#warm for a gothamite anyways

[evsstolenhearts]

Summary: you end a peaceful patrol to go make jason rest

Jason Todd x Gn!Vigilante!Reader | 749 words | no y/n

Warnings: mild sickness, mentions of gangs, petty theives, ect. Nothing to crazy

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Standing on the roofs of Gotham, you can see everything. The city, despite the darkness that lurks in every corner, is beautiful. The lights from tall city buildings reflecting off windows, the sounds of the bustling streets, the moment of calm.

Your vigilante costume sits tight to your skin, hiding your identity from the many people out and about this late at night. Despite Gotham being one of the most dangerous city's in the world, the night life is forever endless. Gothamites never sleep it seems.

Your patrol has been pretty calm all night, Jason at home with a cold, Dick back in Büldhaven, Tim visiting the Kent's, Duke staying in to work on an essay, and everyone doing their own thing tonight. Small gangs and petty thiefs have been active, but it seems the routes have also taken a night off. Perhaps it's the freezing cold temperatures the city has recently encountered, or the heavy rain that has been on and off the past week.

As you finish your break, your comms get slightly hijacked, "seems your alone tonight." The voice is clearly Oracle.

"Seems you are too, all the other death defying idiots too busy to give you attention right now?" Your smile can be heard from your tone as you begin to move through the city.

Her laugh sounds through your ears, "very funny. Anyways, I want you to finish up. It's nearing the end of the night anyways, go home early."

Your feet stop moving on a differnet roof top at her tone, despite being light hearted as usual, it seems to have a serious undertone laced through it. "Is there a patrical reason for this bonus vacation time?"

"Redhood has called me three times. One to ask abt information on a case, which I didn't give him and told him to rest." While Oracle explains, you begin moving in a different direction, now aiming for home, "the other two times asking about you, were you are, how you are. If he calls me again in gonna block both your numbers."

"You underestimating us? I'm sure I could contact you even if you tried to get rid of me." You laugh, but definitely tense at the information. Jason has been out of commission for two nights in a row due to a horrible cold he got. You assume it's from the storm he was in the other day, mixing with the chemicals from Ivys plants, due to the area he was patrolling.

"Try me." Is all you hear before Oracle leaves you be. Once again leaving you to the ambiance of Gotham city.

You quickly make your way to your shared apartment. You climb up the fire escape and go through the open window, to see the lovely sight of your shirtless boyfriend.

On the couch, hunch over and man spreading, is Jason, in boxers and nothing else as he sorts through case files.

"Damn babe, it's fucking freezing in here." You take off your mask and shut and lock the window you came through, "no wonder you have a damn cold. You're never gonna get over it at this rate."

Jason hums in acknowledgment, still sorting through his files. With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you go to the bedroom to change. Stripping out of your costume, throwing on warm and proper clothes, and cleaning yourself up a bit.

When you come back to the living room, Jason hasn't moved a bit.

"Jay?" You lean on the doorway and wait for a response, getting none. "Jason?" Again, nothing.

So, not feeling like dealing with him being defiant, you walk over to the couch where he sits, and stand between him and the coffee table, forcing him to look at you.

Jason finally looks up, eyes tired and red, skin slightly sweaty. "Hello." He finally says.

"You should be in bed." Your nails rake through his hair, slightly gross feelings but Jason is clearly enjoying it.

"I was working." His eyes flutter closed as he relaxes into your touch.

A small smile forms over your face as you move to cradle his face in your hands, "save work for later, you need mental and physical rest."

Jason opens his eyes to look up to you, "yeah, okay. Fine." Voice reluctant.

Walk him back to your shared bed, seeing him plop down and pass out almost immediately, you decide that everything else can wait, so you claw up with him and join him.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd scenarios #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x you #redhood x reader #red hood x reader #redhood #redhood x you #redhood imagine #redhood fluff #redhood scenerio

[mamawasatesttube]

oh!!!!! 'you're always on my mind' for timkon for ficlet prompts <333

By the time Tim gets home, Kon is sound asleep.

That's to be expected, of course; one could never ask a Kryptonian and a farm boy to boot to be a night owl. That's part of why he didn't ask Kon to come to the gala tonight, even though he did offer—Tim would've felt bad dragging him around the floor to schmooze with rich Gothamites when he would have clearly been dozing off on his feet. Hell, Tim didn't want to be there this late either, but things just dragged on...

Oh well. The only reason he showed at all tonight was to rub it in to Bruce that he owes him a favor now. Since that's done, Tim gets to crawl into bed with his warm, snuggly fiancé.

One hot shower later, he pads across their darkened bedroom and slips beneath the covers; no matter how quiet he is, though, Kon always stirs, and tonight is no exception. As the mattress sinks beneath his wait, Kon sighs, curls up a little tighter, and opens his eyes just a crack.

"Mmm, you smell nice," he mumbles. The familiar weight of his TTK drapes over Tim's hips and draws him closer; fondness wells up in Tim's chest as Kon sleepily snuggles into his chest. "...My soap?"

"Your soap does smell pretty good," Tim admits. If Kon were more awake, he'd tease Tim for wanting to smell like him, but as it is, he just hums, and Tim presses a kiss to his forehead. "Go back to sleep. I'm here."

"Mhm." Kon nuzzles his collarbone. He drapes one arm over Tim's waist, a blanket of TTK keeping them both cozily cocooned together. "Howwazzit?"

Man, is there anything cuter than Kon's sleepy, breathy voice? Scientifically speaking, signs point to no. Tim scrunches his hand into Kon's ridiculously soft curls and grins to himself at the pleased noise Kon makes when his fingertips rub against his scalp. "It was fine. Boring, as usual. The desserts were good—I brought you some, they're in the fridge—but honestly, I just kept thinking it'd be way more fun to be home with you, so. Y'know. You didn't miss much."

Kon lets out a sleepy chuckle that Tim can feel rumble through him. "Hmmm... so I was on your mind all evenin'? Wow... S'not like Tim Drake-Wayne t'be distracted..."

Tim rolls his eyes and lightly tugs on the curl that hangs down in the center of Kon's forehead. "You're always on my mind, goober. Try again."

"Oh." Kon is quiet for a few heartbeats, long enough for Tim to think perhaps he's fallen back asleep. But then he sighs, presses the world's sleepiest kiss to Tim's collarbone, and closes his eyes again; Tim can feel his eyelashes brush his neck. "...You're goober."

Ridiculously endeared, Tim huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss into his hair. "Go to sleep, Kon."

"Don' tell me whadda do," Kon mumbles, barely intelligible. And then, presumably as part of his clear multistep plan to stick it to the man, he falls back asleep anyway, his breaths evening out against Tim's shirt.

"Good night, goober," Tim says. If he's ever-so-slightly smug and amused by the lack of response, well... Kon's too asleep to notice, anyway.

#timkon #the sillies... #can you tell by this ficlet that IM sleepy. im so fucking sleepy #tim #kon #rimi writes #litttlittt

[onmyyan]

Endless Again

Chapter One

A/N: This first chapter is just an introduction to (Y/n), Damian and Jon make a short appearance but it's mostly a set up for the rest of the story, feedback is welcome and I hope you enjoy!

TW'S: death (no main characters), canon typical violence

All you wanted was one normal year.

One painfully mundane year where someone wasn't trying to murder you for no reason.

It's all you asked from the universe when you looked up at the stars, anytime you saw one shoot across the dark sky you made sure to make a wish.

It was rare for the twinkling lights to peak through the heavy clouds.

Considering just how insane the past few months have been, you figured you'd long since earned a break.

Gotham was only ever quiet when she wanted to be, one thing you could count on was how the untameable city never truly felt as peaceful as it did in the earliest hours of the morning, the sun having yet to kiss the sky, even criminals got cold, well most of them anyway.

A light blanket of gray covered the brooding city like a hug, its familiar haze brought a warm blossom of comfort to spread out through your chest, it always looked like it was just about to rain, seasoned gothamites could tell if you needed to bother with an umbrella just by the smell in the air.

Your elderly neighbor Edna had told to that one night you'd gone to keep her company, she said she could smell the rain before a drop hit the ground.

Another thing you loved about your city was the constant skin-biting cold wind, it was especially apparent whenever you found yourself outside at this hour, the breeze a welcome sting, no matter how often you went inside shivering, you felt the serenity was well worth it.

You, your Mother Grace, and her older son Peter, all lived in this cozy little apartment in the upper east end of Gotham.

The floor you three lived on was just below the roof, all you had to do to get up there was pop open the triangular window in your room, the landlord had tried in vain to seal it shut with layer after layer of paint, the ledge was so easy to scale, it almost felt like an invitation.

Heights had never bothered you, in fact being up so high you could see the dark waters of Gotham Bay crashing against the docks from where you stood, it made you feel oddly centered, leaning comfortably against the chain link fence, fingers looped through the holes, the metal was quite cold against the heat of your palms, tired (e/c) eyes watched as your breath fanned out in clouds before you.

You didn't know when you'd get the chance to be up here again, so you allowed yourself to take in all the wonderful sights and sounds.

Your neighbor in 4B was walking her dog in the yard, kicking snow over the mess the Yorkie made instead of picking it up, then there was 4D, the sad-looking man always trudged his way to where you could only assume was work, he made sure to pause in his commute if he saw you out, his halfhearted wave was always returned with one of your own.

Your eyes trailed the array of little cuts and scars littering your knuckles, they made you feel tough when you were younger, and still do, to see them and still feel the breath in your lungs meant you were still fighting. No matter how you got them. No matter how often you got knocked down. You had them because you came out of it.

While this was one of the safer neighborhoods in town, Grace still made you sign up for self-defense classes about a week after bringing you home from the adoption agency. It was one of your earliest memories of her.

The 5'3 woman was small in stature but not in presence.

She packed a punch like a bullet, and she always managed to stand comically out of place when she came to your tournaments, Grace often looked as if someone had plucked her straight out of a 50's glamour magazine, blonde waves almost always pinned up in a classy up-do. Her big blue eyes held the warmest look whenever you caught her gaze in the crowd.

She'd be sandwiched between two meatheads with the most obnoxious glittery sign no doubt decorated by herself and Peter the night before, she'd always cheer the loudest, you looked back on the memories fondly, not only did you love the adrenaline of throwing people around, you ended up needing these defensive skills more than you anticipated.

It was like she knew you'd be in trouble eventually and wanted to give you a headstart.

You didn't mind, especially since you'd had to beat the shit out of one too many perverts on the way home more times than you could count, to this day she didn't know how many punks you left bloodied in the streets.

And you intended to keep it that way.

She was a great mom, often working double shifts as an ER nurse, Gotham general was never empty so she always had something to do, anytime you or Peter showed the slightest interest in something you wanted she did anything she could to get it for you, loving you like you were her own, never once making you feel ostracized, she made it abundantly clear she only wanted her children safe and happy.

So when she gave you a rule, it was hard not to follow it, all she asked of you, was that you never let anyone outside the family see what you were capable of.

To this day only she and your older brother were privy about your powers, she knew you didn't remember much from your time before the adoption so she never bothered asking about the nature of your abilities, it was like this weird unspoken rule not to discuss your, oddities. Seemingly just happy to have you as her daughter.

One night, after a long day of dealing with the intolerant little shits at your public school, she'd been trying to comfort you for hours, heartbreaking at the tears in your eye. When you'd stopped crying long enough to ask her for some oddly specific brand of ice cream she knew you adored, Grace, being the bleeding heart she was, folded immediately.

It was just down the street anyway, she figured nothing could happen in the five-minute walk to the corner store she'd made a thousand times before, that was until about five minutes into the outing, you felt the horrible stare on your back and snapped your head around with a startling speed. Both meeting the gaze of the masked man and catching him off guard, there was something in your stare that made him hesitate, but he pushed passed it to continue steadily sneaking up on you both.

You didn't need to read his thoughts to know whatever he intended was vile in nature, you tugged on the small woman's sleeve, and forced her to stop.

"Mama- look." Her head snapped around with a gasp, and she instinctively moved you to stand behind her, using her body as a shield, "Please- don't do something you'll regret alright?- I-I'll give you anything, just don't hurt us."

She started shakily removing her watch when he moved his hand to his belt, the streetlights caught it just right so the glint of steel could be seen tucked into his waist, he continued to stare, breath heavy and eyes wild.

There was this moment, where he just stared at you both, his unruly stare flickering from the mostly empty streets to the seemingly defenseless pair before him, he appeared to have made up his mind, hand reaching for the handle of his knife.

Before Grace could open her mouth to scream for help, Before either of them could think, you'd made your move.

Just as he went to take another step forward, you flicked your little wrist in a circle, body moving on autopilot, not thinking of anything but getting the threat away from your mother, a flash of red glimmered over his glazed-over eyes, you watched in silent awe as he walked himself into the suddenly busy traffic of downtown.

The resulting carnage pulled every car on the block to a screeching halt, as people screamed and began to spectate, Grace could only stare in horror as people began to flood the scene.

She scooped you into her arms, and ran home, her hands holding you tight to her chest, that was the night she'd sat you down before bed, eyes wide with unshed tears.

"Please darling, I need you to swear to me- swear you'll never let anyone see what you can do." Her soft hands held your little face in a tender hold, so you could feel the tremor in her touch as she pleaded with a then 10-year-old you.

Desperately trying to convey her seriousness to you without yelling, she stared you down until you confirmed out loud. "Never Mama." her request was delivered in such a shaken tone you couldn't help but nod your little head, curls bouncing rapidly as you tried to pacify a situation you didn't understand.

Her older son Peter had always been kind to you, having your back in the way older brothers do, even when he couldn't actually do much against them, he did his best to defend you against the bullies, taking the brunt of their viciousness.

Someway, somehow they seemed to smell it on you; like there was a neon sign on your forehead that said oddity, you always wondered how they knew something was different about you.

It was as if something primal told them to keep an eye on you, the same way you watched a wild animal in captivity, just waiting on the day it loses control.

Growing up hiding from your powers was as hard as it was dangerous, every time you got a little too mad at one of your tormenters and all the windows in class shattered, or if you focused a little too hard on a person and they'd get yanked back into the wall by an invisible force, you risked blowing your cover completely, your senses almost always overwhelming you.

Grace had a protective streak which wasn't hard to understand as she had children in the most dangerous city in the states, so you didn't fight her when she asked you to stay home, it's not like you had friends lining up to hang out, you didn't mind, although it did make you have to get creative when it came to hiding stuff.

You took to training your abilities in secret, starting small, you began by lifting all the furniture in your room as high up off the floor as you could until your hundred-pound bed became as easy as lifting your phone, then you moved on to yourself, often getting lost in the floaty sensation it gave you to fly, these were the abilities you'd honed in the best as you could, practicing them at home without being discovered was doable, telepathy was another subject entirely.

Living in a crowded apartment building meant anytime you tried turning it on, all of a sudden it was like a thousand radio stations blaring at max volume in your head.

As much fun as you were having discovering yourself, it seemed the more you trained your abilities, the weirder your life got. You'd spent the last year of high school defending your life from dickhead after dickhead, the would-be assassins only ever struck when you were alone, and seemed to attack more and more, as time went on.

In an effort to deter them, you'd spent the last few years as a homebody, hoping a decrease in public appearances would also slow their assaults, and up until a month ago it was working.

That is of course until someone tried to wrap a wire around your throat when you were doing laundry. You'd accidentally knocked him out cold when you threw him off of you and into the wall, he'd hit it so hard his body left a print.

After tossing him in a dumpster a few blocks away from your home, you screamed into your pillow for a few minutes, that was way too close, and you decided then and there that you had to do something, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself if anything happened to the people you cared for most.

All that to say, your loving little family, as sweet as they were, still saw you as this helpless little kid who needed someone to hide behind, so you could understand why their fear was near palpable in the apartment the night at dinner, they exchanged looks and silent debates but stayed supportive, both of them absolutely terrified about your departure for Gotham U in the morning.

"Are you sure you can't take some courses online? I read something about that yesterday at brunch." Her voice was shaky as she took your hand over the table. "Ma relax - she's twenty-one years old, she can handle it." Peter was quick to defend you, knowing if his mother had it her way neither of you would ever leave the house.

He shot you a reassuring smile, patting his mother on her arm. "Plus, she knows we got her back, always."

Grace shared a teary-eyed look with her eldest before excusing herself to the bathroom to no doubt cry. Your chest stung at the sight, hating to be the reason the kind woman was upset, but you knew it was for the best.

You couldn't resist the urge to read her mind, flinching at what you felt, you immediately stopped and began messing with your food, your appetite suddenly gone.

"Don't worry about ma- you know how she is, she'll come around." Peter said nudging your shoulder in a light-hearted manner, he was the peacekeeper in the house, "Thanks, Pete."

You said forcing yourself to take a few more bites, finishing the meal in comfortable silence.

That was hours ago, and you could still feel the near-crushing weight of the fear in Grace's heart.

You knew at the root of her fear was love for you, she was just worried for your safety.

