watch. You don't think, just turn off your brain and have fun. Why can't you do just that ?

Sighing, you change channel, trying to find something worth watching. You end up watching the news, it keeping you grounded. It helps you think you're not the worst case, that there's always worse somewhere. It's deeply selfish, but hey, you can't do much about it. Your life is pretty much ruined at the moment.

What's today's problem? Well this time, the subject is centered around climate change and its catastrophes.

"Global warming. Today, in Spain, alarming news. The national temperature has increased considerably by 46°F (5°C) since last year. The Spanish are revolted, the world is encountering a record in warmth. Their main claim, she reads her notes, "It's summer's weather when we're in autumn." She briefly gulps her saliva. "Indeed, the local heat reached 86°F (30°C) while 73°F (23°C) at night. IPCC's report is alarming, something has to change. Is the world government going to act ?" She quits her serious tone and changes the subject. "Local news; what's happening in Gotham today ?"

Ah, here you go. You turn up the volume.

"Earlier in the main avenue today, several store signs were vandalized by a group of masked men, it is thought to be perpetrated by an illegal organization. It's a real raid that happened, terrorizing the passers-by and owners. The identity of the delinquent stays unfounded. We know that the police department is currently working on..."

You mute the TV. Vandalizing stores, now ? They didn't even steal anything, who does that ? On the screen, a replay of surveillance cameras showing masked men running, pushing people and only stopping to draw weird shapes on a few of the stores. It's bad, but not quite as bad as your case. Putting the sound back, you're perfectly timed with the conclusion of the event.

"Where is Batman ? Has the vigilante abandoned our city ? We hope for his prompt return in time for him to apprehend the Joker."

Batman, right. You forgot that man was even existing. While some wonder who is hiding behind the mask, you're left questioning yourself on which side is he. If he's with the cops, is he a good or bad man ? Police is part of the problem, certainly. But Batman sometimes helps people, although you never encountered him yourself. But is he really with the police ?

Who is he working with ? And why is he what he is ?

"Whatever... You rub your eyes."

Why do you even keep thinking about that, it's not your problem anymore. You're leaving. Gotham has nothing left for you. Batman can do whatever he wants, for all you care. He doesn't know about your insignificant existence, why waste it thinking of him ?

But are you really leaving this place, though ?

Are you really about to leave your life and flee like a coward ? Yes, is the obvious answer. You could think about it, is the less obvious answer.

Yes, your life is at stake. On the other hand, Sean could really be useful as you're still in danger as long as you stay in Gotham, he's a considerable ally in this story. And not only Sean but his family as well could help you.

You know about his aunt. That woman is quite well known. A powerful gang chief. You could pay her to get escorted outside of Gotham. You're already indebted anyway, you have nothing to lose anymore. Moreover, nothing guarantees your safety once outside of Gotham. If the Joker is as feared as shown in the media, changing city won't be enough. Which is why you need to clear the problem directly from the root.

Okay, you won't lose anything in going, right ? Maybe your life, but it's worth a try. You'll join Sean. Yes, you'll join him.

When the time arrived, you couldn't shake that uneasy feeling taunting you all while preparing yourself. What if someone chases after you ? What if you get kidnapped ? You won't, of course you won't. Sean will be there when you arrive. He's dissuading enough. He's a big man.

You found yourself before the gigantic mall before even being able to process it. It was crowded, people entering and getting out every second. For a moment, your eyes search for Sean in the rabble only to find no one. He's probably inside, it's safer.

Tightly holding the hood stuck on your head, you stare intensely at whoever crosses your path, trying to gain enough courage to finally enter the building.

It's scary to be wanted, the displeasing impression everyone's looking at you is suffocating. You could get killed, right now. Abducted, even.

When the automated doors open, you're greeted by the cold air conditioning. It's autumn, why the hell would someone want to freeze to death ?

Checking your phone, there's still no sign of Sean. He couldn't possibly stand you up, right ? He's the one who insisted for you to come. It wouldn't be logical. He's just late.

You can't really afford to be waiting in your situation, every second matters. You don't know what will happen. And, yeah, you're kind of starting to freak out. You don’t know where your wanted poster ended up. Maybe you’re already dead, and, shit, you're alone in such a vulnerable position. Fuck, why did you come ?

You’re trying to stay rational, thinking of every possibility as to why he’s not here. You nod your head to yourself, trying to ease your nerves. He'll come. You just need a little patience. He said he needed to prepare things beforehand, that's why he's late. He's late because he'll help you.

You miss the mall, it's been long since you last came here, too preoccupied with your two jobs. You used to like watching people but quickly stopped. First, you once or twice made an awkwardly long eye contact with a man who then wanted to beat you up for provoking him, "like a pussy". Then, the second reason is that people are just... Mean. You'd look at a pretty woman only for her to spit on the ground. In the street is already disgusting enough, but the mall ! You'll look at a man hugging a woman, just to realize that they both don't know each other and that he's drunk out of his mind.

Maybe you do need to get out of here, actually.

Your phone still hasn't buzzed, you need to do something with your body or you’ll go crazy. It’s obvious staring daggers at your device every second won’t help. He's not here yet, you need to accept it and wait. You'll walk a little to not get noticed, your tensed and motionless body language is screaming suspicious and people are starting to side eye you.

It’s only natural of your legs to start bringing you to the places you used to go to, only to realize that one of your favorite stores closed permanently. Of course, with the crisis. It’s not surprising.

"Fucking morons..." Mutters a man to your left. Upon looking in his direction, you meet the owner of the voice standing on a stepladder, trying to energetically scrub with a sponge his store's sign. Key word being 'trying' as it's not successful.

Right, earlier's vandals.

He's cursing to himself, scrubbing progressively more aggressively the almost intact big black 'O' tagged on the sign mocking him.

"Can I know who did that? asked your curiosity.

-Fucking assholes, he answers without even looking your way, that's who did that.

-What do they looked like ?

-No idea, he grumbles. They all had that stupid mask on. All white with some blue and red. No idea what that was supposed to be. Ask the other owners if you're so interested, but you're late. Journalists already left.

Oh, right. He thinks you’re a journalist.

-Thank you, have a nice day sir.

-Yeah yeah…”

You heard several stores were vandalized, where are the others ? Letting your legs wander, you get your answer a few meters/feet away. A sign is hanging by an electric thread.

It’s a shoe store, but its signboard was now displaying a big black 'O'. You lift a brow, confused about its meaning. Usually, tag either insults or convey a message. Anyhow, there's a sense. Now though, you can't quite pinpoint it. O, what starts with an O. Optimism, oppression, obedient omelette ? It can be anything. Maybe it's not a letter, but a signature?

Two stores away (you see it out of the corner of your eye) another of these is vandalized, this time, a bold 'B' was written. What word could this correspond to? B for Batman ? It's not a word, mostly a name. Baby, maybe. Bomb, bag, anything. Hell, it could even be badminton for all you know.

Next letter is directly after the previous one, a 'S' hiding the dress logo the sign was exhibiting prior. The paint is dripping a little and one or two drops can be seen on the ground.

"Those damn scum." a man grumbles, who you think might be the owner of the poor store. He crosses his arms on his chest, looking up disapprovingly.

You ignore him, now thrilled by all of this. You want to discover all the tags. It's not like you have much better to do anyway. Sean still hasn't answered you. You know what to do to wait: find words for each letter. S makes you think of sabotage, skull and soup.

You see the next letter from afar, this time, an "E" welcomes you. Though, this one was partially erased. You guess the owner found the right product. It's now possible to read the sign and enjoy the sweet sight of what seems to be a sex shop sign. Is it even legal ? There's kids coming into this mall. Anyway, a lot of words start with E; Electric, Ebola, education, eagle.

You don't find the next letter right away, needing to walk a little to find it. But when you do, you're weirdly excited. It's just a bunch of words on some signboards, yet, it's fun. Like an orienteering race. But mostly because you don't get to have much fun today, and this being out of your quotidian, it's easy to be ecstatic.

Further away, it's not one but two letters that greets you; two "S", entwined like snakes. Shit, is it a nazi kind of tag ? It looks like the police's symbol there was back then. If that’s the case, you don’t find this as exciting as before. Not a good thing to write. There's already so much chaos here, you pray nazis are not going to be added to it. You think of the word 'Swiss' for this letter.

Next letter is an 'I'. Investigation, investment, ice. A woman bypasses you, hitting your shoulder with her. You squeal out of surprise, the woman doesn't even notice you. What a shitty town. You check your phone again, making sure Sean didn't try to contact you. No reply.

Walking ahead, the next vandalized store needs you to turn to the left to be seen, it's an 'O', again. But you don’t have the time to think of words that you already see the next letter. It’s a ‘N’. Night, Nemo (as in the movie) and nuisance. You already found words starting with ‘O’ anyway. It seems to be the last one as you walk and turn but no others appear. Disappointment lingers, sad it ended so soon.

What is it, does it form a word at the end ? Like street art ? Maybe, a shame you already forgot all the previous letters. It was fun, though. You'd do it again, it's entertaining. Like a track game where you follow a path. Vibrations are bringing you back to reality, rushing to take it, you rotate to leave the place in order to find somewhere calmer. In your haste, you bump straight into someone. You freeze for a second, phone in hand.

They’re wearing a mask, a clown mask on their black hair. And a really ugly one. It’s shiny, like plastic and it surely is. Their eyes are the only thing you see through the holes. Whoever that is is staring right into your damn soul. Their eyes are empty, so empty you might think they’re on some kind of drug. The big red nose in the middle of their face is mocking you, laughing at you to be scared of something so ridiculous. Two small tufts of green hair are standing on each side of his head, the false bloody teeth drawn on the mask is the final touch that tells you to leave.

“Sorry.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Your hands are holding your phone so tightly that fear strikes you that you could actually break the screen. The clown does not move when you walk past him, and you realize right then and there that they were well too close to you for it to be normal. You hate clowns, you hate them so much. All of this because of that stupid Joker. That person probably wasn’t even related to him, maybe he was one of the vandals. You don’t know, you don’t want to.

When you pick up Sean’s call, he apologizes for being late and plans an area for you to meet. You’re before the sex shope tagged by the “E” by the time Sean joins you. You’re not as convinced as before to destroy the problem from its root after the clown encounter. You’re not a hero, not a criminal. You’re nothing, you don’t have anything to prove to anybody. You should leave.

“You okay ? You look like you saw a ghost ? He laughs, but he’s not your friend so you don’t.

-So ? Got out much more coldly than you intended it to be.

-Jeez, you’re impatient. I’ll help you, I told you I would, right ?

You did, doesn’t mean you really will. You cross your arms on your chest, approaching him for him to hear you more clearly.

-Do you have any information ? Ways to get me out of here ? To resolve this ? Anything ?

He sighs, stepping back as if you’re the plague and looking elsewhere in the crowd. He seems conflicted, forehead creased by his worry.

-I can’t tell you now, walls have ears.

-Then why the fuck would you tell me to join you here ? If you’re so scared to be spied on, we could have continued this discussion at my place.

Your tension is building up. It’s fucking frustrating to talk with him. He starts teasing you with interesting information, then, he retreats and acts as if nothing happened and you’re just impatient. He told you to come here, he told you he’d help you.

-At least answer my questions, you plead, I don’t even know who… Who is the Joker ? Who is he exactly ? He physically tensed, his shoulders literally hunched forwards. What the hell ?

-Well, uh, it's complicated.

Damn, even that couldn’t be answered. Why are you still here ?

-What do you mean it's complicated ? Is he a terrorist ? A thief ? A gang leader ? A serial killer ? It's a simple question.

-He's a little bit of everything, truly.

Why does he always seem so nervous talking about him ?

-Sean for the love of God, he’s not here ! people are starting to look in your direction, but you couldn’t care less. You can calm down, he won’t kill you ! You gotta breathe a little, man. Aren’t you the one who literally told me he wasn’t after me ? It’s not the first time you’re lying to me and I’m starting to lose it. Why am I here ? Tell me, why are we fucking here if you’re not gonna help me ! Who is this man and what does he want ? Why does he want to kill me ! It’s…” a gunshot whistles in the air, cutting you in your sentence straight away, screams erupting from all sides.

Your body acts before you can think, throwing yourself on the ground. It’s hard to understand what’s going on, but in a way, you don’t try to. You get up quickly and lose yourself in the running and yelling crowd. Your paranoia is not helping, was this gunshot aimed at you ? Sean is somewhere in the mall, but it’s too late. You gave him a chance, he wasted it.

Another gunshot echoes, followed closely by the sound of a glass breaking. Your senses are overwhelmed; names, insults, orders are being yelled. Is the Joker here ? You need to get out of here, now. Bodies are pushed against yours, your clothes are being tugged on. But when you were about to reach the exit, someone harshly grabs you out of the crowd, pulling you aside. It’s panic in your head, survival instinct kicking in. You yank your arm out of the person’s hold but freeze upon seeing Sean threaten you with a gun.

“Sean, you start with a shaky voice, what the fuck ? his eyes are cold, you don’t recognize him. He looks at you as if you're nothing, as if you're no one.

-He’s here, he states, looking paranoidly to the sides. He’s… He’s going to kill me if I don’t bring you to him.

-Bring me to who, Sean ? But you fear you might already know.

-The Joker.

Of course he’d betray you. Who are you kidding ? You knew, you knew he would trap you. Your eyes can’t leave the sight of the gun barrel, following each of its movements. He’s shaking, you realize. Is he scared, hesitating ? Or motivated by a hatred so pure he can’t even control his own feelings ?

-Sean, you try nonetheless, he’ll kill you either way okay ? He’s a sadist, we can… you gulp, throat suddenly burning dry. We can leave together, we’ll leave the city and…

-You don’t understand, do you ? He’ll track you, he’ll track us down. And then, he’ll slaughter us like pigs. You hear me ? He’ll slaught…

-I get it ! I get it ! you scream, shutting your eyes in order to erase those images from your head.

How can you even change his mind ? You doubt he’d fold with some speech about your friendship. It’s not like you two were that close to be honest. Sure, you liked him but that changed since the beginning of the Joker catastrophe.

