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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 12)

A/n: I would like to apologize for not marking warnings on each part like I should have been. I get too excited to post and skip over them on accident. I’ll do my best to add them from here on! Also, I was adding the warnings as I wrote but then they didn’t save so I tried to remember them as best I could. If I forgot anything, I sincerely apologize.

Warnings: Recounting past trauma (physical abuse, homophobia), explicit talk of death, badly handling others’ trauma, light smut (foreplay: slapping, choking, degradation, daddy kink, handcuff restraining, brat/dom dynamic, punishing, teasing, masterbation)

Word Count: 5200+

MASTERLIST

The air was so thick with tension that a knife could have cut through it. No matter how much Harley was fighting his instincts to lounge and be himself - the self Jeremiah was used to, at the very least - he felt like he had to be the self he used to be. The one Bruce was expecting. Jeremiah knew Harley was trying too hard, and Jeremiah was far too easy to read - which meant that Bruce knew too. So Harley sat there trying to behave and Bruce sat there brimming with suspicion and pain and hesitation and Jeremiah sat between the two boys, wishing this had never happened and he could just escape the two brothers who seemed seconds from either running or fighting.

Echo, as if sent from God, walked into the room with a pitcher of water. They were at Jeremiah's instead of Wayne manor as Harley had absolutely no intention of being back there or anywhere near Alfred. The butler was far too good at accepting change, which meant that the man might pick up on the fact that Harley was no longer Y/n and the whole thing would fall apart. Honestly, it seemed like so much work. Harley wasn't sure why this plan was so important but Jerome was feeding off of it so Harley did it anyway because he'd said he would. If this is where Jerome lead, Harley would follow.

"So," Echo cut into the silence as she walked around pouring drinks. "How is everyone this evening?"

Harley smiled at her, amused. She was poorly hiding a sort of awkward expression that was dashed with a little humor. She was mocking them in her head; Harley could almost hear what she was thinking. A bunch of dumb boys sitting around a table unable to swallow their pride. Idiots. "Oh you know," Harley mumbled casually, shrugging. "Indulging." He motioned to his food but his words were obviously directed at the ambiance.

"Having a good time?" Echo asked.

"Not at all," Harley immediately answered with the same casual, chipper tone. Jeremiah choked on his drink as he laughed at the exchange. The humor delivered saltiness in Harley's voice and the passive aggressive mocking in Echo's had always been an exchange that could make Jeremiah chuckle at least a little. Echo and Harley were very good at banter and it lightened the mood significantly every time they went at it. After all, it was just in good fun. Bruce seemed to relax as a smile curled everyone else's lips. "So... Harley." His lips seemed to want to reject the name.

Harley's smile dropped. Hearing Bruce call him that made him uncomfortable. Not just because he was nervous about Bruce not calling him Y/n as he had all up until this point but because he had cut Bruce out of this new life very purposefully and now... he was in it anyway. "Yes?"

Echo sighed and left the room as she sensed Harley jerk back, even with her attempt to loosen everyone up. Jeremiah focused on his food. Bruce looked at Harley but Harley did not look back, instead choosing to stare at the door Echo had gone through. "Why Harley?"

That was an easy question. "When I was in Arkham, a few of the guards used to beat the shit out of me every single day to try and convince me to be straight." Harley looked Bruce in the eye when he said this, completely calm. He had long since gotten over it. "They even put me in isolation to keep me away from people who might protect me or care about me."

"Jerome." Bruce didn't form it like a question.

Harley answered anyway. "Yes. But see this is a smaller world than everyone thought and my therapist, Harleen Quinzel, became my friend instead. She's like me, but for girls." Bruce nodded, accepting that. "They couldn't kill me without having to mark me as a loss. That and they'd have lost their punching bag. To teach me a lesson, they killed her. And then made sure the TV that was never supposed to be on the news would be on the news, on just the channel and at just the time that would allow me to see her bloody, bruised, cold, dead body strewn out for the public to see. And no one gave a single shit because no crimes in Gotham get solved unless someone important is involved. And even then- well, you know first hand."

Bruce's expression grew very dark. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Harley purred, still eating as if he was talking about the weather.

Jeremiah has stopped eating. "People are really like that?" His voice was small and his eyes moved to Bruce, his hands tightening around his silverware as if picturing Bruce's face cold and dead and staring at him through a TV. Bruce felt his eyes and looked back to Jeremiah, but the red head averted his gaze to Harley instead. "I mean, people really act like that just because of... how someone loves?"

Harley nodded, swallowing the food in his mouth. It tasted like sand but he kept eating it. It made him feel powerful to while the others in the room had forgotten their food altogether. Although... Perhaps he hadn't chewed it as well as he thought because it felt as if it had gotten stuck somewhere along the way. A thick lump had lodged for a second and a sick feeling had settled in the bottom of his stomach. He hadn't thought about that image in so long... the daily bearings and the isolation and the one ray of light he'd gotten being extinguished and displayed because he had dared to be himself and therefore allowed her to do the same. Because they were different than how most people were.

"Do you know who did it?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah." That didn't seem to be the answer Bruce was expecting. "This isn't great table conversation," Harley eased, changing the subject. "But that is why I go by Harley. Do you like it?"

Bruce shrugged. "Do you still go by Wayne?"

Internally, Harley sighed. "Harley Quinn."

At that Bruce nodded. "You're not coming back are you?"

Harley laughed dryly. "You're not very good at casual, light conversation are you Brucey?"

"Don't call me that," Bruce snapped, body going stiff.

Rolling his eyes, Harley sat back in his seat. "Why not?" It came out harsher than Harley had meant it.

Meeting hostility with hostility, Bruce got angry as well. "Because that's what Jerome called me, and after how many times he tried to kill me it's not a name I like."

"Get over it," Harley sneered. "It's just a name and we're in Gotham. Trauma is kind of a part of life here. Adapt or get trampled."

Bruce jerked back. "Get over it? Since when are you...?" He trailed off, as if hesitating, before his face set and he finished his sentence with a much harder tone. "Like Jerome."

Harley felt his knuckles turn white. "Stop saying that like it's a bad thing." "It is!" Bruce hissed.

Harley shot to his feet, dropping his silverware on the table. Jeremiah flinched but Harley didn't notice. Bruce did. "Look, Jerome is fucked up and dark and broken. He doesn't have a grip on reality or know how to human because he wasn't fucking treated like one. He killed people. He was crazy and insane and unhinged and dangerous. Yeah! You know what else he was? He was understanding and accepting. He got why people lived their lives differently than he did and didn't really judge anyone, ever. He thought they were boring and chose to live differently, sure, but he lived to make people laugh and have fun. Maybe his sense of fun was fucked up, but he genuinely just wanted people to laugh along with him for once. He didn't hide who he really was. He wasn't ashamed. He didn't shun me and shove me in a corner and try to change me. He accepted who I was. He CELEBRATED me. I'd rather be with him than at this stupid fucking dinner or anywhere near you because I'm not some poor gay boy who needs saving. I'm strong and I matter and I FINALLY love myself, and you won't ever take that away from me because you see self respect and see Jerome because no one taught you that you are more important than everyone else. I refuse to sit here and let you try and turn me into some pathetic whiny brooding mess who's never happy because my priorities are fucked up. I won't be you. That isn't my goal anymore."

The room was dead quiet. For a long time, no one said anything. The brothers just stared each other down until Bruce shook his head. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

Jeremiah pinched the bridge of his nose. "You guys are idiots." The other two in the room looked at the red head with shock. "My brother is dead, and honest to god it's a relief that he is. He's out of my life and I'm safe from him. I never had the chance to have a real relationship with him. I used to read the newspaper about your family and think that you guys were some kind of dream. Two brothers that loved each other despite everything and parents that were like... actually good people on any level." He sighed. "Obviously I was wrong. You're too busy trying to make him how he used to be." This he directed at Bruce. "And you're too busy hurting and bottling up your emotions and pushing everyone away to let anyone care about you or see the real you." This was for Harley. Jeremiah didn't stop when both other boys went to speak though. "Just shut up and make this work because you guys are the only true family you each have left. Harley, you grew up and I have to say you wear your changes very well. You're happier and sturdier and if someone isn't happy about that then they're insane. Right, Bruce?"

The Wayne boy hesitated before giving in. "Yeah. I am happy for you. I should have started with that. I just... I'm scared for you."

"Why?" Harley demanded, exasperated.

"Because I don't want you to become Jerome. I don't want you to end up like that. I don't want you to be some criminal, when you used to be the best person I knew. You said your life goal used to be being like me? No. I wanted so much to be like you. You couldn't speak about a huge part of you, but you accepted it with the knowledge no one else ever would. I refused to even look at the fact that I'm attracted to guys until you and Jerome got together and then..." his eyes shot to Jeremiah and then back. "Things happened and- and you were always so bright and happy and free. Like a bird in flight or- something." He shook his head. "You were inspiring, Y/n. Seeing you like this... it looks like you've been broken. And I just want to bring back that light you had before. When you seemed so much happier."

"I'm not broken." Harley looked at the boy who was supposed to be his brother. The boy who used to be his best friend before one lie after another had pulled them further and further apart until they were on completely opposite sides. Secrets had torn their relationship up into so many little bits it could never be repaired. They were just too different now. "I'm not lost or struggling. I'm just not... sitting there and pretending all the bad things aren't happening. The friends I have now actually like and respect me as a person, not just because I'm Y/n Wayne. I'm myself, proudly, and I wear my experiences as a reminder of what I can endure. Things hurt less. What you see isn't some poor boy waiting to be saved. It's darkness. And maybe that scares you, because you're used to hiding your darkness. But darkness, Bruce, isn't a bad thing. Darkness is what makes us who we are. Like everything it can be used as a weapon, but Darkness itself isn't dangerous. What you do with it is."

Bruce considered that for a long time. "That... is a good point."

Jeremiah released a breath. "So... truce?" The boys looked at each other before shrugging. Harley sat back down. Jeremiah seemed pleased. "Okay, now lets talk about something a little more pleasant."

"So you mean literally anything other than what any of us have been up to recently?" Harley sassed. Jeremiah shot him a look. "Okay fine whatever." He searched for some light conversation. "So you guys are like boyfriends now or what?"

That seemed to make Bruce and Jeremiah both blush and the air in the room cleared significantly. Harley pulled off being cheery and invested as he teased and prodded and asked questions and engaged. Things almost seemed like they used to be when Bruce and Y/n would sit with their parents and Bruce mentioned a girl and Y/n would go off about how he was going to be the best man or the world would surely end... but Harley wasn't Y/n and Jeremiah wasn't their parents. This wasn't Wayne Manor and as good of a server as Echo was, she wasn't a butler. She wasn't Alfred.

Under the light tone, Harley formed a plan. A plan he carried out as he and Bruce began to hang out more and more as time passed that night and stretched for a while. Jerome became nocturnal in favor of being awake when Harley finally returned at home. The boys would spend some time together and then sleep and then Harley would wake up and go out and spend time with Bruce and Jeremiah again. Slowly the time with the other boys began to cut into Harley's time with Jerome and both he and Harley were getting restless. They'd begun arguing about it.

"Stay in tonight," Jerome whined.

"Bruce wants me to come back to Wayne manor tonight." Harley sighed, an odd expression on his face. "I've finally earned his trust and am getting along with him - as much as it pains me. I think Jeremiah is talking to him when I'm not around, convincing him to behave and respect my boundaries. He calls me Harley and has stopped expecting me to be the person I used to be. I don't know, I think he'll be enough to convince Alfred though I might have to try a tad harder." He rubbed his forehead. "Soon I'm sure I'll be chummy with them again and that'll definitely lead to interacting with all of Bruce's friends - which will be a whole other adventure of its own."

Jerome huffed. "If you're going back to Wayne manor, won't Bruce want you to move back in?"

The thought had occurred to Harley if he was being honest. Where did he draw the line in being buddy buddy with his brother again? Where did he stop things? How far did Jerome want him to go? "Probably," Harley voiced, shrugging. There was a long pause. Jerome was more guarded than he usually was and it set Harley on edge. When the red head did speak, it was in a dangerously quiet tone. "Would you go?"

"W- would you want me to?" Harley was distracted by the way Jerome's Adam's Apple moved when he swallowed.

Jerome hummed. "So this is still about what I want?"

That made Harley defensive. "You think I'm dealing with my arrogant brother because I want to?" It had a biting edge to it.

"And what about my brother?" Jerome pushed.

Now Harley was confused. "Jerome I did all of this for you. To convince them you were dead so you'd be free to have some free time and then make your grand entrance whenever you wanted to. I did this because you asked me to." Jerome rolled his eyes. "You've been gone a lot. You come home... lighter. You enjoy your time with them."

"I'm sorry, you WANT me to come home miserable?" Harley sneered, his hands coiling into fists.

Jerome's eyes darkened. Harley realized what was happening. Before he could react, Jerome's hand shot out, fingers curling around Harley's throat. Jerome pressed his boyfriend against the closest wall, his face close and words sharp like knives. "You're getting angry again. Talking to me like that, as if I'm one of our dumb brothers or that blonde idiot Jeremiah carries around. You might have been gone for a while now, but SURELY not long enough to have forgotten to respect me."

Harley gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Jerome's grip wasn't dangerous but it could go that way if Harley wasn't careful. Jerome only ever got like this when he was frustrated. Usually when he was bored and wanted to do something other than sit around. To be fair, he was cooped up which was something he HATED to be. He hated feeling trapped. And on top of that Harley had been spending less and less time around the place. It was a miracle the redhead had behaved so long. Harley had spent more nights with Jeremiah, talking to Bruce so late into the night and fake catching up and playing nice that it was just easier for them both stay at Jeremiah's. Alfred had even gotten used to a simple text from Bruce letting the older man know where he was and that he was safe. If Bruce wasn't home by 10pm Alfred had come to expect that he wouldn't be back at all. It had become a sort of habit.

Perhaps Harley had been a tad neglectful.

He sighed, letting his guard down and releasing all the tension he'd gained from being around Bruce. Jerome didn't deserve this. "I'm sorry, you're right." Jerome didn't let up. "Oh so you shoot me puppy dog eyes and say sorry and that's supposed to be it?" Harley could feel his insides warming as Jerome grew closer, the air in the room slowly becoming infected with sexual tension. The sudden mood change was hard for Y/n to switch gears to, even though he was immediately eager. "You've forgotten who you belong to."

"I-"

Jerome's hand tightened on Harley's throat, cutting off any attempt to speak. "What was that?" Harley coughed a little as the initial shock took him off guard. His eyes fluttered but he could still breathe which is what mattered. "Come on, Harley. Come on, Y/n." Harley jerked at the name. "Is that what you want me to call you? Is that who you want to be?"

Harley wasn't dealing with that shit. His body jerked, arms wrapping around Jerome. He pulled hard, twisting to turn Jerome around so he'd have to let Harley go, or risk hurting his arm. As predicted, Jerome let go. Harley twisted their bodies with extreme force, pushing Jerome's face into the wall aggressively. "What the fuck did you call me?" He growled. The words were raw from his throat being a little sore. It made Jerome smile. "Answer me. Now." Harley let his free hand thread into Jerome's hair. He pulled, the red head squirming underneath him as it began to hurt. "I said, now."

"I called you Y/n," Jerome answered softly. His tone was half reluctance and half defiance. He didn't want to answer Harley like he'd been told to, but saying the name again did give him power.

Harley leaned back, pulling Jerome away from the wall just by his hair. He dragged him over to the bed. "Kneel. Now." Jerome was giggling as Y/n hurt him, getting off on the pain. "NOW, Valeska!" Jerome smirked, taking his precious time with following the order. When he was down, Y/n maneuvered his face into the bed. "Stay there. If you move, I will know and you will be punished. I will be back in a moment." He left Jerome there, ducking out of the bedroom to the trunk in the bathroom, shoved in the closet. He opened it, pushing around some things they'd collected in their time together. This was the stuff they used when things got more kinky. Handcuffs Jerome had gotten from cops even before he and Y/n were together. Rope from a construction sight. Some things were specifically from sex stores - stolen of course.

Ignoring most of it, Harley grabbed the handcuffs and went back into the room. He returned to see Jerome had indeed moved. In fact he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. He was smirking at Harley, a dare in his eyes. The red head seemed to be expecting Harley to lose his shit, but Harley didn't. Instead, he got very still, thinking. That seemed to actually make Jerome nervous.

Slipping the handcuffs into his back pocket, Harley slowly approached Jerome. His eyes cut into Jerome's soul, his jaw so tightly shut that Jerome shivered. "What, you think you're going to look at me and-?"

Jerome didn't get to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, unexpectedly, Harley backhanded Jerome, causing the sitting boy's head to snap to the side. The red head was shocked, but found his stomach twisting with the familiar sensation of arousal. This wasn't like when he was a kid. Harley was calm and controlled - even his hit was direct. There was a safety in the way that Harley controlled himself. Jerome didn't fear him. It left room to enjoy what was happening. Harley gripped Jerome's jaw, bringing the red head's brown eyes around to meet his. "What did I say when I left the room, Jerome?" Harley not using a pet name in a sexual situation made Jerome shift nervously. Was Harley actually mad? "You told me not to move."

Harley released a breath, smirking as he got turned on just by getting Jerome to answer his question without being pushed. When Jerome was being bratty, he refused Harley any amount of control. So when he let up even the smallest amount, it never failed to excite Harley. "And what did you do?" Unwilling to let Harley win twice in a row, Jerome shrugged. Harley slapped him again. The red head blinked, breathing sharply outward as he felt the stinging on his face. "I moved."

A hum came from Harley as he stood, crossing his arms. "You know I had to punish you for using the wrong name, but it was going to be pretty light. Now..." Jerome shivered under that look - like Harley was trying to figure just how to kill him. "I'm going to take your clothes off Jerome. If you fight me, you'll get immediate punishment do you understand?" Jerome nodded. Harley rose an eyebrow.

"Yes, Daddy."

That seemed to please Harley. He stopped glaring at least. First Harley removed Jerome's shirt. Then he gently nudged Jerome, and the redhead followed the flow and laid back on the bed. Harley then removed his pants, and his socks one at a time. Slowly. Jerome felt himself get antsy. "Do you want something, baby?" Harley asked evenly.

"I'm fine," Jerome responded.

Unfortunately for him, his erection gave him away. "You don't want me to do... anything?" Harley asked again, pausing to look at Jerome very carefully.

The redhead looked back for a long time, a battle happening between the two men. Jerome lost. "Jesus Christ Harley, touch me."