Yes, her reaction was intense but it wasn't near as bad as some people got. Before she'd bared you from using them, you used to use your powers like party tricks, nothing too major, just making little things appear or reading someone's mind when they bet you ya couldn't.

Not a lot of folks like knowing you could see them for who they were. When you were younger you could never understand why people got so cold when they realized you weren't lying.

This was another reason you didn't like poking around in people's heads.

It more often than not left you with bruised feelings.

Shaking the thought away, you allowed yourself to be fully swept up in the calm morning, something you felt would be the last for a while, call it intuition, but you had the nagging feeling that despite your wishes for a peaceful, normal freshman year, it would be anything but.

And one of the primary causes of your future chaos was currently trying to sneak his way back inside the Batcave, unsuccessfully I might add.

On the opposite side of Gotham, the city's latest Robin was just then coming in from patrol. He had turned his bike off early, in an effort to be as quiet as he could while he snuck in.

"You were supposed to check in hours ago Damian," Bruce said without looking away from the documents in his hands. Damian winced as his hopes for the older man being asleep were crushed, although he should have known better than to think his Father would be sleeping at a healthy time.

He began removing his tactical gear, carefully placing each one in its proper place while he thought of his careful response.

"You've always told me to finish what I start on the job - now I'm supposed to abandon my post for some arbitrary curfew?"

"That curfew is only in place because I couldn't trust you to remember your new semester, which starts in," His calculating eyes glanced at the Rolex on his wrist, "Less than an hour so I suggest you use what time you do have to shower." Damian turned to curse silently and sped walked his way towards the elevator.

"Before you scoff I'll remind you that had you actually done what we agreed upon instead of trying to work around it by patrolling all night, you'd be well rested."

Damian made his way upstairs silently fuming to himself, he'd been dreading this day for as long as he could remember, he'd had a college-level education since before middle school, and to pretend to need it for the sake of public appearances felt like a waste of time to the young hero, he spent as long as he could in the shower, letting the steam and near scalding water distract him from the soon to be headache that was Gotham U.

The black turtleneck he threw on was more for practicality than fashion despite looking quite good in it, he was really just thinking about wearing something he couldn't bleed through, the cut he'd gained on his latest outing as the Boy wonder had been sloppily patched up in his haste to get ready, it wasn't like him to drag his feet in such a manner, but the youngest Wayne was beyond unmotivated.

Damian made sure to give Ace and Titus a goodbye scratch under their chins as he left, he offered Alfred a wave and leisurely walked to the first car he saw, a shiny black 2022 BMW, he turned the seat warmer on high and flicked the radio on, settling into his routine was just starting to curb his sour attitude when a name popped up on the touchscreen, "Jonathan Kent, why are you calling me so early in the day? Have I not suffered enough?"

He could hear the taller male's laughter in his voice when he responded, "Very funny Damian, you're still coming to pick me up right?" The green-eyed man felt his face drop, he checked his mirrors before whipping the car back around towards his friend's apartment. "Of course, although I still feel it pointless seeing as you can you know, fly." Jon sucked his teeth at his friend, "Psh yeah right, I heard you do that U-Turn, lemme' find out that was illegal and I'm telling your dad."

"I can always leave you where you stand."

"Just kiddin'! Jeez, you're more grumpy than usual, Do you really think it's gonna be that bad?" Damian sighed through his nose, not bothering to respond, "Be ready to jump in because I'm not stopping the car."

"You're messing with me, right? Damian?? Hello?"

#onmyyan #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere dc imagine #endless again #yandere dc #yandere Damian Wayne #yandere jon kent

[someonetaughtmetowrite]

The Bats on a Ski Trip

Jason’s the guy who simultaneously trips people (Tim) on the hills while also giving little kids and especially nervous folks some gentle advice. He spends majority of the stay hiking around while a small but mighty gathering of wide-eyed, grateful children slide after him, begging him to join in snowball fights and snowman making and the like. And how could he say no to all those puppy eyes?

Tim takes this opportunity to sleep in well past noon (“It’s the warmest time of the day anyway. Go away Steph”). Despite being a native Gothamite, this small man was not built for this cold (“You look like a miserable marshmallow, Replacement.” “I’m wearing twelve jackets and I’m STILL cold, f*ck off”). He’s hopeless at skiing (“You might have more luck if you took off a couple layers-“ “Do you WANT me to die, Dick?”). He spends majority of the time in the lobby by the fire, switching out coffee for hot cocoa (but still drinking at least 5 cups a day, of course), and catching up on some leisurely reading while cuddling with Bernard (of course Tim brought him, and how could Bruce say no?)

Steph is having the BEST TIME OF HER LIFE! She is very much a public safety hazard, shredding the snow, and often going slightly off the path (“YOU FELL INTO A SNOW DRIFT AND DISTURBED A GRIZZLY’S DEN!!!” “Yeah, but the gram has never seen better.” “F@!$?!-“). However, she’ll wind down eventually and spend the evenings cuddling with Cass while the family gathers round the fire.

Cass quietly takes in the winter wonderland, getting up early for admire the way the dawn lights up the snow. She’ll try snowboarding (which she has a natural knack for, of course), but she’ll end up back at the lodge, taking quiet strolls with Bruce or sometimes Jason or Duke. They encourage her to play in the snow like a child, making angels and building snowmen. They love seeing her light up and live a little.

Duke loves snowboarding, but one can only take so much abuse from Jason and Steph before throwing in the towel. He spends majority of his time with Cass or just hiking by himself, enjoying a winter not permanently tinged Gotham Gray. It may be freezing, but he gets all warm and fuzzy when the family gathers, and he’s welcomed as if he’s always been and is meant to be there.

Alfred, much like Tim, spends majority of his time catching up on his reading and enjoying the fire. He also dabbles in photography, and collects a lovely assortment of photos featuring his family at peace in a winter wonderland. However, the kids coerce him onto the ski hill at long last, and let me tell you, they know they shouldn’t be all that shocked, but when Alfred FLIES down the hill like it’s second nature, and then stops with a sniff and strolls back inside like it was nothing, they can’t help but lose their jaws in the snow.

Damian may have braved many harsh climates and training exercises with the League of Shadows, but skiing and snowboarding prove difficult. He almost tears Steph’s and Jason’s heads off in frustration as they ski circles around him. Bruce and Duck finally step in, gently coaching him through it and accompanying him down the hill. He won’t admit it, but he kind of really loves cuddling with his family by the fire at the end of the day.

Dick is in love with the snow. A natural skiier and snowboarder just like Cass, he spends plenty of time racing Steph and Jason while also trying to stop them from killing anybody. However, he takes special interest in skating, and ends up by the lake more often than not, often with Cass and sometimes with Bruce, Damian, and Duke. He insists on herding everyone downstairs to sit together, handing out hot cocoa and blankets and cuddling Damian whether he likes it or not (he does).

Babs loved skiing before the loss of her legs, but she doesn’t let it get her down. She loves watching Cass be a kid, Tim and Bernard be lovey dovey, and stealing away Dick for…holiday fun. She chats with Alfred a lot, and if she thought she knew some secrets, she’s shockingly humbled after a long rant from an Alfred slightly drunk on spiked eggnog. She loosely braids Cass’s and Steph’s hair as they all dog pile on the couch, smiling as Dick cuddles her and Damian closer.

Bruce is just happy to see his kids happy. He doesn’t necessarily hate nor love the snow, but he does love spending time with his kids without having to worry about Gotham or WE (he pulled a few strings and has several leaguers and close friends taking care of things while he’s gone). He loves watching them all be kids again, without the trauma and the villains always lurking around a shadowy corner. In this winter wonderland, they are all made new, innocent and wonder-full, and for once he has no past to hold him back from letting them in and loving them.

🦇❄️

#I think they just need a nice vacation #they should have a nice holiday #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #duke thomas #tim drake #tim x bernard #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #blurb #bringontheweirdworld #dc

[meduarts]

Finally! (One shot)

Pairing(s): Timothy Drake-Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Characters: Timothy Drake-Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and Original Female Character.

Summary: She was adamant to help her friend someone perfect for her. She saw her opportunity and gave them a little nudge. Thus, it begins. Will it finally work?

A/n: Inspired by my short prompt.

It was a regular busy morning for Graciela Kirovan the best barista in town, it was her unofficial reigning title for 5 years apparently. She didn't know how she landed herself with a coffee shop that she owned and somehow her shop brought so many couples together. Last time she checked, she didn't have any magic nor was she a meta.

She counted exactly 10 couples who were happily married that came to thank her for founding this coffee shop that led to their fateful encounter. She remembered those couples and their first meetings. She had even befriended them and they even invited her to their weddings.

It was the best feeling, she felt like cupid and her confidence rose. However, there's one thing that irked her and made her think that she had lost her mojo.

Ah! The subject of her thoughts came right on time to her shop. A beautifully petite woman came with a frazzled look. She gave the beautiful woman in front of her one of her warm smiles.

"Good Morning, Mari! The usuals?" She asked with a wink.

The woman, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, gave her a weak smile and nodded. It appears to be that she had a late night with her design project. Graciela had befriended the woman when she had first arrived in Gotham, looking for a place to have good coffee and perhaps a place to find inspiration for her designs.

Marinette had given her high praises for her brews and honestly, it made the cafe owner blush a few times. Marinette had confided that she was new in town and had no friends, well Graciela wasn't going to let that happen and offered her own hand in friendship.

Graciela then learned that Marinette is a famously known designer, however, preferred to hide behind her designer name to avoid attention. She learned that the girl came from Paris, France after the downfall of a villain that had held Paris under an emotional lockdown. That was news for the Gothamite, she didn't know that Paris has villains and superheroes.

Marinette then showed the fights that had occurred in France and introduced Graciela to the Parisian Superheroes. Ladybug was awesome. She became a fan. She would let Ladybug step on her and she would say thank you. Yes.

Anyways, Graciela then learned many things about Marinette's reason to move to Gotham. Learning about how her former friends treated her had Graciela's blood boiling. Since then, she had become fast friends with the designer to the point where she even let her stay after closing hours to let her immerse herself in her sketchbook.

"Thank you so much, Graciela. You have no idea how stressful this week had been for me." Marinette groaned as she roled her neck, the barista could even hear a few pops that made her wince.

"Ooof sounds like I need to up the caffeine. Go take a seat. I'll be sure to bring your orders when it is finished."

"Thanks Graciela you're an angel."

"I get that a lot." She winked and watched the sleep-deprived designer wobble her way to her usual seat. As she shout out the order another regular customer came to the counter in the same exact sleep-deprived state as Marinette was.

Wow, Deja vu much?

"Hey, Tim. Late night?" Graciela asked with a concerned smile.

"You have no idea." He whined and if it weren't for proper decorum, Graciela would bet her savings that Tim would collapse in front of her cashier right there and then. Graciela's eyes moved to where Marinette was sitting and a brilliant thought occurred in her head. Remember the thing that irked her so much that she thought he had lost her mojo of bringing people together?

Yeah, when Graciela got to know of Marinette, the girl had confided to the barista how sucky her love life had been. It has been Graciela's personal project to find someone for her lovely friend and so far she hadn't found one. However, Tim here would do nicely! How had she not considered him all this time is a big question mark to her! She looked back at the sleep-deprived man and winced to herself.

Okay, she knew why hadn't thought of him. If they were ever to actually date one another, it would become a disaster. Two caffeine-ridden zombies do not sound like a good couple match, but she digresses. Perhaps, it could work.

The shop was indeed filled with people and Marinette's table has one empty seat. Coincidence? SHE. THINKS. NOT!

Is she going to pull her famous cupid hands to nudge her favorite sleep-deprived people to meet? Yes. Yes, she will. Will she regret ever introducing them to each other? Probably. Will one of Tim's brothers blame her for actually finding Tim a perfect soulmate? Most Definitely.

Does she care? NOPE.

"There's an open seat right over there, but you gotta ask the lady if she's willing to share. I got a feeling you'll meet a fellow brethren there." Graciela offered while pointing at Marinette's table.

Tim narrowed his eyes, but didn't complain and nodded, "Thanks, Grace. Can you-"

"I'll send your orders to your table. Don't sweat it. Go on, before you pass out standing again."

Tim muttered something before wobbling his way to the seat that she had mentioned. Graciela watched with knowing eyes as Tim said something to Mari and she replied with a gesture, her eyes never leaving her sketchbook. Tim finally took a seat and takes out his laptop.

Graciela giggled, she gave them about a month or two before the two decided to date. She's looking forward to seeing them falling in love with one another. After all, her coffee shop is famous for getting fated lovers together! HER MOJO IS BACK, BABY!

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"Here we are, two extra strong Golden Ambrosia, a Pain Au Chocolat for Marinette and Madeline for Tim! Enjoy, you two!" Graciela happily announced as she served them their orders. The two shared a look at their preferred beverage and shared a smile. Graciela watched them with a well-hidden squeal, 'It's happening!!!!' She thought excitedly. "I'll let you two be. Got to run a shop after all!"

Marinette finally noticed her seatmate across her and shyly reached over for her drink. The guy looked as frazzled and zombie-like as she was and she could definitely empathize with him. "Rough, night?" She asked with a quirked brow.

The guy snorted as he took a sip of his drink as well, relishing the energizing nectar going through his body. "You have no idea." He muttered tiredly. "I've been on a strict caffeine diet with no sleep for 3 days straight and my work is nowhere done."

"Mood." She nodded in agreement. "I've been on my caffeine diet with no sleep for 5 days straight and my commission is nowhere done as well. I feel like my blood has been slowly transitioning into coffee and the only thing that could refuel me is this sweet nectar."

The guy looked at Marinette tearfully and was dabbing his eyes with a tissue. "I've found my brethren." He sniffled dramatically and reached forward with a fist bump.

"Brethren." She sniffled back and gives him a fist bump. They look at each other in silence before bursting out in giggles and snorts. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Timothy Drake." He nodded. With that, they stare at each other before going back to their respective activity. Every once in a while, one of them would look up and start a conversation, they'd share stories about their respective job and work, then they would continue their work in silence again.

It was easy and peaceful, at one point they finished what they were working on for today and struck up another conversation. Marinette shared about her life in Gotham and the differences between Paris and Gotham. Tim would then share about his siblings and the things that he would do in his daily life. They then began to argue about theories and unsolved cases, a side hobby that the two happened to like.

Through all this Graciela had watched both of them with a secretive smile. Happy to see Marinette acting so carefree with a stranger and glad that Tim could talk without feeling uncomfortable with a new face. Everything is going very smoothly and the barista pats herself on the back for giving them a little nudge to sit together.

'Good job, me. I can hear the wedding bells already.' She smiled stupidly at herself.

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It was nearing closing hours and when Graciela look at her new favorite pet project they were huddled together in front of Tim's laptop. They were sharing Tim's earphones and every once in a while the two would discuss with one another, sometimes they agree sometimes they'd disagree, and then they would go back to watching at Tim's laptop. Graciela decided that she would finish cleaning up her shop before she has to sadly interrupts them.

After making sure that everything is spotless, Graciella moved to her seat and clears her throat softly. "I'm sorry, my two favorite zombies. But I'm closing for today." She said with a sympathetic smile.

Marinette gasped in surprise, "Merde! I didn't realize that I'd been here that long! I am so sorry Graciela! Time flows so fast here!"

Tim was equally surprised but for another reason. He had spent his day talking to this woman that she had met and he had never felt this much fun talking with another person! It is just like they say, time flies when you're having fun. "I'm sorry too, Graciela. I swear that I thought I was only here for a couple hours, not the whole day!" He stated while looking at his phone to check the time, sure enough, it was past dinner time already and he had missed a few calls from Alfred and his siblings. "I'm sorry but I have to go! I've overstayed my welcome already."

"Oh nonsense, Tim! You know you can come here and stay here as long as you want! It's just, today I do have some plans for myself." Graciela waved off his concern.

"Oh, thank you, Graciela. Again, you are an Angel!" Marinette complimented her as she packs up her stuff. Tim was ready to go before he looked back at Marinette with a calculative look. Graciela watches with a knowing look as he took a napkin and scribbled down what Graciela hopes is his number.

"Hey, uh... Marinette? I had a lot of fun talking to you, would you mind if we meet again sometime for coffee like this? If you don't here's my number." He offered the napkin to her. " I-I mean if you don't want to that's fine as well!"He retracted as he scratch his cheek nervously.

The designer stared at the napkin dumbly for a while and started blushing as she shyly reached for the napkin. "I'd love to. U-um...I'll text you sometime tonight?" She asked meekly.

Tim gave her a huge smile, glad that she reached over for the napkin. "I'll be waiting." He answered, he left some money on the table not bothering to wait for any change, and left the shop with a huge grin on his face.

Graciela huffed at him but looked at Marinette with a knowing grin. "Make sure you text him, Mari." She wiggled her eyebrows with a smug smile. Marinette made a squeaky sound as her face became so red that Graciella almost thought that she could combust soon.