-He promised me money, he explained himself. As if you’d forgive him after hearing his justification. A lot of money. You can’t understand what it’s like to… when you see him lower his weapon, you interrupt him, drived by your anger.

-How can you be so stupid ? He was, he truly was an idiot for believing the Joker. You haven’t known that beast for long, but each time someone defined him, it was always along the lines of wicked, treacherous, vicious and ruthless. So yeah, he was stupid. Was your life worth something as insignificant as money ? Has he ever liked you ?

-Shut up ! I’m done living like a fucking tramp !

Tramp is a big word coming from him, daddy pays him everything ! You’re tired of his tantrums, he is a grown man, ten or fifteen years older than you and he’s acting like a child. Suffering is your quotidian as well, but you would’ve never betrayed him. In fact, that is your problem. You’re not a scumbag like him, that’s why you can’t stand him. You have no value similar to his, if he even has some. By what right does he think he can use you to get, what, a few dirty money ?

If you're going to die, at least you'll die telling him every resentment you had towards him.

-You think I am happy ?! Your life’s better than mine ! Fuck you Sean, you’re an asshole ! You’re a fucking asshole ! You’re the one that should die !

-Shut the fuck up you whore !

A burning pain sliced through you along a sharp sound, legs losing all strength and making you fall on the ground. Your ears are ringing and your breath is cut for a few long seconds. What happened ? Is the first question popping in your head, but the atrocious pain coursing through your leg answers you. Your hand touches your hurting limb, but retreats it instantly at the pain. So you look down.

Blood, there’s blood everywhere.

It’s yours. It’s… It’s your damn blood, you’re bleeding. You have a hole in your leg and it’s gushing out blood. He shot you. Fuck, oh God, oh God, you’re bleeding. You’re fucking bleeding and it hurt like hell. It hurt so damn bad, why, why did he do that ? Your eyes are stinging and soon, tears fall down your cheeks. Are you going to die ? Here ? With nothing accomplished ? Alone ? Shot by the only man you thought was your friend ?

-I believe alive was written on the contract.

You recognize that voice, you hear it in your nightmares.

-Joker ! I… She tried to run away, I had to immobilize her !

It’s weird, your body is exhausted, yet, the pain is keeping you well awake. Your head is heavy when you lay it on the dirty ground of the mall. Eyes trailing slowly to the two men talking. Finally, he’s here before you. He’s shown himself. Even if it’s only the second time you see him, you talked and heard about him so much these past hours it feels like you’ve been with him for months. And maybe you were, in a way. Sean walks past you, not glancing towards your drained body on the ground. He’s scared of him. He plays the big man with you, but he’s a little bitch.

How is Sean, a man built like a fridge, so terrified of someone so ridiculous as the Joker ?

Who is he ?

The pain in your leg makes it feel numb and at the same as alive as it never been. The Joker sighs exaggeratedly, he tilts his head to the side to look at you. Shivers shake your whole body. Is that it ? This is the man who’ll abduct you ? You’d rather get killed instantly.

-And right on Valentine’s day...” mumbles the Joker.

It’s not, it’s autumn. Valentine’s day is in February, in winter. From your position, police sirens are heard and red and blue lights are flashing, reflecting on the windows. The Joker takes out a gun out of his long purple jacket and aims it towards Sean.

“Please ! He yells. I-I did what you wanted ! She’s here, please don’t kill me ! I’m a hitman, I’ll work for you !

Is he, now ? He's barely a barman.

-Do I look like I'm searching for employees ? He asks, opening his arms and bending his hands for his palms to face the ceiling before looking around him for confirmation. Because I’m not.”

You're torn between relief and horror at the sight of Sean falling to the ground after another gunshot, bathing in his own blood. He did betray you, he brought you here, he brought this upon you, upon himself. But he’s dead. You wished him to, but now that he is you’re horrified.

It’s then that you realize that The Joker is surrounded by his masked goons. Probably the one who vandalized the store, now that you think about it. You walked right into his trap.

“Well ? What are you waiting for ? he asks almost comically. Bring the package to the car !

When several men surrounds you, you're left yelling and fighting to get out of their holds, in vain, of course. The blood gushing out of your hurting limb isn't helping much, anyway. You feel your strength slowly evaporate from you.

Shotguns echoes, but your ringing ears prevent you to precisely locate it. Soon, they throw you in the back of a car and close the door, leaving you in the dark.

Gotham killed you.

#heath ledger joker #Joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #the dark knight #vitzi9writings #i am losing it

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daddy-issues-99 · 1 year

Text

Joker x Abandoned Batkid

Gender neutral reader, strictly fluff

1.5k words

You missed your old bed, the one at Wayne Manor, it was warm and coxy and, most important: Safe. You missed it there but you didn't miss the person you shared the house with.

At first Bruce seemed like an amazing person, courageous, protective and generous enough to take you under his wing, both literally and figuratively. He made you into a smaller version of him, or at least tried to. You weren't prefect, far from it but you could get the job done, but not without some scrapes, you still have a scar from your first mission, a small cut on your lower lip where your mask couldn't protect you. You didn't mind it though, you thought it made you look cooler but it did come with a price of being recognized by people you've fought.

Bruce always pointed it out during training saying that ‘that’s what happens when you let your guard down’. It got annoying after a while. In fact everything seemed to get more irritating and hurtful the longer you stayed in the Manor. He got stricter with the training and missions, treating you more as an obstacle in the way of victory rather than the sidekick you were. The once constructive criticism turned to insults. The gentle pats of the back turned to shoves and hits.

The final straw was on a mission trying to capture the Joker. You were chasing after him through one of his many warehouses when he took a small explosive out of his pocket and threw it back towards you. You jumped out of the way as quick as possible barley escaping the blast and hitting your head hard against the concrete pillar letting the Joker escape once again.

You looked up to see Bruce standing over you with a furious expression on his face. You quickly pulled yourself up from the ground “Bruce, I’m sorry, he threw a grenade at me and-” “I don't need your excuses!” “I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean for this to-” “Would you just shut up for once in your life you little bitch!” He said as he punched you in the face full force. You stumbled back falling into the pillar falling back down to the floor hearing muffled curses coming from Bruce. You looked at you hand that was covered in blood that was slowly running down your face and onto your suit.

“Why cant you do anything right?” He asked angrily. You didn't even respond you just stumbled to your feet and ran out of the warehouse. You hadn't talked to Bruce sense.

That's how you ended up here, walking around the streets of Gotham looking for a place to stay and some unsuspecting victim to mug. You walked for a while longer until you came to a familiar warehouse, ‘seemed like a good place to spend the night’, you thought to your self. You knew the layout so you knew the most secluded places to hide away for the night. There weren't any lights that you could see so you walked up the stairs to find an empty supply closet you could call your bedroom for the night.

You started to hear noises on the floor above you, it sounded like talking. Realizing your analysis of no one being in the building was wrong you slowly tried creeping back down the stairs not wanting any trouble tonight but you were caught off guard when you felt someone grab you from behind. He was much bigger than you and there was no way you could fight him off. He called for a few more men to come over and help carry you up to where the talking was coming from.

The man carried you up the stair as you still tried to kick your was out of his grasp. He grabbed an old chair and held you down so the other men could tie your hands and feet to the chair. It took them a few minutes to finally hold you still enough to tie you up.

You still continued to struggle against the ropes as the men stood there laughing at your struggle. They went quiet suddenly when they heard someone coming up the stairs, you followed their gaze to see an all to familiar face turn the corner. You locked eyes instantly and regretted ever looking up. “Well well, who do we have here?” He said kneeling down to get a good look at you. He soon noticed a familiar gash on your lower lip. “Ah, your the Batman's little sidekick aren't you?” You didn't respond just quickly glanced up at him and the men behind him. He noticed your glance to the group of men behind the two of you.

“Our guest seems a little shy, I think some one on one time is best” He stood up and ushered the men out of the room. The door closed with a click and he kneeled down once more to be at eye level with you. “So, where's the Man?” You simply shrugged still looking at the floor. “Why should I care?” You said bluntly.

He simply nodded “You and the dark Knight not on the best of terms?” He asked licking his lips. You didn't respond but that was all the answer he needed. He simply sighed and stood up. You looked up to see him pulled out a switchblade from his jacket pocket. You instantly stiffened showing your nervousness, leaning back in the chair trying to get away. He walked over to you and you shut your eyes tight as if trying to avoid your fait. “Relax kid” You opened one eye to see him go behind you and start cutting the ropes. You hands soon fell free and he cut the ropes at your feet. You instantly shot up stumbling over the chair behind you sending you to the floor.

You pushed yourself away until you were cornered up against the wall. You looked up at the Joker unable to hide your fear at this point, he just looked down at you waiting for your next move. He lifted his arm and you instantly moved your arms to cover your face trying to avoid any attack. “What happened to you kid?” He said simply putting his blade back in his pocket. “The first time we met you were so eager to win the battle but now your just the shell of that kid.” You stayed silent. “Batsy isn't the best mentor is he?” He asked looking down at you with a sympathetic look.

You looked up at his seeing his expression and were unable to hold in a sob. A tear rolled down your face as you tried to bring your legs to your chest trying to make yourself seem smaller. He looked down at you realizing how bad you actually had it working with the Batman. He sighed, kneeling down and extending his hand. You looked up tears still streaming down your face. “You know, Batman isn't the only one in need of a side kick.” You tilted your head in confusion “Look, its tough doing the job I do but there is room for some extra help around. Ill make you a deal. You can come and work with me by my side, Ill take you under my wing and give you what you need. If you don't like it and want to leave I wont stop you. Deal?” He said extending his hand further “Come on, what do you have to loose?”

You quickly wiped the tears off your cheek and grabbed his hand as he helped you off the ground. He pulled you close draping his arm over your shoulder, you surprisingly felt comfortable. Who knew being this close to the Joker would feel safe? You leaned in to his embrace as you waled down the stairs and into a nice car parked at the back of the warehouse. One of the men opened the door for the both of you giving a confused look but hid it when the Joker gave him a look.

You climbed into the back seat with him and you were off. You still could believe that you were in the Jokers car, was this a trick, will he hurt me? You were pulled from your thoughts when you were handed a bottle of water, “Relax kid” he placed the water in your lap “Your safe with me” He said playfully ruffling your hair. You smiled, who knew the person you’d feel safe around was the person you were trying to catch. You rested you head on his shoulder and he put his arm around you “Tired?” You nodded “You got around an hour before we get to our destination, take a cat nap.” He said patting your shoulder. You slowly began to drift off to sleep with a single thought in your head ‘I am safe’.

#heath ledger #joker #the dark knight #heath ledger joker #batman #batkid #bat girl #joker x reader #joker x y/n #gn #dc #joker fanfiction

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onmyyan · 2 years

Text

Straight Venomous ch.6

A/N: I’ll give u 2$ if u pretend this was posted in a timely manner. No but seriously thank you for sticking with me I love this story!! Feedback is always welcome please lmk what y’all think if you want more of a certain character or what!! Also if you want to be added to the Taglist lmk!! This chap is pretty Tim/Jason/Bruce centered but next chap will have everyone!! EDITED 1/11/2023

TW: cannon typical violence, Yandere themes, Cursing

Taglist: @foggyturtleknightangel @j-ma26-rb @bandaged-despair

”This wasn’t the kind of protection I imagined-“ You paused both Symbiote and human left too stunned to speak at the looming gates of Arkham, old and imposing as ever. Seriously all they needed was a moat and the dungeon vibe would be complete.

“-When you said it be somewhere He’d never look.” You finished with a squint at the Halloween attraction that was Arkham Asylum.

”Well I didn’t lie did I?- he won’t.” Oswald smiled, more to himself than anyone in particular, his magenta-tinted Versace shades glinted in what little light Gotham offered.

”If you're telling the truth about him being interested in you, you’ll be out in a breeze. Think of this as my final test, your last hurdle.” He finally turned to look at you, his form as ridged as ever from the back seat of his Mercedes.

”If you survive I’ll genuinely have some use for you.” His sleek black car sped off without another word, if you didn’t know better he seemed almost uncomfortable, like if he got too close the building's jaw would open and suck him back in.

No more than a second passed before the stone-faced man beside you set his firm grip on your arm.

The man currently dragging you like a raggedy Ann doll was dead silent, letting the wails from within echo that much more. It took more self-control than you anticipated not to rip the arm off of you (and off in general)

‘I get to eat these ones right?’

“We’ll see buddy.” You muttered, too uneasy to care that you’d responded out loud, if anything it made you fit right in.

The guard ‘escorting’ you in had an iron grip on your arm like you were gonna book it the second you could. The almost eerie silence of the lobby was immediately replaced with screaming from all directions.

The air inside Arkham was sterile and thick, if anguish had a smell it is the one invading your lungs, they gave you the almost cartoonish black and white striped uniform the rest of the inmates dawned and shoved you into the common area, after your third ignored question you figured it is best to observe, men and women sat in the large cage, a few tables and torn up sofa chairs adding to the bleak atmosphere. With a huff, you managed to find an open seat, the whispers, and eyes following your every move.

It didn’t take long for the biggest man in the room to lumber over, his brooding figure stood above you. A perfectly shaped brow rose in question at his sudden appearance.

“I’d ask if I can help you but I really don’t wanna.” You spoke at the giant, eyes flickering over your nail beds. “The names Al.” He leaned on his knuckles, hot breath wafting over your skin making you wince.

“You start a fight? You ask me first. You need to piss? You ask me first. I run shit in here and I’m only gonna tell you’s this once.” He spoke in a gravelly voice. A bit of spit landed on the table in front of you. “Are you high? It’s amazing they let inmates smoke.” His hands slammed into the metal before you, shaking it with enough force to knock over the tray of food beside you. “You’s looking to get that pretty face of yours fucked up huh? I don’t tolerate that kinda’ shit bitch or not.” Once more his breath fanned over you in a hot wave, and your expression twisted into a grimace. He took that as a sign of fear, grinning darkly from across you.