That got Harley to smile. "Ask nicely J, or I'm going to have to punish you." Jerome went to glare but Harley reached up, threading his fingers through Jerome's hair and pulling roughly. "Listen here bitch, I'm not here to mess around. You're going to listen to me or you're going to regret it, understand?" They had come a long way since having sex in a cell and trying to keep quiet. Back then, Harley had fumbled and blushed a lot and been overwhelmed very easily. Back then, Jerome would stretch out, getting comfortable as he bossed Harley around - a true power bottom. Or, he would top, and then he'd get very soft and quiet and affectionate... Well, compared to how he usually was when he was impossible to please and degrading to an extent that had driven Harley insane.

Now adays, things were different. There was a huge power play between the two men constantly, and endlessly pushing buttons. What would often happen was that Harley would be a bit of a brat but otherwise let Jerome blow off steam, unless it was a day that Jerome desperately wanted Harley to "take hold and ruin" him. A direct quote from the ginger. On those days, Jerome did what he did best: he kept talking. He said all the things he knew would piss off Harley the most, like calling him by his old name. He would make Harley snap and then Harley would retaliate exactly how he wanted.

Not today.

"Fuck, you're such a baby," Jerome grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm bored with you playing daddy, I already know all your moves and we both know that you're just going to give me what I want anyways. You're a soft top, Sweetheart." He was smirking, proudly flaunting the power he usually had over Harley.

Today though, Jerome had pushed him too much. After all the shit he'd gone through with Jeremiah and Bruce, hearing Jerome call him Y/n had pushed him in a way that had sent him over the edge. And if he was being honest, he had his own frustrations. He wanted to run free as much as Jerome did and break things and scream as loudly as he wanted and sock his stupid brother in his face any time he dare even mention Jerome's name in Harley's presence. He was tired of behaving. He was tired of feeling like some toy. He was tired of being used. He was really, REALLY fucking tired of being ignored, too.

Harley's smile was dangerous. Jerome looked at him, unsure of what was going through the other boy's head. "You know, you have a little too much attitude for someone who's currently desperate for me to touch him. You want something from me? You need to learn some respect." Harley reached over, grabbing Jerome's wrist and forcing it toward the top of the bed. It happened so fast that only when Harley had used one cuff to get Jerome's right hand, and then had threaded the second cuff through the bars at the head of the bed, did Jerome react.

"HEY!"

At the outburst, Harley didn't hesitate to slap Jerome again. The redhead gasped, body shivering. He would absolutely never admit it, but this kind of aggression had always turned him on, when he was comfortable with the person. He'd wanted someone to be like this with him for ages, but not many people were willing to go far enough to please Jerome Valeska. By the way Harley was looking at him right now, this time might be different.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. Granted, I didn't tell you to shut up either so I'll be forgiving, but if you shout at me one more time you will regret it." He gripped Jerome's other wrist, cuffing that as well. Now Jerome's hands were over his head, trapped by the cuffs and the bar. "If you want to say something, I want you to address me first. I will allow you to continue then. Or I will not." Jerome hesitated, then nodded, intrigued by this side of Harley even he had not the pleasure of exploring before.

What came next surprised Jerome. Harley didn't take him right there, rough and hot. He didn't move slowly around and tease until Jerome wa a desperate mess of begs and whimpers. Harley didn't touch him at all. In fact, he moved off of the bed completely. He left the room even, returning a moment with a chair. Only then did he undo his own clothes, only lowering his pants enough to allow himself access his erection. He didn't even pull his pants off all the way! Jerome felt completely exposed, tied up and naked for viewing pleasure, when Harley was so far away and completely dressed.

To Jerome's intense frustration, Harley sat down on the chair and began stroking himself, eyes on Jerome. Harley's eyes were wide and lust blown, his tongue flicking out every once in a while to wet his lips. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back just a little as a small moan came from him.

Jerome shifted. He was getting uncomfortable with how long he'd been hard without being touched, and watching Harley be like this was not helping. Jerome really liked to be involved in sexual acts. He had gotten rather pouty anytime Harley was caught masterbating, and there had been an unspoken rule that Harley didn't really restrain Jerome for stuff like this. If Harley wanted to be touched, Jerome would touch him. They both preferred it that way. This was ridiculous, and frankly rude. Jerome wasn't going to give Harley the upper hand. This was a low blow and he wasn't going to let Harley get away with it.

As Harley continued though, getting more into it and completely ignoring Jerome, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut. Trying to play it off like he didn't care as much as he did, Jerome finally spoke up. It had seemed an eternity for him, but it had actually only been a few seconds and Harley had to swallow his smile to not give himself away. "Okay Harley, very funny. Let me touch you. I'm sorry I called you the other name. You know I can do this better than you can. Let me out." When Harley continued to ignore Jerome, the cuffed ginger raised his voice. "LET ME OUT!"

"Why?" Harley growled, eyes finally on Jerome again. "Because you told me to? Because you asked me to?" He stood, pulling his pants up again. "I'm not your little bitch Jerome, you're mine. You want to kill someone? Fine. You want to steal or break something? Fine! But you don't call me by that name. You don't mess with me, because I'm all you got. If you want me to leave, you ask like a big kid."

Jerome's lips twitched, slowly rising into a smile. "Are you actually mad at me?"

Harley grinned. "No, not really." They both cracked up, losing it for a few extended seconds. Then Harley cut off and Jerome faded into quiet, soft chuckles as Harley began to speak. "I respect you, J. My little joker." He moved towards the bed, caressing Jerome's cheek. The ginger leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. He fed off of the contact, as if it was a drug or he was starving and the gesture fed him. Harley smiled softly. "You gotta respect me too. You don't have to piss me off to get me to break you, joker. All you have to do is ask me nicely, like a good boy. Do all the bad things you want. But not to me."

A sigh escaped Jerome, and then he finally gave in. "If I behave will you let me out? I want you to touch me. Please."

That pleased Harley. "That's what I wanted to hear." He leaned back a little, eyes scanning Jerome's exposed body. "I will let you out. And then it's time to play for real." His eyes glinted with a darkness that made Jerome jerk in expectation. Needless to say, Harley didn't disappoint.

Story Tags: @wanna-plan-world-domination

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whatislifeplzesblain · 4 years

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Should I make a Jeremiah valeska x male reader x Jerome valeska?

Cause we all know they’re gay

#jerome valeska #cameron monaghan imagine #jim gordon #dc #jeremiah valeska #reader insert #male!reader #male reader #seme male reader #dom male reader #x male reader

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whatanoof · 3 years

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hello there mesh'la, i'm a major cal kestis simp and i absolutely adore your work! i don't know if you normally do requests but if you do, i had an idea! can you do one where cal and his girlfriend spend the night making love very loudly, and then the morning after the crew of the mantis teases them about it - and they point out that the both of them are covered in hickeys? xd

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: references to sex, swearing, rather cruel banter until you consider that they're family and it's all good natured teasing?

A/N: Anon this would totally happen, I'm not going to lie to you. Cal would get so lost in the sauce that he wouldn't think too hard about holding back in any way. The found family dynamics are high in this one guys, not gonna lie, but the prompt is so freaking funny in concept that I couldn't resist? Also, I've totally moved into just finding Cameron Monaghan gifs that really fit the vibes, because Cal Kestis gifs tend to be super serious

Greez snaps awake, scared and disoriented. What had woken him? There’s a rhythmic squeaking coming from the wall, and heavy breathing echoing around the tinny walls of the Mantis.

“Fuck, please!” Someone groans, long and drawn out and breathless and loud.

Oh. He rolls his eyes, grabs his pillow, and smushes it as tightly as he can around his head. It does the job decently well, he supposes as he drifts back to a fitful sleep.

---

Merrin was already awake when the noises began to filter through the walls of her quarters. Dathomirian Nightsister texts are scattered haphazardly through her quarters, half of them skimmed through tonight and another two floating before her.

“You feel so good, baby.” A strangled moan follows the words, someone keening rather high, enough to rival that of a shrieking bird that she had heard back home. “Fuck, can I move?”

It takes a few seconds for the words to pull her attention from the texts, but when she notices, all she does is huff a heavy sigh. Green magic spins around her before expanding to press to the inside of her room.

She listens carefully for a few moments, but no sound gets past the magic barrier. She curls up under the covers and continues to read. At least someone is having fun tonight.

---

Cere is on night shift in the cockpit. No physical sound reaches her, but her connection to the Force twinges. She lowers the noise of the comm chatter and magnifies the Force sensation, identifying increased pleasure and thought projection coming from the aft quarters of the Mantis. Not again.

She sighs and pushes the Force as far as possible from her mind. Turning up the comm chatter again, she continues to monitor the surroundings.

A high pitched groan pierces through the stillness, echoing from inside the air system and managing to be heard by Cere even through her headphones. Her temper flares, but she inhales sharply and calms herself. There’s nothing to be done about it tonight. There will absolutely be words in the morning.

---

“Good morning!” Cal all but skips into the kitchen towards the caf machine. “How close are we to Bogano?”

He is greeted with less than an equal amount of cheer. Greez sends a highly unimpressed look his way over a cup of caf. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

Merrin snorts, “I bet I could tell you why.”

Cal blinks at them, looking like a swampling caught in headlights. “What?”

Cere appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, “I believe that they’re referring to last night’s activities. Very loud activities.”

Cal says nothing, but the expression on his face can only be interpreted as, ‘oh shit.’

You really couldn’t have timed it better if you tried, because you chose that exact moment to appear from the back hallway, blinking sleepily with mussed hair and a truly impressive array of blue and purple dotting along the skin exposed by the neckline of your pajama shirt. All eyes land on you the second your foot hits the threshold, and you freeze at the sudden attention.

“What’s wrong?”

Merrin breaks the tension, “You got a little something there.” She gestures to her own neck, and your hand flies to yours to mimic hers, trying to peer down and see what she is pointing at.

“And there. And there.” Greez pipes up, and you rub your skin a little more frantically. “And there. Oh, you missed the one there.”

Cere shoots them a look. “Behave, you two.”

Cal moves to your side, leaning to whisper in your ear, “Sorry, I should’ve warned you this morning when I got up, but you were still asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Warned me about what?” You’re going to blame your sleep-addled brain because you are not getting anyone’s meaning at all.

“I--uh--I marked you up a lot last night.”

Your jaw drops when you finally understand. “Cal Kestis!” You hiss furiously, glaring at him while you try in vain to pull the collar of your shirt up to hide your skin better.

“Leave it. Everyone’s already seen it anyway.” Merrin calls from her corner of the table, an amused grin spreading across her features.

“Everyone heard it too last night.” Greez chortles, hands slapping his side in mirth. “You are a loud one,” he said, referring to you.

Now it’s the second time you’re confused this morning. “What are you talking about?”

“You were moaning very loudly last night. Impressively high-pitched too, maybe you should consider joining a choir.” The Latero laughs at his own joke rather explosively, but your brow only creases further.

“I wasn’t making noises last night. Cal gagged me.”

A shocked silence spreads over the group as everyone turns their attention from you to the redheaded Jedi trying to edge back to the hallway leading to the quarters. He stops when he notices that he’s been caught, raising his hands in the air with a guilty smile on his face, “Sorry about that?”

Greez cackles, hands slamming onto the table and nearly upsetting his cup of caf. “That was you?!”

Merrin’s laughing too, “I thought those sounds weren’t within the range of a normal human male. Congratulations on your excelling vocal chords.”

Cere’s chuckling too, “Maybe she shouldn’t be the one wearing the gag.”

Cal’s flushed bright red, and he turns and sits at the table with a defeated air. “Okay, eveyrone just get it out right now and we can move on.”

“Oh no, we are never going to move on. You sounded like that Shyyyo bird on Kashyyyk, pretty boy!”

You sit beside Cal with a modest smile, squeezing his hand. “I suppose we deserve it for ruining their sleep.”

“You’re damn right you do!”

“And now that you know, it better not happen again,” Cere interjects with a stern gaze on the both of you, causing you to shrink under the severity. “We have to get sleep if we’re to keep running missions of such a dangerous nature.” You both nod sheepishly. “But--” You look up at her slightly amused tone, “Cal you really should consider joining a nature group. I’m sure you could imitate most of the bird calls in the higher range. It’s truly a lost talent.”

Cal groans as he thunks his forehead down on the table, and you pat his hand reassuringly. If Cere has jumped on the train of ridiculing, then the subject truly will not get dropped for sometime. It may be time to consider getting Cal a gag as well if you’re going to continue.

Cal Kestis Taglist:@marvelassassin221b, @my-awakened-ghost, @katethecrazy, @gabile18

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #found family dynamic #greez dritus #cere junda #nightsister merrin #let's pretend that bd-1 is deactivated and charging through all of this

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 11)

A/n: Don’t mind me, updating a series no one cares about lol. I’ve been toeing the line of what he’s like in other fanficiton and fans’ minds, but with this one I may just cover a side of Jerome y’all might really believe is out of character. I don’t care though. I’m having fun exploring a character and I’m having fun.

Word Count: 5400+

MASTERLIST

There was something different about waking up in the morning to Jerome still being asleep next to you. Or at least that's how Harley felt. Especially because this never happened, and considering what had happened last night. Maybe that was it. The night before was the main thing on Harley's mind as he slowly woke up, his head immediately filling with the memory as if denying him even a second dog bliss from it.

If he was being honest, it made him both terrified and exhilarated. They'd never had sex like that before. Slow and tender and soft. Words of praise had poured from Jerome's mouth nonstop, and it had sent Harley's body in a different way. Rather than fireworks, it was more like lava under rocks. Searing heat that crept through Harley's veins like it was trying to sneak. It made Harley feel infinitely close to Jerome. Made him feel tethered to Jerome. He'd never felt anything like that before, and from Jerome's reactions neither had he. It also gave both men a new fear. Or, a deeper rooted hold on a fear that already existed at the very least.

What if this ended?

What if neither man felt this ever again?

What if they'd unveiling something in themselves last night... and now, in the day time, the other didn't like it?

It was then that Jerome turned, facing Harley, where he'd had his back turned before. "I'm sorry about your friend." His voice was quiet, and Jerome wouldn't look at him.

Harley was surprised by that. He scooted closer, resting his forehead on Jerome's chest. The red head pulled the other man's body closer, tucking Harley against Jerome's own frame. He held onto him, protecting him from the world for a second. It was empowering when Harley leaned into it immediately, reaching his hands so he fisted Jerome's shirt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Jerome had never been comforting before. Safe. He'd never had someone take refuge in him before. It was intoxicating. It made him feel strong and unbreakable. It was more of a high than he'd ever felt before. Maybe just as good as when he put his little shows on and watched people panic and squirm. Harley finding safety in this moment was on par with all the moments other people had found danger in Jerome.

I guess when all you get is the same thing all your life, even if it's good, something new can have a strong effect on a man. Jerome had always been fear personified. He'd been a walking weapon of death and destruction, and somehow in that chaos Harley found himself making a home. It made Jerome feel incredible. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

"Can I see those drawings you did last night?" Harley leaned back so they were looking at each other. Jerome had an odd expression on his face. Not the one Bruce and Jeremiah wore when they looked at each other, but a very close approximation. It made Harley's heart pick up.

"Sure." He slid out of bed to pad to the living room, snagging his drawing pad and returning with it. He sat in bed this time, extending the drawing pad so Jerome could grab it.

The red head say up as well, taking the pad from Harley and beginning to slowly look through it. He took longer than Harley though he had the attention span for, drinking in the different angles and shadows of his own face. He seemed to be scanning it. At one point he reached up and touched his face, his eyebrows coming together. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jerome looked up, a look of concern and confusion on his face. "Is this really how you see me?"

It was Harley's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed to struggle to explain a few seconds before weakly offering, "I'm beautiful." He immediately scowled. "You make me look... good looking." A deeper scowl. "I mean, I know I'm sexy don't get me wrong, but the way you draw me looks... looks..."

"Pretty?" Harley offered.

"Yes," Jerome groaned, like it hurt him.

Harley bit his lip for a second, thinking. "To me, you were always a work of art. Even before I drew you." He looked at the bed, fingers fiddling with the blanket. "You used to come to my mind all the time when you were dead. I thought of you constantly. Went to therapy over it because they thought it was a side effect of trauma." He snorted, shaking his head. "Turns out I was just infatuated with you." He looked back at Jerome then. "You came to me in dreams when I finally learned how to control my thoughts when awake. Even before we met that day, in person, I was obsessed with you. I used to draw you all the time. I told myself that it was to deal with the trauma of my parents dying, my fixation on death and murderers. People that were considered psychotic and dangerous. And maybe it was, in part. Maybe it began that way. But ever since the first second I saw you, you became this beacon of hope. Hope that in some world, with someone, I could be free from expectation and restrictions. That I could be wild and have fun and be GAY and not have to worry about what other people thought. You stood for the happiness I've been denied since the first day time I ever found anyone attractive." He paused. "Helped that you were incredibly attractive." Jerome giggled at that and Harley's smile widened. "You're so silly." Jerome scooted closer, kissing Harley so deeply he lost all of his breath. He leaned away after too short a time though, tilting his head. "Let's do something fun today."

"Like what?" Harley asked. He was getting good at keeping track with Jerome's zipping thought train.

Considering, Jerome grew quiet. "I want to take you on a date. Something nice." Harley deflated. "It's not smart to go out right now. We're trying to convince Bruce and the police that you're dead. If you're seen it'll all be over."

Jerome pouted. "Let me take you somewhere."

A long sigh came from Harley. "Do you want to die?" Jerome shook his head no. "Do you want to get caught and sent to Arkham?" Another silent no. "Then what the hell do you suppose we do that won't require any people, when we're in the middle of a huge city?"

Quiet groans and Jerome was flopping back on the bed, making Harley smile fondly. "I can't stay here forever, Harley! It's BORING. You get to go out all the time and check in on our dear brothers. Why don't I get to?"

"Because you'd be found out," Harley reminded patiently. "And entrapped. Or killed. Or entrapped and then killed."

There was a pause where Jerome was quiet. "You must go to Jeremiah's again and get me new information." Harley nodded, moving to get off the bed so he could get ready to head out. Jerome was suddenly moving though, pinning him before he could leave all the way. "But before you do that, I would like you to leave me with something to think about. Something to make this day a little more worth it." He licked his lips. "Entertain me, Harley." His eyes darkened and Harley shivered.