The designer grumbled incoherently under her breath, left some money on the table, kissed Graciela's cheek, and left the shop after shouting out her thanks. The shop owner then noticed that both of them had left ridiculous amounts of money on her table before huffing to herself.

"Rich people."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time flows as Graciela watches the two spend more time together. Her coffee shop began their constant place to meet for their 'not-a-date' date, Graciela would watch them sometimes have coffee and work together or actually hang out together without working.

She would listen to Marinette gushing out about Tim's intelligence and how solving cold cases has been so much fun and one of their activities in their 'not-a-date' date, she listens as her friend would swoon about the times Tim would give his amazing smiles and his cute snorts when they have their banter together, she smiles as her friend would go soft as she talks about the time they spent together in her shop.

Just like the shop owner had predicted, they eventually dated after two months of pining for one another. Luckily, she had been there to witness the hilarious moment.

It was after the shop closing hours and Graciela had joined the duo, silently watching them in their famous theory discussion. Marinette was animatedly explaining her thoughts while Tim was watching her fondly. At one point, Graciela had skillfully and secretly taken out her phone to record the moment.

"And that's why I think that the father is a very obvious suspect in the murder! Don't you think so, Tim?" She looked up to find Tim with a ridiculous fond smile. Now, they were both staring at each other, lost in a romantic silence. Graciela wanted to squeal but she knew she had to keep quiet because she felt like something good is about to happen.

She was right.

"I'm in love with you." Tim breathed out dreamily. Marinette's eyes widened and she flushed furiously.

"W-whaaa-"

When Tim finally noticed what he had said he blushed furiously too. "Crap- Uh...That's not how I want you to hear my confession. I-i swear I had everything planned out! I was going to take you for a dinner and I have this gift ready for you and- shit...I messed up." He rambled nervously. Marinette watched him fumble through his words and her smile became equally as soft as Tim's had been.

"I'm in love with you too." She answered and gently placed her hand on his to calm Tim down from his tirade. The man in question looks at her in shock before grinning widely.

"You do?" Marinette nodded and smiled shyly at him. Tim relaxed his tense shoulder and smiled warmly in return.

"FINALLY!" Their moment was interrupted by an elated giggle. They finally remembered that Graciela had been there the whole time and had been recording the confession as well. "I'm going to play this during your wedding ceremony! Make sure to invite me, okay??? Oh, I'm so happy for you two!!! My favorite Caffeine Zombies ship is sailing!!!!" She giggled excitedly and laughed at their blushing faces.

It was a very happy moment.

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After that momentous day, they began to date. A year later, Marinette came to her with a piece of very exciting news! The night before had been their 1 year anniversary and Tim had proposed! Graciela squealed excitedly and hugged her best friend.

"I'm so so soooo happy for you Marinette!" She cried as she hugged her friend tightly.

"Thank you, Grace. If it hadn't been for your coffee shop. We wouldn't have met each other." Marinette whispered thankfully as she returned the hug equally tight. "Here's your invite, by the way. I'm also asking you to be my maid of honor, would you like that?" She asked unsurely.

"BITCH, I'd love to! I'm going to have to make a speech right? Cuz, honey do I have a speech for you! This is going to be so much fun! I'm so excited!" Graciela jumps around her best friend in excitement. "My best friend is going to get married! AHHH" She squealed loudly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the Maid of Honor's speech!" Dick Grayson happily introduces the exciting barista. She walked to her stage and winked at the happily married couple.

"What a great and joyous day today. My name is Graciela Kirovan and I am the owner of the famously known Cupid Cafe in Gotham City. And I have to say these two have been my magnum opus in my work as the cupid barista. Now, I assure you I have no magic and I am no meta, but somehow my cafe has been a hotspot for fated couples to meet and Marinette and Tim is one of the cutest, dorkiest, sweetest couple ever." Marinette laughed as she cuddled up to his new husband. Graciela smiled warmly at them before continuing her speech.

"I became Marinette's friend when she first arrived in Gotham, and I was adamant to find her the perfect someone once I heard about her disastrous love adventure. Tim was one of my regulars, a very eccentric one because at one point he had managed to pass out standing in front of my cashier and I was this close to calling the ambulance." The audience laughed at her exasperated tone. Marinette had laughed as well and Tim tried to hide on his wife's shoulder.

"I remembered the day when I gave them a nudge to sit together, I had my doubts at first. I mean, two sleep-deprived zombies that have the same concerningly caffeine addiction as a couple? I don't know if the world is ready yet for the chaos that I'm sure they would bring. But then I watched them together that day, I saw them happily talking to each other, and I know my cupid arrow has struck once again." Marinette looked at Tim and lovingly kissed his cheek. Tim then returned the kiss with the same amount of love. It was so cute.

"I watch them pine one another and it was miserable," Graciela whined dramatically and winked at the couple.

" But I was happy. I listened to how Marinette would gush about their theory discussion, she would sigh dreamily as she told me how cute Tim's giggle was, and I know that it was a matter of time before the two would date." Marinette's had turned so red and Graciela could see the teasing grin that Tim was sent to her. Graciela smirked at what was about to transpire.

"And you know, ladies and gentlemen, I was there when Tim had confessed! If you look at the screen right there, Dick would play the recording that I took during that monumental moment!" With that, she finger-gunned Dick, and the video capturing the confession began to play.

The audience laughed at how Tim had confessed, Jason was wolf-whistling at the video and Dick was laughing his ass off. Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle were both watching the video with warm expressions, and so was Alfred. Damian had a little smirk and he knew that he has new blackmail material for his brother. Cass and Duke were watching with soft smiles, while Stephanie and Barbara were sending teasing grins to Tim.

Graciela chuckled before clearing her throat and the audience focused back on her, "It was amazing, watching their love grow. I'm so happy for both of them. I know that Marinette deserves this more than anyone else, because finally, finally, someone takes notice of how amazing she is. Finally, she founds happiness. Finally, she has someone to lean on. Finally, they are together. To Marinette and Tim, I hope your love is everlasting, and I hope that every day of your new life is filled with adventure and love. I hope that you are blessed with a long marriage and I hope that you still come to my cafe and order the Golden Ambrosia, because I know that no one else would order them but you two." Graciela finished as she raises her wine for the toast.

Marinette looked at her with a warm smile and mouthed 'thank you' to her. Graciela went over to her table and they both hugged. Graciela whispered her congratulations before taking her seat. She watches both of them share a sweet and loving kiss, professing their love to one another. She smiled to herself, her heart warm at the picture-perfect couple.

'Finally.'

#maritim #timmari #maribat #tim x marinette #timari #maribat fanfic #maribat fandom #maribat fanfiction #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x ml #mlb x batfam #ml x batfam #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #fluff

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Moonflower

Warning: I mean kidnapping, but it’s more funny than angsty, also slight Yandere vibes torwards the end  Word count:  exactly 2222 (nice) Summary: It was a rather usual evening for you, a Gala, trying to avoid the mayor, getting kidnapped- what more could you want from your night?

This was requeste from a  phenomenal anon: Okay this is really silly, but cute to me for some reason. But could you write, like, reader is kidnapped by the Riddler as a hostage for Batman. But whether they wanna just mess with him, or if they like him, or whatever, for some reason, reader kisses Riddler. On the lips. Idk, I just think the idea is cute as well as whatever Riddler's reaction would be. I hope you like it ☺

Part 2 - Masquerade Part 3 - Magical/Misery/Massacre

You were almost thankful when the light in the ballroom of the city-hall flickered off and fog filled the area that was now only lit up by the lights from outside. The Gala you had been attending, one of the almost monthly charity gala's that some rich-guy (this time the mayor himself) held to make himself look better and to keep close contacts with all the other rich-guys in the city, was so boring that you were minutes away from crashing it yourself. Admittedly, your father was also an all-time favorite Gala host, but he had the excuse of having to keep face with his "side-business" and his parties were often at least somewhat entertaining. But this one? Horrible. Of course, you had somehow managed to be the only one "available" to go, so, not only were you extremely annoyed, but you were also completely alone in a room of rich old couples that tried to lick Bruce Wayne's eldest daughters, possible the next leader of Wayne inc. and one of the most prominent and appeared people in the Wayne-family (as the only one who wasn't dressed up every night and went fighting), boots. You had to admit that you could understand them somehow. Other than your siblings and your dad -who all kept it pretty low with the media- you were on every second tabloid, at every second event and on every second talk-show. You had quickly become the new face of the name Wayne, "proudly" sharing the place with your father. So yeah, you were more available than the rest of your relatives and with ever appearance in the media, they thought more and more that they knew about your opinions and the way you think. Some times you regretted your decision to keep away from the vigilante lifestyle to focus on keeping the Wayne-name alive. You couldn't quite remember when you made that choice, but you knew that as a girl, your father didn't want to train you any further than self-defence, because he was scared you'd get hurt, then Dick came along and was around your age, but still got to train and fight with your dad. Back then you'd been furious about that, but whenever he actually got hurt you felt like it was maybe the right thing to do. Then Dick left and in your anger at your dad for just picking up the next best kid and basically forgetting your sibling, even though you soon warmed up to Jason and accepted him as a second brother, you started focusing on school more and actually started to enjoy conversing with the business-people at Gala's about the news and the market. And somehow, after Jason died and you planned to take Wayne inc. away from your father as revenge for letting your brother die (a plan that you soon let go off when you recognize how much it actually had hurt him), you were somehow in the position of the heir of the Wayne empire, even though at some point -you were pretty sure- your dad asked you if you wanted to be trained like your other siblings to become a vigilante yourself, you were now on the way to business. That way was usually pretty bearable, but completely alone on a Gala that was like an exact copy of all the other ones, you would rather be stuck in a 24-hour business meeting. So, yes, when the Party was cut short by a villain attack you were probably a bit too happy. You heard the panicked calls and shouts of the other guests and quickly activated the bat-alarm ("Cool name dad, thanks for that") that was placed on the back of the necklace you wore (you had many other necklaces that included it too because in modern society you couldn't wear the same jewelry too often). Deciding not to risk waiting for them (and hoping that you could maybe make it to the small dinner down the street to eat something before one of your brothers (most likely Damian who would cling to you every time the two of you were together (even if it was more than the two of you)) found and dragged you back to the manor to check you over), you grabbed the skirt of your rather heavy dress (of course today was the day you decided to wear one of your bigger dresses), pulled it up to your upper thigh and quickly rushed to were you remembered the nearest exit to the Veranda to be. When the cold evening air hit your face you let out a small sigh. Very nice, you thought and started to walk towards the gate, when you felt a sharp pain pierce through your neck, immediately followed by numbness flowing through your whole body. "For real?" you managed to mumble before your legs lost their strength and you tumbled over, not sure if you even hit the ground before you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were almost sure that you'd be back in your home. The last few times you got taken, your family had been quick enough to get you before you even entered any hideaway. But you weren't home. You woke up laying on a rather slim matt on the floor of a small cage. You looked down at yourself to see that you were still wearing the dress that you'd worn earlier and that, even though the gaps between the bars wasn't large enough anyway, you couldn't really escape on your own in that. Damn modern fashion. When you had scanned the area around you you widened your radius to the hall your small personal jail was located in. It was literally just a big, empty warehouse, no-one in sight. "You know," you shouted into the emptiness, hoping someone would hear you, "kidnapping me is really uninspired, you aren't even the first one to do it this month." You sighed when no answer came and instinctively put your hand up to your neck to play with the necklace. Your breath got caught in your throat when you realized it wasn't there. Suddenly a spotlight flashed over the roof of the room, illuminating something that was hanging at the highest point. You didn't need to be close to recognizing your piece of jewelry. "Tell me, Miss Wayne," a voice suddenly filled the room and you started to look around, not sure where it came from, "why does a businesswoman like you have her own personal dog-whistle for batman?" You swallowed hard but kept your composure. "For many reasons," you started in the most confident voice you could manage, "I am in quite of a demand." "So is the mayor and I don't see him having one," the voice got closer and finally a figure stepped close enough for you to make out. You still couldn't see who it was though. "Well, maybe you just didn't see it, maybe it's in his shoe or something." "I don't think so," he stepped closer and you finally recognized the figure and his outfit, but you couldn't even mumble Riddler before he continued: "I studied all the kidnapping patterns of the most important figures in Gotham and somehow you're the only one who the bat always gets to in a matter of minutes." Okay, it's worse than I thought. Time to buy dad some time. "Okay first off, thanks for calling me one of the most important Gothamites," you said, playfully brushing your hair behind your shoulder, "and second if you really know that he has his eyes on me, shouldn't you be worried? I mean I'd think you would have figured out that there's a tracker in it by now." Of course, you knew that he knew and you also knew that he probably had some way or another to block it, but the longer he talked, the sooner your dad would find you. "You're not so stupid," he said, stepping closer to you, somehow already standing in front of your cage, "I've been watching you for a while now and we both know that you're just trying to stall for time, my dear." "You know, it's kinda creepy to say that you watched me. I mean, sure, you're the evil guy here, but still. Stalking?" He chuckled a bit but seemingly ignored what you said. You had to pull other levers, you realized when he turned around. "Don't you still want to know why I have my own Bat-whistle?" you shouted a bit too loud, but effectively managed to get him back to you. "Why would you tell me?" he asked suspiciously. "Well, I guess you want to know that and I really want to know what you think you could gain out of kidnapping me, so you tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine," you winked at him, mischievously. "Hmm," he eyed you, "fine. Even though it's quite obvious isn't it? You're the perfect moonflower for my bat-trap," he said, raising his hand to just slightly hover in front of you. For a second it felt like there was some kind of static energy between you, but you tried to ignore it. "I guess it's my turn now," you breathed out, ignoring the weird mood around you, "As you probably know, the bat has a very weird, honestly with a somewhat strange undertone, relationship with my dad. In exchange for some, uh, financing as my father put it, he agreed to keep his eye out for me a bit more. It's just the result of a parent's protectiveness and business." You weren't really lying, even though the way you said it clearly gave off a very different picture than what was actually the case, but it seemed like the man in front of you bought it. Shouldn't he be here by now? "Well, I guess the reason he protects you a little bit more than the rest of the city is irrelevant as long as he is searching you," he shrugged, seemingly satisfied by the answer and at the same time not really happy about it. You couldn't risk him losing interest again. "There's another secret you might want to know," you whispered ominously, gaining his attention for a second time that night. Before he could investigate your sentence, your hands slipped through the gaps between the bars and grabbed the Riddler's collar, pulling him flush against the poles and crashing your mouth with his. At the feeling of your soft lips against his, he immediately froze, fixed in position like a statue. When you needed to take a breath again, you pulled back, smoothing your dress down and fixing your hair, the man in front of you still completely stiff. "I should probably tell you that the tracker in my necklace isn't the only one on me, you should've really taken my advice and checked the shoes," you smirked and winked again, the Riddler's gaze fixed on you with eyes as wide as dinner plates when the wall behind you crashed open and your family came to your rescue. "Until next time," you shrugged at him when your cage was broken open and Nightwing picked you up and carried you out, from what you could see before you were out of reach, the man you just kissed never moved.

[Bonus]

It had been a fairly long day at Wayne Inc. and the suit you were wearing was starting to be annoying and you wanted nothing more than to peel out of these clothes and get into your jogging pants and one of Jason's oversized T-shirts. So, as quickly as possible, you rushed to your room, ignoring Damian's plead to join him on a walk with Titus, only to stop in your steps after you had opened the door. Your (alarm-wired mind you) window stood open and allowed a cold breeze to fill your room. For a second you contemplated calling someone to check it out, but your curiosity got the best of you. You quietly closed the door and sneaked over to the window with the plan to check if someone was outside, but when you stood in front of it, your eyes landed on a small package that stood on your windowsill. You looked around again, before closing the window (and checking that the alarm wiring was still intact) and sitting down on your bed to open the small box. It was packed neatly with a grey wrapping and a Y/F/C ribbon, making you especially careful when opening it. Inside was a perfume bottle that took your breath away. It was gorgeous. The Cap was adorned by a glass flower that was completely white and round, but other than that there was nothing on it that would give away the contents of the bottle. Having been briefed about poisonous packages by not only Wayne inc. safety regulators but also at least every member of your family at least once, you didn't spray any of the perfume, instead, laying it back into the box. It was then that you noticed the card in it that had the same colour as the inside of the box, making it easy to overlook. You took it out and turned it around to read the words that were written on it with the neatest font you've ever seen. Until next time my Moonflower...

#Riddler #Riddler x reader #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #batsis #batsis!reader #batfamily #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing

[pinkiepiebones]

Mostly Harmless. Quick Zsasz fic. No betas we post stream of consciousness like men.

There’s these “neutral ground” places in Old Gotham, repurposed underground subway stations, where the misunderstood sorts, particularly those without established hideouts, can rest when the flying rodent population in the city proper gets to be too much. No fighting amongst the scum in the neutral ground. Take that shit topside.