”I’m in a forgiving mood, maybe if ya get down and put that smart mouth to use-“ your hand twisted his collar, smashing his head to the table twice before releasing the now bloodied man. He stumbled backward into another inmate, clutching his broken nose, tears streaming down his face.

”Y-You bitch! Yer fuckin’ dead for this shit ya’ hear?!” He barked out, blood splattering through his fingers, a loose tooth falling from his maw as the surrounding people didn’t spare you a passing glance, all except the ginger staring at you with the stars in his eyes, an almost eager look on his face. Like he was waiting to see what you’d do next.

You stood with a sigh, stepping over the small pile of blood he’d left in his scurry backward. You now towered above the trembling man, as he tried to stand you kicked him in the chest as hard as you could, a crack of something breaking echoed throughout the loud room, his limp body slid back hard enough to crash into the wall, your eyes widened at his now still form. “Oops. Too hard.”

‘Can I have a bite? Just a nibble, as a treat.’

”Absolutely not.”

’you never let me have any fun!’ The child of a Symbiote grumbled in your head. You heard the rushed footsteps of a group of people, most likely guards quickly storming their way to the commotion. On instinct, you sat as far from the body as you could, which just so happened to be on the busted-up sofa, near that oh-so-attentive ginger. He watched you with a wide, skin-splitting grin, his green eyes were almost too vibrant, and pale skin contrasted against bright red hair.

“That’s certainly one way to make an entrance doll face.” He grinned even wider, resting against his fist, eyes flickered over every inch of your resting frame, you mimicked his stare, fighting the urge to look at the now scrambling guards, two of them held batons, electric you imagined, they bullied their way past the straggler’s lingering around the body, freezing at the sight of the corpse. “Move! Every one of you pieces of shit against the wall!” The shorter of the two barked out, threateningly pointing his baton at the group of inmates.

“Come on sweet cheeks - we better get moving fore’ they get twitchy.” The redhead pulled you up and to the side, with a speed you hadn’t anticipated from him. He stood tall against the peeling wall, much too eager at the sight of blood.

”Alright- which one of you shit stains did this huh?!” The same guard from before spoke again, making his way down the line of people, most were too delirious to comprehend his demand, and the few still coherent said nothing much to your surprise. When he made his way to you, he lingered. “You see something interesting meat?” He sneered down at you, the crackling baton dangerously to your eye, it took more self-control than you’d like not to shove said baton up his ass.

”Oh I’ve seen something real funny.” The ginger spoke from beside you, it made you tense, would he be so quick to snitch?

The stodgy guard spit at the taller man’s feet. “Valeska. What am I gonna have to do to get you to shut the fuck up?”

”Hm, maybe a gag? Although you’ll have to use your own, I left mine back with your mother-“ the electrified tip was pressed to his chest before the snark could be finished, he crumpled to the floor with a twisted laugh, the cackle trailing into a moan at the end, his lanky form slumping against the dirty wall.

”Oh Johnny boy- I love it when you get rough with me.” The guard kicked at the still-twitching man, quickly ushering another guard to help him. “Of course it was you. Fucking lunatic.”

The drooling redhead is dragged out by his wrists and ankles, his piercing green stare not breaking until they pulled him out of sight.

“Okay, that was a fluke. Heads down from now on V.”

There was a vaguely irate huffing sound in your mind.

‘This is lame. I get a little bit of action and you’re pussying out.”

”Bite me you leech.”

‘I AM NO SUCH THING (Y/N) TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW.’

Elsewhere

Tim was conflicted, he was almost always confident in himself and his plans, but this one was making him uneasy. He knew where you worked, and the people you were surrounded by. Penguins club wasn’t the place for someone like you, but he knew his best option was to wait for an opening to get you out, considering the circumstance.

His original idea was to ‘run’ into you again and arrange a meeting where he could get you alone for a few hours. Get some of that electric-nerve-punching banter in again. Then he’d casually ask for your number and thus would begin your epic romance, he had everything mapped out to a T, even his family’s unusual interest in you couldn’t deter him from his bliss.

That is until you had to go and run.

Then again, he should have considered Bruce would make a move before him, should’ve planned for him to scare you off, but he didn’t. He was distracted, consumed with thoughts of you flashing through his mind like a projector on the wall. You’d taken up permanent residency in his day-to-day thoughts, and it had made him sloppy.

You’d gotten away, slipped through his fingers just as he was closing in, you had no idea but he was planning a little ‘staycation’ at a cabin well off into the woods a few towns away from Gotham. He’d been getting to know you, the real you hidden in your private browser history and your late-night searches, and he was smitten. He’d done the math, ran the numbers, and knew the two of you were perfectly compatible, from your star sign to your favorite movie, he had all your likes and preferences listed alphabetically, and the scarily accurate list had been memorized in no time. In his frenzied- but thorough- planning he’d neglected to anticipate you pulling such a stunt but he wasn’t worried. It will never happen again.

He returned to the cave this morning, popping in briefly wasn’t out of the norm for Tim as the internet down here was much faster than the Portable server he had on him, and he needed this information quickly, he’s certain Bruce wouldn’t mind, he wasn’t home anyway. Alfred greeted him with his usual brand of warmth and eagerly saw him to the wall of computers he’d spent countless hours in front of.

All was normal until the older of the two paused in his retreat upstairs, Tim could tell something was on his mind, he cocked his head at the man hovering beside him. “Everything okay Al?”

“You’re going to see some unfinished work when you start her up,” he spoke, dismissing his question entirely, “Master Bruce had an emergency at the corporate office, which means you should have ample time to give that unnamed file a proper look.”

The grey-haired male paused as if worried about the way he delivered whatever message he had, “I believe your father would benefit from your assistance before he lets his passions get the best of him…again.” The older man spoke cryptically, patting a comforting hand on his shoulder as he retreated back upstairs. Tim paused, dark brows furrowing as he processed the old man’s words. He put a pin in his original plan for coming down here, instead of focusing on that pesky mystery file, he knew it burn him up inside if he didn’t at least peek through his father's new dirty little secret.

The last thing he expected to see was your face, every possible angle of that perfect face. A concerning amount of shots of your dark (e/c) eyes, in a few you even stared directly at the camera, almost as if you knew you were under the harsh eye of Gotham's most dangerous predator. A scoff bubbled up past his lips, his free hand was now aggressively squeezing the little red stress ball that had sat before him, the flesh of the toy nearly burst from the force he used. It took him a few minutes to calm down, once he could think a little clearer, the plan began to form behind his eyes.

He now knew of his Mentor’s dark obsession, his twisted focus on your life and being. Honestly, Tim was worried about his Father, it wasn’t healthy to harbor such intense feelings for someone you didn’t know- Bruce didn’t know you, Jason didn’t know you- Dick sure as shit didn’t know you. None of the others did, not like Tim. He’d be able to read you in ways you’d always wanted someone to. But before your happily ever after could start, he was going to use his family’s dark obsession with you to his advantage, this and this alone is what pushed him to tell Dick you lived with Jason, Why he was letting the older male crash on his sofa bed, and it was the only reason he’d been pulling the strings behind the scenes. It didn’t take much to find your current location, all he had to do was give himself access to every camera in Gotham and run that Gorgeous mug of yours against them, granted once he actually found you he nearly had a heart attack, why in the hell were you beating the bricks off some schmuck in Arkham? After forcing himself in check he quickly saved the footage of the incident, his mind running a mile a much on how to spin this in his favor.

He made a point to linger in the cave, Bruce was back within an hour, his steps rushed, eager, and Tim knew just who he was rushing to.

”Hey Bruce.”

The older man paused his trek to his desk, finally noticing the man in his seat.

”I didn’t know you were stopping by.” He responded gruffly, his long fingers moving to nimbly undo his tie.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood, needed Ol’ reliable’s for some intel. Nothing too fun.” Bruce made a noise of acknowledgment, now undoing the buttons on each sleeve, “Find what you were looking for?” Bruce was calm as he rolled up his sleeves, if Tim was anyone else his calm facade may have worked. But he wasn’t just anyone. He was nervous. The thought made Tim smirk, he dropped his face to a more neutral expression, turning to face his Father and Mentor.

“Sure did.” He rose from the seat without pause, “Even had time to look into that folder for you- Alfred said you might need a little help.”

Bruce didn’t falter in his movements, his expression remained in its usual stoic demeanor.

The tension in the air had Tim’s heart pounding against his ribcage, Bruce Wayne was the variable he couldn’t plan around, and it made him dangerous.

The older man had an aura of authority around him in or out of the suit, Tim knew this could be a monumental setback if he reacted negatively-

Bruce quickly sat with an amused huff, turning on the monitors with practiced ease.

Just like that the tension evaporated.

“Exactly how are you going to help me, Tim?” The statement had weight behind it, two dark pools of blue clashed in the reflection of the computer, his fathers accompanied by a lifted brow, his facial expression almost daring Tim to say the wrong thing.

The younger of the two wordlessly typed in a few words on one of the smaller screens pulling up the feed of Arkham’s common area. The video was dated today and was only about an hour old, the footage itself was your run-of-the-mill CCTV quality, so it wasn’t the clearest, but Bruce immediately recognized you, and his heart all but stopped, forced to watch as you were put in the exact kind of situation he was fixing to keep you from. His fists clenched so hard the skin on his knuckles turned white, he wasn’t so shaken at the way you’d brutalized the man, but rather the fact that you were surrounded by such individuals in the first place. Logically as a Metahuman he knew you were the strongest person in the room, but this fact didn’t give him comfort. It did the exact opposite. You’d found yourself cornered in the most dangerous situation and he was all but helpless to get you out.

He knew he couldn’t waltz in there and pull you out, okay he very well could, realistically he could leave now and have you back in time for dinner, but he also knew he needed to pace himself. Because Batman doesn’t break people out of Arkham, no matter how badly they don’t belong. His nostrils flared at the screen. His original plan to observe you from afar was thrown out the window the moment Damian took an interest in you, this Bruce could understand, he even planned for the scenario of you running from him, he hadn’t anticipated this is where you’d run through.

A beat of silence passed between them before Tim began making his way back upstairs, just before the elevator doors could close he made sure to get in one last quip to seal the metaphorical deal, something that would give Bruce no choice but to intervene.

“I hope that poor girl is safe in there.”

As the doors shut on his Father, a small but genuine smile grew on his face. Now that he’d gotten Bruce in the game it wouldn’t be long until you were right where you belonged, right where Tim could see you without a screen in the way.

Elsewhere

Jason does a lot of thinking now’a days. He thinks about where it all went wrong when you started hiding things from him. Of course, he couldn’t be upset with you for feeling unsafe enough to run, he hunted murderers and scumbags on a daily basis, if you were intimidated by his occupation, he could understand. But the longer he sat with the thought the less sense it made, he could keep you safe, he could keep the bad shit away, and you knew that he’d saved you as the Hood once before, so what could have changed your opinion so fast? That is if it was a what.

If it wasn’t a what it had to be a who.

As Jason’s mind worked a mile a minute, he paced, and when he had walked a dent into the floorboards, he turned to his favorite outlet. Some people preferred to jog or write when they got stressed, and Jason liked to clock into work.

Usually, he started with a steak-out, leaned against his Harley Davidson* custom in some rank alley, the flickering fluorescents occasionally catching his helmet in a menacing shine. He always chose the most time-sensitive task he caught on the police scanner not-so-legally installed in his bike, but his brain was far too muddled with thoughts of you to put his all into work. It had been a grueling 12 hours since you’d made a break for it and ripped his sense of peace out with clenched fists.

You’d taken up permanent residence in the worst way, he tormented himself with the most gut-wrenching kinds of scenarios. The intrusive kind where you came under harm because he wasn’t strong enough to stop you- no he wasn’t prepared to stop you. The moment you left was playing on loop, specifically, that split second he had where he could’ve taken you out from behind, gently subdued you until he could find out what had you so scared.

But he didn’t, he couldn’t force himself to move in any way that would harm you, it went against every cell in his body.

And now you were gone.

A bitter lump had taken up in his stomach, made of ice and nails, every moment he didn’t know where you were, its spikes dug their way in deeper. He feels stuck in that moment of the horror movie where you see the monster coming but the girl doesn’t, but unlike the movies, Jason can and will be doing something about this monster. He just has to find it first.

No one was talking and that meant one of two things.

You were working close to someone with enough connections to concern Jason, or you were-

He had to physically shake the thought away. Not willing to entertain the idea for even a second. He could feel it, you were fine. In a ludicrous amount of danger yes, but alive. And that’s all he needed. Because when he found you again, he promised himself he’d keep you safe, he knew something major had happened that night forever ago when you crept into the apartment so eerily, leaving a trail of murky water as you passed. You’d been different, in little ways, offering to get the takeout instead of ordering in and always coming back unscathed despite where you lived. Of course, he had to follow you, he vividly remembers a man running through busy traffic to avoid you, of course, Jason marked it as odd from his view above the streets, but he couldn’t have known you were well whatever you were, from that alone, what really clued him in was how confident you’d become before he could only hope you’d chime in the conversation with him and Roy, desperately trying to include you and praying it wasn’t obvious, now you spoke your mind no matter what, almost like you couldn’t help it, and it made your light burn even brighter.

He was beyond excited when you began to open up, the two of you bonding in the kind of way people wrote stories about, slowly, surely, at your pace, you’d begun to unravel the layers of each other. And then someone came along and ruined everything.

Jason also thought a lot about what he was going to do to this person when he got his hands on them.

The only reason he wasn’t beating the answer out of someone right now was because he was running on fumes and he knew it. Roy had just barely managed to talk him out of his gear. “I care about her too Jay.” The redhead gave Jason’s back a comforting squeeze. “I’ll ask around some places you can’t okay? This is (Y/n) we’re talking about, wherever she is, she’s in control.” It was that last thought that pacified him enough to passively pace himself into a silent almost boiling anger. It was in this quiet, dangerous moment, his least annoying sibling strolled in the front door like it was an everyday occurrence.

“You are bad, Roy was right to call me.” The voice of his replacement spoke suddenly, Tim had been snapping his fingers in an effort to clear that dark haze that had begun to fog over his brother’s eyes.