"Yes sir." - "Hey Harley!" Jeremiah greeted brightly. Harley chuckled at the boy. How was he twins with Jerome? That lightness and energy came so easily to this man, where Jerome struggled to even accept the idea of adorableness, let alone embody it constantly. But this wasn't the time to think about Jerome. "How did your date with the boy wonder go?" Jeremiah was bouncing on his toes. It was genuinely adorable. "He kissed me."

Harley launched to his feet. "What?" He was grinning, hands outstretched as if deciding on whether to grab him or pump into the air victoriously.

"Yeah!" Jeremiah squeaked.

"That's awesome!" Harley gushed. "Tell me everything! Wait- where's Ecco?"

"I already told her," Jeremiah dismissed, waving his hand through the air. "She picked me up afterward and I filled her ears with it all the way home.

Harley giggled, his nose scrunching in amusement. "I bet she loved that." Jeremiah blushed and Harley winked, nudging his friend playfully. "Okay well now it's my turn. Every detail Jeremiah, I'm serious."

And the red head eagerly delivered. The two boys talked for hours, going from the date and all that happened right into Harley waltzing around the room dramatically planning the wedding and the house and family that would follow. "You'll definitely need at least one dog. You both seem like cat people, but I bet your ass that you two raise a kid willing to rough house with a dog. It's got to be huge then. Like so big toddlers can ride on its back, and whenever it wants to go anywhere it'll just drag you along even if you want to go somewhere else."

At this point Jeremiah had covered his face, laying his hands on the counter and his head in the palms of his hands. "Please stop," he groaned, but both boys knew he had to hide his expression or risk showing off the radiant smile he'd hinted at earlier.

"Fine fine fine," Harley sighed, finally sitting back down. He chuckled, sitting back in the chair. He was lounging, legs spread and arms over the back of his seat. He looked comfortable. It was so different than the Wayne boy that had been seen on TV for years. The one Bruce talked about even. Harley really wasn't Y/n. He was... too much like Jerome to ever be that boy again. "What's with the frown?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeremiah debated on whether he should share his thoughts, but Harley leaned forward, showing that he knew Jeremiah was thinking something and that he wouldn't let it drop. Having gotten to the point where Harley could always pry information out of Jeremiah, the redhead didn't even bother fighting him. "I was thinking about how much you remind me of Jerome." Harley hesitated and Jeremiah rushed to add, "Not in a bad way. But your confidence and ease. Your very presence is so much bigger than it used to be. I didn't know you back then, but Bruce has mentioned how you guys used to be. Mostly because he obsesses over the worry that Jerome is still alive so it comes up often, because I always listen. Once he mentions Jerome, then we talk about how things were in my childhood and then it goes to how his childhood used to be and then you come up." He looked away, obviously self conscious about the way Harley's eyes were drilling into him.

"Do you lie to him?"

That caught Jeremiah off guard. "What?" He looked back with an expression like a deer in the headlights, or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Jerome talked to me a lot." Harley watched his words carefully, being sure not to reveal that Jerome STILL talked to him just as much. "And that day in the tunnels, when Jerome tried to kidnap you. He said you lied about your guys' past."

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time. "I don't lie to him." He paused again and Harley waited for him to continue. When Jeremiah realized Harley wasn't going to let it go, he continued. "I don't tell him what I used to tell our mom. I'm... ashamed. You were right when you said I contributed a lot to how Jerome turned out. But, you have to understand Harley he terrified me. He never threatened me per say, but I was the one who always found the bodies of the animals he mutilated. I was the one he talked about to his fantasies about other people. He... He used to say he was joking, and he never did anything until our mom, from what I know, but he was curious and he didn't have the same empathy as everyone else did. For animals at least."

Harley sighed. "He loved me." Jeremiah looked up sharply. "He told me so. And- and you know what, I believed him." Harley swallowed. "Did I ever tell you how we found out where you were?" Jeremiah hesitated before shaking his head. "Would you like to know?" There was a darkness in Harley's voice. One that made Jeremiah want to shy away. But, he was curious too. It was one of the fatal flaws him and Jerome had in common. So, even though he wanted to run, he nodded instead. "We went to your Uncle Zack's."

Immediately Jeremiah cringed. "Oh god."

"So you know what that man is capable of then," Harley eased, even though his expression had not changed at all. It was the same forced calm that Jerome had perfected. The similarity between Harley and Jeremiah's lost brother in that moment made anxiety twist in the redhead's chest. "You know, if I hadn't been there..." He shook his head. "He heated soup to boiling. He wanted to pour it into Jerome's mouth. Thank god I was there to stop that one. What would it have bee like, being a child against grown adults. No where to run, no one to turn to, and no mercy in sight. No reprieve. If I was Jerome, I probably would have killed that bitch you called your mother too."

Harley expected Jeremiah to snap at him, but he didn't. It made the air get even more thick with dark tension. It set into reality not only what Harley had said, but what Jeremiah wouldn't. That he would have too. "I think I'm going to go work on my prototypes." Harley didn't say anything, so Jeremiah left him alone in the quiet.

There was a part of Harley that felt bad for ruining the mood after they'd both been flying so high earlier, but there was also a part of him that didn't care. So he stood up and left through the maze, standing outside to get some air. To breathe after the stifling pressure inside. He hesitated too long, though. If he had just left right then and headed back to Jerome and forgotten about the conversation for the rest of the day, he would have made it out of there with plenty of time. But he didn't. He hesitated and and he breathed and he closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin.

That was what gave Bruce the time he needed to pull up to Jeremiah's front door just to see Harley standing there. The boy tripped as he got out of the car, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Y/n?"

Harley jerked at the name, flinching away from it. It eyes slammed open, his gaze hard and angry. After the conversation he'd just had with Jeremiah, he was not in the right place to face his brother. Yet, here they both were. "Mr. Wayne," Harley greeted bitterly.

Bruce looked like Harley had slapped him. "Where have you been?" He shook his head. "Where's Jerome?" He then remembered where they were and looked between Harley and the door that lead to the maze where Bruce's boyfriend was. "Why are you here?"

The chaotic barrage of questions made Harley relax. He had the control in this situation. "I'm here because Jeremiah lets be stay here, when I want to. I check in sometimes and talk to him." Any other answer would get him in trouble, and he didn't feel like setting off his brother so he stayed with the truth, ignoring the other two questions.

The Wayne boy stepped forward, settling on angry between the emotions he'd been battling before. "You're friends with Jeremiah?"

"Sort of," Harley shrugged. "And by the way, it's Harley."

Hands curled into fists and Harley found himself slipping into a sort of distant amusement. His stance solidified, arms relaxing and fingers twitching at his sides. Bruce got hit with the same thought Jeremiah had been before. Harley looked a lot like Jerome in that moment, but more sane. In control. He didn't have that same unhinged factor, which left him far more unpredictable. Harley had the air of someone who would kill everyone in the room and then get away with it. Not for chaos' sake, but because he simply didn't care. Seeing sanity int he face of someone so cold and distant and confident sent a chill down Bruce's spine. What had happened to the brother who radiated sunshine and painted the most odd paintings with even weirder origin stories? The brother that couldn't handle even a little confrontation, let alone stand empty handed and still look dangerous? "I guess it is." Bruce's voice was soft and broken. His anger had fallen away, exchanging for a heart break that made Harley shift away from it like it burned him.

The door behind Harley opened. "Wait wait wait!" The voice belonged to Jeremiah, who was scrambling between the brothers as if trying to stop a fight. Maybe it would have eventually turned into that, but as of now all that was happening was Bruce was staring a Harley, looking for answers, and Harley was looking anywhere except at his brother as he refused to give them.

"You know," Harley mused. "I seem to be ruining the mood a lot today. You two love birds spend time together and I'll keep my distance so that my unhappiness won't affect you. How does that sound?"

Jeremiah launched forward, catching Harley's shoulder. "Please," he begged softly. "Don't go."

"Do you want him to leave instead, because I can promise it won't be pretty if we're both here," Harley spat viciously. Jeremiah recognized a deeper level to the boy though. A hurt that was curling into his face. There was more than just anger driving him to run now. There was fear, and pain. Jeremiah had seen that look on Jerome's face far too many times to let Harley go now.

Jeremiah looked at Bruce. "Listen," he sighed heavily. "You're both important to me. I have three friends, and one of them is more of a body guard who's paid to hang around, and another is... more than a friend, if I'm lucky." Bruce couldn't help how his face softened. Jeremiah cleared his throat. "I need as many people in my life as I can get, because I already basically have no one. You guys are brothers, for goodness sake. Don't let life tear you apart like I let happen for me and Jerome." This he directed at Harley. The words seemed to confuse Bruce, but he stayed quiet despite that.

Harley on the other hand looked ready to go. "He doesn't want me here."

"I didn't say that," Bruce rushed before he could rein his self control.

Jeremiah perked up. "You're the one person that can actually reassure Bruce that Jerome is dead."

Ah, how wrong he was. Harley could not honestly reassure Bruce that Jerome was dead. He could, however, convince Bruce that Jerome was dead- and he was also the only person who could. No matter how much of Harley Bruce saw, every time the Wayne heir looked at the man who used to be his best friend, he would always see Y/n. Y/n, who had never once been capable of hiding his emotions or even considering telling a lie, let alone delivering one convincingly. Y/n, who had always valued honesty - especially when it came to family. Who valued trust over power. Who had been abused and pushed around and broken and destroyed, replaced by someone who used lies to get what he wanted like one uses hammers to drive in nails. Harley would lie without hesitation or regret, and Bruce would believe him because Y/n wouldn't lie, and even if he did, Bruce would be able to tell.

"I killed him myself," Harley reassured, looking Bruce in the eye without hesitation.

Bruce formed an expression that spoke of disbelief and doubt, but Harley could see through that into the desperation in Bruce's eyes. "You killed him?"

Harley sighed. "I do that now."

Obviously Bruce didn't like that, but he seemed to accept it at least. "Why?"

This part was easy. "Because he hurt you." Harley shrugged, kicking the dirt under his foot. "He had no reason to involve you. He just did. He didn't even consult me, and he didn't because he knew that if he had I would have said no. We had a deal- no touching you. He might be my partner, but you're my brother and that's more important. No one hurts you. I made that clear since the beginning." He swallowed. That wasn't totally true. In fact, that day he had encouraged Jerome to mess Bruce up a little. Even kill him. But there had been a hesitance to hurt Bruce since the first day even if it had faded over time. Because the truth was, above even Bruce and Alfred, Jerome was the most important person to Harley now. "He was jealous because I cared more about you. He's kind of an attention whore." That was true. Not that Jerome was jealous, but that he was a slut for attention. The more time Harley spent with him, the more obvious it became. Harley didn't mind in the least though.

Bruce seemed to take a moment to consider this and choose his next words before he spoke again. "He sounds obsessive."

Jeremiah scoffed. "If I had to describe Jerome in one words," he mumbled.

"When I was caught with Jerome at the fair, I only ended up there because the first thing Jerome thought about when he came back from the dead was that the last thing he'd thought about when he was alive was that he'd wanted to kill me." Harley scoffed. "He took his wanting to kill me through death with him. If that doesn't spell obsessed, I don't know what does." That was another truth, but yet again Harley didn't mind. He liked to think of being on Jerome's mind, haunting him as the red head had haunted Harley. He liked the thought that not even death could do them part. Or however that line went, whatever.

There was a sort of melting slouch of Bruce's shoulders. He'd given in. Harley had succeeded. "We're not just going to be brothers again. Neither of us are the same."

"The last time I saw you my boyfriend was trying to kill you, and before that I was convinced you'd been brainwashed by some cult, so yeah we have some catching up to do."

Bruce looked at Jeremiah who perked up. "Wonderful! Dinner, anyone?"

"Actually," Harley edged. "I think we both have a lot to think about. Maybe rushing it all tonight wouldn't be the best idea." For the first time in a long time, Bruce nodded in agreement with Harley. In fact, it had probably been the first time Bruce had agreed with Harley since he had stopped being Y/n Wayne.

"Fine," Jeremiah sighed. "But I expect you two to have a dinner together within the next week. I won't let you just avoid it."

Harley sighed and nodded, turning away from the other two boys and heading toward his car. "Use protection!" Harley called, smirking when he heard the boys behind him groan in unison. Before they could curse him though, he slipped into his car and closed the door, cutting off any attempts of communication. He turned his car on and drove away, letting his smile melt away when he was positive he was out of view. His hands tightened on the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked, beginning to hurt after a few seconds it was cemented so. Not wanting to get pulled over when he was in a car that wasn't technically in his name - he'd gotten it a long time ago when he still worked with Penguin - and was, more importantly, a wanted criminal. Focusing on safe driving only got him to the front door though. He slammed it closed, standing in his doorway glaring at the floor.

And then he snapped.

A scream ripped out of him as he reached for the closest things light enough to pick up and began throwing them across the room. Some - a vase, a few dishes that hadn't been taking to the kitchen yet, a table decoration - shattered, while most of it landed safely after crashing into more things - books slamming into chairs, pillows knocking things off the wall, a shoe hitting the edge of a full length mirror hard enough that it tilted, so on. Altogether, he was creating a lot of noise, destruction, and chaos.

Jerome ran into the scene, looking rather startled. Harley wasn't the angry type. He had never been, except the rare times Penguin had been able to unlock long since buried trauma that he wasn't dealing with. Oswald had taught him to both control AND channel his emotions, so that they could be expressed but also make you look more terrifying rather than show as weaknesses and wear you away to nothing. No one had seen this side of Harley except him yet, and Jerome wasn't quite sure how to handle it. In fact, it reminded him a little of... his mom.

When Harley finally stopped, he turned away from Jerome, curling his fingers around his short hair very tightly, tugging as he planted his forehead against the wall furthest from Jerome. The redhead paused before slowly making his way over. "Harley?" His voice was soft. The anger in his boyfriend had unlocked a fear in him that he hadn't felt like this since he was a child. He was scared of Harley losing it again, both because he didn't want to have this feeling get worse, and also because if Harley was upset enough to melt down like this, he might get destructive with himself rather than loose objects.

Or worse, Harley might get destructive with Jerome.

"I'm sorry," Harley croaked. He took a deep breath, finally dropping his hands and leaning away from the wall before turning to Jerome. This was closer to the Harley Jerome knew. A little exhausted from his heavy emotions, but otherwise solid and in control. "I'm sorry J." His voice was stronger now. More fluid and solid. He saw Jerome's expression and slowly approached. Jerome didn't move away. When Harley touched him, Jerome didn't flinch even though his pulse skipped a beat. Not something totally new with Harley, except that this wasn't a good spike. The emotion he felt was new when it came to Harley. "I'm sorry," Harley said again, pulling Jerome to him until their foreheads touched. "Did I upset you?"

Jerome's brain had short circuited a bit. After being free of his mom for years, he'd grown a solid defense against things that reminded him of her. But Harley had waited until he was past all of Jerome's walls and defenses. Until he had become Jerome's home and safety embodied. Seeing such anger now threw Jerome for a loop. How would he leave Harley now if things got bad like it used to be with his mom? I had taken Jerome eighteen years to kill his mother and get away from her, and she had been... terrible. How would he do the same to Harley, who had claimed all of the most important parts of Harley and become essential to Jerome's insanity. Harley was the one who calmed him after nightmares, and defused a situation that set off something that triggered backlash from Jerome's past. Harley was the one who saved him from his uncle and his brother and his past. How would he get rid of someone like that?

"You looked... like her." The words were soft.

Harley froze. "Jerome-"

Jerome turned away and left. He said some joke but didn't hear it, too busy trying to think about how to backtrack and defend himself again from these emotions with Harley's help. "Never mind," he breathily dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

Harley wasn't having it though. He caught the hand, forcing Jerome to stop and face him. His face was serious, but his eyes were soft. "I would never hurt you, do you understand?I might what I said that day I pulled you from that ledge, Jerome Valeska. You lead, I will follow. I love you and I will do anything you ask of me. You don't have to be afraid of me. Even if i get angry and break shit, you are still safe with me."

"You're so dramatic," Jerome sighed, looping his arm over Harley's shoulders. His body had relaxed though. Even if he did a fantastic job of brushing things off and playing like nothing effected him, Harley's words had brought him a sense of peace he would never admit he needed. "I mean, anything? You won't even let me leave or kill our brothers."

Harley blew air out of his nose upon remembering Bruce. "If that's what you really want."

"Really?" Jerome faced him, surprised. Harley had been so adamant about doing neither for the last several weeks. Why change his mind now? Unlike Harley, Jerome was not a good people reader. Not for details, at least. He could tell when someone was scared of him, or when they were intrigued or interested or disgusted. He couldn't read Harley's micro signs though.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Ran into Bruce on my way back today." His lips curled but this time it didn't make Jerome nervous. He couldn't even think why Harley would remind him of his mother. Jerome broke things when he was angry too. Harley hadn't even know Jerome's mom. He was getting side tracked, but Harley spoke again, pulling his thoughts back as Harley's voice always did. "Jeremiah wants us to make amends and catch up. Wants us to spend dinner together. Ugh."

"My brother trying to make the world perfect for him?" Jerome joked. "Never."

Harley chuckled softly. No matter his state, Jerome could always make him laugh. "Yeah. I just- Bruce stills wants me to be that weak little scared boy I used to be. I'm better now. Happier and stronger. Maybe that scares him because I didn't succeed the way he wanted me to, but that doesn't change the fact that I can fight for myself now. I don't just settle and lie down and take shit. If he had it his way, along with everyone in this stupid city, I would sit in a chair in the corner of every room and sit in Bruce's shadow, there to talk to him when he needs company but otherwise be ignored and be okay with that. Alone, by myself, maybe with a girl who I can have kids with." He shuddered and Jerome followed with a scowl. Neither liked the idea of that, "Even worse, I'd be working for my younger brother. Working at Wayne incorporated, or as some sort of side kick as he stop bad guys or whatever." He grunted in disgust. "As if they even know what bad is."

Jerome pulled Harley toward the couch and next to him. When they were both seated, Jerome continued to tug on Harley until the boy curled into the redhead's side. All cuddled up, both seemed to feel a lot better with the words of a future that made both of them sick still ringing in their ears. "You know, if we're going back to being gay and doing crime and all that fun stuff, it might not hurt to be around your brother."

Harley sat up, eyebrows pulled together. "Why him? He's just a cop wannabe."

"He's friends with Gordon though, isn't he? Can you imagine how much power you had at your fingertips when everyone thought you were good and harmless and not even a wisp of a threat? Now you're none of those things, and the only person who knows your true potential is Mr. Penguin." He shrugged, his smile growing. "I've seen you do it before. Heard stories about your escapades with the Little Man, and you've told me before how valuable sneaking is. Never something I did because I never could have pulled it off, but you..." He pointed at Harley, getting excited now. "Why isn't Bruce following you around, or questioning you, or taking you to the police in an attempt to find me?"