The first time someone sees Zsasz posted up in neutral territory, it’s jarring. Zsasz’s been operating in Gotham maybe twenty years, and his body shows it. He’s a walking mass of scar tissue, each slice symbolising a Gothamite he shuffled off this mortal plane. There are very few still around who doubt that those’re real kills. Guy means business. He’s an older guy, scrawny, but the kind of scrawny where you can just tell he’s all muscle. The kind of scrawny that, if you were stupid enough to shove him into a locker, he’d rip the door off it’s hinges, then beat you to death with it, then hack you up with it, then stuff your hacked up parts in that locker, then repair the door and reattach it.

Or something like that.

But he’s mostly harmless, and first-timers don’t get that. They don’t get that he’s choosy about his kills and that only in the direst situations does he kill without surveying the victim first. Guy’s got a kinda savior complex or somethin’.

I was down in one of the neutral zones when a two-bit wannabe encountered Zsasz for the first time. Zsasz usually doesn’t spend long in the zone, usually just patches up his latest tallies with the free medical supplies stached down there (one of the big-shots, probably Harley, thinks it’s important to keep everyone from bleeding to death). Then he heads back up for more “salvation.” A few times he’d stop down there to shave his head or do some pre-murder warm up stretches. This time, he was drapes over a beat-up old recliner, reading. I was holding an old radio to my ear, trying to listen to play by plays. Sometimes we like to take little breaks. “Self care” I think it’s called.

Anyway, a kid, some petty carjacker or shoplifter, he comes through, obviously trying to build some clout by hcrowing about his ill deeds. And he bumps into the chair Zsasz is lounging on, gotta be intentional, because the nudge makes Zsasz drop his book. The punk says something, not an apology of course. I notice a few other scum duck behind furniture that’s been dragged down here.

Zsasz’s voice is always a shock with how soft and light it is.

”You made me lose my place.”

”Whaddya gonna do about it, old man?”

And Zsasz is on his feet, he moves like a genuine predator. The punk is frozen, and since I missed the fight results thanks to this kid’s shit-talking, I toss Zsasz a knife. I could put some respect-fear in the kid, but the kinda fear Zsasz puts in people is a whole different beast. I’m direct. He lingers.

So Zsasz catches the knife and flips it open and everyone’s got their hands over their eyes but they’re watching through their fingers as Zsasz uses the end of the blade to tip the punk’s chin up so he can get a good look at him.

Zsasz grins like a car salesman. ”Do be more careful next time, okay?” He flips the knife shut and gives the punk a little pat on the head before picking up the book he dropped. The kid stumbles all over himself to get the fuck out as fast as he can.

Zsasz looks at my knife again, and grins again in that sleazy meancing way and looks at me with shark eyes.

“Oh Waylon, this blade of yours is pretty dull. It would be absolute torture to flay a little zombie with this. Well, not torture for me. You know what I mean?”

He tosses it back to me. I don’t really need a knife, but it’s never a bad idea to carry. I know he could have disemboweled the disrespectful punk with his book had he been so inclined anyway. The knife was part of the show, or something like that.

“I know what you mean, you deranged fuck.”

Zsasz chuckles and flops back down on the chair. “Someday I will reapholster this armchair with your skin, Waylon. But not today.”

”I know, Vic. I know.”

See? Mostly harmless.

#victor zsasz

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 9

“Asshole cop.” Jason grumbled as they walked back towards the truck, and Steph giggled wildly, her lipstick only just cleaned up from the wipes she kept in her bag, eyes dancing as they made their way through the crowded Saturday night boardwalk, said asshole cop glaring behind them. Sure, they maybe got a little too into making out on the bench, but Jason had been so thrilled by her reference, and Steph was just…absolutely in love with Jason. So. Y’know. One thing led to another and Jason’s hand had crept up her skirt while she’d straddled his lap…

And then Officer O’Grady had blown his whistle. Right in their ears.

“I agree…sorry he got your bad side…” Jason shot her a grateful smile, and she kissed his cheek softly, all sympathy. The explosion when he was fifteen had ruptured his eardrum, and high-pitched sounds bothered the hell out of him on his left side still, which was why his helmet had specialized protective ear guards, and he wore sound-reducing plugs with his domino. It…was perhaps one of the few things that Bruce and Jason had bonded over; Bruce used similar ones for his own cowl, and had adapted Jason’s with regard to the minor hearing loss.

“Eh…At least it didn’t make my tinnitus start up. All he had to do was cough or somethin’…” Steph agreed, and rubbed his back soothingly, smiling as Jason squeezed her shoulder and kissed her temple. As much as she’d liked the idea of the Ferris Wheel…O’Grady was following, she could sense his eyes on her ass, and evidently, so could Jason; he raised his free arm to flip the cop off and hugged her a little closer, arm sliding down to wrap around her waist. Not to grope her, not that Steph would have minded…but she smiled, snuggling in close anyway. It was possessive without making her the possession.

Makes Dean look like the pervert he was. Creep. And Jason and I are what…three years apart? She made a few mental calculations and nodded to herself, satisfied; they were right at three years and two months apart, and while she and Tim were the same age…she had more in common with Jay. More shared life experience, too…

“Babe? You okay there? You look like you’re a million miles away…” Jason murmured, pausing at the entrance to the carpark, and Steph shook herself, smiling up at him.

“Yeah…sorry, was just…thinking about things.”

“…Good things? Bad things?”

“A little bad, then a little good. I promise, I’m okay…just…maybe more tired than I realized.” She winced at that, but Jason just chuckled, warm and sweet.

“I don’t doubt it, we were both up early. As fun as the bench was…how about we head back and get some rest, hmm?”

“Yes please…Um…do…you mind if I ask you to take me home?” His eyes softened at that, dark green with the night, and he kissed her softly, guiding her back over the gravel with care.

“Not at all, sweetheart; besides, I don’t put out on the first date.” Steph burst into giggles at that, and Jason snickered, helping her back up into the truck. He hopped over the hood, every inch the reckless Bat-boy, which made Steph break into more giggles. Joining her in the cab, he swooped in for a kiss that Steph gladly gave, and carefully got them out of the parking space, bitching a little about idiot tourists and shitty drivers as he made his way to the road again. “Goddamn fuckin’ cop could be over here clearing this mess out…”

“At least Penguin’s men have it well-lit again; the city didn’t do shit about that.” Steph growled out, suddenly feeling far more charitable to Cobblepot and his crew. Whatever else Oswald might have once been, fatherhood seemed to have mellowed him immensely, and his mostly-legit wealth was going into things like lighting the Mile, same with Bruce; hell, Bruce had even sent baby gifts, both has Wayne and Batman, since Cobblepot had largely dropped out of the Rogues’ with the birth of his daughter.

“Yeah, I think B thanked him for it the other day, Barb was shocked on the comms because they actually had a polite conversation; he asked about Robin, B asked about Tracey and little Eugenie.”

“Awwwww…I’ll get a purple penguin for her when I go out on patrol tomorrow.” Jason chuckled at that, and Steph relaxed into his shoulder, fine with taking the back roads home to her apartment. Here too, the little improvements had made things better for everyone, not just the wealthy Gothamites; lights brightened the once gloomy alleys, and people, feeling safer, had begun cleaning them up. Dumpsters had been moved to the backs of the buildings, and play areas built, full of beat up toys. Old sawhorses and a few semi-straight boards sporting carefully repaired flowerpots full of cheap herbs and little flowers leaned against the brownstones, painted bright with cheap acrylic and leftover housepaint.

Graffiti artists, once the bane of the neighborhoods, had been given purpose and permission to express themselves via the Wayne Urban Art grants, and now murals of every color covered the once ugly cement walls. Meanwhile the old abandoned lots, once ignored by the city, had been bought up by Wayne Industries and given to the neighborhoods as small leisure areas, with young saplings and soft grass and little free gardens, tended carefully by gardeners hired by Bruce himself.

Crime still ran rampant, of course; hell, that’s why they still had patrols.

But more and more, that crime was white-collar or supervillain; the average Joe was happy to have a good job again, and a place to call home that wasn’t covered in trash and grime. Petty criminals with a family to feed or a dangerous addiction had more avenues for help now, with flyers on every corner, and kind counselors available night and day. And the only requirement was only “if you know someone else who needs us, please bring them here.” Steph approved of that, as did Jason, and Bruce had only smiled and said “I thought of you two when we set that up.” Highest compliment he’s ever given us, I think…it…it really has made a difference. Just in my life alone…

Crystal Brown had been among the first he’d welcomed to the program, and Steph had broken down crying on Bruce’s shoulder the day her mom had come home clean. Really clean now; whatever else might have happened between them, Steph was just glad to have her mom back…and Jason had had much the same reaction, so Alfred had told her, when Roy’d gone through it too. Roy was Jay’s best friend in the whole world…she smiled a little. I’d almost be jealous, but…Cass is my best friend. And if Cass swung that way, I’d have dated her in a heartbeat, I think…I’m not mad that he and Roy were a pair. I’m just glad they’re still friends.

“Gotta say, B’s really made home feel a lot less gentrified, and more…”

“Alive.” She murmured, and Jason nodded, his voice a little tight as he pulled into her apartment’s lot.

“…I was worried, when he started this, that it’d be the Bowery all over again.” He murmured, and she squeezed his arm, taking a deep breath.

“Me too, if we’re being honest here. But…it’s not. It’s not. It’s…what we would have wanted. Hell, he even retrofitted the Starlight with green tech so that the Narrows’ best babysitter didn’t have to close down.” He laughed, soft and sweet, and kissed her forehead.

“Tell me about it, I begged him to bankroll it when I was a kid because…well, it’s the last original roller rink on the East Coast. I couldn’t bear to see it torn down. I think he started doing it after I died…kinda sweet, to be honest.”

“That’s what I would have done…Ooh. We should go skating next time.” Steph mused, and Jason’s answer was in a hot, sweet kiss, his eyes dancing in the streetlights.

“It’s a date. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door?” He suggested, offering his hand, and Steph let him pull her out, heart as light as a feather. He was easy to lean into, not handsy in the slightest, big hands rubbing up and down her back, and already, Steph was boneless against his chest, drowsing as they rode the elevator back up. Their hands clasped, Steph swung them a little as they pulled apart, yawning widely as the elevator stopped and she could lead him back down to her apartment door, pulling out her key.

“Mmn…thank you. I love you…and I hope this is still okay?” She murmured, hopeful and more than a little nervous. Jason kissed her again, then once more, and bussed her nose with his own, the smile on his lips as clear a confirmation as the words…but she liked hearing him anyway.

“I love you too, babe, and this is so okay. Get some rest, alrighty? Tim took our patrol tonight, B sent me an apology text earlier, so we’re good till tomorrow.”

“Good. Bastard should know better than to get between me and waffles.” The roguish grin on Jason’s face made her grin back, and he stroked her hair back over her ear again, something she never let Dean or Tim do, because it felt…weird with them. It felt right with Jay.

“Goddamn right, Blondie. Sleep tight, babe, can I bring you waffles in the morning, or are you waffled out?”

“Jay, if you bring me waffles in the morning, I’ll put out, alright? Waffles are life.” She retorted, and he fell back with a snicker, shaking his head as he kissed her.

“Well hell, if it’s really that easy, babe…” She swatted his arm, still grinning, and he kissed her once more, leaning into her doorway in a gesture that should have felt intimidating…but like before, well…it was Jay. It felt right. Steph kissed him back, sighing softly, and he pulled back to kiss her in the center of her forehead. “Head to bed, babe, I’m not far off. If you need anything, call me, okay?”

“Mmn, sounds good…are you really gonna bring me waffles?” She replied, hopeful, and he grinned again, his smile as addictive as his kisses.

“Goddamn right I will, babe. What time works?”

“Probably eight, at least? I need to get up early, do housework, do homework…” She made a face, and he made a face with her.

“Ugh. Well, I can help with the former, and as for the latter, I can be a quiet boyfriend and clean my guns?”

“Deal…See you then?” Steph wanted to crash, she really did, she was yawning so much now…but she didn’t want him to go…

“See you then. Goodnight, Stephie.” He murmured, kissing her once more, then closed the door for her. She leaned against it, listening to him slip down the stairs, and smiled, stepping out of her sandals with a groan of relief (they were cute, but she was tired enough for them to start hurting finally), and made quick work of taking off the rest of her make up, hanging up her dress, changing into comfy undies and a huge tee shirt. Taking down her hair, she glanced over at her phone…and grinned to see his number light up on the screen. She swiped to answer, and leaned back against the pillows.

“Miss me already, handsome?” He chuckled, warm and low, and it didn’t matter that she’d been hearing it all night; she could hear it a million times, and never get tired of it.

“You know it, baby. Figured you’d probably have trouble getting to sleep, as tired as you were, so…I thought maybe I could read to you?” He sounded so hopeful over the line, and Steph’s breath hitched in her chest. Oh…

“…I’d really, really like that. What did you have in mind?” She could see his grin as she closed her eyes, and heard the soft sound of pages turning, the faintest creak of an old book opening.

“Well, I always loved Pride and Prejudice…”

#JaySteph #stephanie brown #jason todd #gothambysunlight #solarpunkgotham #two dorks in love #realistic (mostly) dating expectations #pride and prejudice #jason loved being read to #and loves reading to steph #more bats coming into the picture later

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Could you do one and fifty nine with Jason

Summary: Jason and Reader visit the Wayne Manor for the first time for a friendly lunch. A pity he doesn’t plan on keeping it PG-13 for long. [As stated by the ask, prompsts one and fifty nine with Jason! “What? Does that feel good?” + Public with Jason]

Word Count: 2531

TW: Cussing and smut, as the prompt implied. Enjoy!

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup​

A/N: Angst coming in tonight! On may I’ll start a new rhythm, at least two pieces per week, but for now I can’t relax, I have uni work!!! I hope you enjoy, cuz I definitiely did.

In a twist — Jason Todd x Reader

Bruce was a reasonable man, and his points had been valid when he had sneaked up on you to have a “private talk”. You didn’t want to listen at first, given his relationship with Jason, but deep in your heart you knew it would do him well. Thus, a lunch didn’t seem like a big deal, until you had, of course, proposed so to Jason, which he had flipped about. He made his point clear and it took you some convincing, but you thought you had changed his mind after a long and torrid bath. In retrospective, you should have been sharper from the moment he had easily agreed after, as if someone had momentarily replaced him. But now there’s nothing you can do except press your knees harder.

           You started to feel it in the car but thought nothing of it in the end. Twenty minutes ago, he had been going at it hard on your body back home, thus maybe you were still feeling the pleasure of the aftermath, sighing content into the kiss he left on your cheek. Sweet, innocent. He was being lenient, and you loved that. You loved him. After all, Jason wouldn’t be convinced by someone who was just a girlfriend; you were so much more than that, and he had made that clear lots of times in bed, when you both were alone on your own. He cared; he just didn’t want to show it to anyone who he just met. He was selective and picky about the people he put his trust on. You understood that and felt deeply honored because of it.

           “I’m glad you agreed to it.”

           “Well, your convincing gave me some thinking. I thought it would be fun.”

           You kiss him, stupidly in love as you are when he looks at you like that. Jason Todd might be not as charming as certain people, but he has a certain something that makes him irresistible, so charming you would give in to anything he asks with that deep voice of his which he uses on missions. You always get so wet when he is commanding like that. The worst thing is he knows, which makes him cocky as hell. But you like him like that too, unfortunately. You smile into his second kiss as he car seems to stop at the entrance of the gates of Wayne Manor. It’s imposing, and TV does not make it justice; it’s in some way uncanny, as you’ve seen many reportages and interviews on the gates of the Manor, but no one’s been so close, has gotten past the doors. Not any mediocre Gothamite, at least. The Wayne Manor was quite famous because of its galas, but normal people like you didn’t have access to those. Not before you met Jason anyways.

           Jason kept his surname, but you learnt quite quick he was, in civil records, Bruce’s son. Fortune did not attract you, as tempting as it might have been once; and you deeply admired how Jason had been trying to make it on his own. That’s kind of how you two met, and you wouldn’t have it any other way – people met at bars, but you got closer in a hostage situation where he had infiltrated the group as one of the day to day civilians who just had the bad luck of being stuck in said situation. It was no coincidence, and you helped him in his plan, being bold and a bit reckless, just like he was. People said opposites attracted each other, but that was not the case with you two. In some way, similarities tied you together. You understood things no one else seemed to, and you hugged him close the first night he decided to stay, as a friend. Then it all had been natural.

           He helps you get out of the car, your knees slightly weak from the anxiety that is now suddenly spiking up and maybe from something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. But then the door is opening, and you are met by Alfred Pennyworth, one of the few figures apparently to Jason in the Manor. You greet each other, cordially; it’s weird, you think, being so close to the family and yet working for it, in theory. You don’t mind his inquisitive stare as Jason gets you in, taking you by your waist, hips together almost.

           “I just want to say I completely understand if you want to break up with me after meeting my family.”

           “I managed to survive our first night with your horrible snores. I think I can take it.” He chuckles, giving your waist a firm grip, as if suddenly validated in some way. What you two had was not a superficial or shallow thing. You trusted each other completely; he knew, or was starting to come into terms with, that if you hadn’t fled yet, there were not many possibilities of you doing so in the future.