Tim was concerned, that much was obvious from the tone he used like he was speaking to a wounded, feral, animal. As he snapped a few more times in front of his face, Jason’s eyes focused on his successors, “I’m fine. How long have you been there?”

”Long enough J.”

The older of the two sighed deeply through his nose, his thumbs rubbing long circles into the sides of his temple.

“Yeah okay, I spaced a bit who cares? You really here to check on lil’ ol’ me?”

”Nah, mostly just to tell you your little girlfriend there works for Oswald.”

His smile fell instantly. You were forced, no choice, blackmail maybe? Debt? Did you gamble? Cashed a favor?

“Are you absolutely positive?” Tim’s face held rather calm at the ever-growing frustration of his predecessor. He could tell how worked up Jason was, to think (Y/n) had such an effect on him, he looked like a puppy dog waiting on its owner to come home.

“You need some serious sleep- and that’s coming from me so,” Tim said not answering the older man’s question, with a deep sigh he shoved the taller of the two onto the couch, soon sitting beside him, it didn’t take long for Tim to set up his two favorite machines, bulky things he’d built himself that way too many people wanted to get their hands on, lots of dirty little secrets embedded in their code.

Tim was worried. More worried than Jason could comprehend. Because he knew exactly where Oswald had put you- a glance at the unusually shaken man beside him was all he spared as he continued to type- now wasn’t the time to share, that would come later. A time for everything as they say.

Right now all Jason needed was a way for you to get out of the snakepit you found yourself in, so that's what Tim gave him.

"Bruce has a file on your girl, think it has anything to do with her new occupation?" He spoke offhandedly, silently observing Jason’s reactions. That’s all he needed to say, the show had officially begun.

"No." Jason's answer was quick and concise, the lost look had faded from his gaze, hardening into his thinking face. His back straightened, muscles coiling like a snake in the grass.

He cracked his neck, tired eyes once more meeting Tim’s, “Bruce n’ I need to have a little chat, that’s all.” He was out the door before Tim could stop him, not that he would, this was all going exactly as he’d anticipated. The match had been lit, it was only a matter of time before the fuse blew, the question of the hour was who would break first? Tim’s bet is on Bruce.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere dc imagine #fanfic #yandere dc #straight venomous #yandere damian wayne #yandere batfam #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere bruce wayne x reader

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

Note

Can't believe you're only getting anon requests (that's a lie - I can believe it but someone's gotta own up to being a simp on main)

💦❔ for which ever riddler floats your boat because you do them so much justice

if you can't be horny on main then what is even the point u-u also i did so many riddlers because i just wanted to because i'm a grown adult and i'm in love with them and want to touch them in a cursed way. digital footprint??? i'm making a digital cast of my entire body and face, i don't care

also i love all my requests and i'm happy to let people simp in privacy omg if i can give someone a moment of private pleasure with words then that's reward enough 💚

thank u for the prompt!!

reply under here, minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

💦 - how horny are they ❔ - wildcard bitches

arkham

💦 he could be entirely rigid and he might not even notice if his mind was focused on his work (and i think he probably is rock hard a lot of the time when he's working) but he wouldn't know he was horny until you were on him, kissing him and touching him, at which point he'd be like "oh...OH...ok let's go, need now please hurry". he has other priorities though, so he gets in quick, ruts like a feral animal, and then finishes, makes sure you're completely satisfied of course, and gets back to what he was doing. he'll only get nasty when he wants to though, so i'm giving him a 6/10 on the horny scale (but i'm 7816872686324/10 horny for him smh) ❔ i think he has a whole thing about his partner wearing just socks. he thinks it's freakin adorable to have you padding around his lair just lookin cosy and comfy

gotham

💦 he's not so much horny as he is obsessed with knowing his partner is satisfied, especially if he can satisfy them with his body in whatever way they're craving. he's so well-versed in everything, his research on ways to please a lover and how to be 'good in bed' mean that not only is he fkn amazing, but he quite often gets himself all hot and heavy and has to come begging for a bit of respite. will always be ready and willing to please so i'm gonna give him a 7/10 ❔ don't anyone argue, because he definitely puts his glasses on you while you're having sex and maybe also his hat. hell, you wear the whole damn outfit, one of his suits and a tight shirt, and he's a goner

dano

💦 he's surviving on coffee, monster energy drink, pumpkin pie and pure visceral rage so he has to have an outlet for his energy somewhere. he's also desperate for attention and physical touch, so he's constantly seeking any and all reasons to get in you on you around you whatever, it's just a bonus if whatever physical contact he receives if he gets to cum at the end of it. he's obsessed with being touched and so i'm putting him at an 8/10 on the horny scale, very scientifically calculated and all ❔ he'd lose his mind if he bent you over, pulled down your pants, and saw you'd got even a temporary tattoo of his logo in the classic "tramp stamp" position, definitely using it as target practice for the big finish y'know????

young justice

💦 he's a good boy! a nice boy! and i don't think he goes around with a permanent stauner or anything, but it's pretty easy to get him riled up. a lil wink, touching his chest, bending down in front of him, it's so easy to torment this poor man into being unable to walk or talk. and there's not a point in the day where he's not just ready to go for it, so pretty horny. maybe a 7.5 on the scale, yeah we're giving out half point increments ❔ would absolutely love someone to makeout with him hard and run their tongue against his lil gap tooth and honestly, if you wouldn't do that for him you have no business being on my blog how dare you deny him that ;-;

capullo/zero year

💦 if he's not fuckin, he's cockwarming, if he's not cockwarming, you're giving him head, if you're not giving him head, then he's giving you head, like i'm talking you're getting a friction burn on your inner thighs from those sideburns MY GOD this man is ready to go at the drop of a dumb green hat, anytime, any place, anywhere, any way he is gagging for it on a consistent and constant basis. 12/10 on the horny scale and i'm putting him in horny jail and i am the warden and it's shower time ❔ he tells you how hot you are all the time, constantly during sex, always during the day, anytime you walk by his desk, if you bend over in his line of sight, before you go to bed and when you wake up, and he means it every time

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

Text

Mary Todd pt 14

ao3 Beginning Previous

Marinette had never liked the Riddler. His fashion sense alone was enough to make her scream. But when he fired a gun not even five feet away from a child, she ground her teeth and moved him to the top of her list almost immediately.

“Good people of Gotham!” The green monstrosity cried, flourishing his cane as his three goons blocked the two exits and the kitchen. “Congratulations! You have all been chosen to partake in my game with Batman this evening! You will have the honor of being the prizes he shall win, should he deign to play. But if he doesn’t well.” He chuckled darkly as he surveyed the cowering citizens. “Then the penalty will be high now who, OOMPH!”

Marinette had just high kicked him across the jaw knocking the rogue flat on his back. Artemis rolled behind the counter pulling Lian with her. The goons scowled and began closing in. She didn’t have much time. She picked up a metal napkin holder and threw it at the goon to the right with all of her might. Her enhanced strength gave it the force of a cudgel and had the goon unconscious and bleeding from the nose.

The second one hesitated, just long enough for her to kick up the Riddler’s gawdy golden cane and catch it with a flourish. He charged, and she swung. There was a resounding crack as the rounded end of the question mark hit his ribs, and the goon puffed as he slumped against the counter. However, she didn’t give him time to recover as she swung the cane at his head. His whole body thrashed to the ground, as his head whipped around from her blow.

“You--" the third goon growled as he threatened to charge her, but he froze as Marinette lowered the cane at him fingering the button that would turn the horrendous accessory into a deadly weapon. He must have seen something in her eyes then because he cursed, and muttered, “I’m not paid enough for this shit.” And then took off through the back.

The crack of a gun pulled everyone’s attention back to the rogue. He lowered the pistol an inch away from her forehead. His previously perfectly quaffed hair was in disarray, his tie skewed. A bruise was forming on his cheek. He growled at her as she hefted his cane. “You bitch,” he snarled. “Are you crazy? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? I’m the Riddler!”

Marinette tilted her head in confusion. From the moment the gun had first gone off, she had fallen into cold hardened battle instincts. It didn’t matter what was going on around her because she was calm. She was Order in the chaos, and she fought with the power of the creation behind her. And this man…this normal poorly dressed man, thought he could scare her? She had swum through a sea of the dead. She had faced her own nightmares, and creatures with powers he could never imagine. And he thought he could scare her…just because he was from Gotham?

“I don’t care,” she said. The coldness of her voice made the man flinch back, which was all she needed. With one hand she grabbed his wrist and pulled. She swung his cane into his stomach with the other, and as he gasped she slammed his hand into the counter. The gun clattered to the floor and she kicked it towards Roy even as she released his hand and brought the cane down on his back.

The Riddler groaned as he curled up on the floor. Marinette was so tempted to judge him. To call him on his crimes, and rid the world of a little more evil. But even as she thought it, she knew that it was not his time. She would be called to judge him one day, but not yet. Not until she had her Executioner. But…that didn’t mean she had to let him off Scott-free. He had fired a gun with Lian, a child, standing right beside him. And besides…his suit was burning his eyes.

Marinette pushed him over with her foot as if he was something particularly disgusting, and the Riddler whimpered as he looked up at her. “H-how?” he moaned.

“I’m from Paris,” she said casually, and she hefted his cane, “Now let’s have a little lesson in color coordination, and accessorizing, shall we?”

Tim couldn’t stop laughing. He had tried, but he couldn’t. It had been three days since the Riddler’s attack on the diner, and #badassParischick was still trending at number one on pretty much every social media sight ever. And now, some keen eyed viewer had noticed, that Marinette had not been alone in the diner. They had even edited one of the many, many cellphone videos of the event to solely feature Roy, getting up from their booth, casually strolling over to check on Artemis and Lian, and then leaning against the counter to watch the action with an expression that could only be described as smitten. Now, #whippedGothamboytoy was trending at number two on every social media site in existence. Tim couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m going to kill him!” Jason’s voice echoed through the cave, causing Tim to at least attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Don’t you dare, he did nothing wrong!” came Marinette’s firm but calm voice.

“Nothing wrong! He let you take on the Riddler by yourself.”

“He didn’t let me do anything, Jay-Jay. And I had it sorted. Roy would have just gotten in the way, and he knew it. Besides I’ve faced worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better!”

“We are not having this argument again!” Marinette’s voice was firm, and unyielding. But apparently Jason had no sense of self preservation, because he continued to scream saying,

“You shouldn’t be dating Roy!”

“We’re not dating, we’re just seeing each other!”

“That. Doesn’t. Make. Me. Feel. Better!”

“I don’t do things to please you, Jason.”

Tim hissed. He had known Ladybug before Marinette, as Cassie would often bring her around Titan’s tower, and so he felt he knew her better than the rest of his siblings. Marinette might exist under an ice wall of casual calm, but like Bruce, there were always tells when she was mad. Her voice got harder. Her face got colder. And if she was especially angry, she used your proper name. It was almost as bad as Alfred using your full name. He had never heard Marinette full name anyone. But given the displeasure she could put behind just a first name…Needless he did not want to be there when she did.

Unfortunately his small noise had drawn the attention of the bickering siblings, because Jason stormed over to the Batcomputer shouting, “And what do you think you’re doing Replacement…What. Is. That?”

Tim pursed his lips to keep from laughing, as he watched Jason’s face contort into one of absolute fury and horror as he beheld the screen. Then Marinette groaned and said, “It’s fanart.”

Tim howled with laughter as Jason cursed, because that’s exactly what it was. Someone, a genius sent from above, had decided to bless the world with a comic of “Badass Paris Chick” and “Whipped Gotham Boytoy” recreating the “hold my flower” meme as Riddler cowered in the corner of the page. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours sense the hashtag had gone out, and already there were three pages of fanart. The internet was truly an amazing place, and he loved it.

“Oh kwami!” Marinette yelled in a panic, causing both boys to look to her.

“What?” Jason asked.

“It’s just,” she said as a blush spread over her face. “Something Chat Noir said, once we started getting traction in Paris. I had just been gifted a piece of fanart, and he said…well…he said I should brace myself. Because where there is fanart, there is…fanfiction.”

Both Tim and Jason went slack jawed as the realization came over them. “I need to see this!” Tim declared as his fingers flew over the key board.

“No, you don’t!” Jason yelled trying to push Tim out of the chair, but it was too late. The screen flickered to life, and there it was. A whole five pages on Wattpad, dedicated to “Badass Paris Chick” and “Whipped Gotham Boytoy” fanfiction. Tim couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m going to kill him!” Jason shouted.

“It’s not his fault!” Marinette cried blocking him. “He didn’t write that! He’s a victim here just like me!”

“You’re eighteen!” Jason exclaimed, “There should not be that…” he waved at the Batcomputer as if the very thought of looking at it was disgusting to him. “Of you out there.”

“That’s. Not. His. Fault!” Marinette said fixing him in place with a stare. “He can’t control what’s on the internet and neither can you! Besides it’s not like I haven’t dealt with this before. You should see some of the fanart of Ladybug out there.”

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!” Jason was screaming, but Marinette just rolled her eyes and turned back to the struggling Tim, who was desperately trying to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"What's the fall out from this?" Marinette asked signaling the end of her argument with Jason, but her firm hand kept him from running off to pummel Roy into the ground.

“All positives,” Tim said as he pulled up twitter. “Thanks to your official tweet and the shout outs from your more famous friends and clients. MDC is trending number three under…#whippedGothamboytoy!” He fell into a fit of giggles, as Jason growled. But Marinette just rolled her eyes and waited for Tim to compose himself. He cleared his throat and continued.

“Anyway, the biggest impact of this is that Paris is getting a lot of attention for the Hawkmoth Incident. Ladybug is trending number four, and it’s all good things. Aside from a few sexist trolls, but there’s nothing you can do about that. Apparently, the world is going to pay a lot more attention to a small half-Asian girl beating up one of Gotham’s most notorious Rogues, more than the youngest senior member of the League to date. Turns out that even the people who had heard of Hawkmoth didn’t really take him seriously until the war started.”

“War?” They all turned to see Bruce marching down the stares followed by Damian and Dick.