Tracing the pattern of the couch, Harley tried not to smirk. "I told him what he wanted to hear."

The smirk that Harley was repressing shone on Jerome's face like light from the sun. Brilliant and bright. He hopped up onto the couch into a crouch, his fingers dancing in the air like he was constructing an orchestra. "What a clever boy. Deserves a reward..."

Now Harley grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

#jerome valeska #cameron monaghan #gotham #male reader #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x male reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan x male reader #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #gotham x male reader #joker imagine #joker x reader #joker x male reader

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Helping Hand ~ I.G.

A/n: My requests for open for a minute and someone requested and it made me feel very loved, thank you. Also I LOVE IAN GOD YES THANK YOU!! Side note: I began to think about this AU and immediately had SO many ideas, so if you’d like more parts to this then let me know!!

Request: “...could you do an Ian x male reader where the reader and Ian meet at a large building fire (they’re both working)?...”

MASTERLIST

When the car unlocked, the only sound louder than the roaring fire in the background became the heavy footfalls of those racing onto the scene to help. Firefighters trying to put out the blaze, people who had already escaped the fire, worried neighbors, even a few police. And EMTs like Ian And Y/n of course.

The two boys worked for the same station of course, but Ian was new and hadn’t met everyone yet. Y/n wasn’t even supposed to be on tonight - one of the others called in sock and Y/n arrived in time to get into gear and hop in the ambulance before they drove away on a call, so he and Ian hadn’t even talked yet. No, Y/n’s first impression of Ian was the redhead on the floor, reacting more quickly and more efficiently than anyone else on the team.

Needless to say, Y/n was impressed.

Ian felt similarly. Y/n was on top of his game, making sure everything was taken care of and that Ian had everything he needed to help the people being dragged out of the fire one after another. Most of them just had soot and a few minor burns that could be taken care of with some cream and a good wrapping. Ian never had to ask for them though, Y/n just had them at the ready- like the other man could read Ian’s mind. They worked like two gears in a functioning machine. As if they did this a hundred times.

It was when a child was pulled out that things changed. The small girl was unconscious and they weren’t sure if she’d made it. She’d cried and screamed until she’d passed out from smoke inhalation. Ian went right to work, moving her into the ambulance as they began to drive to the hospital. She would need it. The entire ride was smooth and the girl was coughing before they even got there. Unfortunately, she had really bad burns and she began to cry with how her lungs, skin, and eyes burned. Every time without fail, Ian would hold his hand out and Y/n would immediately hand him exactly what he needed- no words needed. The driver kept checking on them in the rear view mirror, seeming nervous by the lack of voices. Her eyebrows rose when she saw the two silently working and doing everything needed without a hickup.

When they dropped her off and returned to the fire to continue until everything was taken care of, Ian and Y/n stuck together. Neither knew when the decision had been made, but they obviously worked well together so why fix what was working, right?

Afterward, they kept looking at each other. When they got back to the station, Ian was the one to talk. “How long have to been doing this?”

“The real question,” Y/n shot back, “Is how long have YOU been doing this? Because you’re amazing.”

Ian smiled. “Thank you. I, uh, study a lot.”

Y/n nodded. “Ian, right? You’re the newby.” Ian was speechless, unsure how to proceed. It made Y/n laugh. “Yes you do have a reputation, if that’s what you were wondering. The new guy red head who’s crazy good? The only one to ever ace both the written and practical test other then the lady in charge herself? She’s been telling all of us about how skilled you are- especially after she got to see it in person. When I saw you today I knew it was you.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ian chuckled. He wasn’t used to being complimented and struggled to take it without feeling the need to downplay his accomplishment. But he knew how hard he was working and knew it wouldn’t be fair to himself to do so. He focused on Y/n instead. “Means a lot coming from you. You weren’t too bad yourself. It was like you were reading my mind.”

Y/n shrugged casually. “When you’ve done this as long as I have, you know what needs to be done. Usually people ask for the wrong thing then I hand them the right thing and they realize I’m right and we continue. You didn’t even ask though. Not even once.”

“Well after the first few successes, I figured I didn’t need to ask,” Ian reasoned.

Y/n smiled now. “I have a question for you, Ian. You can’t take it badly, it’s a genuine question.”

Ian rose an eyebrow. “Scary.”

A chuckle from Y/n as he rolled his eyes. “I just- someone mentioned you’re gay. Is that true?”

Immediately Ian was defensive. Y/n didn’t look angry, but his smile could mean that he was about to tease and that wasn’t okay either. Gay jokes were just as irritating as insults. “Yeah I am. What about it?”

Y/n laughed again, this time more lively. Ian realized why a second too late. “I’m bisexual.”

There was a second where it had to sink in as Ian blinked, trying to switch gear from being defensive. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Y/n’s grin grew. “I thought I’d ask before I flirted with you, in case I was wrong and you took it as an insult or something. In case you were straight, I’d hate to mess up a really great friendship at the very least before it’s even begun.”

That took Ian off guard as well. “Flirt with me, huh?” Not that he was complaining. Y/n was cute and obviously charismatic. Ian had no problem with being flirted with by him. He just wasn’t used to how forward Y/n was.

“That’s what I said,” Y/n agreed. Ian felt himself relax. This man was easy to trust. He was obviously very honest and straight forward, which was a relief after all the experience he’d had with secret keeping and dodging around bushes and trying to make sense of chaos. “How would you feel about a date?” Ian panicked and Y/n held his hands up. “Nothing too fancy or serious. I’m not good at those myself. Just... a movie? And dinner? I’ll pay for popcorn, promise.”

Ian found himself relaxing again, leaning against his locker as he smiled. “Yeah I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Y/n pulled his jacket off and Ian got a good look of the build underneath. Not lacking if Ian was being honest. “When’s your next day off?”

Male Reader Taglist: @sheepfather

#ian gallagher #shameless #cameron monaghan #ian gallagher x reader #male reader #ian gallagher imagine #shameless x reader #shameless imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)

A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.

Word Count: 5000+

PLAYLIST

Masterlist

"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."

"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.

Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.

Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."

"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.

Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.

Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.

What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?

From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.

Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.

Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.

Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.

"Gordon?"

Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"

Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."

"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.

He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."

Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."

Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"

Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."

"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."

Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"

Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"

"You can kill him, and I'll help you."

A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.

"Hey Handsome."

Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"

Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."

That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.

"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."

"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"

"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."

Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"

A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."

Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"

Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."

Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."

Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.

It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"

Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.

"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"

Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."

Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.

"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."

Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"

Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"

Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.

There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.

There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.

Or, at least, until death do them part.

"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.

Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."

Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.

A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.

His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.

Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.

It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.

"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."

Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."

"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.

Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.

"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."

Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.

Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.

"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.

Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.

Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.

This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.

Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.

In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.

Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.

A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.

He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.

Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.

This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.

“What’s that?��

He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”

Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”

Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”

Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”

Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.

Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”

Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”

“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”

That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”

“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”

Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”

Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”

Male reader tag List: @sheepfather

#jerome valeska #gothem #male reader #cameron monaghan #jeremiah x bruce #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x imagine #gothem imagine #gothem x reader #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #joker imagine #joker x reader #the best things series

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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I have a question for you guys

We’ve seen lots of fics where Jerome and Jeremiah fought over like the reader but if I wrote ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE wouod you still read it??????

I need to know and I need to know immediately. It would be mostly reader/Jerome and MIGHT end with Jeremiah/reader if it goes the way I’m planning and I don’t change it

THOUGHTS??

#jerome valeska #jeremiah valeska #gotham #cameron monaghan #joker #jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x male reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x male reader #joker x male reader #joker imagine #joker x reader #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #male reader

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 5)

A/n: I... really like this series. I hope you guys do too. It's gonna be a tad different from the show, but I also have like a lot of things I find quite clever about it so I'm just super excited lol. Hope you guys like it as much as I do.

Word Count: 5100+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Jerome's hand tightened as he gripped Y/n's side. His arm was draped around the other boy's, both of them asleep. The movement woke Y/n though and he looked over, confused until he saw the look of soft distress on the redhead's face. It was an odd expression for someone who was asleep. There was a strain, but it battled for place on features that obviously wanted to relax and rest.

Y/n frowned before reaching up and stroking Jerome's face. This was an extremely rare sign of softness or affection. With Jerome it was destruction and sex. Being stuck in a prison for the criminally insane didn't allow for dates, but Y/n got the feeling that Jerome wasn't much of a candle light dinner kind of dude. He didn't mind. There was a time and a place for romance, and this was not the place but it did seem that this was the time. "Jerome?" His hand moved to the redhead's shoulder and he shook gently.

There was a soft jerk and a little squeak as Jerome's eyes slammed open like someone ramming open a door. His body began to shake a little and Y/n immediately became intensely concerned. He sat up, leaning over Jerome and looking to see if he was hurt or something had happened to him. He seemed fine... but he obviously wasn't. "J? What's wrong?"

It was at that moment that Jerome finally took a breath in and Y/n realized he hadn't been breathing since he'd open his eyes. That was only a few seconds, but still. Y/n stroked his face and neck very softly, leaving a little kiss on his shoulder. Jerome took deep breaths, his body shaking a little. He didn't speak. He didn't move. It was as if he was trying to pretend he wasn't awake or that this wasn't happening. It was incredibly out of character for him and it made Y/n feel very scared for him. The boy just kept touching Jerome and saying his name softly and leaving little kisses here and there. Neither boy spoke for a very long time.

Finally Jerome calmed. "Did I wake you up?" He asked very quietly. He was continuing to make the choice to be still, and between the complete lack of dramatics and the chilling softness of his voice, Y/n felt like they were hiding from something very dangerous. It felt for a second like they were in some horror movie. Y/n could almost hear the soundtrack. It was unnerving.

"No," he lied. "I have a habit of waking up at random times at night. I don't usually sleep solidly." Which was a partial truth. Ever since his parents had died he hadn't gotten many nights of solid sleep. He hadn't had much of a problem with it since being with Oswald though, and it had lessened even more when Jerome and him had started sharing a bed. The redhead was warm and comfortable- there wasn't much room for anxiety.

That didn't seem to be the case for Jerome.

Jerome sat up. "It seems I fell asleep in the wrong bed." He looked at Y/n and giggled, but the sound was choked and weak. Y/n offered a small smile because Jerome seemed to want it. He had been right- Jerome immediately relaxed. The older boy leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on Y/n's cheek before standing and moving sluggishly to his bed. Or, sluggish for him I suppose. He was still putting up a solid effort to seem normal.

Once both boys were in bed, it got quiet again. It seemed both of them were waiting for the other to fall asleep. Y/n fell asleep first. Hearing the younger boy's even breathing was incredibly soothing to Jerome, who closed his eyes. He pushed away the far too vivid images of a trailer and a twisted expression red with rage. He tried to push away the memories that had translated into a nightmare. One he should have been used to having, but could never seem to adjust to.

Y/n helped. It was like he drained all of Jerome's pretenses. They could just be themselves around each other, unapologetically. Jerome was never sorry for being himself, but it was definitely refreshing to have someone feel the same way. Y/n wasn't bothered by the way he did things or the things he said or anything. Jerome could relax. He could let down his barriers, just a little. Which meant he felt less of a need to put on a show and instead just had fun with it, but it also meant that the things he blocked out of his mind came crawling back, begging for attention after a lifetime of hiding them away from even his own mind.

Maybe Y/n was bad for Jerome. He'd been fine before. Now he was damn near happy, but he was also suffering from nightmares again-something he hadn't had since he had finally gotten rid of his bitch of a mother. Maybe Jerome should stop with the whole Y/n thing. Get someone easier. Someone like those fun people from that cult of his. Those who held high expectations and were thrilled every time he met them. Who expected bigger and better each time and were never disappointed...

And yet, the thought of Jerome not having Y/n in his life anymore made Jerome feel terrible. No one was as fun as Y/n. As adaptable. Y/n had a softness to his insanity that was very... alluring. He had never woken up to someone comforting him before. He'd never had great sex and then gone to bed with an even better cuddling partner. He'd never had someone who fit everything he wanted and needed. Someone to do anything and everything with. They could kill. They could have sex. They could just sleep. They could make jokes and flip off all of Gotham. They could do anything. It was amazing. Y/n was special. Jerome didn't want anyone else...

Fuck! What was HAPPENING to him?

His arm felt right around Y/n's shoulder. It had become their usual position. Whether Jerome was walking or sitting or laying down. Whether Y/n was next to him or being pulled around by him or being whiny or willing or horny or sleepy or whether the boy was sitting down or tucking into Jerome's side, half asleep and mumbling quietly because he was ranting about something or another. Whether the two boys were talking or silent - they were always connected by that arm.

Jerome tried to do it with someone else. He lounged his arm across one of the other inmates, dramatically monologuing about a vision of the future he had. His other hand moved through the air, fingers spread, as he painted a picture that he wanted the other person to see. It didn't quite fit though. The shoulders were too broad, and Jerome was too tall. Most people brushed his arm off of them, or kept their distance from him in general. Y/n was the only one who liked being by him. The only one who sought out his touch, and missed him when he was gone.

It was becoming a problem. Jerome could always fill a single space with many different possible candidates. That way if one left: no problem. Next person please. Jerome could not, for the life of him, fill Y/n's spot with anyone else.

The problem was that he'd never had a person that took this role in his life before. He'd never had a steady sexual partner or someone who really cared about him. He'd never had someone gentle and sincere who also fulfilled his sexual needs. He'd never had someone who was both sexy and loving. Someone who knew him and didn't mind what they saw. Jerome hadn't put Y/n into a role- the boy had entered into Jerome's life and made his own damn place. Carved an Y/n shaped place just for him to lounge in. Jerome had never seen anyone like him before- how would he find a second someone?

Long story short: he wouldn't.

Eventually he stopped trying. Y/n really was special. Everyone had that one person. The best friend or the boyfriend or the sibling. He'd thought he had Jeremiah but that had quickly been cleared up. If everyone else was allowed to have that special person, so could Jerome.

It was nifty too. Y/n was down to do anything for him.

Anytime he was horny, he didn't have to hide it or go hunting for someone who was down. He could just kiss Y/n and pull him close and he was satisfied every time.

When he was bored, Y/n kept him entertained with people and places that didn't exist. Y/n was very interesting- past just how much he enjoyed Jerome's twisted mind. He also had ideas for little stories he had created a long time ago and characters in those stories that he had drawn. Jerome wanted to see Y/n draw. He wanted to see Y/n draw him. That would be cool.

If Jerome was feeling needy or upset, Y/n was there to comfort him. Jerome didn't even have to say something. He could just lay his head in Y/n's lap and the other boy would play with his hair. He could lounge across Y/n and Y/n would rub his back. Jerome could put his arm around Y/n's shoulder and he would immediately lay his head on Jerome's shoulder or pay attention to the redhead. Y/n was always listening and paying attention, intently, like every word that Jerome ever said was the most interesting thing anyone could ever say.

If Jerome wanted a change, Y/n would cut or style his hair or switch up the conversation or the way they had fallen into sex since the last time Jerome had gotten bored. Y/n seemed to be learning Jerome's very small cues for different things, to the point that Jerome didn't even have say anything for Y/n to respond appropriately and begin fulfilling whatever thing had been bothering Jerome just a second before.

Jerome tested it time and time again, but Y/n never failed to take up the unspoken task and solve the problem with efficiency. Even if it wasn't really a problem, like Y/n's elbow was pressed into Jerome's side. It wasn't painful, just a little uncomfortable. Jerome shifted; Y/n immediately moved his arm into a different position until Jerome stopped being bothered by it. Even if he ended in the same position. Somehow Y/n just seemed to know exactly what the problem was, and then it was gone.

"Why do you do that?" Jerome asked one day.

Y/n had talked one of the guards into getting him books, for good behavior. He was reading it now. He had been reading it alone before, but then Jerome had sat next to him and began to lay down. Before he had even moved more than an inch, Y/n was moving the book out of the way and shifting his legs to where Jerome preferred them. Now the younger boy looked up from his book, as if he hadn't really noticed Jerome at all. "What do you mean?"

Jerome frowned. He didn't know how to word it. "Fix everything." He tilted his head like a child looking at something odd. Jerome often did very childish body movements. His emotional expression was very young-looking... unless he was having sex or murdering someone, but that wasn't the point. "You know when something is bothering me, and then you kind of just... it stops bothering me."

Y/n smiled. "I don't know. I don't really think about it or mean to. It's subconscious." That was a big word. Jerome's eyebrows pushed together and his lips parted to ask a question Y/n was answering before Jerome could get it out. "Kind of like muscle memory. Magicians can do magic tricks without thinking. A painting style becomes habit, and the hand follows the learned path without having to even think about it. Or how people walk and they just do it without real, purposeful thought. The second you start thinking about it, you trip. Like breathing. It just happens. Your body reacts.” He shrugged.

Jerome was still frowning. "And how do you always know what I'm going to say or what I want? Like you can read my mind?"

Y/n giggled. Jerome felt his body relax. That sound. GOD that sound. "I cannot read your mind. I can, however, read your body language. I've always been very good at it actually. I learned from a young age, because a lot of people only wanted to be friends with me because I was rich or famous, or because they wanted some gossip or news about the Wayne son who everyone was deeming a failure from the very first time Bruce was talking. People have always been very easy for me to understand... for the most part. Mostly men. Women get a little tricky, which is probably why I'm gay." He sorted. "I don't like people who are hard to read. Makes em hard to trust."

"And I'm easy to read?"

"The easiest I've ever met, actually. You make your intentions clear, and everything you do means something. You don't hold back or beat around the bush- you express every little thing that bugs you. It's very easy to understand what is bothering you. Like when you didn't know what subconscious meant. Your frown got a little deeper and you turned your head just a little. I figured you didn't know what it meant, because there's really no other reason to be so confused by that word."

Interesting. "Do you do this for everyone?"

Y/n was quiet for a while. It made Jerome a little nervous, which didn't make sense. Jerome was never nervous. Jerome was also absolutely never this curious about anyone. He didn't ever care this much. Why did he feel this way for Y/n? Why did he... care for the other boy? Why did he care at all, when he lived a life where he ruled the world by not caring, especially for other people? "No." Y/n answered the question Jerome had forgotten he'd asked, knocking the redhead out of his thoughts. "You’re special."

Jerome looked away. He didn't say anything to that.