           Except of course, Dick fucking Grayson.

           He comes down the stairs, casually almost, and marveling you. Jason notices how your eyes open up slightly, pupils dilatating – is it attraction? He was quite aware of Grayson’s charm, his natural charisma that seemed to outweigh his attractiveness, and that was quite difficult. He opens up his arms as he gets to the bottom and comes closer to Jason, of course, first. Jason can’t quite process what he’s saying, because his eyes are moving to Dick’s: and his pupils are dilated too as his eyes pose on (Y/N) for the very first time, fully. It’s like he drinks her in a gulp, and seems mesmerized, much to her embarrassment, which he covers up with a small chuckle, before offering up her hand.

           “Uh, (Y/N) (L/N). A pleasure.”

           “Pleasure’s mine”. He answers, naturally, a small “enchanting” (he would say flirty) quick wink before looking up Jason. “So this is it, huh? The one’s that’s been keeping you away from patrolling”

           “He can make his own decisions.” She sharply answers before Jason can even open her mouth. That did not get in well with her, which Dick seems to realize – panic is all over his face, as Jason starts to laugh and shortly after is followed by her. “Shit, Jason was right, you really are a Labrador.”

           There’s a second laugh and a scoff from two significantly younger “kids” as they go down the stairs. Dick chuckles, slightly embarrassed and shrugging. You recognize the smaller one, Damian, but you can’t quite make out the teenager one.

           “That was a good one. Pleasure’s mine, (Y/N) (L/N). Tim Drake.” Direct, doesn’t beat around the bush. He might be your favorite one for now.

           Presentations are made, and it’s only when Bruce himself appears that you start to feel it, taking air abruptly and gripping Jason’s arm tighter. A slight vibration on your crotch, soft and pleasuring enough to not be uncomfortable or unwelcomed. Perfect enough to build up something.

           “Jason, what the fuck-“. You mumble almost in his ear, before walking up to Bruce, offering your hand first, letting him talk, and welcome you in officially. You feel Jason’s smirk even when you can’t full see it. It irks you. Fuck, he has plan.

           You are guided in by Alfred to the dining area – classy, enormous, slightly warm because of the fire not very far from the table. Tim and Damian flock around you, asking you all type of various questions which seem to be “basic” ones – you try to keep concentrated even as Damian’s ones get harder and your mind flies somewhere else.

           Bruce is presiding the table, at the top of it, and then at his right there’s Damian, and at his left Dick. You’re put up next to week, in front of Jason, Tim left at the other side of the table, contrary to Bruce. The sitting makes you nervous, even when you are close to possibly the smoothest talker in the house. When you sit down you expect to hear some noise, but it seems muffled by your thighs tightly pressed against each other and knees. You’ve been giving it some thought, and you are now quite sure that it’s in your underwear. It didn’t quite had been as light as always, and Jason had been quite insistent on your lingerie choice, bra and knickers matching. But he had always been fond of your underwear matching sets, so you had not thought much about it. “Fucking devil”.

           “So, Gotham. Try to tell me about your life in a minute or so.”

           You keep, or try to keep, all of your attention on him, looking directly at his direction and smiling, softly, when you notice Jason giving some curt answers to Bruce. That’s new. But when you think you have it all controlled, the vibrations go up a notch and you have to take in air harshly again. You explain it’s a cold, your breathing suffering at times because of it. Dick smiles sweetly, understandingly enough, and says he has an excellent home remedy he will pass you on lately. You thank him, turning to your first dish, a soup.

           You fear you are going to leave a permanent mark on the Wayne Manor for the wrong reasons. It’s almost dessert time and you are slightly red, hiding as best as you can your pants with coughs and sneezes, but you are sure you’ve bended slightly the silver cutlery – the ministrations of your underwear are continuous now, pressing tightly against your crotch, and there’s an uncomfortable cold wet spot against your most sensitive part. You haven’t yet embarrassed yourself in a conversation with the Wayne’s, which seems an achievement by yourself, and you would dare say that Dick and you have the potential of harvesting a special friendship – of course, if Jealous Jason is not to get in between.

           After lunch, Bruce says he’s going for a drink, some coffee, and invites Jason and you both to stay – but there’s no way you can go through it, and he seems to know as well as his hand trails around the curve of your ass, his hand almost trailing down to the hem of your dress and slowly getting his hand up-

           “A pleasure, truly, we hope we can do this again! Bye everyone!”

           That must have been incredibly rude, as you gripped Jason tightly enough and got him out of the Manor. You walked, still gripping his arm with more force than before and letting out the first pants in all evening.

           “Are you fucking stupid in the head or-?”

           “Hottest thing we’ve ever done. Don’t deny it. You know I hate it when you lie to yourself”.

           For the ride back you are offered one of Bruce’s rides, someone else getting you home, but he seems as eager as you are, if the slight bulge in his pants is anything to go by… So Jason decide to steal one of Bruce’s car, a black modern one, which seems new if you are to guide yourself by the smell. You both laugh as teenagers as you get inside, quickly, and Jason rides away. Fucking God you want to ride him.

           You don’t make it home. The Manor is near the outskirts of the city, meaning there’s no one generally on the road save the occasional interview and the crew following it. He is a private person, and no one has business with him if there hasn’t been a previous appointment made. Thus, horny and hot you both kind of decide to fuck in the middle of the woods.

           “I don’t know if Bruce has cameras here or not but-“

           “Shut up, we are not getting naked, so-“

           “I love you so much”. He says, chuckling against your mouth as you get off your seat and climb onto the driver’s one, Jason’s lap, kissing him fiercely and passionately. There’s a certain desperation on it. “I wanted to know so badly how wet are you”

           “Dripping. So take yours out and I’ll if it up enough.”

           It’s quick, like teenagers fucking desperately in the middle of nowhere. Your hand goes into the glass of the window, trying to hold yourself up as his tip rubs on your entrance, slightly on your clit, making you press yourself tighter against him. He doesn’t play much as he gets in, your knees almost giving out and making you sit on his completely.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck”. You curse, against his ear, your thighs paralyzed by the feeling. Full, agonizingly full and wet.

           “You are incredibly wet. You are going to get my pants ruined, baby.”

           “Like you care”

           “Like I care.” He laughs, conceding you the victory, as one of his fingers makes his way inside your dress to play with the little pearl inside, rubbing it teasingly and making your entire body boil.

           “Slowly, baby. Or else I’ll come too quick.”

           “Yeah, yeah”. He mutters, almost as if in trance as he continues playing, with a little more care.

           It’s desperate. There’s a small buildup until you feel like nothing he will do will ever be good enough.

           Then he starts ravishing you. His hands get on your back, almost as if trying to break your dress, the zipper; he grabs and slaps one of your buttocks, trying to leave a mark behind and succeeding in so with the thrusts he’s giving you which make you go wild. You mark him all over the naked skin you get – his neck, his shoulders; you open up his shirt and drag your nails in his chest as he gets deeper each time. Both of you have started to sweat, and you can feel it in your lips as he gets you closer and closer; he might be at its brink, you think, because he starts playing with your little pearl, giving it rubs and circles just as you’ve taught him multiple times. You beg him to stop, but he knows that’s not it – you always say no, but you mean yes, you’ve talked about boundaries, and he loves to open her up inside until she’s scratching and begging, too overwhelmed with his kisses and love ministrations. Because that’s what it is, what it has always been: making love.

           Your orgasm hits you first, squeezing him impossibly so: he has to make his own way, with a little more of force, pushing you to the driving wheel almost, just so that he can give his finals pumps. He cums inside, filling you and making you screech, oversensitive. Your fingers search for his back, his neck, which always makes you feel safe and sound. He grabs you back, by your waist, his head on your chin, kissing your neck lovingly enough to make you melt.

           “I hate your little games.”

           “You love them. Next time, what about-“

           “No!”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #reader insert #reader insert dcu #dcu x reader #dcu #dcu fanfic #DC Universe #jason todd dcu #jason todd smut #answered ask

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Twelve: In Which Lila Lies

---

/Part One//Part Eleven/

---

The school was abuzz with chatter. Students everywhere gossiped about MDC’s show, everyone sharing their opinions about the newly-debuted designer. Some people sharing their opinions more than others. 

“I knew her since we were four!” Lila declared. “When we were kids, I used to be her model.” 

The girls in the class fawned over the fact that Lila, yet again, knew another famous person. MDC had bloomed into an overnight sensation- ‘Majesty’ crowded over magazine covers, but the Lordbug and Kitty Noir outfits were not overshadowed. Many pages were dedicated to the fashion show that had taken place the previous day, each and every article complementing on the designer’s skill and talent- And she was so polite, too! (Not to mention she was really pretty~)

Aurore was smiling widely as students flocked her, asking how she’s managed to get an interview with MDC before MDC even debuted. She smiled and brushed people off politely, saying that she was just lucky. The sour look on Alya’s face was unmissable, so Lila quickly jumped to the chance. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Alya.” The Italian pouted as she apologised. “I did mention you to MDC, but she said she already found a blog to interview her. I’m sure she’ll ask you to do the next one, though! She was really sorry that you didn’t get your chance since she already asked Aurore.” 

The ombre-haired girl brightened up immediately. “Gosh, that’s so nice of you, Lila! And there’s no need to apologise.” She cast a dark look at Aurore. “She got in by luck, I’ll get in for talent.” 

Across the classroom, Chloe snorted. The trio had been lounging at the back, listening to the conversation with… Various feelings about it. Damian was downright furious. How dare Lila claim she knew MDC when MDC was bullied by her everyday? Chloe was rather amused- She couldn’t wait to see Lila’s face when Marinette revealed herself after their graduation. Marinette was rather… Unbothered. Karma would be back for the Italian girl when the right time came- There was no need to get her own hands dirty. 

“I still feel so sorry you didn’t get the chance, Alya.” Lila pouted and shedded a tear. “To make it up to you, I’ll ask MDC to do a commission for you. She always said that since I helped her to her success, she’d make a dress for me anytime.” 

Awe and jealousy glinted in every girls’ eyes. Alya beamed enthusiastically. “Lila! You’re always so kind, thank you! I’d love to get a dress from MDC!” 

“Too bad she’s not actually getting one.” Chloe glanced at her nails, a bored expression on her face. Marinette shot her a playful look, which the blonde shrugged off. 

Luckily, Chloe’s remark was unheard by the excited girls, who continued to crowd around Lila until Madame Mendeliev snapped her book on the table, yelling for everyone to get back to their seats. Still, the excitement lingered in the class, and the skip in Alya’s pace spoke enough of how disappointed she’d be on the next day.

—

“Alya, please forgive me.” Lila sniffed pitifully as she cried. “I asked MDC, but she said she was flocked with commissions overnight and she can’t get to yours until she’s finished all the rest!” 

Alya’s face fell as her eyes dulled in disappointment. She’d been looking forward to good news from Lila, but clearly, the only thing that the day had brought was bad luck. The ombre-girl tried to keep a straight face as she reassured her friend. “It’s alright, Lila. I’m pretty sure she was really busy anyway.” She chuckled and shrugged it off, but everyone could see the stiffness of her body, the slump of her shoulders, and the tears prickling on her eyelids. 

Damian let out a little chuckle, his green eyes twinkling in satisfaction. “What did I say?” 

“Pft.” Chloe laughed softly, her amusement clear in her eyes and her relaxed position. “Too bad, Cesaire.” 

Marinette glared at both of them. “Play nice!” She hissed. Her two friends took one look at each other and shrugged, uncaring of the disappointment and lies that constantly hovered over that class. 

It was no longer, their class, after all. 

—

The call was pretty much expected. 

“Damian.” The stern voice of his father made it clear that it was unarguable. “I demand to meet the girl.” 

Although it was already a made decision, it didn’t mean Damian had to be happy about it. “Fine.” He grumbled. “I’ll ask her. But no promises.” 

Bruce made a grunt in his throat, his excitement not showing through his facial expression but his eyes. Blue orbs sparkled in excitement as the papa bat waited patiently to meet his little robin’s newfound mate. 

—

“Um, Marinette…” Damian coughed awkwardly into the phone. “My… Um, father wants to meet you.” 

The bluenette blinked in confusion on the other side of the line. “Um… Why? Did I do something wrong?” Damian heard his heart crack a little at the concern in her voice. No, you didn’t do anything wrong, my dad just wants to see you. Because he’s a busy body who can’t keep his nose out of my business. 

“No, no it’s nothing like that.” Damian sighed, shooting a sharp glare at Tikki, who giggled as she munched on a sugar cube. “It’s just- Um- He kind of guessed that you’re MDC and he’s impressed.” 

Marinette sighed in relief. “Oh, then should I bring Chloe as well?” 

The green-eyed Gothamite wanted to groan. No, not Bourgeois. But on second thought, Marinette would be more comfortable and assured with the blonde there. “Ye- Yeah, actually, why not.” 

“Great! I’ll call her now. Do I have to dress formally? Where are we meeting your father? Should I bring any gifts? Macarons? There’s still time for me to bake a cake!” Marinette’s frantic rambling made a little smile creep up the emerald-eyed’s lips. Tikki giggled at how hopeless her miraculous holder was- And at how frantic Plagg’s holder was. 

“We’re meeting him at a restaurant, so maybe dress formally. And no, you don’t need to bring any gifts, ange-” Before he could finish, he was cut off by the bluenette’s insistent rambling.

“You know what, I’m going to bake a cake. I saw a really nice recipe online the other day and I think it would be a good idea! I’ll, um, get started now, does your dad like cheesecakes? What about peaches?” 

Damian wanted to laugh. Gosh, he loved the bluenette. “Yes, he likes cheesecakes, and yes, I’m pretty sure he’s fine with peaches as well.” 

“Alright then! I’ll get going now, I have a cake to bake! See ya in a bit, Dami!” 

And then the phone call ended. Damian laughed to himself, Tikki watching with a warm smile as the emerald-eyed boy fondly thought of his bluenette classmate. 

—

Chloe was leaning leisurely on her bed, flipping through a fashion magazine. And then her phone rang. 

She frowned, picking up her phone. The caller ID read ‘Bluenette’. The blonde sighed, clicking the answer button. “What is it, Dupain-Cheng? This better be important. You interrupted my magazine reading session.” The blonde grumbled. 

“Damian’sdadwantstomeetusapparentlyheknowsI’mMDCandsoyouneedtocometoobecauseyouwereoneofthemodelsand-”

Chloe blinked. “Okay, go over that again, but slower.” 

Marinette took a deep breath. “Damian’s dad wants to meet us, apparently he knows I’m MDC and so you need to come too because you are one of the models and I’m baking a cake to bring and we have to dress formally because it’s going to be a formal dinner.” 

“Okay.” Chloe breathed. “And this has to do with me because I need to go?” 

“Yes, and I’m calling because do you want some peach cheesecake?” Marinette’s bright voice made a little grin dance across the mayor’s daughters lips. Really, it was impossible to not laugh when you were talking to the world’s brightest little bluenette. 

Chloe sighed as she got off her bed. “The cake better be good, Dupain-Cheng.” 

—

The bakery smelt of cream cheese and peach syrup; Chloe sighed as she breathed in the satisfying scents. “That isn’t actually half-bad, Dupain-Cheng.” 

Marinette giggled. “Well, the big cake will be for Damian’s father, you can have all the tarts if you want.” 

The bluenette baker had baked seven cakes- A giant cake, and six miniature versions of the cake- Tarts. The bottom of the cake was a strong layer of sponge cake, followed by a cream cheese mixture. Atop the cream cheese was a layer of raspberry jam. After that was a jelly made from peach syrup- And inside the translucent jelly was cut up pieces of peach. Marinette had garnished the cake with some decorative flowers, sprinkling some strawberry powder above everything for the final touch. The baker girl delicately slid the cake into a pretty, white box, tying a perfect ribbon to top everything. 

“That, is really not bad.” Chloe hummed. “I appreciate this, and much more, for my birthday.” 

The bluenette laughed. “Sure, Chloe.” She smiled warmly at her blonde friend, bluebell eyes twinkling in happiness. 

Ding! 

The front door of the bakery opened, and Sabine called out for the two girls at the back of the kitchen. “Marinette! Your friend’s here!” 

“Coming, mama!” Marinette replied, hastily (But carefully) lifting up the box, tugging the ribbon one last time to her satisfaction. 

“Marinette, that ribbon is the definition of perfection. Stop fidgeting with it.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Let’s go!” 

The bluenette hummed, following after her blonde friend with a bright, happy smile on her face. 

Little did she know, she was about to meet her father-in-law. 

—

“You must be Marinette.” Bruce smiled warmly, holding a hand for Marinette to shake. The girl panicked, awkwardly trying to figure out which hand to use to shake Bruce’s hand as she held the cake box in her hands. Damian resisted the fond chuckle that was building up in his throat, reaching over to take the cake from Marinette as the bluenette shot him a grateful look. 