“Internet War,” Tim said with a grin. “Parisians and Gothamites fighting over which was more dangerous, Hawkmoth’s Paris or Everyday Gotham.”

“Tt,” Damian scowled, “That is ridiculous. Even if the akumas had had long term consequences, it’s over now so there is clearly no debate. Gotham is more dangerous, end of discussion.”

“There were long term consequences,” Marinette mused, “There were some pretty nasty akumas. Billions died during some of those attacks. Even if they were brought back to life, they never forgot their deaths.”

“Tt—” Damian began but Marinette didn’t let him finish.

“Besides,” she said, “Just because Hawkmoth’s gone, doesn’t mean the danger to Paris has ended.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce said cautiously.

“She means,” said Tikki flying up from Marinette’s bag causing everyone to jump. “That for five years, Paris was ground zero for a Miraculous War! The very powers of existence were in a constant ebb and flow in the city saturating everything in its magic.”

“And,” Marinette said with her brows furrowed, “Pairs is centered on a large intersection of ley lines. Nooroo’s lines, right Tikki?”

“That’s right,” the kwami said. “Emotions power all sorts of magic, and now…”

“The city is filled with the magic of the miraculous as well as its high concentration of natural magic,” Dick said in shock, “Shit! What will that do to the city?”

Marinette sighed crossing her arms, “Nothing, except probably draw a large number of magical beings to feed on the energies. Merde! Why didn’t we see this before?”

“The world is out of balance,” Tikki said mournfully, “It has been too long sense the Keepers have been active, you are needed too many places. And there is not enough time. If the tide is not stemmed soon, then Paris will continue to be just as dangerous as Gotham, if not more so because it will have a more…magical inclination.”

“Wait!” Jason said shaking his head. “Does this mean you’re going back to Paris? I thought you were staying in Gotham. Passing judgment and what not.”

Marinette sighed as she closed her eyes. “I don’t know. There’s just so much…I…”

Tim saw it. He had seen it before…Ladybug’s mask breaking. He didn’t know if she remembered but he did. It was four years ago. He had still been Robin, and he was wandering the Tower looking for Wonder Girl for her report on their last mission when he had heard the screams. He had rushed to Cassie’s room to see her holding a figure in red and black as tight as she could. The figure, Ladybug, was crying and screaming, unleashing all of her emotion in a single moment, when no one but her friend was supposed to be around.

Tim had run from the room as quickly as he could, and waited for Cassie to reemerge and explain. She had and had brought Ladybug with her. It had been the first time they had met, the first time he had heard of the Miraculous and Hawkmoth. Ladybug had begged him not to say anything, she was too afraid of what would happen if the rest of League found out. He had consented and given her a key to their panic room so she could hide and cry as much as she wanted. To this day he wasn’t sure if the others knew about that. But ever since then he could see it.

He could see when her mask was about to break. When the cool veneer of calm was melting away. He could see when she needed to escape and just cry when no one else was there. And she needed it now.

“You know,” Tim said clearing his throat. “I bet Zatanna and Dr. Fate would have something to say about all of this. Why don’t you call in JL Dark? I’m sure they’d love to help!”

Marinette met his eyes and a silent understanding passed between them. They had barely ever spoken when she came to the Tower, but words were not necessary when you could see the brokenness beneath. And Marinette had seen his as clearly as he had seen hers.

Marinette nodded, “Yes. I’ll have to call a meeting as soon as possible. Excuse me.” She paused before leaving and stuck a figure in Jason’s face, “Don’t kill Roy.” She ordered and left as quickly as she had come.

When she left, silence fell over the cave. Tim was worried at first that they had caught his silent communication with Marinette and demand answers. But instead, the tension grew from a different question that Dick asked almost in a whisper, “So what happens if she decides to go back to Paris?”

“We support her as best we can,” Bruce said in a way that brokered no argument. “Not only is she a member of the League, but she is family. And with Hawkmoth gone, we can begin to take an active role there. Maybe even set up a JL Headquarters.”

“And Todd?” Damian said stiffly, “What will you do?”

None of them had wanted to ask it, and all of them were dying for the answer. Tim stared at his brother. Jason had tried to kill him, many times. But Jason always made sure he got sleep at least once a week. Jason always had a stash of Tim’s favorite video games at his safe houses. When Dick’s “brother bonding” activities failed, Jason always found the best street food where they could laugh at Dick’s failures. Jason cursed him, called him “Replacement.” He screamed that he hated all of them, but he had saved Tim’s life, stitched him up when he was too ashamed to go to the manor. He didn’t want Jason to go. He was his brother.

Jason just sighed and rubbed his neck as he stared distantly at the Batmobile. “I can’t lose her again. And what if I am the Executioner?”

Bruce shook his head, “We won’t know that until she passes judgment on the Joker. She made that very clear. You cannot accept the role until you are called to it. And you will not be called to it, until the duty is required.”

Jason nodded numbly, and Tim felt the knot that was hardening in his stomach loosen somewhat. “Look,” he said, “We have until the Gala which is in…three months. She’ll be busy on our suites, but it is time to figure all of this out. Besides, it’s not like she can’t ever come back! I mean, she made it quiet clear that she wants to do something about all of the Chaos in Gotham.”

Tension seemed to leak out of the Wayne boys at the prospect of getting a delay in any major decisions. Of course none of them would ever say that they all like the idea of Jason leaving forever as much as they liked getting dowsed in Fear Toxin. But that was a problem for another day. For now there were tags to can, and fanart to laugh art. But before Tim could turn the topic to more light hearted tones, Dick asked,

“What if…Jason’s not the Executioner. I mean, Marinette is the already the Guardian and the Arbiter. What if she is meant to be the Executioner as well?”

“She’s not,” Jason said through gritted teeth.

Bruce shook his head, “I asked Diana about it. She said that it is possible…she said the last person to hold all three titles was her mother. When she did, Hippolyta was as a goddess until she abdicated the roles so that they might be divided into three. But even after surrendering the power and the calling, Hippolyta was never human again. Which led her to form the Amazons.”

Tim could see the war waging in Jason, and decided a distraction was in order, so he pulled up one of their latest cases. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think of Marinette. He had seen Marinette break so many times, but she always stood up and went back to the fight. And it made her stronger, every time. And he just couldn’t stop the question from invading his every thought…

What if?

@laurcad123 @craftgremlin @toodaloo-kangaroo @blackroserelina @maanae @kitsun369 @idkamt @aksartisticlife @its-maemain @iglowinggemma28 @officiallydarkgeek @meira-3919 @crazylittlemunchkin @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @raven-ette

#maribat #miraculous x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marinette dupen chang #badass marinette #marinettexroy #roy x marinette #roy harper #batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #big brother jason #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #justice league

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 2 years

Text

Into The Unkown, Part 40

First

Tim’s natural response to confusion was to smile. And, therefore, he was smiling rather hard.

You see, his day had been relatively normal. Marinette had said that she was going to take Damian out, so he had offered to stock up on a couple of groceries while they were out having fun. He had cursed Gotham for it’s stupidly common rainy days, rain hurt like a bitch when on a motorcycle, and then pretended not to notice because no one uses motorcycles for their practicality.

He stuffed everything into his backpack as he made his way over to the motorcycle, head bowed against the wind and rain… he wondered absently if the next modification he made to his motorcycle should be based around wind and rain protection…

And then he stopped cold as he realized there was a group of people gathered around his bike. They weren’t touching it, so Tim doubted that this was attempted theft, but they were clearly examining it for some reason.

“Hey, fellas!”

(He cringed inwardly and wondered whether he could convince Marinette to jump realities with him again.)

Only two of the four people even spared him a glance. One of said two was quick to roll his eyes.

The fourth person, the only woman, gave him a smile even as she tried to wave him off. “It’s fine, kid. We’re not trying to steal it.”

“What are you doing?” Tim said, exhibiting some amazing self-restraint by not getting upset over the ‘kid’ comment.

“None of your business,” sighed a man with more tattoos than actual visible skin.

“Mmm… about that…” He clicked his keys in his pocket once. “Unfortunately, it kind of is.”

And, wow, were they surprised. And, listen, he understood. Even if he had branched into less formal clothing since he had switched worlds, he was still in a relatively nice coat and jeans… and he did start off the conversation with the words ‘hey fellas’… but they could have maybe tried a little harder to mask their shock. He used to be a vigilante, for pete’s sake! With a motorbike! And he had been a rich asshole then! People can be multifaceted!

“... really?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s your mechanic?” Asked the one closest to his bike, stuffing a wrench into their pocket hastily. They seemed to think that Tim would somehow miss the motion if they smiled enough. “They’ve tricked this thing out pretty well.”

… he would let the motion go if they flattered him, though. “Oh. That was me, actually. You noticed?”

He had thought he had hidden the modifications pretty well among the mechanisms of the bike. Even if no one in this world would ever be able to figure out he was modding his bike to get it as close to Red Bird as was physically possible, he would prefer it if it wasn’t too obvious that he knew a lot about motorbikes. He wasn’t quite sure where that would fit into their cover story.

The last person, a man that had to be in his fifties, tipped to the side and then slowly looked over his bike. “You think you could help us out? I’d pay you, of course…”

Tim hesitated. Money was pretty cool… but you know what could be even cooler?

“Can I experiment a little while I trick out your bikes?” He asked, his eyes bright.

The woman snickered. “Sure, kid.”

“Great! Unrelated note: I’m going to need you guys to sign so many waivers…”

Marinette frowned down at the text Tim had sent. It consisted of five motorcycle emojis and a person flipping their hair. She started to text back, asking what the heck this meant, but Damian stole her attention away by stealing the phone from her hands.

She sighed. That’s what she gets for having her phone too low, she supposed.

Damian placed his hands on his hips, the phone hanging dangerously on two fingers, and looked up at her. “Mari, pay attention!”

“Right, right,” she said, smiling. “So, you said…?” She looked at the tired Build-A-Bee employee.

“Rub their heart on your knee so they’ll always need you,” he said, somehow still managing to keep that smile on his face.

Damian handed her back her phone so he could do as the employee instructed and she, somewhat reluctantly, dropped it into her purse. She wasn’t fond of being sassed twice in the same minute, thanks.

Instead, she watched the heart ceremony (“... rub it on your arms, to pick you up when you’re down… rub it on your hips, so they’re always hip and cool… rub it on your back, so they always have yours…”), smiling faintly as she watched her kid beam from ear to ear.

And then, finally, it was done and she draped her arms on top of Damian’s head. They watched the worker set it approximately where a human heart sits – and barely stopped herself from pointing out that, actually, bees have their hearts in their butts – and then let go so Damian could rush forward and take his new, lime green bee plush. It was named ‘Bee’. They really have to stop letting him name things.

He was unaware that she was considering never letting him come up with a name, so he beamed and hugged Bee to him as tightly as he possibly could.

His smile was contagious, she couldn’t help but smile back.

“You can get it an outfit. Only one, though.”

Damian was very offended by this. “Mari, are you fucking?!”

Marinette jolted. “What?!”

“... are you serious?” He asked, now much quieter.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She leaned her head against the stuffing machine and took a couple of moments to do one of the two – she wasn’t really sure which. At least the people nearby were either too busy snickering or giving her disapproving looks to ever know.

“Fine. Two outfits,” she said into the machine.

He lit up and rushed off to find two outfits for his bee. Marinette sat down on the floor and buried her face in her hands to avoid her embarrassment.

She really needed to stop swearing in front of Damian.

“Red or blue?” asked the oldest one, his lips pulled into a frown. His name was Gonzales, something Tim knew thanks to the waivers he had made them all sign.

(No, he hadn’t been kidding about the waivers. He didn’t want to be sued, thanks.)

“Uh… red?” He said.

There was a long, drawn out sigh from Miranda. “We’re gonna have to fix that.”

“Why?” Tim frowned. “Red’s a nice color.”

There was a beat as everyone looked at him. Like they expected him to figure something out. But he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to figure out.

The guy that probably would have dismantled his bike to figure out how it worked had Tim been a minute late slung an arm over his shoulders, grinning. “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Terry’s hand got dangerously close to where his phone sat in his jacket pocket, so he smoothly pulled out from under him, grinning widely. “I’m sorry, but I can’t really let you have that. My wife would get worried if I didn’t send her my daily dog pic. Speaking of which, have any of you seen a dog around?”

“... you have a wife?” Said the man that was covered in tattoos. His name was Graham. Tim had expressed hilarity that someone so big and intimidating was named Graham of all things, but the other hadn’t seemed to get it.

“And a kid,” Tim added, already pulling out his phone on his own accord in order to show them the many photos of his ‘fake’ family.

Gonzales was the only one that seemed at all interested in his family, leaning over his shoulder and smiling a little as Tim showed off his kid with pride.

Miranda frowned. “... how old are you?”

“Twenty-one… how old did you think I was?”

“Like, eighteen, max,” said Graham. He seemed much more relaxed now that he knew Tim was firmly an adult, holding up a blue shirt by his head.

Which, okay, fair, Tim technically still looked about nineteen because of the miraculous… but that didn’t mean that he didn’t huff a little. Admittedly, this didn’t help the fact that he, apparently, looked young.

Miranda still looked a little suspicious, though. “He could still be lying so we’ll buy him drinks.”

“Well, I’m not. What, do you want my license to check?”

Terry chuckled where he was looking between two different leather jackets. Tim couldn’t tell the difference between them, but Terry sure could… apparently. He discarded the one on the left and then turned to Tim, grinning widely. “Please, Timmy, licenses and identities are easy to fake.”

Tim’s calm expression frayed at the edges. “Mhmm? That’s… interesting. Wouldn’t know much about that.”

The four of them all looked at each other, a conversation that Tim wasn’t privy to, and then their gazes steadily found their way back to him.

“Interesting thing to feel the need to clarify…” Miranda said slowly.

He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not that his lying had apparently gotten worse since he had last been a bat. On the one hand, lying is bad… on the other…

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe his nerves.

Gonzales clapped him on the back. “Well, don’t worry, we won’t card you. Now, light blue or dark blue?”

Eventually they all decided on an outfit and Tim was pushed into a fitting room.