After a while, Y/n returned to his book and with his time back to himself, Jerome let his lips turn into a small smile.

He was Y/n's special person too.

Gonna be real with you: Y/n and Jerome were getting far too comfortable being gay in public.

It was less of a problem being in Arkham, where there were few people that weren't either afraid of or loyal in some way to Jerome. The redhead had used every free moment to win the favor of person after person, and now he practically ran the place. This was his turf. It didn't stop brave people from sometimes stepping up, or saying something, or guards being nasty every once in a while. No one would touch Jerome, but the same could not be said about Y/n, especially when Jerome wasn't around.

The two boys had spent the day cuddled up, with Y/n leaning against the wall, Jerome perched between his legs and Jerome's back pressed to Y/n's chest. Y/n had rested his arms around Jerome's shoulders, his clasped hands on Jerome's chest. Jerome had his elbows propped up on Y/n's knees. He was talking to one of the other inmates, telling a story about how much he missed killing and creating havoc.

Leaning forward, Y/n pressed a quick kiss to Jerome's shoulder before shifting to stand. Jerome leaned off of him with a begrudging sigh, making Y/n chuckle. The Wayne boy stood, stretching out his limbs a little bit. He did this every once in a while, walking around the room and profiling people, or just looking at the blank wall and looking at the pattern of the dots and making little pictures with them as if they were stars in the sky lining up to make constellations. Halfway through his lap around the room, Jerome finally stopped checking on him and Y/n was oblivious, completely relaxed. At least until a hand grabbed his shoulder, ripping him out of the room and into the hallway. He gasped, suddenly thrown into a situation that had totally taken him off guard, which didn't allow him to speak before there was a strong hand gripping his shoulder and a gun barrel pointed at his face.

"Quiet now," said the person in front of him. Y/n swallowed. At first he wasn't too scared, since it was a guard in front of him, but then he saw the look in the man's eyes. A look he had seen before. A look he knew belonged to those who hated people like him. Men who liked men; women who liked women. The man tugged Y/n forward before sliding behind him, now guiding him with a push instead of having to walk backwards. The gun rested threateningly against the back of his head. Y/n closed his eyes. How ironic was it that after all this time, it wasn't the criminally insane people locked up that were the bad guys- it was the people who were supposed to be in charge of them? One of the "sane", "good" people who were part of the community and trusted by everyone. The law keepers.

"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Y/n asked quietly, more to himself than to be heard.

The guard shoved him into a side room. The pair had passed several other guards, but none had even looked over despite the obvious sign of danger Y/n was in. Once again, the law had failed Y/n. Every second that passed was yet another second that Y/n hated human beings and this cursed city more and more. The world in general. Why did people like this deserve to live? Long story short: they didn't.

Once they were alone, the door closed, the guard smiled. "You and that psycho waltz around this place like you own it. You got a cell together and pretend we can't hear you both fucking like rabbits." The guard made a look of complete disgust.

Y/n sighed. "You call him a psycho, but he's not the one with a gun pointed to another person who's done nothing wrong to him."

"This is a jail," the guard spat. "And you're insane. He's a murderer, and you're with him like it's not wrong. It would be bad enough for a chick to be with that maniac, but you? Don't you have any respect for yourself? For your family?"

Y/n's expression turned dark. "My parents know I'm gay. They don't care."

Something hard smacked against the side of Y/n's face, and he was immediately dizzy and on the ground. "They KNEW," the guard seethed. "They're dead now, aren't they?" He snorted. "I bet they hired someone to kill them. They must have been so ashamed of you. And they're lucky too. Poor parents having to watch their son be locked up in a place like this, and acting like you are now with a person like that."

Y/n spit blood and then grinned, giggling softly. "Now are you mad that I'm fucking a murder, or are you mad that I'm fucking a man?" A foot planted in Y/n's gut, causing the boy on the ground to grunt. The guard went to speak, but Y/n forced himself to suck in a breath and continued instead. "Do you feel justified in beating me up because I'm gay?" He asked weakly. "You're a grown man- I'm a teenager. You're taller and stronger and more experienced than me. You even have your gun out. Are you so scared of me that you can't just face me hand to hand at the very least? You think that I'm gonna take you down?" Y/n looked up, still grinning even as his body began to ache. This he had gotten directly from Jerome. Enjoying the pain. Reveling in the look of fear and disgust on the guard's face. The way it made the older man so nervous to look at the face of such a young boy covered in blood as he lay curled up on the ground, but remained smiling nevertheless. "Big bad man is gonna put an end to the homos one prick at a time, huh?"

The guard kneeled down, gripping the front of Y/n's shirt and bringing their faces close together. "Shut. Up."

"Or what?" Y/n pressed. The guard was shaking now. "You're gonna kill me?" Y/n busted up laughing, spraying a little bit of blood onto the guard's face. The man shoved Y/n away, groaning as he stood, wiping off the red liquid hurriedly. "You should," Y/n finalized. "Jerome is going to destroy you if he ever finds out this happened. Maybe not while we're in here. But ater, when we get out. Because we will get out one day. One day you're gonna think you're finally safe, and that's when we'll come for you."

The guard looked genuinely afraid for a second. Then he was kneeling down again, pinning Y/n by sitting on top of him. Y/n immediately felt crushed. He couldn't breathe or move, and it filled him with fear. That pure terror that Y/n was becoming a little too familiar with. Maybe he was a little crazier than he'd thought. Maybe it wasn't just Jerome's influence anymore. Because, when he felt that fear, Y/n smiled even wider. It excited him. It riled him up. He saw the guard pull his fist back and he closed his eyes, ready for the impact before the man had even drawn his fist forward to make contact with Y/n's nose.

The first hit finally came. Then the second. The third. It went on for a while before Y/n's smile fell off and he groaned. The whole world was spinning and he blinked, trying to orient himself. The guard finally stopped, standing, only to continue again with kicking instead. Each blow hit a different part of Y/n's body. Chest. Stomach. Arm. The guard stomped on Y/n's hand and the young boy screamed as his hand light on fire with agony.

In the distance, the door opened. "Stop!" Someone yelled. "That's enough! You're going to kill him."

"So what?"

Someone slapped someone else. "Listen to yourself! He's not even a real criminal. He's a boy and he's in here because he got caught up with the real bad guy. Even if he is guilty for something terrible like they're thinking, or he's capable of doing something terrible, you're just as bad as he is for acting like this."

"You didn't do much to stop me before."

A pause. "Fuck off, Jameson. I have to make sure he doesn't die now." Another pause. "GET OUT! Someone's coming to visit him later and he needs to not be dead." There was a sudden drop in the air. Ah yes, fear. They were feeling it now. Fear of getting caught. Fear of paying for the shitty things THEY did. Fear of losing respect or their job at the very least. Fear of the repercussions of the Waynes coming after him for hurting one of their own.

If Y/n could be considered that anymore.

Footsteps. The guard left. Y/n finally opened his eyes and then immediately groaned and closed them again. Someone kneeled down, reaching out to touch him gently. He flinched away. "I know, but you're safe now. Well-" A sigh. "As safe as you can be. I'm going to help you a bit here, okay?" Y/n groaned. The person sighed again. "Take your time, until you can sit up. I need to make sure nothing's broken.

"Why?" Y/n demanded. It was a little muffled. A little slurred. His jaw hurt, especially when he tried to talk.

The other person seemed to consider that for a moment. "I can't stop guards from being assholes, but I can stop them from being murderers. I at least have that authority here. Couldn't stop it from happening, but I could help with the aftermath."

Y/n scoffed, causing him to have a headache. "What so now you're a good person?" He finally opened his eyes to see a woman. The world had stopped spinning and she frowned down at him, her head tilting. She looked sad. "Who are you?"

"I'm the therapist around here," she said with a heavy tone.

Y/n giggled then flinched. "What's your name, Doc?"

She smiled a little, weakly, lifted up a bit by Y/n's casual, light mood. "My name is Harleen Quinzel. You can call me Dr. Q if you want."

"Harleen," Y/n tried out. "Doc HQ." He gave short, soft chuckles and she smiled a little wider, taking the time to analyze his actions and state of being as best she could. He seemed fine for the most part, if a little cheery. His smile was very contagious. She liked it. "Do you have any fun nicknames?"

"How about you sit up really fast and then we can get to know each other, hm?" With her help, Y/n did sit up. She looked around before going into a cabinet, bringing back a first aid kit box. She opened it, taking out some things here and there. "Now I'm not great at this- I studied mental health, not physical. But I did learn a thing or two when I learned I was coming here. And then some more after I saw just how bad things are here." She pulled Y/n's arm into her lap as she began cleaning up the smeared blood here and there. "This might hurt a little bit, okay?" Y/n nodded. She moved to Y/n's face and he hissed, flinching away. "Don't move," she scolded.

Y/n sighed. "I hope you're not doing this because you want sex or something. I'm-"

"Gay," she finished, nodding. "No, it's nothing like that. You're the most decent person in here, though, and it's nice to see someone like me being so confident and chill."

Y/n started, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. "Like you?"

She smiled shyly. "I mean, I understand how you feel. I don't like men the same way you don't like woman." Y/n's eyes widened. She laughed at his expression. "What, you don't think you're the only person around here who's different from everyone else, huh?" He relaxed, smiling softly. "You can't tell anyone though, okay? I mean anyone. Not even that redhead friends of yours. I can't have anyone finding out. I could lose my job, or end up like you just now, and I can't take a hit as well as you can." She immediately frowned. "Not that I like the idea that you can take a hit. You've probably had to get used to that."

Y/n shrugged. "Not really. I'm just durable." She nodded then went quiet. Y/n suddenly had a lot of questions. "So, only girls?" She nodded, focusing on cleaning him up still. "Huh. Cool." He held his fist up and she paused before grinning and fist bumping it. "Solidarity."

And so a friendship was made.

She did her best to clean him up and then bandage some cuts and wrap his hand, which she determined was pretty messed up though not broken as Y/n was able to move his fingers. She also wrapped up an especially dark, tender spot on his arm to offer some buffer incase it came in contact with anything else, like a wall or Jerome. Then they both stood - slowly, as Y/n was immediately sick to his stomach as he got to his feet - and left the room. Harleen kept his arm around her shoulders and kept her eyes down as she passed other people. Y/n left his hand over his ribs, only allowing himself a few steps before pushing away from his new friend to show strength by walking on his own. As if reading his mind, she let him the second he moved away from her. The second they were around a corner with no guards in sight, Harleen was immediately there to make sure he was okay.

The pair ended up in a new section of the building Y/n hadn't seen before now. They went through a ton of check points, Y/n moving to stand on his own again as he limped next to Harleen. The pair were surrounded by guards as she got him through check mark after check mark until they ended up in a large room that had the same grey, bare walls as everywhere else, except that it was cut in half by a large slab of plastic. There were chair on either side of the glass, each lining up with little slabs that acted like a desk of sort, and a phone. It was the visiting room. Y/n had seen some rendition of it on TV before plenty of times.

He looked for the occupied booth that he was meant to be visited at. He didn't know who he was expecting, but when he saw Alfred he was surprised. Maybe he shouldn't have been shocked; it just seemed odd that it was Alfred, alone. It would have made more sense if it was Bruce, Alfred in the back to accompany him. That wouldn't have made much more sense though. Why would Bruce be visiting him? Why was Alfred?

Y/n finally picked up the phone as Alfred did. There was a moment of silence as Alfred took in Y/n's poor condition. He seemed torn between anger and worry. Despite everything, Alfred was still Y/n's caretaker before anything else. Even though there also seemed to be a little bit of relief in Alfred's gaze. Y/n wondered if it was because Y/n looked like Bruce that Alfred was worried. If it was that Y/n wasn't Bruce, even though he looked like him, that Alfred was relieved. "Hi," Y/n greeted shortly.

"Hello," Alfred said back. His voice was tight. He seemed awkward. "Master Bruce wanted to be here but-"

"He actually didn't?" Y/n interrupted.

Alfred's expression grew dark. "He was kidnapped."

Y/n paled. The calm and chaos he’d been holding onto and honing into mania suddenly shattered and he felt like the same kid who Alfred had to tell his parents had died. Like the last four years hadn’t happened at all. "What?"

#wayne reader #gotham #joker #cameron monaghan #valeska twins #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #jeroem valeska x reader #joker x reader #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #joker imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #male reader #jerome velaska #valeska twins x reader #valeska twins imagine

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 9)

A/n: Lol there's like... the most minor gayness between reader and Jeremiah in this part and it means nothing but I'm living for Jeremiah's sexual awakening behind both Wayne brothers just like SEND ME HELP IVE BUSTED A LUNG

Word Count: 4700+

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Masterlist

"We're going to your uncle's diner?"

"Yes," Jerome confirmed for maybe the hundreth time. He was starting to get irritated.

"Your mother's brother?" Y/n continued, his voice rising into near hysterics.

Jerome groaned, turning to face the other boy. "What is confusing you?"

Y/n hesitated, his eyes roaming the streets. He hadn't been free in Gotham for a long time. The idea that someone he knew - anyone he knew - could pop up at any time gave him anxiety. "I mean, isn't this one of the many people that sat around and beat you up all the time? What could you want from him?"

Rolling his head back and forth, Jerome tried to reel in his patience. "I need information. You stay here and make sure I don't die okay? I don't trust you not to kill the old guy, and he can't die yet."

Y/n glared at the diner but nodded. As Jerome walked away, Y/n caught his arm and pulled him closer into a kiss. Jerome tensed before relaxing and nearly melting into him. Y/n smiled as he leaned away. "You better haunt me if you die in there."

Jerome grinned. "What else would I spend my ghost time doing?" He winked before leaving Y/n alone, entering the shop. Y/n stayed outside as he'd been told to, keeping his eyes on what was happening inside. He saw police coming and tensed, but Jerome had the gun out and was ducking under the counter in no time, not coming out again until they were gone. Things seemed to be going well as they moved to the back, only to return quickly with bowls of soup. Jerome began eating and they started talking again. It all seemed to be chill and casual... maybe Jerome's uncle wasn't as bad as he had seemed.

Just as Y/n had that thought, he saw the big man approaching the pair in the booth from behind. Y/n was running immediately. He needed a weapon, and by the looks of the man who's muscles were defined even from this distanced, he'd need something durable. He ran to the back door- something he'd noticed as they approached the diner before- and looked for something thick. He saw a pan and hefted it a second before nodding, also reaching over to grab a knife. With his two weapons, he moved toward the main room just in time to hear Jerome scream. He picked up his pace, peeking around. Then he was close enough to hear what the distance voices were saying.

The uncle was standing, a bowl of soup in his hand. "And the hot one is for you!" He slipped it in the microwave, heating the green liquid again. Y/n could smell the fumes of half burned soup- it was being far too overheated. Y/n felt sick. These were the kind of men Jerome grew up with? If his uncle was this bad, how bad was his mom?

Y/n crept carefully, moving quietly as he'd learned to in his time trying to stay away from Jameson in Gotham before the beatings had been stopped. He sprung up, slamming the pot across the big man's head and then brandishing his knife just as the uncle began to move closer, the heated bowl of soup in his hand and a sick excitement in his eyes. "Now this can go two ways," Y/n began. He moved between the big man- who had stumbled away - and Jerome, who was on the ground and gasping in relief only a moment before he was rejuvenated and standing next to the armed boy. "You can stop underestimating us and tell the man what he wants to know, or you can get a few more jabs in before we kill you both and go on our merry way.

Jerome cackled. "That's my boy!" His arm went around Y/n, almost knocking away his concentration. "You see boys, I'm not as easy as I used to be to push around." Jerome kissed Y/n's cheek and his uncle recoiled. The big man rose his eyebrows but seemed otherwise unaffected. Y/n wondered if there really were people that didn't mind two men being romantic with each other. He seemed surprised but otherwise chill. It was interesting.

Before anything else could happen, the door busted open. Y/n almost dropped his knife.

Bruce Wayne was standing in the doorway, his face twisted with emotion as he made an obvious effort to not look at Y/n, his eyes focusing on the big man. He carried a pole that went around the man's neck and the two began to struggle as the big man was obviously much stronger but Bruce seemed more than capable of handling himself as he threw his weight. As the two distracted each other, Jerome snagged a gun that had landed on the ground at some point. Y/n hadn't noticed it in the chaos, but he recognized it now as the gun Jerome had been carrying when the police had been around before. Jerome turned to his uncle, pointing the gun at the man. "Now we have some hot soup here..." Jerome grinned. "But, as I am a good host, we do have better options than microwaved, burned soup." He strutted off, returning with a bottle of bleach. "Open wide, Unc!"

"STOP! STOP STOP!" The man screamed as Jerome brought the bottle close to his mouth. "I'll tell you what you want to know." Jerome grinned, lowering the bottle. Y/n rose an eyebrow. "She picked St. Ignatius! The school is St. Ignatius."

"Got it." Jerome paused and looked over at Y/n who was already handing over a small piece of paper and pen he'd seen on the counter- probably what Jerome's uncle used to take orders. "Lost it," he relented, taking the paper from Y/n and handing it to his uncle. "Write it down." The older man did just that as Bruce and the big man struggled in the background. Y/n tried not to notice them too much, but as each second passed, it got harder for him to stand idly by and do nothing. He didn't care about a lot of people, but he did care about Bruce and after losing Harley... "Thanks," Jerome remarked in an overly cheery way as his uncle handed him the paper. It's been quite a visit, Uncle Zach." Ah so that was the asshole's name. "You really brought back the utter helplessness of childhood." Jerome began walking away and Y/n almost stopped him. "Well, see you around-" He turned back to Zach, hefting the gun. "Well, except the opposite." The gun went off and red splattered against Y/n's clothes and the counter. "Oh red's a good color on you," Jerome complimented.

Y/n grinned. "Maybe I oughtta wear it more often then."