“You’re Bruce Wayne.” Chloe deadpanned, shooting glares at Damian. “Damian never said he was the Damian Wayne.” 

The boy shrugged. “I was going under Fu’s name since I was living with him.” 

Bruce nodded. “And you must be Ms. Bourgeois.” The blonde smiled, reaching over to shake the billionaire’s hand as well. 

“Um, I baked a little something for you.” Marinette smiled shyly. “I hope you like cheesecakes?” 

Bruce’s eyes conveyed nothing but surprise. “You can bake?” 

“Father, Marinette is a baker’s daughter. Her parents own the most popular bakery in all of Paris.” Damian cut in, his emerald eyes practically yelling threats at his father. 

“I see.” Bruce nodded approvingly. “Ms. Dupain-Cheng is truly a very talented individual.” 

The said girl blushed fiercely, spluttering out her thanks. Bruce smiled at how polite and awkward the girl was- Truly, his future daughter-in-law was one of a kind. 

—

/Part Thirteen/

---

A/N: Yes, I’ve been MIA for a very long time, sorry... Exams were clogging every part of my schedule. I’ll hopefully be getting back to writing so here’s an update for now! :) Have a nice day everyone, and thanks for putting up with my hectic update schedule... *Insert laughing face* 

My grandma’s birthday is today, so I rushed this before her birthday party! Once again, contact me if any mistakes are found. 

On another note, I’m sorry to announce that the taglist is closed.

Tag list! @yin-390@mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol@never-neverland@rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23@seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume@graduatedmelon@thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu@screamingtofillthevoid@serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95@roseinbloom02 @beautym3@resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil@tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry@lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue@dannyelric301 @daminett4life@loysydark@sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff@nataladriana9@maya-custodios-dionach ​@myazael ​@sassakitty ​@clumsy-owl-4178 ​@emootaku-666 @moonlightstar64 ​@r0sebutch ​@maggiecc12 @gaeasun@miss-mysterys-blog​@bluefyoto94 ​@sam-spectra ​@toodaloo-kangaroo ​@queenmj10 ​

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette dupaincheng mlbdc #damian wayne mlbdc #bruce wayne mlbdc #chloe bourgeois mlbdc #miraculous ladybug x dc #mlbdc #cadenceh2o #lordbug #kittynoir #robin #lordbugrobinandkittynoir

[ajokeformur-ray]

I watched Joker tonight and typed out my thoughts as they occurred to me. Unedited; typos are guaranteed. I did this a few months ago and really enjoyed looking back at my thought process and I wanted to do it again so that I can look back and know that what I feel is real and true in my darkest times.

You're welcome to skip this; it's under a cut for ease of doing so. Warnings for occasional sexual comment lmao. There’s no self shipping in this, I don’t think.

word count: 2, 575.

I’M SOBBING and I’ve only just pressed play.

Heart squeeze Chest much ow

THERE HE IS

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nooooo baby omg don’t pretend - let yourself hurt if it hurts. Don’t pretend. 

Carnival Carnival Carnivalllllllll 😍😍😍😍😍

I am a Simp for one clown and his name is Carnival

Someone help him, I????

That sign hit Arthur as hard as my love for him did ksksksk

MY EYES BE LEAKIN💔💔💔💔💔

bb nooooo

Oh honey let me kiss those bruises and replace the marks of violence with love, hm? You’re safe with me.

Breathe, my love. Don’t fight the laughter. Let it out, let yourself go. 

Screams into a pillow because????? much sad must kiss

“have you been keeping up with your journal?” LIKE HE HAS TIME

oHHHHH boi’s close to losing his shit

Do it, Artie. Give ‘em hell.

“I think I did” YOU TELL HER!!💖💖💖

I want to be his cigarette. Where’s Satan??? I got a new deal for my blackened soul which he took at half price😂😂😂😂

I’d have my hand between the door and his head so fuckin fast I swear

“I just don’t wanna feel so bad anymore” yep SAME

ohhhh peekaboo🥺🥺🥺

this makes me giggle ksksksk i watch this scene when i feel sad bc it always makes me happy for the time it’s on

he’s so good with kids; he doesn’t have to try and think about what’s funny, he just does it, he’s himself and it works

FUCK OFF LADY CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S STRUGGLING????

give

him

back

his

card

casually wrinkling my nose against tears lmao

ohhh the way he looks up at those stairs from the bottom

i can feel his exhaustion

me too, my love

step step step step

god i wanna get him the fuck outta gotham

and into my arms and a soft, warm blanket

“eat. you need to eat” LITERALLY WHAT I TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY IN HIS VOICE BC OTHERWISE I JUST WOULDNT EAT???? I’m losing so much weight asdfghjk its not enough tho

SUPAH RATS

Did Arthur come up w that joke or was it actually a Murray joke????

HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IM CRY??🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I WAS PUT HERE TO SPREAD JOY AND LAUGHTER”

YOU DO BABY, YOU DO!!!! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

go deepthroat a cactus randall - youre already a bit of a prick so🙃🙃🙃

“THE GUYS THINNK YOU’RE A FREAK BUT I LIKE YOU”

HOYT. YOU CAN GO SIT ON A CACTUS TOO

FUCK OFF

😡😡😡😡

“WHY WOULD ANYONE STEAL A SIGN”//”WHY DOES ANYONE DO ANYTIHNG?” HOYT YOU’RE SO FUCKING ILLOGICAL HERE IM????? ERIKA DOES NOT (ALSO WILL NOT LMAO IM A STUBBORN BIITCH) COMPUTE

Can arthur fuck me like he pounds the trash/????🥵🥵👀

those dark curls.... that crooked tooth... must kiss.🥺🥺🥺

pennys casual cruelty makes me so fucking angry

foreshadowingggggg ~  *JAZZ HANDS*

ugh the way he dances with that gun im👀🥵🥵🥵

he enjoys the power of it and his breathing gets deeper asdfghjk

clumsy baby omggggg i just COOED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

okay maybe im stupid but i genuinely dont understand this “senior who needs to graduate” skit i’m??? how is being an intro to western civ student funny im???? someone explain???

but also dont bc fuck that guy lmao arthur’s hilarious

true millenial humour (and brit humour lmao we’re dark asf)

THE WAY ARTIE TWIRLS HIS FINGERS AROUND HIS HAIR AND DANCES IN HIS SEAT IM???🥺🥺🥺

wanna curl up on his lap at night when hes writing and go to sleep with a 

blanket around our bodies🥺🥺🥺🥺

when arthur wears a shirt at home you KNOW it’s a daydream

THAT CROOKED TOOTH IM WANT KISS.

WAIT IS IT CALLED STAND UP COMEDY BC YOU STAND UP... AND ITS COMEDY???

23 FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE... TO REALISE THAT🙄

WHEN CARNIVAL CAME ON SCREEN I NTHE HOSPITAL I MADE A PORNOGRAPHIC NOISE LMAO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

IF YOURE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT, SHOOT MURRAY

WOOPS WRONG LYRICS

😂

“doctor of laughter”🥺🥺🥺🥺

doctor i have a case of the Big Sad can you... do an exam? 😉😏

NO BB DONT BEAT YOUR HEAD UP THERES PRECIOUS CARGO IN THERE

in what world does chucking cold greasy chips in a girls hair being “nice”???

lmao fuck these guys

ohhh honey breathe. dont fight it, my love, just breathe.

my heart’s breaking for you, you sweet thing🥺🥺🥺

i love you so so so so so so so much ugh you’re an actual fucking angel

just breathe darling

i need to get you a cup of tea with honey in it, your throat must be so sore

ohhhh baby im so sorry

i’d take every single punch if i could

i’d die for you

i wish i could protect you

i wish i could look after you

and take all those hits

and kill those guys for you

im so sorry

sobbingggg

YES GOOD MAN THANK YOUUU

KILL THOSE ASSHOLES LMAO DESERVED IT

yeah i have a grey morality... im similar to deadpool in that way tbh

carnival comin’ to kill your insecurities

8 bullets in a 6 chamber???? mm-hm

DONT FORGET YOUR BAG THATS EVIDENCE

AND THE WIG

RUN BABY RUNNNNNNN

GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOO

RUN LIKE THE WIND BULLSEYE

THE SOUND OF HIS FEET SLAPPING THE PAVEMENT IM👀

OOOOOH JOKER’S WAKIN’ UUUUUUP

fuck he’s so hypnotic

the way he runs his hand down his lower stomach asdfghj🥵

must kiss the inner tendons on his wrists and lick the blood off his face 

must kiss

he moves like water

fuck hes so fluid

bathroom scene = the scene in which my heart and vagina clench at the same time

im WANT

T POSEEEEEEEE

“i still owe you for that, dont i?”

PUNCH OUT IS MY FAVOURITE THING E  V  E  R

D O N T S M I LE

UGH I FUCKING HATE being told to smile if i don’t fucking want to so BIG mood

PLEASE SHUSH ME THE WAY YOU JUST SHUSHED PENNY IM???

but also dont lmao bc i’ll think you’re mad at me and i’ll hide in the bedroom for the rest of the day lmao i’m sensitive✨✨✨

i wanna sit on his lap and still his bouncing knees

“thats not funny”

fuck off penny yes it is

I JUST CHOKED ON MY COFFEE IM???

“but i do” god the  P O W E R

ugh that fucking sexist piece of shit comedian can choke “women look at sex like buying a car” 🤢🤮🤢🤢🤮

chauvinistic pigs can die thanks

his lil trip upstage im cry🥺🥺🥺

ohhh baby. just breathe, darling. it’s okay to be scared. dont fight it. just breathe. 

he and i both cover our mouths when we laugh/smile in the exact same way and it makes me feel closer to him

how can they think hes laughing at himself when hes literally gagging????

people only see what they wanna

the Penny imitation is👌👌👌

s m i l e

i remember when i came home from seeing this for the first time, i got home and dropped to my knees to cry in the bathroom. it was such an emotional release and so much love and i played smile to try to make myself smile but i only made myself cry harder lmaooooo ~ 

smile and thats life are my go-to songs if i gotta cheer tf up

danger sign = neither works

he looks so soft after his “date”🥺🥺🥺

“thats life” yeah but murray you dont even leave the studio so how do you know????

ngl arthur’s anger scares me.

anyone so much as raise their voice at me and i’ll cry really bad and i will shut myself away for the rest of the day and quiet anger terrifies me so his banging abt in the kitchen would freak me tf out😲

angry bb😭

he controls his anger so fast though omgggg ~ 

that soft please sends me

idk where it sends me lmao

down below probably

BARE FACED CARNIVAL OMG THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE

I LOVE THE MATCHING COLOURS ON ARTHUR AND BRUCE TOO ???

okay but the implication that arthur always carries a clown nose on him is🥺🥺🥺

hes such a good clown im?????

lmao im enjoying the show more than bruce is skskskk

arthur’s lil chuckle makes me🥺

his HUMMING im??? soft?????

his brows are so strong and dark omggg ~ he’s so beautiful

OKAY i’ll be honest i’ve seen this alfred/bruce scene and the thomas bathroom scene later on and the penny flashback scene a 100 times and i still dont fucking understand what did or didnt happen regarding arthur’s parentage im????

 ive seen interpretations to say he is thomas’ son and some to say he isnt and i still cant decide so? im stupid i guess 🙃

“a clown thing?” the  s a s s

“it’s exit only” yeah so’s my ass🙃

if i was there in the hospital room i woulda turned that tv off as soon as i realised what clip was gonna play

murray’s cruelty is d i s g u s t i n g

lmao hes an asshole

arthurs lil clap from joyyyyy ~ 🥺🥺🥺

did i say murray???

i meant  m u r r a t

🙃🙃🙃

sneaky baby

wayne hall either has super bad security or arthurs v quick on his feet

🤔🤔🤔🤔

he looks so good in red omggg ~ 

f o r e s h a d o w i n g

arthurs smile when hes watching chaplin is how he smiles when we all gush to each other abt him and ourselves!!!

hes so cuuuuuute🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

“told me what” 

ohhhh honey🥺🥺 im so sorry. “crazy” is a trigger word for arthur; it made him start laughing in the bathroom with thomas

“touch my son again ill fucking kill you” yeah?? touch my arthur again and i’ll fucking kill you🙃🙃🙃🙃

^^^ that ones a joke do not come at me

the clerk in arkham was nice to arthur - he, gary and sophie are the good gothamites.

none of it was enough to stop his descent into joker, though, and i’d even say it was too late right at the beginning of the film, too... 

his sock puppet thingy “they cut all those” is such a Joker thing to doooo ~ 

the way arthur’s laughing in the hall at arkham turns into sobbing is gut-wrenching omg the poor thing😭

i wanna hug him and protect him and help him to process this in a healthy way

sweetheart, if i could take all of your pain and put it onto me... i so would. i’d do it in a heartbeat.

i wanna get you into a hot shower, make you some food and sit and listen to you. we can either sit in silence or you can talk to me, my love, and you will be heard and understood and loved.

“i had a bad day”

IT’S OKAY I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY OMG YOU POOR SWEET INNOCENT THING IM LOVE YOU🥺💔

THAT ENTIRE LATE NIGHT SCENE LAUGH/SOBBING GOT ME -

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i just wanna hold you and protect you and help you and love you

I’m so fucking sorry, darling. i wish i could take it all away from you

“i havent been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”

NO ONE SHOULD LOOK THAT ANGELIC AFTER COMMITING MATRICIDE IM????

get

that

fucking

gun

away

from

your

face

boi dont test me ill fucking go feral or - no, tell you what, i’ll point the gun at me and see how you like it

im looking respectfully at the green speckled undies scene....👀👀👀

“coming” 😏😏😏

“my mum died im celebrating” and “i stopped taking my medication” and you STILL stayed in the apartment with Arthur????? dudes those are 🚨🚨🚨 signs

woe betide anyone who underestimates arthur fleck lmaoooo

randalls death scene makes me laugh every time omg i feel so vindictive

get WRECKED

i wanna lick the blood off his face. i really want to

ngl i think i have a blood kink... 

“dont look just go” ME WITH MY ACNE WHEN I SEE IT IN THE MIRROR 😂😂😂😂

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER 

ASDFGHJKL

J

O

K

E

R

ERIKA.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERRRRRR

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 MY BABY MY MAN OMG THERE HE IS IM CRY???????😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺

my mind is literally blank rn im just staring and crying and smiling so hard my face hurts????? im love him so so so so much

sweet thing’s so used to pain he gets HIT BY A CAR AND KEEPS GOING????

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

hghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

euirrrrrrgkjbgkfbirsghigrbugr

*incoherent keyboardsmash to portray utter love*

ohhh baby no dont cry. oh honey😭 i wanna sit on your lap and kiss your tears away

“i love dr sally”

you have a WIFE at home

“DO YOU REMEMBER?” THAT WAS YOUR CUE TO APOLOGISE LMAO GET FUCKED MURRAT

he’s so CUTE

omgggg ~ 

my hearts gonna give out its SQUEEZING SO HARD IT HURTS

YOU MOCK THEM, BABY!!! THEY GOT IT COMING

“i wanna get it right” hes so passionate

my comments have deceased in number bc im just too starstruck and in love to even think clearly lmao

jokers all i know rn and this is the most peaceful ive felt in WEEKS

im sobbing

ugh fuck this hurts so BAD

youre speaking the truth, darling. im so so proud of you and i love you so much

“THEY COULDNT CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE THEIR LIVES” LMAO INSIDE JOKESSS

literally sobbing right now ugh what the fuck youre in so much pain and in the middle of a breakdown and no one saw you

ugh baby im so sorry, you deserve so much better

you tried so hard and you were gonna fall no matter what

IN THE WHITE ROOM

“hi” baby they cant hear you but im COOING 🥺🥺🥺🥺

you’re so fucking cute

say the word and ill burn gotham to the fucking ground for you

i wanna sit atop that car and cradle your head in my lap and wipe the blood off your face and help you stand up and be there for you and and and😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love you so so so much. 

i’d be so much worse off without you in my life. you brought a splash of colour which has never dimmed or faded. it never will. 

b l o o d    s m i l e

=

im wearing my inside on the outside now and it still hurts

angel💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i see you and your pain. i love you.

i see you, angel. 

his genuine laughter is🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

that cute lil “ksksks” he does im🥺🥺🥺

i always laugh with him omg the two of us are laughing together ugh its the closest i will ever get to sharing in his joy

 t h a t ‘s    l i f e

i love the hallway daaaaaaaaaaaaaance ~ 

them hips dont lie😉😉😉

i love you i love you i love you i love you omg the sun’s like a halo ugh i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you im singing along to thats life while i type out how much i love you at 220am lmaooooo ~ 

i   l o v e    y o u

#erileck #<- ref tag #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #erika talks

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 11

Details, details, details. For someone looking like a pro-wrestler, complete with the dress-up gimmick, Jason Todd - the Red Ghost - turned out to be a very good listener and paid attention to details. He listened quietly as Oracle put out the proverbial lay of the land.