Tim frowned at his reflection. He turned this way and that, examining the dark blue button down – at least they had tried to stay somewhat within his normal style – and leather jacket.

“Mmm… I know I’m, apparently, working for you guys now, but do I really have to wear the gang colors? I don’t think blue looks good on me, to be honest. Also, if I go home in this leather jacket, Marinette will definitely laugh at me. Then steal it.”

It was completely silent. He turned around to look at the group, only to find them looking right back at him. The expressions on their faces were similar to the ones they wore when they realized it was his bike that he had modded.

“... you knew?!”

Tim’s eyebrows knit together. “Duh? You’ve all got matching leather jackets? You all have motorcycles? The insistence on certain clothes? The casualness about identity fraud? How could I not have known?”

“But you’re so…” Terry motioned vaguely to him.

“Firstly, ‘looking the part’ is a terrible idea, it gives people a bad impression and juries are easily swayed by first impressions. Second, this is Gotham, if I wasn’t okay with mob and gang activities I would have left already. Thirdly, one of my two best friends in high school was the daughter of a mob boss and my current best friend has an utter shithead for a father; it happens, I do not care.”

“... are you done?” Gonzales said carefully.

“No.”

He was, actually, but he’d always wanted to say that. Now, he had to scramble for something else… and, wow, did something hit him.

“Hold up, did you really try to rope me into a gang thinking I had no idea? That’s kinda messed up.”

“Honestly, I just wanted to see how far we could go before you realized,” said Graham. He was looking at the ground sheepishly, so at least someone felt bad.

Terry slung a hand over Tim’s shoulder again, not the slightest bit uncomfortable. “But, ‘Timmy’, this little exercise was interesting.”

Gonzales tipped his head to the side, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

Graham rested a heavy hand atop his hand. “Chin up, kid.”

Tim hesitated.

Then he cracked a grin, careful as it was. “I’m not a kid.”

“Good kid,” said Miranda.

He sent her a halfhearted glare. Halfhearted not because he wasn’t annoyed, but because he was too relieved that he had apparently passed some sort of secret pop quiz to really let it affect him.

“Now, let’s go pay.” Terry let go of him, and took a couple of steps away before holding up a familiar wallet. “It’s on… you.”

Tim touched his pocket and then cursed quietly, gathering his old clothes and then racing after him.

Marinette slipped into their shared apartment. A tiny smile made its way across her face when she saw her boyfriend poke his head around the wall separating the kitchen from the living room.

Tim raised an eyebrow at their kid. Damian was hugging a lime green bee in an atrociously bright orange dress. She supposed he deserved an explanation.

“Bought a new stuffed animal!” Marinette answered easily. Frank rushed over and she caught the dog by the collar with ease. “Not for you. But I did find you a bone, so… enjoy!”

Tim didn’t question why she said ‘found’ and not ‘bought.’ It was Gotham, some things are just best left unsaid. “Well, while you were getting… I’m assuming it’s name is ‘Bee?'”

Marinette nodded with a mouthed ‘of course’.

“Well, while you were doing that, I got a side job and some new… friends…?”

“That’s great –!”

She beamed and walked around the wall in order to fully see him… and then paused. She leaned against the counter for support.

“And you’ve got some new clothes, I see.” Her voice was carefully clipped in an attempt to keep it from wobbling with laughter.

“You can laugh. It feels wrong if you don’t.”

She was more than willing to make things feel right again.

Tim waited until she was done laughing to speak (she wouldn’t have answered otherwise):

“Right, what’s wrong with it?”

“Besides everything?”

He rested his hands on his hips, something that threw her into another fit of giggles.

But, when she was done, she walked over and slowly straightened his collar. “You should have gone for a lighter shade of blue,” she chided lightly. “It would’ve matched your eyes better.”

“But this shade fades into the jacket.”

“Exactly the problem, it’s bad for layering,” she sighed, shaking her head. Marinette took a step back to get a better view. “I think your friends may be a bad influence.”

His forehead beaded with sweat. He had thought lying to the gang members had been hard, but now Marinette was peering up into his face and his voice caught in his throat.

She grinned and leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “If you don’t be careful you’re going to be caught by the style police.”

He gave a hesitant smile. “Is that you?”

“The style police? Obviously.”

“And does the ‘style police’ like the leather?” He asked, giving a little twirl.

“Not really. But you should be glad I don’t have a thing for guys in leather,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Otherwise Chat Noir would’ve beaten you out years ago.”

He seemed to consider this, and then he sighed. “At least I don’t have to worry about Catwoman or Poison Ivy when we go home.”

“I never said anything about women in leather,” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“... huh?”

Marinette ignored him, turning to where Damian was currently playing a strange game of tug-o-war with Frank and her dog bone.

“Mari? Wait, what?”

“Bath time, Dami,” she cooed.

Damian pouted, but accepted the arms that came to scoop him up.

She ignored his attempts to try and get a proper answer out of her, leaving him to get ready for bed in sulky silence. He tossed the leather jacket onto the back of an armchair, and then dropped himself down onto Damian’s mattress.

It wasn’t long before Marinette was bringing a clean Damian in, cooing softly as the kid rubbed his eyes sleepily. Frank jumped up to her place on the end of the bed – she would take Tim’s place once the adults left – and Marinette fell into bed with their kid.

Damian quickly made himself comfortable, curled between them.

Tim gave his girlfriend a playful glare, but settled down when she returned it and picked up a random book on the nightstand.

Damian was quickly lulled to sleep by Tim’s whispers of a story called Would you still love me if…? and Marinette’s fingers combing the knots out of his wet hair.

Tim got about three-fourths of the way through before he realized Damian was asleep. He smiled faintly and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, and then settled back.

Marinette started to get up, only to stop when she realized Tim wasn’t intent on doing so anytime soon. “You know, he’s going to start kicking, soon,” she said, her voice soft.

He smiled. “I’ll live.”

She hummed a single, low note before settling as well.

He, hesitantly, turned to look at her. “Hey, Mari…?”

She looked up. There was a kid in her arms, sound asleep, which meant she was unlikely to yell. Both for fear of waking him up and because she was currently soft in the face of her kid’s… face. This was his best chance at a civil conversation.

Now, was this manipulative of him? Yes.

Did he have a defense?

… No.

“So… about the friends and job I mentioned earlier…”

And he had been practicing this conversation since he had realized where things were heading hours previously… but, now, in the moment of truth, he was blanking. She was going to freak out, of course. It was a gang. He was a Gothamite, but she had only been living in Gotham for two years, this was still pretty new to her.

She frowned more and more the longer it took him to say it, so he forced it all out in a rush:

“I’mpartofamotorcyclegangnow. Don’tknowhowithappenedbutitdid. Sorry.”

She blinked once. Twice. He could practically see her processing the words…

And then she gave a small puff of laughter. “Oh. Okay. As long as you’re safe.”

…………………… what?

He must have looked pretty shocked, because she giggled and reached out to cup his cheek. “Please, honey, it’s Gotham. Everyone knows someone that’s mob- or gang-affiliated here.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He had forgotten that Ladybug was based around her adaptability back in the day. Of course she was already used to Gotham and all of its quirks.

He had been freaking out over nothing. He could relax.

And then something hit him and he was tensing up all over again because:

“Wait, who do you know that’s ‘mob- or gang-affiliated’?”

Tim was ignored for the second time that night.

Marinette hummed as she slipped on his jacket before slipping out the door. She had been feigning disinterest for the sake of the long con, and now it was hers.

Or, at least, so she had thought… until the next day she had found it missing.

She huffed, leaning back against the counter. How dare Tim steal back the jacket she had stolen from him? This was, obviously, a declaration of war.

… but then she found Damian wearing the jacket. It was long on him, just barely scraping against the floor as he walked, and he had to push up the sleeves every few seconds to be able to even somewhat use his hands.

Marinette cooed a little, ruffling his hair.

Her eyes found their way to the hem trailing along the floor. She sighed and used the hand to stop him.

“Here, can I have the jacket back? Just for a little while? That doesn’t fit you, but I can crop it to make the size smaller, okay?”

Damian pouted. But the sleeves chose that moment to fall from where he had pushed them up for the millionth time and suddenly he was handing it over without concern.

Tim came home later that day to find Marinette taking a sewing needle to the leather jacket. Damian was standing somewhat precariously on the armrest but he was, thankfully, leaning on her shoulder to see, so any falls would be directly into Marinette’s lap. With the addition of Frank curled by their feet, watching with lazy eyes, it was a very cute scene.

One that he, apparently, did not appreciate.

“... my jacket,” he complained halfheartedly.

“Ours now,” she said simply.

He huffed.

And then… “Wait, ‘ours’?”

“Yeah, Dami wants to wear it too.”

“Know what? Give me a picture of him in it when it's done and I’ll forget it was ever mine.”

“Deal. I’ll even throw in a picture of him in it from before I started working on it.”

“This is why I love you.”

Tim sighed as he walked into work the next day, annoyance and shame roiling in his gut. His work took place in Gonzales’ garage, and the smell of gasoline did nothing to brighten his mood. At least a large part of his job included whacking things with a hammer and/or wrench. Percussive maintenance is amazing when you’re pissed off.

And why was he so upset?

“Hey, Timmy, where’d your jacket go? Don’t tell me you’ve already lost it?” Terry teased, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He was thoroughly disappointed to find that Tim had expected him to try and pickpocket him again and had hidden his things on the way over.

He hung his head. “My wife stole it.”

It was silent for a moment.