Attention was turned to Bruce and the big man finally as the younger boy was aggressively pinned to the counter. Jerome clapped, getting the both of them to look at the other two. Bruce's eyes fell to the dead man now on the floor, his face flecking with regret. "Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, coming to my rescue," Jerome drawled, as if considering the words. "Now, I did not see that one coming." He sighed, half laughing. "You know, with uncle Zach, the beatings never stopped. But nobody ever helped me." It got very quiet as Y/n looked at Jerome, his face twisted with concern. His eyes fell to the still untouched bowl of hot soup. He imagined how scared Jerome must have been. Today. Back then. Helpless and at the mercy of people who hated him for no reason. "Ever," the red head continued. Y/n looked over and reached out, his fingers almost intertwining with Jerome's... but the moment felt too real. Too serious. He felt like if he did something like that in a moment like this, it would mean something more than escaping Arkham or sharing jokes or killing people together. Comforting each other in genuine situations was a boyfriend thing to do. Was a love thing to feel. Was Y/n anything to Jerome but an easy way to pass time? He thought to Oswald, who considered friends useless. Who preferred to have lackies to companions, and who kept his enemies closest because he had to make sure they didn't betray him. Was Y/n just a follower Jerome could depend on to keep him out of bad situations? "It makes me wonder..." Jerome kept going, his voice low and slow. "What's wrong with you?" He began cackling, the mood breaking, causing Y/n to jump in surprise. "You know anything funnier than you saving my life?" Y/n perked up, suddenly panicked but not sure what to do. He couldn't handle seeing his brother die. "Is if I saved yours." He rose the gun, pointing it to the big man.

Y/n was surprised, but before anything could happen, Bruce yelled out a, "No!" Pathetic.

Jerome paused, humming in thought. "No," he agreed. "What would be funnier is if you were choked to death by the guy you saved me from. Yeah, yeah we'll do that instead." The big man hesitated but Jerome motioned him to continue. "Do your thing."

Y/n glared at the ground for a second before suddenly making up his mind, eyes finding the back of the man's head and aimin g before throwing the knife he was still holding. To probably everyone in the room's shock, the knife stuck and the man went down. "NO!" Bruce screamed.

Jerome looked back at Y/n, intrigued. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I," Y/n replied, shrugging. Oswald had people teach Y/n a few tricks here or there but Y/n hadn't really picked up on any of them. He had to be angry or protecting someone he cared about to kill someone. He wasn't driven enough when he was calm. His training had kicked in easily now, though.

"What did you do?" The boys looked over to Bruce, who looked beside himself. "Why did you do that, Y/n? That doesn't make you any better than Jerome!"

Y/n scoffed, stepping forward as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm NOT any better than Jerome, Bruce."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't believe that. You're a good person Y/n. It wasn't until you started to talk to these creeps that that changed. Penguin and Jerome and-" Bruce scoffed. "What are you doing?"

"Penguin," Y/n mused, rolling the name in his mouth. He thought back to his conversation with Harley about nicknames. Harley. "You know, I'm not Y/n anymore Bruce you're right. Y/n painted pictures and made friends and took all the shit everyone gave him with a smile. I'm stronger now. BETTER now." Y/n scoffed. "You know Bruce, tell everyone you know. Y/n Wayne is dead." He stood maybe a foot away from Bruce, his smile growing. "Harley Quinn is here instead." He winked, moving to the side. Bruce gasped as he looked over to see Jerome pointing a gun at him. "And that's our exit." Jerome looked at Y/n- at Harley - seeming to be looking for the go ahead to kill Bruce. Y/n shook his head. Jerome seemed disappointed but followed after Y/n anyway, moving slowly out of the room.

"Y/N STOP!" Bruce screamed, desperate to save his brother. Sure that he would find some remnant of who he used to be. "Y/N!" Both boys disappeared and the second they were outside, they started running. Bruce tried to take off after them but Jerome shot behind him, just well enough to slow Bruce down so they could get away. They were gone too fast, and Bruce lost them. The boy stood there, running his hands through his hair. "Fuck," he whispered.

They got clothes, picked up Jervis, and then they were on their way. They went to St. Ignatius, wired up the dude in charge after they got their information, and were off again.

Harley tried to be patient. He really did. But even Jervis and Crane seemed to know more than he did. At the brunch Jerome was very vague, and didn't give even a little lee way of information to the others, giving little run arounds to allude to information Jervis and Crane knew. It was very frustrating.

"So," Oswald began at one point when Jerome was talking to Jervis about... something. "Harley?"

He smiled, happy for the distraction. "Harley," he confirmed. "You go by Penguin. Ed has that whole Riddler schtick." Harley shrugged. "Firefly," he continued to list. "Mr. Freeze."

Oswald nodded. "I see what you mean." He gave a small smile. "So you're officially one of us now?"

"I kill people and everything." The men smiled at each other before giggling softly.

Oswald calmed, still smiling but more curious than amused now. "And... you and Jerome?"

Harley was suddenly very interested in his food. "What about it?"

Oswald seemed to sense his reluctance to talk about the subject at hand, but kept pushing. "Are you two together?"

A soft sigh escaped Harley just then as he looked away, setting down his food and silverware quietly. He pursed his lips, frowning. "I don't know." He looked at Jervis and Jonathan. "I don't even know what's going on here. He seems to trust them more than me, and seems totally unhinged. He's distracted and uninterested, which is fine because he seems really focused on something. And I mean he brought me along..." Harley shrugged. "I just feel like, I don't know-" he shrugged hopelessly.

"You're an extra piece to a complete puzzle?" Oswald offered, his expression full of understanding.

Harley's expression became pained. "Yeah."

Oswald reached over, patting Harley on the shoulder. "Love is an irritating, fickle thing Y/n- Harley." Both smiled. "You're one of the few people I trust. If you need anything, I'll be there."

"Likewise," Harley returned. "Of course." Oswald's eyes moved past him, his expression changing to surprise. "What?" Harley asked as he looked back, just in time to see Jerome turn away sharply, as if being caught doing something and trying to hide it. Harley looked back, confusion written all over his face.

Oswald was grinning, but this look was full of mischief instead of sincerity. "My dear Harley, would you like to see just how much your precious little redhead cares about you?"

Harley rose an eyebrow. "Well, you know me Oswald. Have I ever turned down the opportunity for information?" Oswald's smile only grew.

“He was glaring at me,” Oswald announced victoriously.

"He was glaring at you?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. "I see you haven't gotten over your habit to repeat when you're feeling dubious." Harley's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't realized that he asked questions repetitively when he was unsure of the answer, but as he thought back- yeah. That tracks. "Before you ask, it's significant because we were being affectionate and Jerome glared at me. He has no other reason to be mad at from the brunch, and if he'd been mad at me beforehand he would have tried to kill me or not invited me to begin with."

Harley nodded along slowly. "So your solution to him ignoring me is to... make him jealous?" Oswald nodded. "Won't that just get him more mad?" Oswald nodded again, as if that was the point. Harley frowned. "Getting Jerome mad has never been a good idea."

Oswald rolled his eyes. "If he gets possessive, he cares for you some way or another. If he doesn't... then you know." His excitement died down and Harley swallowed.

Well. Here goes nothing.

The worst idea probably ever had by anyone occurred to Harley the second he lay eyes on who he'd been told was a man named Xander Wild. Harley might not have known his real name, but the man's identity was clear. After all, when you look exactly like Jerome Valeska himself, who could you be other than the famous younger brother Harley had heard about only one other time.

Harley had been dragged along when Jervis had been tittering about how Jerome had an errand for them. They had convinced Harley to go when they said that if they didn't work quickly, Jerome might actually be in danger.

So then here they were, strutting around the tunnels of some maze chasing down the not-Xander-Wild in favor of finding Jerome. It was easy once they got the blonde. She tracked down not only one redhead they sought after, but both of them. First Jerome, then-

"Hello brother." Jonathan, Harley, and Jervis stood behind Jeremiah until Jerome sent the other two away to take care of Harvey and Jim. Harley sat here, leaning against the wall and listening to the exchange between the twins. The non-redhead rose his eyebrows, getting more and more shocked as it went on. The revelation that Jeremiah had manipulated their whole family because he was paranoid about Jerome...

"So you're saying you turned your whole family against your brother because you were afraid of what he might become?" Jeremiah looked at Harley and his face relaxed. He stuttered physically, almost as if he was going to step closer to him but then thought better of the action. "You realize that when they thought he was the problem child or whatever, they thought the solution was just beating the shit out of him. And not just with fists- that Uncle Zach of yours has a colorful way with skin and heated assorted soups." Jeremiah looked away. "If you were afraid of Jerome's insanity that didn't yet exist, you doomed yourself. People deserve love when they're struggling. By putting him through more suffering all you did was create who he is now."

"Don't give him all the credit," Jerome whined. "I have added some color to his original recipe."

Harley hummed, moving to Jeremiah's side. His finger brushed against the back of his shoulders, his arm resting across when he reached the end. Harley giggled. "He's kind of cute though. Makes sense why people believe him so much-" he raised his free hand, squishing Jeremiah's face. "Little puppy couldn't do any wrong, eh?" He giggled again, stepping away from him when Jerome donned an odd expression, shifting, obviously uncomfortable at watching Harley... flirt with Jeremiah. It became clear when Harley winked that that's what it was indeed.

The party was crashed when Gordon and Bullock showed up, guns at the ready. Jerome attempted a bluff but didn't pull it off, and soon enough they were all running for their lives, Jeremiah left behind. There was a car they'd gotten here in- they were all in it again. They'd gotten Jerome, but it seemed to have been marked a failure that they didn't manage to grab Jeremiah as well. Jerome seemed far more bothered by something else though. "Why were you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Harley asked lightly, eyes on the outside world.

Jerome made a frustrated half grunting noise. "With Jeremiah."

Harley didn't even look over. "Oh, him?" Harley shrugged. "Just having some fun."

Jerome was quiet for a long time. For far too long a time actually, as he was never one to be quiet for very long if ever. Even for a normal person it was considered quite a stretch of silence; Jervis' knuckles whitened on the wheel as he drove under the weight of the tension. It was when they were finally back to their little hideout that Jerome spoke again- only once the two men were in private. "Am I not enough fun for you?" He was smiling, advancing in an almost sexual way. It was strained though- he was obviously upset.

Harley was unsure how to go about this. "Jerome, dear, what am I to you?"

That seemed to confuse the redhead even more. "What?"

"Am I your boyfriend?" Harley offered, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.

Jerome scoffed. "Why would you wanna be something like that? So serious and boring. I'd prefer-"

"Friends?" Harley tried again, tilting his head. Tilting his head back and forth, Jerome considered. Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes at the extended hesitation. Jerome seemed to be confused again. He couldn't figure out why Harley was upset. "You can't be all possessive and expect me to only ever be interested in you if you can't even claim friendship with me, J. You want to say I'm yours? That's a two way street." Harley tapped his nose with a finger. "You don't own me, sweetheart. I'm free market. Don't be jealous that I'm acting with the freedom you've forced on me." Harley chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Makes you look pathetic, honestly." Then he turned and left. He'd felt a weight lift off of his chest, but he could feel Jerome's eyes burning holes into his back every step he got further away.

Jerome started acting weird after that. He got overly clingy with everyone except Harley. That was the only way to explain it. Whether it be putting his arm around Oswald's shoulders or leaning too close to Bridget or laughing too loudly at a joke that it was obvious he didn't even find that funny, or speaking way too loudly every time he named Jervis or Jonathan as his 'best friends' - directing a look he thought was subtle but very much wasn't at Harley - he just got overbearing and over the top. He was over compensating.

One day Oswald mumbled, "So he took the breakup hard I assume."

Harley scoffed. "What breakup? He won't even call me his friend, let alone his boyfriend." Harley rolled his eyes. "He's adorable but getting on my nerves." Harley smiled as he pretended to check his nails. He was thriving off the chaos he was creating, relishing how much of a fool Jerome was making of himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have been loving making someone he cared about suffer so much but fuck it. He did. Maybe he was some kind of sadist now. Maybe he just had a lower tolerance and a more eager thirst for revenge. Maybe he was just pettier nowadays. Whatever it was, it didn't bother him as much as it would have in the past.

Definitely not enough to back off or try to apologize and make peace.

People started to try and get the two back together as Jerome got even more on edge. Whether the request was to calm him down or take the reins on the whole affection thing or just to fuck him so he'd chill, Y/n was getting off on how even the other villains seemed to be struggling to handle Jerome acting like a child who's toy had been taken away. Well, Harley wasn't a toy and he wasn't an accessory. He was tired of being treated as such. Children who throw fits when told no don't get rewards. Men who own up to their feelings on even a minute level? They might get what they want if they ask really nicely. Jerome was taking the child route. Harley was too stubborn to give in.

It was better when Jerome was distracted. Whether it was shooting people in Russian Roulette until the gun went off or kidnapping powerful people and spraying them with some gas he was trying to create - obviously for Jeremiah, if his "or one bad spray" comment to his brother back at the end of the maze meant anything - Jerome kept his mind going and his day full. Harley kept his distance. There was no need to set him off too much. He was beginning to understand the thrill of slowly driving someone mad though.

Despite everything, Harley still seemed to be Jerome's go to. Jerome took him on every outing. Bounced ideas off of him. Shared jokes with him. Jerome was beginning to give away little pieces at a time to Harley, just by having him around constantly. He figured out the gas was for Jeremiah pretty early on, and steps were becoming clear as he tried to succeed in that. Harley knew what they were doing when they took out the band in the middle of the public square even before James Gordon had popped up as asked.

Harley had gotten his hands on a metal bat. He had begun to use it like an arm rest, hanging his arms over it limply as it balanced over his shoulders. He was casual as Jerome played his game. Smiling. Laughing. Then Gordon showed up and Jerome made a demand that caught Harley off guard. He had two extra seats in his little line of heads he wanted to blow. Jeremiah- obviously. And...

"Bring me my brother. Bring me Wayne. Bring them to me now."

As the remains of the now dead, headless dude bled out for everyone to see and Gordon ran off to get Jerome what he wanted before he killed more people, Harley moved to Jerome. "Why do you want Bruce?"

Jerome had lowered the microphone so other people couldn't hear him. "What's wrong little Harley?" Jerome tittered. He was grinning, his expression dark.

Harley nearly decked him. "You're going to put my brother in danger, why?"

Jerome tilted his head. "Why do you even care?" He scoffed. "I'm going to kill both of our brothers. People we spent our whole lives sitting in the shadows of. Been chosen second to. Been hated for, because everyone thought they were so much better." He scoffed. "Have you heard what they say about you? How they talk about Bruce and you in comparison?" He shook his head and Harley found he couldn't find words to say to parry this. "Even what they said about you in Arkham." His jaw tightened.

Harley took in a slow breath. "It makes sense that I care about Bruce, Jerome. I was actually close to my brother. We had a god relationship." He shook his head. "That doesn't matter now, but still." He frowned. "But why do you care about what people have to say about me?"

Jerome let out a slow breath through his nose. "Maybe I care about you, Harley." Harley's eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. Jerome was completely calm and serious, shrugging as if it was the most casual thing. Jerome wasn't ever casual though. He wasn't calm. This was very unlike him. Almost like that first night, on the Ferris Wheel. When Jerome had sat, quiet, just listening to Harley go on and on about shit that shouldn't have mattered to him at all. He rose a hand to brush softly against Harley's cheek." His eyes flickered away. "We'll talk about it later."

Harley stepped back, allowing Jerome to take the stage as Gordon showed up with Bruce and Jeremiah in tow. "Just don't kill him please." Jerome didn't respond, but his smile wavered so Harley knew he heard. Jerome gave Harley Bruce's collar. Harley took it and put it on without hesitation. Bruce caught Harley's wrist as his hands dropped after the collar was on. The brothers made eye contact but Harley didn't hold it long. Bruce held a look of betrayal that shook Harley to his core. If Harley did have a weakness, it had always been that. Bruce used to look up to Harley... no, to Y/n. Now it was all over. Harley had chosen his path. He sighed, shaking his head of the heavy thoughts he'd been thinking and replacing each one instead with images of the real Harley. Harleen Quinzel, bloody and draped and dead. This hardened him again. Games and chaos and romance and familyhood aside: Harley was done being a Wayne. Done being sane and functional. He'd chosen Jerome, and he would continue to choose Jerome because despite everything, for some reason, Jerome was choosing him too. Harley moved to Jerome's side, resting his elbow on Jerome's shoulders. He leaned close, whispering, "Unless you really want to."

Jerome recognize the change in tone immediately. His lips turned up in a grin. His smile was brilliant, and Harley matched it perfectly.

The duo was back, and nothing was going to get between them again.

#jerome valeska #jeroma velaska #joker #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #gotham #valeska twins #joker x reader #joker imagine #cameron monaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #valeska twins imagine #valeska twins x reader #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #male reader

77 notes · View notes

clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 8)

A/n: This part is super upsetting. Character death, graphic violence, I dare even say gore. Homophia, which I should have been warning a while back I am so sorry for that. Things are gonna get HEAVY- I am so sorry lol.

Word Count: 3800+

Playlist

Masterlist

"Nah, you're not crazy," Harleen giggled.

"Says you," Y/n teased, rolling his eyes. "You may have a doctorate, but you're also bias."

Her smile widened. "Okay that's fair." Y/n sighed, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his hands, smile small as he got lost in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"Harleen is kind of a mouthful," Y/n told her. "Do you like the name?"

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I never did. When I was younger I had a friend who called me Lee, but with things happening-" Y/n's face scrunched up and Harleen snorted. "Exactly. Name's already taken- and it would be even weirder if I went by Dr. Lee, so I scratched it."

Y/n nodded. Then he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table. "So you've never had any other nicknames?" She shook her head and then shrugged when Y/n donned a surprise expression. "Well I have to give you one then. That's what friends do, right?" She grinned at Y/n's words and he watched the room get a little brighter. She was magic like that- as if she was made of sunshine. Her happiness was contagious, and she made the world a little better. She was accepting and also calm, making him feel safe as well as loved. She was his best friend and he was hers and they gave each other something they couldn't get with anyone else: unhindered fun with absolutely no expectations. It was an odd place to find real friendship in, but here they were anyway. "What about... Leena?" She immediately shook her head and he chuckled. "Uh... I mean, there's always Harley."

She considered that. "You know what, I like it." She crossed her arms. "Harley Quinzel." She nodded. "I'll allow it."

Y/n rolled his eyes. She was only like four years older than him, but had far too quickly fallen into a rhythm of acting like an adult talking to a child every once in a while, as a joke. Whether she was flaunting the years she had over him, or the schooling, Y/n wasn’t sure, but he refused to acknowledge it and it had become an unspoken inside joke between them. "What about you? I have to give you one now."

Y/n shrugged. "I don't like nicknames."

Harley tilted her head, the bottom of her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. "Why not? You like giving them."

"Well, yeah..." He bit his lip. "It's just, every bad guy has a code name, you know? Oswald Cobblepot goes by Penguin. Edward Nygma is going around as Riddler. Then there's Mr. Freeze. I just feel like if I take an alias, it'll be official you know? I'll be as crazy as the people I associate with and as evil as everyone says I am."