"So to make it clear and recorded redundantly, Talon was an enforcer with the Court of Owls; supposedly the entity that controlled all of Gotham, consisting of the 'builders' of Gotham as well as the 'money' that built Gotham. This guy Bane just out of the blue came to Gotham and killed the members of the Court and Talon's teammates. And now he claimed to be Dr Thomas Wayne's son, and therefore Bruce Wayne's half-brother." Jason recited. "Are the Waynes a member of the Court of Owls?"

"Not according to the database Talon gave us." Oracle replied. "Evidently, the Court had... harassed them to join, but they have repeatedly refused. And by 'repeatedly' I mean over like, three generations of Waynes."

"Yeah, I didn't think so, either. Talia wouldn't have... well, associated herself with Bruce Wayne, otherwise." Jason agreed. "Ra's didn't like to share control with a random group of people who have assassins as doormen. The public disruptions would have been too overwhelming."

"So the Waynes have made an actual tangible alliance with the Al Ghuls, I presume..." Tim commented. "Corporate-wise, the Al Ghuls owned almost half of Gotham, while the other half belonged to the Waynes. Yet they were in different lines of businesses that if the two families were to unite by means of - say, marriage - it would definitely fit the description of a monopoly."

"You're a corporate goon, aren't you?" Jason remarked. Tim preened a little.

"Kind of. I run a much-smaller family business." he admitted.

"I'm... not sure if I should consider it cool or horrific." Jason commented. "What's the business line?"

"Generic meds." Tim replied, and then stopped himself. There were a mere handful of generic medication companies in Gotham, and he might have given away his own identity.

"Ah, cool, then. Generic meds for poor people? Did you leech off the prices?" Still, Jason's disarming smirk and seemingly innocent questions were too inviting to not be answered.

"Of course not! I'm a hero, aren't I?" Tim replied coyly. Jason seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Cool, then. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, there were business deals between the Al Ghuls with the Waynes that are limited to the form of businesses either parties would do. And yes, you're right. If or when Bruce Wayne passed without any other heirs, Damian would own both conglomerations and would have been a form of monopoly. There were... contingency plans to avoid that." Jason elaborated. "But if Bane is a son of Thomas Wayne, he would have inherited half of the Wayne Enterprises, regardless."

"I sincerely hoped that Bane was not Ra's 'contingency plan'," Oracle intoned.

"I've never heard of his name until now." Jason clarified. "And I know all of Ra's associates and agents. Visible or otherwise. And Talia's. But for the issue with the Court... you people think that the Waynes bankrolled Bane to eliminate the Court of Owls."

"We suspect. We haven't found evidence to support or deny it." Oracle said. "You're quick."

"I'm not slow just because I came from Crime Alley, thanks." Jason retorted. "And I'm starting to realize... if I - on behalf of Damian - am staying at the Wayne Manor, I might be able to look for evidence thereof."

"Really quick, I wasn't even going to suggest that yet," Oracle replied glibly.

"And if they were innocent - because of course, we all believe in the 'Innocent 'til Proven Guilty' adage - then you can ally with the Waynes to indict and/or remove Bane out of the equation." Jason continued.

Well, Tim was impressed.

"That's it, in a nutshell."

"I hope you have a contingency plan in case your plan goes sideways..." Jason sighed.

"...you technically have nothing to lose," Tim assured him. "You'll have an escape, where you can bring Damian to a place that is both reinforced and semi-publicly visible; you'll have the Birds of Prey as your backup. And if - in a scenario where Bruce Wayne did not accept Damian, you'll still be welcomed here."

"Why? Just because I'm a Gothamite or what?" Jason challenged.

"Because..." Tim sighed. "Okay, look. I see it more as for Damian's sake, right? If he's accepted, and you don't want to help us, that's fine. We'll figure out something else. But if he's... denied his father..." he shook his head, pushing out the images of himself as a 12-year-old who'd just received the news of his parents' death. "...I know what it's like to lose a parent through violent means, alright. I don't... I'd rather Damian not take the path I took."

Jason's smile looked more like a snarl. "Now that's noble, Stray. You don't want Damian to be a thief like you, but you forgot who you're talking to. I grew up here, in Crime Alley, until my mom died. My dad was gone years before. I lived on the streets, had a box for a bed for weeks. That's the kind of life you won't want a ten-year-old to have to face."

Tim chuckled uneasily. "Okay, that's fair. But considering he's the only heir of the Algol Enterprises, I doubt he'll end up on the streets, am I wrong? Not to be insensitive, but there's a reason why Talia chose you to take care of him, and that wouldn't be the muscles or the pretty face."

That was a logical explanation, so Tim thought, but he could swear that Jason was blushing - even under the tanned skin. He shook his head lightly, and said, "No, I'm also his legal guardian unless his biological father files for custody; and am in charge of the Algol Enterprises," He scowled lightly. "...in spite of the fact that I don't like the corporate world in general. Damian is actually more than smart enough to supervise the companies, but he is still a minor. His signatures should always be accompanied by mine."

"Good system," Oracle commented. "I don't see you as someone easily persuaded if you don't believe in the matter."

"I believe in fairness and assisting those in need, not feeding those in power," Jason muttered. Then sighed. "For now, though, I'll need your help to fend off the League of Shadows. There won't be any steps taken toward your goal if Damian is assassinated."

"That, I believe, I can help. It's not gonna be pretty, but..." Dick remarked, stepping out of the bedrooms. "Boy's sleeping like a log. I mean, literally like a log: on his back, straight-backed and all." He added when Jason's eyes found his.

"You know how to contact your... uh... friends?" Tim tried, cringing, knowing how Barbara felt for violence.

"You thinking about rising the other talons?" Barbara must be cringing, too.

"Unless you can think of utilizing Superman or something, I don't see any other way..." Dick argued.

"Wait," an epiphany suddenly hit Tim. "I... hold up, let me think..." he raised a hand, stopping the questions he knew would be coming out of both Jason and Dick's mouths. A half a minute later, it hit him in the full picture. "Wasn't Green Arrow trained by the League of Assassins, too?"

"Oliver Queen, you mean. Yes, he was." Jason confirmed. "Funny dude, all sass and pretending to be no-brain. Shiva trained him--" Jason suddenly stopped.

"Does he know you?" Tim asked.

"He should... he got in just about a while after I did. I'd trained with him before Talia sent me training elsewhere..." Jason replied, and then his face brightened. "You scary-scheming little shit..."

"Green Arrow opted to use his skills as a hero, protecting those who can't protect himself. I know he's good - a little unfocused in a hand-to-hand and more reliant on his bow and arrows, but he's good." Tim pointed out. "And he has his own group of 'family' - all fighters for good. I'm sure he'll be happy to help us." he hinted to Oracle, deliberately pointing to Oracle as the decision-maker of the 'group'. With the way Dick was glaring at him, Tim knew that he was following Tim's hints - and not mentioning that Tim could have asked aunt Dinah for Oliver Queen's help. Dinah has been dating him for a good long while, after all.

"I'll put out feelers," Barbara stated. "Jason, do you have inklings or list on who we might want to chase after? You mentioned they're covert, and about half of the identity of people rounded up by the GCPD earlier were locals."

Jason shrugged helplessly. "They don't usually trust digital stuff for this... membership thingy. Not especially for foot soldiers."

"I think I can figure out how to sift them out..." Tim commented, ideas after ideas churning through his mind. "Want me to come over and powwow, O?"

"Yes, sure. That'll be great." Oracle replied, even with the metallic voice modulator, Tim could sense the relief.

"Okay, you wanna come with?" he asked Dick.

Dick shook his head. "Not that I'm guarding you or anything, 'cause I'm sure you can figure out how to get out without me noticing, anyway. But I'm... I'd prefer if the boy wakes up, he'll still see me, you know? So he's convinced that he's not... being abandoned or anything."

"That's sweet, but I agree. Do you mind, Jason?"

"Having another body to stand guard? Not at all. I'll need to shut my eyes for a few, anyway." Jason replied with a small smirk. "Would've been nice to shut-eye with a warm body next to me, but hey, beggars can't be choosers," he added blithely just as Tim got up and walked away.

Tim paused, turned, and blew him a kiss. Because that's what mama Selina said you should do when someone openly flirted with you if you also want to flirt with said someone. Jason's smirk just got bigger but didn't give any more reaction.

Tim continued his exit, his mind partially mapping out his plan to clean out the League of Assassins from Gotham; the other part mapping out his plan on to figure out if Jason was as compatible as he suspected.

#Batless!AU #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #stray!tim #RedGhost!Jason #Dick Grayson #Talon!Dick #Damian Wayne #Barbara Gordon #Oracle!Barbara #Birds of Prey #BatFam

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 9: Explanation

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

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight

Word count: 2469

Between her newfound acceptance of her less-than-moral tendencies and her freshly organized office, Elianna had finally been able to find peace for the day as she finished plugging all of her notes into the computer. Cognitively she knew (and had even told several patients in the past) that seeking revenge was unhealthy and detrimental to the healing process, especially if the outcome could get the exactor arrested. But God was the prospect of it attractive.

I don't think God has anything to do with any of this.

She wrapped up the rest of her work fairly quickly, still mulling over the unethicacy of admitting patients with common phobias, finally deciding to overlook the fallacies if it meant that she wouldn't be attacked again any time soon, and gathered her purse and her suitcase before making her way to Jonathan's office after a glance over her map of the facility.

On her way, Elianna suddenly found herself wrapped in the embrace of something blonde and very shrill. "Harley?"

"I'm so sorry that I didn't check on you sooner!" El laughed and gently pried her friend off of her.

"It's okay; I'm alright." She assured with a warm smile. She barely knew Harley. How sweet of her to be so worried.

"Like hell you are, look at your forehead!" Without thinking, El lifted her hand to touch the bandaid, which was only partially covered by her hair.

"To be honest, I forgot about it. But the fact that I only needed a bandaid and not a hospital bracelet means something, I think."

"Yeah, I guess so." Harley pouted and linked her arm with Elianna's, starting to walk her in the direction she had been going before she stopped her. "I was really worried about you, y'know, and nobody expected you back today. I mean, you must be traumatized! Any signs of PTSD?"

"Not yet, but I'm trying not to dwell on it. I mean, I came here for a fresh start (not technically a lie), and as far as I'm concerned, this was just the city officially indoctrinating me as a Gothamite." Harley snorted and shook her head.

"Alright, however you want to look at it, I guess. Look, I gotta run; I just couldn't let you go without making sure you're okay. You're sure you don't need anything?"

"Not at the moment, but if I need anything, I'll keep you in mind." El stopped walking again to give the blonde a tight squeeze, which she returned readily.

"Alright, honey, say hi to Doctor Crane for me," Harley finished with a kiss on her cheek and then seemed to vanish before Elianna had a chance to say anything else.

Upon reaching Jonathan's office, she knocked and waited for him to buzz her in, and her original greeting died in her throat as she entered.

"Why do you get a bigger office than me?" She asked, looking around the space. It was still messy, just like his home office, but the chaos seemed more organized.

"Because I've worked here longer, come help me with this stack, will you?" He sighed and pushed said stack to the other side of the desk from him. El nodded and sat in front of it, taking the top file off. "Just read me the most recent notes inside, and I'll type it up." They set to work straight away, finally getting each computerized file updated after an hour or so. Jonathan stretched his back as they stood up, and El noticed that he still seemed irritated by whatever her name was from the DA's office.

"You okay? I can drive home if you want." He let out a short, humorless "ha!"

"Under no circumstances do you get to drive my car. You drive like Scarecrow."

"Wh-you let him drive but not me?" He shook his head.

"Not a chance, but he likes it when you drive, and that's enough of a deterrent for me." El rolled her eyes, but it was sound reasoning, she supposed.

"Fine, but you have to make dinner again."

"Well, the difference is that with me behind the wheel, we'll actually make it home to enjoy dinner." He replied offhandedly, snapping his briefcase closed and walking with her to the door.

"Okay, I get it, find a new joke, will you?" Her light irritation seemed to amuse him, and she muttered something about, "never should have taught you about humor," as he held open the door for her.

Once back at Jonathan's apartment, El wasted no time getting into the shower and changing into pajamas. She still had so many questions about his involvement in the underworld, and being comfortable acted as her preliminary strike against what would doubtlessly be a less than fun conversation.

When she returned to the living room, Jonathan hadn't bothered to change out of his work clothes, and it appeared that he had been trying in vain to tidy his desk the entire time. El left him to it and continued to the kitchen in search of something to snack on.

"You jealous of my clean office yet?" She called as she pilfered through his pantry. Her friend had had a weakness for goldfish ever since she had introduced them to him, as silly as it sounded. I know they're in here somewhere...aha!

"Hardly; I just misplaced something." He replied distractedly as she walked back in with the entire carton. "If you finish that, you're buying me more."

"Deal. So, why don't you put that on pause until after we talk about everything else?" El asked as she walked next to him and leaned back against the desk, and he stopped shuffling through his papers.

"Where do you want to start?" El thought for a moment before pulling him over to the couch so that they could sit and set the carton between them.

"Why don't you tell me how you...came into the life of organized crime?" She asked slowly, unsure of how to go about asking. Was that the right way to refer to the situation?

"There's a man, Ra's Al Gul," El was taken aback by the intense name—this really was very serious. "He contacted Falcone a while ago to find someone to make a compound that can help him purge Gotham. Falcone found me because of my specialty in phobias and recruited me to the cause. He assumed that I would be easily corrupted, working at Arkham and all." He reached into the carton for a handful of goldfish. "I guess he was right."

"O-okay, and that's why you developed the toxin in the first place." He nodded. "And this Ra's Al Gul character, he's the one shipping what you need into Gotham, what is it?"

"It's this little blue flower from Bhutan. It grows in the mountains. There's a natural chemical in it that reacts to being broken down that causes vivid hallucinations by hijacking the amygdala and creating a powerful fear response. He uses it for some...initiation process for his organization."

"So you studied it and found a way to work it into a serum." He nodded again, still slowly working through his handful of the little crackers, and suddenly something clicked in Elianna's brain. "My patients." He looked at her, his face impassive. "The ones with the anxiety disorders, there isn't actually anything wrong, is there? You admitted them to study the effects."

"Yes, I've been microdosing them with different strains of the toxin to study the results."

"Well, how do you keep them from ratting you out? I mean, if I'm working with some of them, then that means other doctors are too."

"I've made it clear to all of them that if they point the finger at me that I'll give them a full dosage. It's not like the administration would find any of my research if they cared to look anyway; it's all here." Elianna laughed incredulously.

"You really do have everything figured out, don't you? Sneaky bastard."

"I'm going to choose to assume that was a compliment." There was a quiet pause while El thought over everything she had learned in such a short space of time.

"Why does Ra's Al Gul want to target Gotham?" Jonathan half shrugged in response.

"Something about the corrupt elite, the thinks that by weeding it out, it can allow humanity to heal."

"He thinks he can fix humanity by taking out one lousy city?" She asked before another thought hit her. "Hold on, you're one of the corrupt elite, aren't you? That goes against his whole plan. Why are you helping him if you're in his crosshairs?" At this, Jonathan shook his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I agreed to do this because if I didn't, they could find someone else to, and as long as I continue with the project, I've been promised a way out of the city safely. This has been in motion for long enough that I work directly for Ra's Al Gul now. Falcone is just involved in handling the shipments; they sneak it in with other drugs."

"Well...shit, you get to leave the city so that you don't get caught up in the...the chaos, what about me?" She had a moment of self-awareness for the selfishness of her concern, which was easily brushed off (much to her own surprise), and she did not want to get caught up in the attack on the city. Jonathan turned his head to look at her, almost offended that she had even asked.

"I'm going to take you with me. I thought that would go without saying." He shifted his whole body to face her. "Like I said this morning, I do terrible things, but I wouldn't abandon you do that any more than you would to me, especially now. I told you everything; now you're involved."

El nodded in relief. All of her questions answered, she returned to thinking about how much she should have been disturbed by the situation. Her best friend was involved in a plot to bring down an entire city, and she had been more concerned about her own safety than she had been about the innocent people living there.

Then again, why should she be worried? Everything, everyone, for her entire adult life had been just like high school in Arlen where the strong and privileged had punched downward at the weak for fun, and the weak were pushed to do bad things to get by. Was it not kinder to eliminate the city where it was all overlooked? Kinder to provide the weak with an out from subjugation with a choice that they didn't need to make? To exact revenge on their tormentors?

Really, she thought, if you think about it, the only difference between them and the two of us is that we have the chance to do something about it. So why shouldn't we?

Life in Gotham had already been so much more exciting than she had hoped for, and the promise of more in store filled her with anticipation. Why had she chosen to go so far away from Jonathan in the first place?

"Well then," she moved the carton onto the coffee table and laid across the newly empty space to put her head in her friend's lap and looked up at him. "What's the plan for Zsasz?" The littlest hint of a smile appeared on his face.

"You're looking forward to it now, aren't you?"

"He deserves it." The condemnation flew from her mouth without a second thought.

"He does, but are you sure you can do it?"