And then the arm Terry had around him was suddenly real as the older man leaned on him heavily and laughed his ass off at Tim’s misfortune.

~~~~~

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenz-z @imarivers8 @jeminiikrystal @adrestar @twsssmlmaa @literaryhiraeth @trippingovermyfeet @ev-cupcake @its-maemain

#no this chapter isn't twice as long as usual hahaha whaaaaat #listen #i refuse to touch my chapter count unless it's going down #this thing is gonna be LONG and i REFUSE to make it any longer #so sh #unless you're praising me and my beta izzy. then you can talk #/j #into the unknown #maribat #timinette #shutterbug #timari #timmari #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Hawkmoth was a bitch, and Marinette meant that with every fiber of her soul. Fu was also a bitch, and Marinette actually had good memories of the guy. Not many, but she had some. The fact that the guy got two ten-year-olds to become super heroes and fight a supervillain for him kinda soured those memories, though. But with Chat Noir not allowed to leave his house? Yeah, even as young as they were it only took about a year to find out who HawkMoth was and another year to take him down.

Except, that left Marinette alone. The final battle took her mom away, and Chat had to move out of Paris after his dad was arrested. Luckily Jagged allowed her and her papa to move into his house in Gotham, and everything was…

Well, it was okay. For about a month.

Then her dad was gone too, and she had no way to talk to Jagged, and the police were scaring her—

Yeah, that was the basic order of events that led to where she was now. Pushing fourteen years old, ex-superhero, protector of a magical box of gods, stealing the tires off of a very nice motorcycle.

Marinette was tempted to just take the whole thing, she loved bikes and knew she could drive it. But the thing had more security than she knew what to do with, and the fact that it belonged to Red Hood… she didn’t want to deal with trackers today, thanks. So the tires it was.

Should she maybe care more about the fact that she was stealing from a vigilante with a violent streak? Maybe. Did she? Hell no. For all she knew, maybe Red Hood was a bitch too. (Yes, she was still learning English slang. She was fluent by educational standards, but learning how to curse in a foreign language was fun and she still had a little bit to go. Her few street friends were very happy to help).

A shadow dropped down in front of her, and Marinette’s hero instincts kicked in. The tire iron she was using cut through the air, slamming right into the side of Red Hood’s knee.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Hood,” Batman’s voice grumbled over the comms, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone else who was on the comms. It wasn’t as gruff as he usually sounded, in fact it almost sounded like… he was trying not to laugh?

“Did you get gassed by Joker?” Dick asked before Jason got a chance to respond. “Need backup?”

“No,” Batman responded, sounding a little more composed. “Not a rogue. But Hood, I need you to join me at my location as soon as possible.”

Finally getting the chance to talk, Jason responded a little warily; “Sure, B. Wait,” he blinked at the location that was sent to him. “Isn’t that where my bike is parked?”

Batman didn’t respond at first, only the sound of labored breathing— again, as if he was trying not to laugh. “Just get here, Hood.”

Sighing, but not too mad since the night had been fairly quiet so far, Jason decided to humor the old man and head over. When he could see the cape-clad back of Batman, he easily leapt over the last roof and sauntered over.

“Okay, B,” he had his thumbs tucked in his pockets as he drawled. “What’s the issue?”

Batman was grinning. As in, actually showing amusement. And he just pointed down, straight at Hood’s bike.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet, turning to look. At first he didn’t see anything amiss, until he saw movement and looked harder. Oh. Oh, holy shit.

“Is that a kid?”

“Yep,” Batman’s grin grew.

“Is she… stealing my tires?” Hood was so, so glad he wore a helmet that hid his expression. Because… wow.

“Yep,” Batman finally lost his composure, chuckling. “This seems like Karma, don’t you think?”

“And you just watched her so you could rub it in,” Jason groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. Of course he would. Nobody knew it (except the other heroes who knew him) but Batman was a petty little jerk when he wanted to be. He bought the whole Daily Planet just to spite Clark, for crying out loud.

“Don’t adopt her,” Batman said as he stood up, patting Red Hood’s shoulder. “It looks like she’s almost done.”

“Shit,” Jason hissed, looking down to see that she was, actually, very close to being done. She had already had one tire completely free by the time he had arrived, and now she was only seconds away from getting the other one completely free.

He took a quick assessment— she was tiny, and really thin. Definitely a street kid, he thought, though he didn’t recognize her. He knew most of the street kids that stole to get by, nowadays, which meant she must have been fairly new. But even though she seemed to know what she was doing, her small frame made her take longer unscrewing the tires than it normally would have taken. Sure that she wasn’t a threat by any stretch of the imagination, he jumped down. His plan had been to startle her a little by showing up out of nowhere, but he didn’t want to scare her too badly. Just make her jump a little.

But he had underestimated her, it seemed. Without wasting a second, she jumped up and swung her tire iron at his knee. He cursed, she was a lot faster than her had been expecting. He was able to move so that the weapon only clipped the side of his knee, his knee pad thankfully taking the worst of it. She still hit hard enough to make him stumble and hiss in pain though, which was an accomplishment.

That’s when she abandoned her weapon and her tires, darting to try and escape only for Batman to drop down and block her escape. Though really, it was the grin Batman had that scared the girl most of all, apparently, making her slowly back away from him.

“Please stop smiling,” she begged with a faint French accent to her words. “It is not natural.”

That made Red Hood laugh, already recovered and right behind her. He plopped a gloved hand on her head.

“I know, it’s creepy right?” He joked. “What’cha doin’ stealing my tires, kid? I kinda need them to drive anywhere,” he was careful to keep his voice light and devoid of any anger. He wasn’t really upset, all told. It would be hypocritical of him if he was.

She looked between the two vigilantes for a moment, clear intelligence behind those bright blue eyes as she seemed to consider something. Suddenly she pulled away from Red Hood and stepped away from his reach, straightening up and trying to look tall.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said as firmly as she could. “My father was Tom Dupain, he was killed in a mugging three months ago. We were living in a house that our family friend leant to us after my mother’s death six months ago, and we moved here from Paris. I haven’t been able to contact him, and the police… I don’t trust them,” she admitted, clearly seeing this as the chance she had been waiting for. “I have been living on the streets since my father died. I am sorry for trying to steal your tires, Monsieur Red Hood. But it was a risk I had to take.”

“Did you expect us to catch you?” He asked, crossing his arms as he re-evaluated the girl. She was a lot stronger than he had assumed earlier, both physically and mentally. She seesawed her hand to indicate ‘kinda’.

“Even if you didn’t, I could make good money off your tires,” she justified with a shrug. “To me, I would win either way.”

“Who is your family friend? Can he help you now, take you in?” Batman asked, moving forward and kneeling down to be closer to Marinette’s height. Neither he nor Jason had missed the part where she was an orphan, but they had expected that considering what they had caught her doing. And they both knew that she wasn’t likely to take any apologies they tried to offer very well. It was best not to show pity, or she might get angry.

Marinette frowned. “... Our family friend is Jagged Stone. He lets me call him Uncle Jagged,” she told them, clearly expecting the disbelieving grunts they gave. “I mean it! You can call him, he might even be looking for me! I—“

“We know,” Hood assured her, now kneeling down as well. Man, she was short. “Calm down, we know you’re telling the truth. Jagged has made several public announcements about his missing honorary niece, we just didn’t recognize your name right away. And Jagged doesn’t have access to very many pictures of you, those he does have the Mayor isn’t allowing him to show because that spineless jackass—“

“Language, Hood.”

“—Cares more about keeping bad press off the air than finding a kid, even if it’s a world famous rockstar who’s asking. That’s probably why you haven’t heard anything, the mayor’s keeping it off the radio and not many reporters are brave enough to take the story and get on his bad side.”

“Oh…” Marinette took a deep breath, fighting the tears that were threatening to rise up. “He has been looking…” she sniffled, curling in on herself a little. “Can you take me to him?”

“I think we can do that,” Batman agreed, standing up. “I’ll contact him. Red Hood, can you handle everything here until I give you a place to meet up with Jagged Stone?”

Jason nodded. “No problem, B. Come on, little rabid pixie. Step one of gettin’ you back to your uncle is to help me fix my bike back up.”

Marinette sighed, shoulders dropping. “All my hard work, undone…” she playfully complained. But in the end she didn’t argue or fight against it, she just sat down and helped him reattach his tires.

All the while, Jason’s family kept teasing him over the comms. Clearly they were also thoroughly amused by the cosmic display of karma.

“...Monsieur Hood,” Marinette asked once they were done repairing the motorcycle and he had given her his too-big extra helmet. He tilted his head a bit to show he was listening. She squirmed. “Can… can we stop by my hideout? I have something really important I have to get.”

Jason smiles gently under his mask. She might not have been a street kid for very long, but she really did bring back some memories for him. He got on his bike and held a hand out to her.

“Sure thing kid. Wanna grab something to eat after? Can’t have a reunion on an empty stomach.”

She gave him a lopsided smile— not quite overjoyed, but definitely hopeful and thankful. Maybe this was the end of her streak of bad luck, she could only hope.

“Only if you don’t mind, Monsieur Hood,” she agreed before taking his hand and letting him help her onto the bike.

“No skin off my back, pixie,” he assured her. Then they were off. He followed her directions until they got to an abandoned building about three miles away, not in a good part of town at all but at least not in crime alley. Marinette easily led him through the building, skirting around other piles of ratty blankets and up broken stairs until they got to the badly-maintained top floor. She led him over to an almost invisible door in the concrete wall that pulled out to reveal what was probably a broom closet once upon a time. It was crowded with what looked like junk and empty boxes, along with a few blankets and two or three changes of clothes that were clearly her’s. A few belongings scattered around— a book, a small pink purse, and… Marinette came out of the pile of mess holding what had clearly been a very carefully hidden box. She also grabbed the purse and slung it over her shoulder, but didn’t seem worried about anything else.

Jason frowned at the box. It wasn’t that big, but it was clearly made of old wood. There were intricate carvings that were painted pink, in a symbol that was itching at the back of his mind. He recognized that symbol, but from where?

“Ready to go, kid?” He asked as he thought about it, getting a nod from Marinette. Twenty minutes later they were at a Batburger, sitting in a shaded booth that couldn’t be seen from the street.

She never let the box out of her sight. She kept it on the seat next to her, and Jason noticed that she tried to keep one hand on it at all times. But when she spoke, now her French accent stood out to him even more than before. But why—?

And then it clicked. Paris. Hawkmoth. Ladybug, Chat Noir, magic artifacts called Miraculous. Wonder Woman had raised a fuss when the heroes disappeared, declaring that something was wrong but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Then the magic users they trusted were called in, and returned from Paris with the grim news that the former Guardian of those artifacts had activated a failsafe and passed the guardianship on to someone else while erasing his own memories at the same time. But nobody knew who he could have passed it on to, so Batman had been given the green light to do all the research he and his team could into the Miraculous box to try and help track it down.

And here it was. The carvings were in pink now, which might have been the “cosmetic change” that Constantine had mentioned might happen when the box changed guardians. He had found the box full of super powerful magical artifacts… in the hands of a newly orphaned street kid who couldn’t have been older than fourteen at best.

What the hell?

“...” Red hood reached into his pocket and pulled out an old receipt and a sharpie. He scrawled on the back of the receipt and handed to Marinette. The girl was halfway into a bite of her burger when he did, and blinked at him owlishly before swallowing and cautiously reaching out to grab it. She frowned at the numbers scrawled there.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“My contact info,” he explained. “I won’t ask questions about why you have that box,” he watched her instantly stiffen but continued as casually as he could; “but it doesn’t matter. You can call me if you ever need help with anything, kid. Help with that box, help if you get in trouble in Gotham again, or even if you’re having a bad day. You can call me for whatever, got it? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, if you can’t talk to anyone else in your life you can always call or text me and I’ll do whatever I can. Got it?”

“...” Marinette sniffled for a second and looked down at the table in silence for a second. “... what if I want your motorcycle?” she joked, but the watery tone of her voice gave her away.

Jason laughed, patting her head. “I need my bike, but we can talk about getting you your own once you are old enough to get a license. You almost done? Bats says that Jagged is ready to meet you, I can take you to him right now.”

“Yeah, lets go!” she was newly energized and shoved the last bite of burger into her mouth greedily. “And Red Hood?” She asked as they headed out to where he had parked.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Permanent tag list (I remembered it this time!)

@rosalineandrosemary @neakco @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @trippingovermyfeet @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @bigpicklebananatree @fantasylover-92 @prongs-flowers @jumpingjoy82 @prettylittlebutterflie @queenz-z @literaryhiraeth @waffelyunsure @deathssilentapproach-blog @waiting247 @theirlmikan @unoriginalmess

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #soulmate-game #platonic jasonette

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

-----

I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ‘ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

#bio!dad john constantine #maribat #damientte #damainette #platonic daminette #maybe?#minor swearing

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 16

Chapter 1 Chapter 15

Marinette blinked as the room around her slowly came into focus. She tried to bring her hand up to rub her head to help alleviate her pulsing headache but her hands weren’t responding. It felt like there was a weight on them. Or like they were being held down, bound. Marinette’s eyes flew open and her heart started pounding as she searched the room for the akuma. She looked at her hands and silently cursed to herself. Not only were her arms bound to the arms of a wooden chair, she saw her own naked hands instead of her distinct red suit.

She groaned and looked around for any clues to where she was being held and what the akuma might be. If she could figure out their powers, she might be able to figure out how to get out of this. She stopped when she saw a man in a green suit making his way toward her. She blinked a few more times taking in his suit and hat. “Is that… are those question marks? Are you a question akuma?” she muttered out in French.

The man tilted his head at her. “You’ll find English is necessary if you want to get out of this one alive, young Wayne.”

Marinette stared at the man a few more seconds, letting his words settle in her head as things started to click in her mind. She wasn’t in Paris. This wasn’t an akuma, because there weren’t akumas anymore. She and Adrien had defeated his father. She was in Gotham. She had been on her way home after a disastrous dinner at the Wayne’s. This was a Gotham villain, not a Parisian one. This was the Riddler.

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief before her face scrunched in frustration. “Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me right now? You had to do this right now?”

“Oh, I never kid about riddles. Now, is not the time to panic, Little Lady,” he taunted.

“Oh, you have no fucking clue. Now is most definitely NOT the time, but you made it the time,” she hissed at him. “Do you have ANY idea how bad my week is going? My night? Do you? Do you have any idea of the trauma and nightmares I’m going to have to deal with already? And that was before you forced me to witness your suit in person. And can you comprehend the mental and emotional cataclysm I’m already going to have to endure? And you’re pulling this shit? Now?”

“I’m just going to ask a few questions and then it’ll all be over and then you can have your little mental breakdown,” he jeered condescendingly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to lunge at him, but her chest was tied to the chair, holding her back, and she’d never hated rope more than she did in that moment. She growled and glared at him. “Oh thank you for the permission. And for the record, it won’t be little. It’s going to be a monufuckingmental breakdown. Thank you very much. Granted it isn’t everything on Earth is destroyed but me and one other person, who caused it in the first place, level of bad. But I think I’m justified in needing to take a fucking second to think and process. A second I’m not going to fucking get now am I? Because of you.” She turned her head to the side in frustration but her eyes got caught on a small red light. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you recording this?” she yelled at him. That complicated things considerably. Now she needed to watch her words. Now she needed to make sure she didn’t expose anything. Well that just sucked even more.

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a game show without an audience, now would it,” he purred.

She scowled at him. “By all means, record this to watch later. Most people aren’t looking to get bitch slapped as hard as you’re going to get so publicly, but to each their own, I guess. But, consent is a thing and next time, keep me out of it.”

She strained against the ropes holding her hands to the chair arms. She glowered at him when they proved too tight for her to move her wrists. “Also, it’s already not much of a game show. If you have to knock out people and tie them down just to get them to play, either your show sucks or your host does. Or in this case, both.”

“Now, now,” he snarled, his smile considerably more strained than it had been before. “We’re just testing the newest Wayne to see how you’re going to fit in.”

“I could have told you that without all this,” she glowered. “But you wanted to be a big man and ask a question. So ask your little question. Be a big man putting a bound, petite, non-native English speaking woman, in her place. Although if that’s what it takes to make you feel like a man, that’s one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever heard.”