Harley hummed. "Okay, that's fair." She sighed, raising her hands to rest her chin in her palm. "Speaking of people you associate with. You and Jerome..."

Y/n's mood darkened. It had been a while now and Oswald was gone and Jerome still hadn't made an appearance. "I think he's mad at me." Harley tilted her head in confusion and Y/n shrugged. "I left with Alfred because Bruce needed me. Didn't give him a heads up, and then went missing for, like, months..." He shook his head. "Maybe he thinks I've gone back to my old life, or that I've left him behind. I just feel like he's avoiding me and one doesn't usually do that for no reason, so I figure-"

"What if he's just busy?" Harley proposed.

Y/n snorted. "With what? Reading a really good book series?"

Harley pursed her lips. "I guess you have a point."

"Why do you even care?" Y/n asked, raising his hands to knit his fingers behind his head.

Harley stared at him silently for a long time. She had the look on her face she always does when she'd trying to read Y/n's mind. When she's analyzing everything she learned in school and looking at the actions and words that he was currently giving as context, as well as past ones, and then somehow putting it all together to figure out the secrets sometimes even he didn't know. The same magic that made Arkham home also gave her the ability to read minds- Y/n had determined she was a proper superhero.

After she reached some kind of conclusion - she always nodded after she'd done the reading and then switched which leg was crossed over the other - a little smile teased her lips. She was trying to hide it. And failing. Y/n tried not to be curious. Usually when Harley didn't tell him something it was because he wasn't ready to hear it... but that smile. It was too late. He had to know. "What?"

Once he asked, the gate broke and she grinned. "You're in love with him."

Y/n snorted. "No. I'm not." The coy curl of Harley's lips added to her raised eyebrows to make Y/n doubt himself, even though he could feel his feelings and knew that it wasn't... he didn't... no way. "He's important to me," Y/n gave. "I care for him. But... love..." Y/n shook his head. "I don't know about that. There's been too much going on- I haven't had enough time with him."

She nodded, expression serious, as if this was a very important discovery. "I call Maid of Honor at the wedding though." They locked eyes as Y/n went to tell her off, but then a slow smile rose to her face as he realized she was joking. They both busted up into laughter.

"Whoever I marry, the position is yours." He winked at her and she flipped her hair, both of them giggling.

A timer went off. Harley stood, gathering her stuff and sighing. "That's my cue. Same time tomorrow?"Y/n nodded then stood.

He draped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, you make this place bearable. You're a real friend to me." He kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you, hm?"

She rested her head on his shoulder for a second before they began walking and it got too awkward to coordinate. "Probably the same thing I'd do without you. Be alone and miserable." She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He pretended to gag and she fell into a short fit of soft giggles. "You're an idiot."

"Ah and yet what I lack for a brain, I make up with a big-" He cut off and she groaned. "Heart," he enunciated. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I have quite a large heart, full of love for my favorite gal." He shook her slightly, making a point that said gal was her.

"Every lesbian deserves a best friend with as little brains and as big a heart as you," Harley joked.

"And every gay deserves a best friend with as much brain and just as much heart as you." He finally let her go as she moved to the door that would lead outside. This is where they parted- her, to home, as he was her last patient as per usual. Him, further into the Asylum where he would have dinner then return to his room to be alone and sleep. Goodbyes were the pair's least favorite part of the day. "Until we next meet, Madame," Y/n initiated, pulling away to bow deeply.

Harley grabbed her doctor's coat lightly, pulling it out as if it was a dress as she bowed back. "I shall count the seconds." They laughed one last time, waving before she turned and left. He watched her go until she disappeared. She turned back several times to wave yet again, until she couldn't see him either just by turning around.

The second she was out of sight, the world lost a little color. It was a little darker. His smile got smaller and Y/n's shoulders sagged. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning back to the hallway that lead to his room, beginning the trek.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. People rarely touched him. The only person that touched him like this was one that Y/n hated so much that his hands curled into fists in his pocket, his face suddenly cold and empty as he stared straight ahead, halfway through a step- his foot on the ground and extended, but not carrying him forward as it had been intended to. He took a deep breath through his nose. Unfortunately, in all the chaos and people getting booted from Arkham after beating on Y/n, the one person that meant the most hadn't been caught because everyone refused to rat him out.

The man who'd started it all.

"You and her..." The older guard mused, a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "I thought you were gay." He said it mockingly, like he'd caught a child who hadn't said they weren’t hungry sneaking food when everyone seemed to be asleep.

Y/n rolled his eyes, forcing his body to relax as he faced the man. The monster. "Not every girl in the world was born solely for men to shove a dick into them, Jameson." The older man glared and Y/n smiled, getting satisfaction. "As a matter of a fact, Harley and I are just friends."

"You're pretty affectionate for just friends," Jameson argued. Y/n still didn't know the man's first name. He didn't care enough too. He didn't want another name that tasted bitter in his mouth. He already had his fingers crossed he'd never meet a cute boy with the last name Jameson, because the name alone would ruin Y/n's chances before he'd even taken a shot. No reason to make it even harder for himself.

"We're comfortable around each other." He rolled his shoulder back once, slightly stiff from sitting so long. Jameson wouldn't attack, knowing that Y/n would report him instantly- especially in such an open space, with cameras and the chance of someone rounding the corner any second - but one could never be too safe, just in case. "She gets me like no one else does. But, as you so wonderfully pointed out, I'm GAY." Y/n enunciated the word, going the extra mile by taking a step closer to stress it even more. "Girls aren't my thing."

Jameson looked like he wanted to deck Y/n. The younger boy's lips curved into a mocking smile in response. Now the guard was the one who had to control himself. "You guys have a lot in common?"

Y/n shrugged, too caught up in his casual gloating that Jameson couldn't act out like he wanted to- like he used to be able to. "Enough. We talk a lot. She's cool." He relaxed thinking about Harley. "She doesn't think I'm crazy. It's nice." He cleared his throat, focusing back on the enemy in front of him... only to immediately be confused by the very odd expression on Jameson's face. "What?"

"Nothing," the man dismissed, moving to leave. "I've heard enough. You're both a waste." He shook his head as he left and Y/n glared at his back until he was gone. Then the boy turned back toward the cell and finally made his way.

Man, why did he have to be surrounded by such assholes? Why couldn't Harley be around all the time? Why couldn't he be free? They could get an apartment and talk all the time. Help each other get through life and protect each other from unwanted attention. Be themselves all the time. Make jokes and exchange irritated expressions when idiots like Jameson said stupid shit like he always tended to.

Tomorrow. He'd see her tomorrow. That wasn't too far away.

He could wait until then.

Y/n's knees gave out from under him and he fell, cracking them on the cement. He didn't even feel it. His attention was being completely held by the TV, which was turned onto the news. It was a small screen that had been installed in one of the Day Rooms recently. They were rarely ever allowed to watch the news, though. In places like Gotham, far too often the news held very upsetting content that set inmates off- either into panics, or into violent rages. Y/n had stood to turn it off when he'd realized what news was being shared. Someone had been murdered. Old news. This was Gotham. Then he'd heard the name.

"23-year-old Harleen Quinzel was found dead earlier today. Her body was badly beaten, with words carved into her stomach. It was the cuts on her wrist that were the cause of death, though it's been determined that none of this was self inflicted. We received a photo of the body recently. Beware: what you're about to see is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly the screen was showing the broken body of Y/n's best friend. The sunshine girl with the bright smile and the contagious laugh. The girl who was going to be Y/n's Maid of Honor. Y/n's better half. She was limp and unmoving, her eyes wide and empty. Her skin was pale, nearly white, except for where dark, huge bruises and blood discolored it. Her hair had been cut off, the blonde locks left next to her head but clearly detached. Her shirt had been rolled up to letters on her stomach- carved as promised.

There was an L next to a G, in a circle and crossed through once. Underneath the symbol read: Sinner.

Someone was talking, but Y/n couldn't make out what they were saying. A hand in his shoulder and he looked over to see a concerned guard. A woman. She knelt next to Y/n, but she wasn't the one touching him. No, that hand belonged to Jameson, who had a sick expression on his face- a cross between smugness and victory, muted as if he was trying to hide it, badly masked by some version of concern that was so unconvincing that Y/n ripped his shoulder out of the older man's hand.

He was on his feet again and running. Out of the room and to his cell- despite all the people who kept asking him what was going on, and someone in the very back changing the channel as the news reporter announced, "If you have any information, please contact-" Y/n ignored the rules. He ignored the people yelling at him. He ignored the people trying to stop him. He just started running and he didn't stop until he was in his room, where he opened the door and closed it behind him. His heart was ramming against his chest and all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. He saw black spots and felt an emotion bubble up that he couldn't even begin to put name to. All he knew was that it was dark and twisting and it was very quickly consuming everything good.

Something in him broke. It snapped off. Something vital. Y/n was aching, but he didn't know what it was or where it had fallen to as he lost it. He just knew there was suddenly a gaping hole where something very important used to be, and he felt absolutely terrible with it gone.

On the upside, he could finally breathe. His chest loosened and his body relaxed and as the door opened behind him, he turned to see the person with complete calm.

"Jameson." The word was not a greeting, but more of an observation. No. It was an accusation. The older man smiled and Y/n's insides began to twist and boil- less like a tightening of anxiety and more like a snake, seconds from attacking. "Why?" He stepped forward. "She was innocent."

Jameson scoffed. "You think you two are subtle? You two act like you're together and then talk about how you're not- you just 'get' each other." Jameson shook his head, cracking his knuckles. "You're spreading your sickness, Y/n." The snake coiled tighter, hissing and spitting. Y/n felt his calmness very quickly drop, perfectly placed with rage. His body didn't move, he just suddenly had a bunch of energy and he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it. "You two aren't quiet either. Strutting around here acting so out of line, in front of me. Acting like you're not being evil." Jameson scoffed. "You're evil, Y/n. And if they wouldn't let me punish you here, I'd have to get more creative. Even if you don't see it, you're in love with her. What you think you are is unnatural, and I knew if you could see how you really feel-"

Y/n's hand was around the man's throat. Jameson tried to push the younger boy away or claw his hand off, but Y/n just rammed him into the wall behind him. Jameson's head cracked against the grey wall, his efforts suddenly becoming useless. "You think I'm dangerous as a disease? You're so desperate to cure me. You're about to find just how very dangerous I am, Jameson. All on my own, with just my two hands." And then he began to squeeze. Jameson writhed and fought and clawed but when he started to get strong, Y/n would smash his head again or ram his knee into the man's junk and the efforts died down once again.

It took longer than Y/n thought. Jameson started to change color, his eyes bulging and his lips moving desperately but nothing coming in or out. Just when the man seemed about ready to pass out, Y/n let him drop to the floor. He gasped, clawing to try and get away. Y/n smiled, toeing the door gently closed. Jameson squirmed away, features taken over completely with terror. Y/n felt amazing.

"You will never hurt another person, ever again." Y/n squatted down, taking the man's thin hair in his hands. "Me however?" Y/n giggled. "You've helped create a monster. Know that every person I kill in the future is on your hands. Every injury is your fault. I'm not a violent person, Jameson." He snorted. "Well, I wasn't. But it seems you fuckwads only answer to violence, so..." Y/n shrugged casually. Jameson shook his head, choking out pleads for his life. Y/n snapped the man's neck and he stopped begging. It was so easy... The silence was wonderful. Y/n felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I'm done sitting idly while assholes run Gotham." Y/n stood, not even bothering to do anything but leave the door wide open as he walked calmly away, grinning like an idiot.

Something had been broken and lost indeed. It was Y/n's self control. His moral compass that kept him grounded and toeing the line between good and bad. It was the thing that kept reminding him he was a Wayne. That he was a good person. That he had a family that depended on him, in some way or another. That he had Alfred and Bruce, who he did want to visit even if he also wanted a life outside of them. That he had Oswald, who most often found solace in Y/n's sanity and depended on his restraint to reel him in when people were trying to set him off; Oswald needed Y/n's sense to balance his emotions. And, overall, Y/n was driven by pure spite not to let those damn reporters be right. He would be good and successful and he would show all of them that he could be more than the black sheep of the Wayne family. The disappointment of Gotham. The failure, always in the shadow of the Golden Boy younger brother Bruce Wayne.

But those people who Y/n cared about so much had let people like Jameson walk around, unhindered and unchecked. They had let him get beat up for a very long time before he was nearly killed and their hand was forced. They had let evil people run around and control things while they locked up Y/n for being gay. For being attracted to a man even though he wasn't a woman. There were murderers running wild, with super powers and incredible genius, but the problem people were deciding to focus on was that Y/n was gay.

Well, he was done with the lot of them. He was going to get out and prove to all of them that he was more than a Wayne. More than a mistake. More than a shadow. More than evil or good. More than Bruce's older brother. More than the one dude who had feelings for Jerome Valeska. More than one more gay plague on the face of the planet.

They wanted a monster? They would get one. And Y/n wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied, even if it meant all of Gotham had to die.

"Knock knock."

The door opened and Y/n looked over, his face finally showing emotion as his surprise rose. "Jerome?"

The redhead smiled, striding toward Y/n as if he has a tasty treat to share. "My little lover boy." Jerome hooked his finger under Y/n's chin. Y/n yanked his face away. Jerome frowned. "Are you mad at me, pretty boy?" Y/n glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He leaned backward. "What have I done, My Darling?"

"You've been avoiding me. We haven't talked in, like, months Jerome. What the fuck?"

"A tad dramatic," Jerome hushed. "And not totally fault." Y/n opened his mouth to argue but Jerome gently grabbed Y/n's throat, pressing his fingers gently into the skin. Their faces were suddenly very close and despite himself, Y/n suddenly felt a thrill to finally feel their skin touch as cheek brushed cheek. "I've been busy planning our escape, if you hadn't noticed." Y/n's eyes drifted to see a nervous Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch. "Come with me, won't you? I think we've been apart long enough."

Y/n suddenly began to relax. He didn't manage to smile, but he did get excited. "Well... lead the way."

Jerome left an excited kiss on Y/n's cheek, letting his hand fall away from Y/n's throat in favor of shooting into the air in victory as he giggled, turning to his two partners. "And so we all escape! Come now, we don't have much time." Y/n stood as Jerome lead the way, all four of the men finding their way out of Arkham Asylum finally.

The fun was about to begin.

#jerome valeska #jerome velaska #valeska twins #gotham #joker #cameron monaghan #male reader #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #valeska twins x reader #valeska twins imagine #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #joker x reader #joker imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #jerome x reader #jerome imagine

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 7)

A/n: We're... so close... I'm so excited.

Word Count: 5000+

Playlist

Masterlist

Life really only got worse from there, really for everybody. Most of all for Y/n, believe it or not considering what people like Bruce Wayne were dealing with these days.

Unfortunately it was truth.

Jerome and Y/n were separated. When having different cells didn't deter the two boys from being affectionate during down time or meals, Y/n was put into isolation where the only people he saw were officers that hated him or Dr. Quinzel, who had to pretend she wanted to "cure" Y/n of his "problem of the heart" or whatever. It was terrible for both of them, but if anyone else did it it wouldn't be two friends sitting down and talking through things. Shock therapy had been thrown around as an idea a few times. It was far worse ideas that Y/n hadn't heard about that had gotten Harleen to give in, if the taunts he'd been receiving held any weight.

Finally Y/n was allowed visitors. He didn't expect any, and he still wasn't allowed around the other inmates, so he was resigned to his life of solitude and misery.

Then Alfred Pennyworth paid him another visit.

"Alfred," Y/n croaked. His voice was rough from disuse.

The older butler took in Y/n's state and seemed to be taking it hard. Y/n was pale, his skin so sickly it was practically see through. It only made the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep as well as the bruises from the occasional beatings look even worse. He had started to gather scars- those hadn't been from other people though. In a world that only gave him pain, he found some solace in having some of it be at his own hand. It made him feel just a little more under control. Alfred seemed to be able to tell which wounds were from who, and he looked ready to kill someone- whether it be Y/n or the guards, it wasn't clear yet.

"Y/n... what have they done to you?"

Y/n smiled, trying not to cry. "They punished me for my sins Alfred. For murdering, which I did a bit of in my time I won't lie about that. For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a mad man." Y/n's smile faltered. He was too tired to smile. He couldn't hold them for long anymore. Ever since being away from Jerome, it had been hard to find anything amusing. It was even worse when he wasn't allowed to be himself at all. When he was punished nonstop for being himself. When he couldn't talk or do anything he liked to do or see anyone he wanted to be around or go anywhere other than an empty cell far away from everywhere else. His life was completely out of his control and the people in charge were using their leverage over him to twist and bend him into the shape they wanted him to be. Except it wasn't working. Y/n was still a dreamer. He still did art and thought of other places and people and times. He still smiled when he saw Harleen. He still dreamed of Jerome. He still missed home and cared for people who had probably long stopped even thinking about him. He was still gay. And he was still dangerously, murderously angry. He had far too much free time and he spent probably too much of it daydreaming of ways to put the most painful ends on each of his tormenters.

Now he was calm though. Alfred was family. He was safe. He was part of home. Someone Y/n missed dearly from a time that was lost to him. A time he wished he could get back. Dinners with his parents and his brother. Hiking trips and tea times and bedtime stories. When things were easy and had a rhythm and made perfect sense. So what if he hadn't really been himself? So what if he was a little crazy? Attracted to adventure? At least he hadn't killed anyone, compared to nowadays where he was apparently completely insane and so addicted to danger that it just might actually kill him. So what if he hadn't been allowed to talk about being gay and have a boyfriend? All he'd gotten for that was isolation and violence.

That didn't matter. He didn't want to think about anything but Alfred and good times.

"For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a man?" Alfred offered softly. Y/n shrugged and Alfred's face grew dark. It got quiet until the butler sighed, his shoulders sagging. Alfred had always had the same magic Y/n and Bruce's dad did. He seemed frozen in time, untouchable by death. Both men had seemed unbreakable. Now Alfred seemed worn down and just as old as he actually was. He probably wasn't very old, but only now was it dawning on Y/n that he was... old. Or at least he wasn't young. He was aged. He was getting on in years. He should have been married, with kids, living a peaceful life and watching those kids go to college and move out, alone with his wife to live out the rest of his days in some cottage somewhere in the most beautiful parts of England. He should be reading books and drinking tea and worrying about how tired he felt when it was only 9pm, even though he used to stay up until 3am in his youth. Instead he had no wife but two sons that had been thrust into his hands- both of whom were losing their minds and burdened by so much trauma and darkness that he most likely stayed awake at night and run over probability after probability of how he might go about helping even just one of them, realizing that he would fail them both because no one can truly save someone from themself if the person refuses to allow it.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Y/n mumbled. His eyes watered as he looked at the man that had become a lot like a father to him, right when he needed one the most. Maybe things had been easier when Thomas was alive, but their perfect family wouldn't have survived through the teenage years in a place like Gotham. It would have been messed up eventually. Y/n knew that. "You're trying your best, and you make a lot of the right decisions. I know I'm not the easiest person to care about."

Alfred smiled. "Y/n, of the people I care about you are currently the easiest one to do so for. Maybe I'm not happy with your decisions and where it's... gotten you-" he wavered, looking round the room. Y/n actually managed a weak, broken laugh. A normal laugh. It wasn't manic or wild. It was small and short and wet and weak and broken, but it was also a very normal laugh. The sound everyday people make in situations that were somehow funny when they shouldn't be. It was a nice sound. It lifted the mood even more. "But you're still by boy, and I stand by you." He paused for a while, getting serious. "I don't know what I would do if I was in your situation, Y/n. Finding happiness with a man like Jerome. Finding misery in people you should be able to trust. I just-" He bit his lip for a second before continuing. "Be honest with me: was I ever one of the people that betrayed your trust?"

Y/n's eyes went wide. "No Alfred, oh god. I think you're the last good person left in Gotham. You make me happy and safe. You're the only one that does that anymore."

That seemed to bring some kind of peace to the old man. He looked around the room again and almost mimicked the laugh Y/n had made earlier. "This is crazy. Us finding solace in each other. How did we end up here, hm, Master Y/n?"

Y/n grinned despite himself. "I don't know." He wiped his eyes- he had begun crying. "I don't know Alfred." He sniffed. "You deserve better."

"Damn right I do," Alfred agreed. "And so do you." The men exchanged soft smiles. Alfred's expression changed after a second as he pursed his lips, tilting his head. "Are you and Jerome still...?"

Y/n's smile fell. "I haven't been allowed to see him. I don't know what he thinks happened to me. I kind of just disappeared. I left with you that day and then when I was brought back I was immediately put into isolation so-" Y/n shrugged.

Alfred sighed through his nose. "Do you... love him?" He seemed disoriented by the mere thought of someone loving Jerome Valeska. Of someone he knew - someone he helped raised, who he was close to and cared a lot about and had a lot of faith in - being in love with Jerome Valeska. "I mean, you don't seem..." He motioned with his hands, not sure how to form his feelings into words.

"Crazy?" Y/n offered. It was Alfred's turn to shrug. Y/n scoffed, amused. "I don't think I am. He's just... everything I ever wanted, you know? I can be myself around him and it never disappoints him. He likes me, as a person. I think he likes being with me. And he's funny and knows how to have a good time-" Y/n flinched. “He also knows how to not have a good time, though that's not really a thing to him. He's got a lot going on. I think he's broken a lot more than I am. I just- I don't know I-" He looked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of his feelings without sounding as insane as he was for feeling this way for someone who murdered for fun.

When Y/n looked back, Alfred seemed so uncomfortable. "But do you love him?"

Y/n looked at his hands. "I like the way he smells." His face scrunched up. "And how he holds my hand. His hair, and his smile. How he says my name and laughs at my jokes." Y/n looked back. "Am I crazy Alfred?"

Alfred seemed to think about that. "I think you're lonely and looking for someone like you, and I can understand that."

Y/n relaxed a little. "I think I'm crazy." He shook his head. Neither man smiled. "How do I get help for my condition?"

"If you're talking about getting help for liking men, I want you to take that back right now." Y/n looked at him in surprise. "There's nothing wrong with you, Master Y/n. Do you understand me?" Y/n paused but then nodded, and he felt a weight lift off of his chest. "You have a weird taste in men, but otherwise you're fine." Now they did both laugh, just a little. "You hang in there, okay? I'll try and see what I can do to get you out of here. Then we'll figure this out together, yeah?"

That sounded nice. "Yeah. I would like that." Alfred nodded.

Just then a guard came up. "It's time to go." Alfred sighed but they exchanged goodbyes and Y/n tried to keep a smile as his only hope of light left him alone in the darkness once again. Then he turned to the guard that was with him now: Peters. Y/n was beginning to learn names. Peters was a little softer since Y/n was young, but he still was one of the guards that hated Y/n for being gay, so there was only so much Y/n could say when it came to how much he did or didn't like the man. As they walked back, Peters once again disappointed Y/n. "You know I have to tell them about what you said in there." Y/n stopped moving. He hadn't thought about that. He'd been talking to Alfred. He always told Alfred everything, and he always told him such with complete honesty. Things had gotten easier because Y/n had been able to prove that the "therapy" was doing some good. He'd just admitted out loud that it hadn't made a dent in how attracted he was to men, or how he felt about Jerome. "He won't go as hard on you as in the beginning," Peters assured. He was talking about the first guard that had started tormenting Y/n. They didn't speak his name. Both of them, at the very least, hated his methods even if Peters agreed it was necessary. "You admit you need help. You'll get it. Your butler was wrong and you know that and that's what matters."

Y/n's eyes watered as he began walking again.

Was he really getting to a place again where he believed that something so basic about him really was wrong? He'd just barely, FINALLY accepted it and now he was being conditioned to bury it away again?

Fuck.

It was a nice break to get visitors. Alfred was nice to talk to, and despite the oddity of it, the two men got along well and cheered each other up nicely. Y/n was looking forward to seeing the older man's face when he was told he had a visitor. Unfortunately, Alfred was not the one waiting to greet Y/n that day.

"Bruce?" Y/n was far passed surprised to see his younger brother of all people on the other side of the glass, visiting him. Alfred hadn't said much but from the little he'd divulged about Bruce breaking out of the mind control and then killing some dude that had to do with the weird creepy tunnel Bruce had dragged him to and the dudes in it that had almost killed him. Y.n didn't see what was wrong with that - the dude was obviously bad - but it seemed to be ripping a new one with Bruce. He'd turned into a bit of a dick, putting it nicely. Left me alone in the tunnel then refused to visit me in the asylum. Firing Alfred. Partying and messing around with a bunch of people. It seemed the Wayne brothers dealt with their mental breakdowns very differently. Bruce partied and became an asshole- Y/n killed people and fell in love with psychopaths. One thing can be said: the Waynes sure know how to go out with a bang.

"Y/n," Bruce greeted weakly. He was obviously burdened by nervousness and guilt. As not to push it, Y/n sat down. Perhaps he didn't walk to talk to his tool of a brother, but it was better than isolation so he'd tolerate it. Y/n stayed quiet and allowed himself the luxury of being in the presence of another human being- one who didn't mean him harm or hate him for not being able to control who he was. Bruce spoke again first; Y/n was lost in the peacefulness of the quiet. "I'm sorry I left you in the tunnel." Y/n didn't say anything, so Bruce continued. "I was sort of commanded to kill Alfred when I was under mind control. I, uh, stabbed him. I could only carry one of you so I grabbed him and took him to the hospital. Ended up staying all night because I was terrified he was dead."

"And then you proceeded to treat him like shit all the way up until you did him a favor and fired him."

Bruce flinched. "I got emancipated too."

"Jesus, Bruce," Y/n cursed.

"I know," Bruce moaned. "I'm not handling any of the things well." He rubbed his face. "I wish you'd come home. I miss you." Bruce looked at his older brother, trying to find a remnant of the old Y/n underneath the bruises and coldness in the older boy's gaze. Both boys had come to gain something dark about them. Y/n's was more brightly colored, tickling in every dent and curve of his body and expression. Bruce's was sharper- paving paths of stones along corners and edges. Even now, Y/n was still the softer brother. Perhaps not so much had changed after all. "We've been through a lot, hm?" Y/n nodded, looking at his hands. "I-" Bruce cleared his throat, seeming to get emotional. "I don't know you are anymore. Please, tell me. I feel like you’re a stranger."

Y/n looked at him very seriously. "Probably because I am." Bruce frowned. "But we can change that." Bruce's lips immediately found a soft upward curve and Y/n took a second to appreciate it. It seemed he could bring some sort of smile or another out of even the angstiest of teens.

They spent the next bit talking. Bruce told Y/n everything, summarizing in chunks. Y/n did the same, breezing through his time with Oswald and then being in and out of Arkham and Jerome. That's where Bruce seemed to get caught up. "You really love him?" Bruce was making a face like he'd swallowed something both bitter and sour.

Y/n sighed, lowering his voice and moving his mouth closer to the receiver so only Bruce would hear him. "I don't know about love. But..." He shrugged. "I care for him. He matters to me." Bruce exhaled then nodded. "I don't have many other options," Y/n joked. Then he sobered, unnervingly quickly. "But even if I did, I don't know Bruce." He rubbed his face.

"Let's not talk about it. When we get you out of here-"

"We?" Y/n interrupted.

Bruce's expression became strained. "I called Alfred. I don't know if he'll come back but maybe... well, I know he'll definitely help me get you out. Maybe we can really be a family, you know? Make this town home again. You can talk all bout your art and have as much time as you want to make it."

Y/n felt odd. "You want to go back to how it was."

Shrugging, Bruce seemed to suddenly be distracted by everything, his eyes never finding Y/n's face, almost like the younger Wayne was avoiding his gaze on purpose. "So what if I do?" Bruce finally looked at his brother. "Don't you, Y/n? Don't you want to finally be done with this? Maybe we could go somewhere else entirely for a while. A long while. Bond again. Heal. It could be good for us."

Suddenly, Y/n was angry. "You know, I've been wishing for weeks that I could go back in time. I wanted it all to fix and right itself. But you know what? It won't. Even if the universe suddenly decided to let us be happy and a family or whatever, I wouldn't let it happen." Bruce leaned away, as if Y/n had slapped him. "I've killed people, Bruce. I'm not innocent and nieve and full of dreams or whatever the fuck anymore. It's been so long since I painted something I really liked or cared about- even before mom and dad died. Do you remember when I was first getting good and I started to draw boys? It was freeing and exhilarating and gave me an outlet of some kind- and an excuse to stare at cute boys my age. Mom found out and told me to hide it. She didn't want the wrong person to find it and use it against me." He scoffed. "Do you want to know why I'm into Jerome?" Y/n was being too loud, he knew. But he didn't care. "Because he likes me just as I am. A little crazy, a lot fucked up. He likes that things don't really bother me. He likes my twisted sense of humor. He likes that I'm willing to kill someone if they piss me off or get in my way. He acknowledges that I'm tainted and kind of stupid and I've completely lost my mind. I heard somewhere that it only takes one bad day for someone to lose it- well, Bruce, I've had a whole fucking string of them. And I'm tired of you and Alfred coming in here and pretending I’m still the me you both want me to be and that everything is fine and that we're gonna go back to normal and perfect and happy as if I'm not a murderer. As if I'm not GAY!" Y/n chucked the phone, causing Bruce to jump. "THAT'S RIGHT!" Y/n screeched as he whirled around the face the guard. "I! AM! GAY! You can beat me, torture me, isolate me, fill my head with a bunch of nonsense, but you won’t break me because I'm DONE being ashamed of who I am."

The guard looked disgusted. It was a different man this time- not Peters. "You're going to go to hell for your sins."

"For being gay?" Y/n actually laughed. "How dare you!" This was playful, light. Y/n had finally snapped. "You're sitting here saying that I'm going to go to hell because I'm gay? Sweetheart, you're missing all the far more valid reasons I'm going to hell." The end of the statement lowered to notes that left his voice gravely and threatening, all humor gone. As he’d spoken, he’d taken step after step closer to the guard until they were practically chest to chest. "Remember that I know how to kill you so no one will ever know it was me next time you even THINK of laying a single finger on me, do you understand?" The guard, calm before, now looked very nervous. "You people won't touch Jerome, and I hid behind that for too long. Touch me. I dare you." Y/n leaned close, his voice low as he whispered, "You never know... maybe you just might like it."

The guard made a noise halfway between a groan and a grunt and opened the door, pushing Y/n through and further into the Asylum, and away from him. Y/n winked at him and the guard closed the door, putting it between them like it was going to block them. Y/n laughed. There was power in fear. Power in accepting yourself despite everyone trying to tear you down; in staying together despite everyone trying to tear you apart. It was like when that idiot cut off Jerome's face. Jerome didn't pitch a fit. He adapted. That's why he was so terrifying. So powerful. Things rolled off his shoulders and left him unfazed. He just adapted, never letting pain even waver his smile.

It's time for Y/n to start taking a page out of Jerome's book. He was over being another brooding Wayne boy.

After that, things began to look up again. The guards quickly stopped beating Y/n up- all it did was make him laugh, or make him stronger as he began to fight back. Therapy stopped mattering- he spent all his talks with Harleen cracking jokes and being gay as fuck. Guards sneered at him and spit at him, but there were some good eggs in here and even more that Jerome had wrapped around his finger. All Y/n had to do was place himself at the right guard or flirt with the wrong one and suddenly he had plenty of room to move as idiotic, childish men kept their distance and jeered- as if words alone could do anything other than make Y/n laugh harder. He simply let it all stop affecting him, and so it did. Maybe it was a little crazy, to hear such terrible words or go to bed in pain, and find some kind of twisted pleasure in it. But I mean come on. These morons called themselves men of God then beat up on a teenage boy who was slowly learning how to take them down singlehandedly. They were like children on a playground: pushing girls they liked; calling people stupid names then ducking when they got in trouble; pulling ponytails and tripping kids and sticking their tongues out and pretending they were big boys as they squashed roaches only to run off squealing like babies when the bug didn't die the first time. They were pathetic. It was hilarious.

Word started to get around about Y/n's change.

Jerome hadn't known he was back. Last he'd heard, Y/n had dipped out with Alfred Pennyworth. He'd run home to Bruce Wayne and his old life with his tail between his legs, once again forcing himself to be someone he wasn't in a life he could be content in, but never happy. Jerome had been planning his escape for a while and had considered paying Y/n a visit to see if he could knock the Wayne boy into his senses... but he had other things to do and he had to keep his head down while doing them. When he got the real story, it was far more exhilarating. It also sounded much, MUCH more like his Y/n.

Jerome was going to get Y/n out too, and they were going to burn this stupid city to the ground together, side by side. And no one was going to stop them. Not sense or sanity or decency or embarrassment. Y/n had even shoved off his brother- the boy had nothing holding him back anymore. They were going to have so much fun...

Then Y/n returned to the public eye of Arkham Asylum.

After his therapy stopped working, the guards either got fired or gave up. Words passed like fire about what they were doing to Y/n, and the real reason they were doing it. Guards were supposed to be guarding. Some turned a blind eye when other inmates pulled shit, but it was absolutely not allowed to bring harm to the inmates yourself. Now free, Y/n waltzed around the Day Room cockily, like a peacock showing off his feathers.

"...Y/n?"

The boy looked over casually, expecting something else. The person was too timid and quiet to be Jerome, but he most definitely hadn't expected- "Oswald?" His showiness melted in favor of pure joy. "Oh my god!" He ran to scoop up the little man in a hug. Both of them laughed, leaning apart with matching grins. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was looking for you when-" He swallowed, his smile struggling. "I hope you're not mad at me. I meant to come find you, but things got... complicated."

Oswald shook his head. "I know what it's like to fall in love, especially when said person makes you want to kill someone." He put a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "I thought you were dead. I heard whispers about you with Jerome and then suddenly you went missing and I thought-"

Y/n's eyes went wide as Oswald grew quiet. "Are you kidding me? You're not getting rid of me that easy."

That seemed to lift Oswald's mood. The Penguin pulled Y/n aside, lowering his voice. "I'm getting out of here soon, Y/n. Please come with me. We'll figure out a way to do it- I can figure out some way to-"

"No," Y/n said immediately, stepping away. Oswald looked like he'd been slapped. "I'm your ally Oswald, always, but..." He shook his head. "Jerome is here." He swallowed. "I have another friend here too. She's like me, but only for, um, girls." Oswald nodded slowly, understanding but still a little sad. "You are important to me. Whoever's breaking you out- they'll take care of you, right?"

Oswald hesitated. "If he doesn't, I'll figure it out."

"Exactly," Y/n continued. "Jerome should be fine, but my other friend... she doesn't really have anyone else." Y/n struggled to find words. "Have you ever had someone innocent depend on you for real friendship? Someone who only you get, who you have to make sure is happy and safe? Someone you would do anything for?"

Suddenly Oswald seemed to understand perfectly. "Yes." Y/n frowned. What had he missed? Oswald was... different. "I understand, Y/n." He pat his friend's shoulder again and then stepped away. "I'll see you around."

Y/n smiled coyly. "Aw, are you going to come and visit me when you're out?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. They'd always been like this. Playful and easygoing. It was always easier to do in private, or when things were looking good. Now they had both, with Oswald getting out soon and their respective reclusiveness from everyone else in their little corner. Y/n seemed to be able to bring out a smile from Oswald, just like he always could from people. It was his pride- he could get a smile from Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth- even Oswald Cobblepott. Damn right.

They had a few days to catch up, and then Oswald got out. Y/n was happy for him. He hadn't seen much of Jerome yet, though, which had him a little worried. He would have heard if Jerome had gotten out- where was he? Surely not getting the treatment he had before- that would work even less on Jerome, and would have far more a consequence. Finally Y/n got a guard to fess up about it.

"Jerome's been holed up. He's usually in isolation, especially since he antagonized Oswald Cobblepoptt a little bit. But it seems to be more his choice of recent to be putting himself away. He seems to have a lot on his mind."

That didn't settle well with Y/n. Whatever he was up to, Y/n had the distinct notion that the little peace he'd finally managed to grasp was about to get ripped from him yet again. This time, he was willing to fight for it though. It was obvious that Jerome was avoiding Y/n on some level. Either that or he didn't care about Y/n at all. He hadn't been here when Y/n was finally let out, and he didn't seem to have done anything to try and get to Y/n while he was locked up either. Whatever he was up to, it either didn't include Y/n, or it was a move against him. It wasn't yet clear why Jerome would be mad at him... though the Wayne boy had some suspicions. If it came to that, then fine. Y/n would fight Jerome if he had to. It wasn't just about him now. He had Harleen to worry about. It would all be resolved in the end, and whatever the outcome, Y/n was determined to end up on top.

#Jerome valeska #jerome velaska #jerome x reader #jerome imagine #jerome #gotham #joker #valeska twins #valeska twins x reader #male reader #wayne reader #joker x reader #joker imagine #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.

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