Riddler seethed at her, attempting to keep his face neutral, but failing spectacularly. One of the Waynes should be afraid of him. He had been hoping the new one would finally give him a Wayne that cowered in fear. Instead, he got yet another feral child. He gripped his question mark staff tightly, fighting the urge to hit her with it. It was too early to start. She’d get her punishment soon enough. He looked up with a grin. Very soon.

He looked back at her with a sadistic smirk. “Fine. I’d hate to keep a lady waiting. Perhaps first I should start with the stakes.” He moved closer to smile in her face. “Think well on your answer young Wayne, because for every question you get wrong,” he pointed up with his staff, “a knife falls.”

Marinette let out a deep, annoyed sigh and looked up to see a series of knives tied to the ceiling right above her seat. She sighed and gave him a flat look. “Really? That’s the best you could do? You realize what I’ve been faced with before, right? Or did you not do your research?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You look like a man who never does his research.”

Riddler sidled up to her in a step, his face a few centimeters from her own. “We can start by testing out the knives if you’d prefer.”

Marinette leaned her head back. Even if she couldn’t talk him out of making one drop, it wasn’t going to get her. They would miraculously get diverted just enough to miss her. Luck could be a bitch when it was against you and he’d left too much up to chance. “Already changing the rules of the game? What were you saying about a good game show? Guess you really don’t care.”

“Fine!” Riddler screamed. He walked away a few steps and turned back to her with a malicious glint in his eyes. “Let’s start slow, shall we? Starting in 1881, this hall brightened Paris’ nights while darkening its satire. What is the name of this baby of Salis?”

Marinette stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Her face went slack.

Riddler leered down at her, his face breaking into a creepy grin at her apparent inability to answer his question. “Oh, how sad.” He gave her a mock pout. “Looks like the new Wayne isn’t so smart after all. What do they see in you anyway? Can’t even answer a simple, easy question.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Marinette finally burst out.

Riddler frowned at her. Instead of the fear he expected, her voice was incredulous and angry. “That’s the question, if you can’t answer…”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? That’s not a… You’re the Riddler. That’s not a riddle! That’s a… are you okay? Like, seriously. Are you okay? Because I think… You know what?” She took a deep steadying breath. She opened her eyes to give him a serious look, completely devoid of fear, leaning more towards concerned.

“I think you need a break. I think you need to take a bit of time to reassess, refocus, and recenter yourself. Then you can come back and be the Riddler I know you can be. Because this,” she tried to motion toward him, “this is not it. That is... that isn't a riddle! That's trivia! You inaccurately named, evil Alex Trebek! This would be a perfect opportunity to say I’m in Jeopardy, clueless asshole. So disappointed right now.” She shook her head in disappointment, refusing to even look at him.

Riddler seethed at her, his face turning red with anger. “Look either answer the question or…”

“THAT’S EXACTLY THE PROBLEM!” she screamed at him. “It’s a question, not a riddle. And you missed a golden opportunity to ask a follow up question and saying it’s Double Jeopardy. You missed the obvious pun! This is why I say you need to take a break. This isn’t you. You’re better than this, I know you are. I’m just… I’m worried about your mental health.” She gave him a concerned look.

“If you can’t answer…” he snapped at her. He gripped and regripped his question staff menacingly, leaning toward her with a snarl.

Marinette rolled her eyes at the attempt at intimidation. “Of course I can answer. I’m from Paris and you’re asking about Le Chat Noir? Of course I know the answer. Let me guess, your next question is about a ladybug,” she chirped, widening her eyes with false excitement.

Her face dropped the false sweetness and turned back into an aggravated frown. “That’s not the fucking point. My point is you interrupted my fucking abomination of a night for this bullshit and you’re not even on top of your game. So I not only get shoved into the spotlight, against my will, by people violating my and my parents’ privacy, forcing Mon… my father to ramp up plans for my introduction. Making sure my family and I knew we weren’t safe and exposing me to this bullshit along with the other attempts on me since it happened.”

Her frown turned into a disgusted sneer. “And I was actually afraid for a moment because I thought you were an akuma, but you’re really just an underprepared asshole. It’s insulting frankly.”

Riddler swung his question mark staff at her catching her across her cheek. He grinned at the blood trickling down her cheek. Marinette glared up at him but refused to let a grunt of pain pass her lips. “Next question, hopefully this one is more to your liking.” His eyes took on a malevolent glint.

Marinette’s eyes flicked behind him. He smirked at her inability to make eye contact any longer. “No,” she interrupted, a smirk forming on her own lips. “It’s my turn. I have one for you. It’s actually in the form of a riddle, if you think you can handle that.” The Riddler growled at her and moved closer to tower over her threateningly. “What lights up the day with black against yellow yet lights up the night with yellow against black. It brings hope to those who see it yet marks your demise. What is it?”

Riddler narrowed his eyes at her and backed away to get some space while he thought. He looked down for a second, searching the ground as though it might hold the answer for him. He suddenly looked up, his eyes bright with realization. “A signal!” he exclaimed, jumping with excitement. His face suddenly fell realizing the words that passed his lips.

He spun around just in time for Signal to punch him in the jaw. Riddler stumbled back falling backward on his ass. Signal stalked toward him, eskrima sticks out and ready. He kept his eyes on Riddler but raised his voice so Marinette could hear him. “You alright, Ma’am?”

“I’m fine. Just pissed,” she grunted. She focused on her bindings, trying to figure out a way to loosen them enough to get out.

Signal smirked and gave a short nod. “Preying on young women again? Not a good look for you.”

“Penguin and Scarecrow both tried and couldn’t get to her. I did,” he said defiantly, his chest puffing out even as he was slumped on the floor. “Penguin got to the museum too early. Scarecrow got to the hotel too late. But me? I plan better.”

“And got a verbal bitch slap the likes of which Gotham has never seen for your trouble.” Signal shook his head in mock sympathy and regripped his sticks. “Publicly.”

Riddler sneered at Signal. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Marinette called from her seat. She pointed at him threateningly with her now miraculously freed right hand. “Next time I’ll do it physically too.”

Signal grinned proudly and snorted at her comment. Riddler growled before looking back up at Signal with an angry scowl. “Looks like this show has come to an end. But we’ll be back after a short break.” He hit his staff hard on the ground and a gas started emitting from it, obscuring Signal’s view. Signal backed away and rushed over to Marinette, uncertain if the gas was dangerous.

He pulled out a knife and quickly sliced through the remaining ropes and helped her get free. “Can you walk?”

Marinette started sprinting toward the exit. “I can do better than that,” she called over her shoulder. “You just going to stand there and let the gas get you?” Signal smirked and followed her out.

She grunted as her shoulder rammed into the doorframe when she miscalculated the distance. She silently cursed how long it was taking her brain to recover from having been knocked out. Now out of the room she stopped running and rubbed her head as if willing it to kick back into gear.

“You sure you’re okay?” Signal asked catching up to her.

Marinette couldn’t see his eyes under his mask but the bottom half of his face seemed to be contorted in concern. She grumbled noncommittally in response and rubbed her shoulder. She looked around them quickly. “You sure this is a safe way out? He has to have had help. I don’t see him doing his own dirty work.”

Signal nodded. “He did have help. But, so do I.” He nodded behind him.

Marinette craned her neck around him to look behind him. She cringed as she saw Red Hood kneeing someone in the face. The goon fell limply to the ground, unconscious before he hit. Red Hood looked up and ran over to them as soon as he spotted her. “Pi… uh… pretty impressive mouth,” he stuttered. He looked over her closely as he could without touching her. His eyes zeroed in on her cheek.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds missing the incredulous look Signal tried to give him. “Um… thanks… I think.” She blinked a few more times before frowning. “Yeah, can we not talk about my mouth, please?”

Red Hood choked on nothing and shook his head, leaning away, as if trying to get away from the idea. “I meant your att…” he shook his head again and looked back at her. “Not a problem. Let’s never talk about it again. Are you okay? Did he hurt you anywhere else?” His eyes scanned her again and stopped at her wrists.

Marinette rubbed her wrists self-consciously. “No…” she started. “I mean! No he didn’t hurt me anywhere else. But I am okay,” she rushed out when she saw him tense up at her words.

“Where is he?” Red Hood growled, still staring at her wrists.

“Got away,” Signal answered.

Red hood rounded on him, his entire body tensed for a fight. “What do you mean he got away?”

Marinette stepped between them and pushed Red Hood back gently. “He released some kind of gas. He got me out of there before we found out what it did. Seems like a good move considering how he got me in the first place.”

Red Hood looked down at her for a second before looking up to Signal with a nod. He remembered seeing the gas dissipating when they finally caught up to where she was taken. It had looked like there was enough to knock out an entire city block. Definitely overkill, but spoke to Riddler’s desperation to be the first to kidnap her. “Idea which direction he went?”

Signal sighed a heavy sigh. “I didn’t see which way he went but it had to be out the west side of the room, but that’s all I got.”

Red Hood nodded and touched his com. “You got that?” He paused for a moment listening to whatever was being said over his com. “Yes, she’s fine. A few rope burns and a cut on her cheek, but seems okay other than that.”

Signal nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you have family we can call?”

Marinette shook her head absentmindedly, the strain of the night starting to hit. “No, I can call my brother. He’s probably terrified about me.”

Red Hood seemed to freeze. “Just… the one brother? You… aren’t you one of the Waynes?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and her face paled. She plastered a smile on her face. “Right. Yes. Of course. I… I meant my one brother was with me at the time. Yes. Yeah. The Waynes are my family. I’m a… I’m… Yeah, I’m a… Wayne,” she barely managed to get the word out of her mouth. It felt wrong and foreign on her tongue. She smiled wider at them. “But you don’t… you don’t have to bother them. They’re all busy.”

“Yeah, looking for you,” Red Hood answered back sharply. “They’re the ones that called us. They’re terrified right now.”

“I think they’d want to know,” Signal urged gently, his voice heartfelt and slightly pained.

She let out a bitter scoff before she could stop herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally berated her still drugged mind for letting that slip out. “I meant,” she started loudly, “I’ll inform someone. They’d want to… hear it from me,” she finished quietly.

Red Hood took a breath and moved closer to her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, they’re worried about you and they would want to know. They’d want to make sure you’re okay. They’d want to make sure you feel safe. They would want to protect you. In fact, I’d expect to see a lot more of them over the next few days.”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer but got interrupted by the police breaking into the room. Marinette pursed her lips and seemed to let a calm come over her. Red Hood looked harder at her change as the police led her off to take her statement. No, it wasn’t calm. It was a numbness, an absence of any feelings. His face contorted into a scowl. Exactly what Adrien had described. “You get that,” Red Hood snapped into his com. He waited a few seconds before shaking his head.

“That’s a fool’s bet,” Signal scoffed. “Of course she’s not going to. She might send a text. And even then I bet it won’t be much.”

Red Hood listened for a few more seconds before he shook his head again. “I’m not taking that bet either.” He watched as Adrien just stopped himself from tackling Marinette in his excitement to see her again. After what looked like a worried conversation, he saw Adrien pull her into a tight hug and Marinette melt into it. “We need to fix this and quick before B does anything else to completely destroy any chance we have,” Red Hood snarled. He turned and started grappling away. “I’m going rogue hunting.”

Chapter 17

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - last name Wayne

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iibonniee · 3 years

Text

Snowfall (Jason Todd)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.23k

The snow fell down into soft banks, the once cold sunny Gotham afternoon now was overtaken by gloomy dark skies that held hour’s worth of snow ready to claim Gotham’s ground as its own. It was cold, well below 30 so she didn’t feel like an idiot when her body started shaking as she held tightly to him. He didn’t mind how close she was for the closeness brought him comfort in the stressful times. It was calming, peaceful he could say. For it was only her that held him sane. The beautiful white of snow fell carefully onto her hair, though she didn’t care, so neither did he.

Their eyes were closed as white flakes fell on them making a home on their hair, face, and clothing. Nothing would be safe from the snow nor Gotham’s winter air. It was only February but even in the new year Gotham reminded everyone how it showed no mercy, not for the homeless, the people walking the streets, not the vigilantes running the roofs late into the night. No, Gotham was one relentless bitch. Cold and unforgiving. But it was moments like these where they could forget how unforgiving it was.

For a moment he forgot why he was out here. Out in the middle of the large manor rather than beginning inside cuddled up trying to stay warm. She had seen the first flake of snow and the excitement hit her faster than a mother allowing her child to eat that one piece of candy before dinner. She turned to him jumping up and down practically begging for them to go out. And if he somehow refused she’d just go out anyway to enjoy it. It had snowed merely two months ago in Gotham but it was when they were on patrol. Bruce was quick to say no messing around. His heart had broken at her frown and no matter how much she had hoped the snow would last until the upcoming daylight her frown was all but heavy when it stopped.

Now?

Now the snow was coming down heavily and it seemed to make a name. It screamed, “I’m here to stay.” Staying as long as it was able to fight against the high held sun. It was a surprise of course with how light it was coming down. He swore it wouldn’t be enough to cover the disgusting dirty ground. But he was indeed one fool that had his thoughts turn to laugh at him. Slow turned into fast but steady and fat snowflakes falling down. His blue eyes opened to see she had already beat him. She was already looking up at the sky blinking every few seconds in hopes to block the snow from falling into her eyes. He knew she’d complain well and hard if even one little flake got into her eye. Her cheeks were already so rosy, the once bearable air now just too cold that his leather coat would no longer protect him.

He found it odd. No beautiful snowfall on Christmas, not even New Year. But now just a few days in the new year Gotham had decided to curse them, and he could only hope it would snow more than enough that perhaps tonight Bruce would tell them they could relax, that perhaps for one night the snow would have them calm down enough not to make them get beat into bloody pulps. But it was Gotham. The crime never slept, rain or shine, 5 inches of snow would only slow them down for so long and the “Get suited up it’s time to head out” would only have aggravated him. No, he could never find a day where Bruce wouldn’t need all hands-on deck. It was always something too big that he’d need everyone.

Perhaps tonight, just one beautiful snowy night Bruce would cave in. Give everyone a break. He knew damn well Bruce would get an earful from him if he said those words. Just knowing not only him, but the beautiful female he held so close to him would have to stand out in the cold and harsh snow for hours. This was definitely a cheesy side to Jason, but nobody else he knew could make him feel so much in love than her. He swore the second her eyes met his, his heart skipped a beat. Her eyes held so much excitement just for the snow alone.

“It’s so pretty,” She uttered the first word since they’ve been out.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He watched her merely roll her eyes at such a sentence.

“Who are you and what did you do to my boyfriend?” This caused a laugh to erupt from Jason. His head was thrown back not caring for the flakes of snow landing on his face. Her hand met his face holding it still as the two locked eyes once more. The air, so cold around them, never felt like a bother to him, for she had been so close to him that their shared love was warm enough to keep him warm for a lifetime.

He almost frowned when she pulled her body away from him. For a moment he thought she was going to head into the manor to seek warmth against the chilly weather, but a shocked gasp left him as a snowball landed right on his face. He stood still for a mere moment trying to figure out what just happened. It was when her laughter filled the silenced air that had him snapped from his daze, blue eyes now playfully narrowed towards her. She didn’t care, however, merely enjoying the mental picture she took of her shocked boyfriend.

“Ok then,” He started clapping his hands together ever so slowly, almost to be sarcastic. “Is that how we’re playing, babe?” The nickname rolled off his tongue almost sarcastically. He watched as she stood there innocently. Like she didn’t just throw a snowball his way with such perfect accuracy.

“Playing? Whatever are you talking about?” He slightly rolled his eyes with a small smirk finding its way on his face. Quickly like he was taking out a thug he had rushed towards her tackling her down into the snow. Her gasp was quickly replaced with the laughter Jason had come to love oh so much. Now holding a small handful of snow he blew it in her face, the laughter never once easing up for even a moment.

It was cold, sure. But Jason couldn’t turn this down. To listen to laughter so beautiful it could feel like a song to him. A beautiful melody sung just right. Her laughter died down but the same smile stayed as he was the one to finally cup her cheek bringing their lips together in a kiss.

“Master Todd, Miss Y/N?” Jason merely cursed under his breath at the sound of Alfred’s voice. “Master Bruce wishes for the two of you to come in. He didn’t voice it but I can only assume he is worried the two of you might get sick.”

Jason rolled his eyes helping his girlfriend up. She gave him a soft smile before running towards Alfred.

“God, I am so in love with her.”

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #batfam #Jason Todd #batfam x y/n

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

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