"Yes. I want to do it. And if I can't, that won't change. Even if you have to do it for me, it'll be done, and so long as one of us does it and no one else, I'll be satisfied with the outcome." Jonathan found himself feeling proud of his friend, and Scarecrow echoed the sentiment; the straw man was really starting to like her for the first time.

"Well said."

"I thought so too." El smiled at him, suddenly remembering once again her mysterious savior. "Oh!" She sat up quickly, turning to face him again. "The parking lot the other night, Zsasz; there was someone else there."

"What do you mean, there was a witness?" Elianna shook her head.

"No, it was after I fell, when I got up again and I was running to my car there was someone else there, he-" she paused to decide how to tell what had happened. "It seemed like he flew over my head, I don't know where he came from, but he went after Zsasz. I saw him for a seconds before I left, he was dressed in all black, and his face was covered. I thought that he would take care of Zsasz, but it seems like the police detained him, so I don't know what happened."

Jonathan thought for a moment, analyzing the information. "Well, even if whoever it was incapacitated Zsasz and called the police, it's unlikely that they would broadcast that on the media." EL nodded in agreement.

"I wonder what his motivation was and how he happened to be there." She spoke aloud, but more to herself than to Jonathan. "If he hadn't shown up, I don't think I would have made it."

"Well, it's definitely strange, I'll give you that." Jonathan sighed. "Something we'll have to keep an eye on. If a vigilante is gearing up to take out criminals, then we'll have to be prepared for it."

"Yeah." The apartment was silent as the pair thought over what would happen if anything they were planning on doing was discovered. "I knew Gotham would give me some excitement." She finally said lightly, to which Jonathan scoffed.

"Yeah, you could call it that. Is...there anything else you may have forgotten than you need to tell me?" El thought back for a moment, fighting a chill as she forced herself to remember anything.

"No, that's it." He nodded.

"Good."

"Yeah." They both paused for another moment before El spoke again, looking to change the subject. "Now go make dinner before I'm forced to finish your goldfish; I'm starving."

"Yes, ma'am," Jonathan stood, taking the carton back into the kitchen with him. "How do you feel about pasta tonight?"

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #attraction to the insane #multi chapter fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 9

[primeemeraldheiress]

Brönte's Forgotten Child

(You did say to keep it coming) 

Her mother loved Emma. Those first lines were everything she ever wanted to be

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy disposition... and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.” 

She wanted that.

The life of the socialites. Of Gotham’s beloved children that seemed inhuman for their beauty.

They garbed themselves in riches that she couldn’t attain, couldn’t even afford to dream.

So she tripped.

She tripped hard. 

She disconnected herself from the world and it’s cursed reality and pretended she was Emma Woodhouse being cathered and pampered instead of Catherine Todd laying on her own vomit in her run down little apartment in Crime Alley, new bruised eye from her Mr. Darcy, and her daughter trying to clean her up.

Her daughter.

Her Jane.

Catherine never wanted children.

But just like everything that involved Willis she either had to accept it or get bruised. 

“All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.”

Jane Petra Todd was every bit of Sheila and every bit of Willis.

Willful, stubborn, obstinate, tenacious, dangerous, cunning little devil child with a heart too damn soft for this world.

She had come to her as a little girl with a profound scowl and pretty bows in her hair.

Her mother had ran away from a lawsuit after a botched abortion.

Talk about a contraceptive method.

Catherine never wanted children. 

She especially never wanted a girl.

If push ever came to shove (which it did most days with Willis drunk off his ass), she wanted a boy.

A strong, self-sufficient boy.

One she would make sure to raise right, away from the influence of her poisonous father.

Away from Crime Alley.

Away from this Hell.

He would be chivalrous and educated and well read and well spoken. He would be every bit the gentleman that managed to break through Elizabeth’s wall.

She always did like the name Jason.

“You — you strange — you almost unearthly thing! — I love as my own flesh. You — poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are”

Instead she got a Jane.

Soft, brittle, little Jane withe dark hair that fell in curls and bright blue eyes that made the Gotham sky seem dull. 

Catherine never wanted children.

But she loved her Jane. 

“I knew, you would do me good, in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you”

Catherine always knew she would die with a needle in her arm.

Rehab never worked.

It didn’t matter how many times she tried. 

How many books she read.

What words Elizabeth, or Emma, or Jane, or anyone said to her.

Willis would always show up with a little white powder and once again she was lost.

Jane always forgave her.

Looked after her.

Cleaned her.

Tucked her into bed.

Made sure she drank water.

Soft, brittle, little Jane who cried because kids made fun of her name. Stupid, selfish Catherine who took her into her arms and showed her the miracle that was Jane Austen.

Catherine always knew she would die with a needle in her arm.

She thought everything would be cold and dark.

Instead it was warm and bright.

The image of her sitting on the couch, little Gothamite princess in her arms, reading at loud:

“I desired more...than was within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn't help it: the restlessness is in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.”

Daddy dearest died not too long after, a job with Two-Face gone wrong.

She was officially an orphan, and ran away before CPS came for her.

Jane wouldn’t be caught dead in foster care.

She barely survived her family.

She wouldn’t survive another one like that.

She was better off alone anyways. 

Soft, brittle, little Jane died the day she found Catherine overdosed on the bathroom floor.

Feral, menacing, savage Jay was born that same day.

She always did hate her name anyways. 

 “I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.”

These glimpses of who she once was, of the life she left behind haunted her day and night.

Nagging, bugging, exhausting swarm of bees, that never fell silent, not even in her sleep.

Nightmares of mother, and ma.

Dreams of father and pa. 

Ironic that two men so different could be the same.

Violent, and proud with their heads shoved so far up their asses they could never see how they hurt everyone around them….or was it that they didn’t care?

                            “Am I hideous, Jane?

                   “Very, sir: you always were, you know.” 

She always hated her name.

Catherine appeased the hatred for a while, reminding her that Austen was an unbreakable woman. An unstoppable cyclone who wouldn’t budge at the circumstances.

Who wouldn’t budge, who wouldn’t bend, who didn’t just survive but THRIVE. 

Then again, fate always seemed to like to play jokes on her. God (if there was one) always found her pain very amusing.

She wasn’t Jane Austen.

She was Jane Eyre. 

“I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing.” 

She was the ghost that haunted Wayne Manor.

The failed Robin. The wayward child. The lost daughter. The absolute scourge of evil.

The cursed mark upon Batman’s perfect record. The problem child of Bruce Wayne.

The fucking blemish upon the family name. 

Her catastrophe etched on the walls of the place she once called home.

Her debacle immortalized in the cave that saw her grow.

Her fucking name forgotten, erased letter by letter and tossed in the air.

She lived now in the attic; Edward Rochester’s best kept secret, and burning shame.

Her screams and cries were ignored as they resonated in the halls. Her calls of justice silenced once for all.

“Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned”

He locked her in the attic, let her memory haunt the place.

He locked her in the attic, let her memory fade.

He locked her in the attic, let her name never be displayed.

He locked her in the attic, let her go fucking insane. 

                      “Remorse is the poison of life.”

Jane always hated her name, Bruce never once called her “Jay”

One more reason to hate him. 

And hate everything he built after her.

The life that blossomed above her grave, flowers nourished by her corpse.

She hated him.

She hated all of them.

She hated Gotham, and her villains, hated her crime and her corruption.

But most of all she hated herself.

She hated her lack-luster hair, and the single white stripe on it, her dead eyes, with green specks bleeding through the blue. Hated her scars, covered by a million tattoos.

She hated herself.

Because despite it all.

She couldn't hate him too. 

“I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me.”

----------------------------------------

Em here:

Excuse me?

Excuse me, where the fuck have you been hiding?!

This god damn knock-my-fucking-socks-off-amazing!

Is there an AO3 account out there I'm missing?! Holy shit!

I need more of your writing, do you hear me? MORE!

#Jason Todd #Female Jason Todd #Angst #Catherine Todd #Gratuitous Lit References #JaneAnon #phyrric-victory2427 #submission

[heartslogos]

mafia!verse: hunting season [1]

“Fabricci! You’re late for dinner! You should phone ahead. Your wife and I had a lovely dinner together, but the entire time we were missing you.”

Dick doesn’t even blink when the lights flick on and the man in the doorway freezes. Dick’s eyes travel over Fabricci’s body. A little rumpled. Rosy complexion — drunk, possibly. Dick can’t smell the booze from here, but he’s sure he can figure it out without having to do a sniff test.

Fabricci is one of the stubborn hanger-ons that thinks with enough gumption, enough muscle, and enough brass he can upset Gotham’s status quo. He’s one of those who thinks that it’s time for a change and that change should be his family’s name on the billboards and in the news as Gotham’s — well. Family. Gotham only has one family and it will only ever be Wayne. That’s how Gotham started and that’s how Gotham is going to end.

If it wouldn’t get Dick teased he would have made a comment about the attitude of new money when he was discussing this with Jason and Damian.

The man turns to, no doubt yell at the poor woman huddled against the wall and ready to flinch. She’s holding the man’s coat up like a shield. But Dick stands, drawing attention back to himself.

“Oh, don’t get mad at her. She was kind enough to let me in to wait for you. And goodness how we’ve been waiting!” Dick smiles. It’s not the gentlest of smiles in his arsenal. But it’s definitely not the meanest. The woman averts her eyes anyway.

It can be hard to look into the sun, regardless of how gentle it seems.

“What did you do to her?” Fabricci demands.

“Nothing.” B’s instructions aside, Dick isn’t the kind of person who would resort to threats or violence first anyway.

There are people who get by with acts of dominance enacted by fists and fury. And that can be well and good for them, but Dick isn’t that type of person and he never will be. He’s never led with a fist. Dick’s prelude is his smile and if that doesn’t get him where he needs to be that’s when the fists can fly but there aren’t many places a smile won’t get him.

“Why are you here? You aren’t welcome in my home. You want to talk? You set up business like anybody else.”

Dick barely refrains from saying, but I’m not anybody else.

Instead Dick says, “And why aren’t I welcome in your home? You come into mine so casually.”

Dick gets a certain kind of thrill in watching the blood drain from the other man’s face. In the background the man’s wife retreats out of view. Dick would be worried if he didn’t already know who’s side she’s on. Good on her for knowing not to mess with the Wayne name. Shame that Fabricci isn’t the type of man who listens to his spouse. Dick has a feeling that if he did they might not even be living in Gotham. A man like this could probably do well elsewhere.

Dick would bet a good amount of money on Fabricci’s wife being a Gothamite. At least one person in this house respects the Wayne name and influence. All Dick had to do was knock and she’d opened the door and opened her mouth with everything she knew. Like she’d been waiting for him to show up. She almost looked relieved to have told him everything. It’s not often that Dick feels close to god, but as he sat across from her at the dining table, listening to her divulging every single detail she could remember, he almost felt like a priest hearing a confession.

“I can’t promise that you’ll be spared,” Dick had told her. She’d closed her eyes like she knew. “But I will do my best. I’ll remember what you’ve done for my family today. It takes great courage and great strength to go through what you have. And it takes a great deal of character to know when to cop up to when something’s wrong. I can promise you, after tonight, your husband’s part in this will be over.”

“Over?” She’d repeated.

Dick did not elaborate. She didn’t really need him to anyway.

“Bludhaven is mine,” Dick says plainly. “And I could have sworn that everyone knew that. But you came in with your guns and your drugs and your money, and I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it was a mistake on your part. Some sort of simple oversight. Maybe you didn’t realize that your little grab for power had spilled over the borders. If that’s the case I thought why not talk this out, all quiet, away from everyone else. You know. In case it was a mistake.”

Ah, the men of bravado and pride. They are so easy to bait. Dick feels a small curl of satisfaction as Fabricci tilts his chin up in defiance.

“And if it wasn’t, Grayson?”

“Then we have a problem, you and I, and it’s a problem we’re going to settle tonight. One way, or another.”

“Yeah? And how are you going to do that?” Unusual confidence for someone in his position. Dick doesn’t know if that’s real or fake. Or maybe there’s something else worth poking at here.

“I had thought we could talk it out over dinner. Peace isn’t made on an empty stomach, but you never showed up. Your poor wife didn’t seem to know where you were either. Or when you’d be back. Long day at work, Fabricci? What sort of trouble were you trying to cause today?”

Fabricci glares at him, face red and blotchy with fury rather than whatever was causing it earlier.

The smile never slips from his face. The harsh and angry one-sided silence is broken by the ring of a phone.

“One moment,” Dick pulls his phone out of his pocket, not looking at the screen as he answers. “What’s up, little D?”

“Are you still at Fabricci’s?” Damian sounds slightly out of breath, wound up tight like a trap ready to spring, and heated past a point of safe handling.

Dick’s smile, for the first time tonight, wavers.

“Yes. He and I are having a nice little chat. Why? Is there something you’d like me to ask him? Should I put you on speaker?”

“There was a shoot out,” Damian replies. “Near the theater house.”

Tim’s house.

Dick’s grip tightens on the phone, and his smile slides away from morning star to something brighter. Something meaner. Something infinitely vast, infinitely furious, and immeasurably lethal.

The thing about stars is that they are not immortal. The thing about stars is that with something that large, something that indescribably and incomprehensibly present, there is no way for that kind of death to go quietly.

When a star dies the rest of time and history feels it.

When Dick Grayson stops smiling the world takes notice. And it runs to hide and pray to saints who’ve barred the gates and martyrs who’ve turned their faces away.

“Thompson has him stable last I was informed but he’s still in surgery,” Damian says. “Cain and Todd are already on their way.”

“And where are you?”

“I was with him.” Damian pauses, but only for a moment. His voice gets soft. If someone was a fool they would say it goes frail. Childlike, almost. If someone had more brain cells than the fool who called it frail, they would call it warm. And if someone had more brain cells than either of those two dunces they would say Damian’s voice was fond. “Drake covered for me.”

Dick breathes in, a star getting ready, “Well what would you expect, D? That’s what family does. B say anything?”

“Father is not the most particularly verbose under stress.”

“Right. But?”

Dick pulls the phone away from his ear and switches it to speaker, thumbing the volume up to max so Fabricci can hear.

“If there is one thing Father cannot tolerate even more than guns,” Damian says after three heartbeats worth of blood and breath, “It’s injury to his people. All restrictions are, for now, off. To use Todd’s phrasing, it’s hunting season.”

Dick’s smile holds shadows that the stygian catacombs of Hell would turn away from.

“I’ll be there.” Dick hangs up, stowing his phone back into his pocket. “Is that why you were late for dinner, Fabricci? You know. You could have just said you had a prior appointment with my little brothers. You see, if there’s any exception to any rule it’s family.” Dick rolls his shoulders, fingers curling. “That’s the one thing you should never fuck around with. Especially in Gotham.”

#heartsfic #c: a star going red giant #c: the children's champion

[attackpunk]

Mayhem and Matrimony, Chapter One

Rating: Explicit, but not until future chapters, Pairings: Batman/Joker, Warnings: none

I will be posting more of this if people are interested, so leave a comment and a reblog why dontcha?

It was never sunny in Gotham. In fact, it was hardly ever daytime. Nights always seemed unusually long, and when the morning did deign to arrive, it always came with an entourage of clouds. This was the way that all Gothamites preferred to live. If they wanted sunlight, they would have lived in Metropolis (and Metropolis was just too… metropolitan for any respectable Gothamite).

 Unfortunately, the Joker was not a respectable Gothamite. He was not a respectable anything, and he quite liked it that way. The Joker loved sunlight. He loved warm breezes and balmy afternoons. If it weren’t for a few choice superheroes, he would have moved to Metropolis long ago. Yet he stayed. His philosophy was that Gotham had character. Everything in Metropolis was pre-packaged and plastic wrapped, much like their god-like Boy Scout, but Gotham had life. And of course, Gotham had his beloved Bat.

Joker prided himself on being a psychopath, even a sociopath- yet when it came to the Bat, his heart melted. Nay, it soared. If only Batsy felt the same way. Actually, scratch that, if only Batsy realized that he felt the same way. Then everything would be tickety-boo.Joker surveyed his surroundings and smiled. Everything was going perfectly. A stunt like this was not only expensive, stylish, and daring, it was also a declaration. He wanted to see how much he could push his Bat, and if he got a happily ever after in the process? Well, then it would be a win-win!

 Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harley skating towards him with a clipboard.

“Everything’s ready, boss,” she trilled happily, chewing her bubblegum. She held the clipboard out to him,“Just need you to sign these terms and conditions and we’ll be on our way.”“Perfect, dollface, just perfect!” Joker said, clapping his hands together. He felt like a schoolgirl getting ready for prom night. Only with more murderous intent. Or maybe not. It all rested on Batsy.

 He made his way over to the car he was going to be riding into the GCPD. It was one of his trademarks, a purple Lamborghini with green accents. It was garish, grotesque, and altogether way too expensive to have any kind of quality or class. He loved it. Getting in, he wondered just how this would all play out. Fuck, was he nervous?

No. Obviously not. The Joker, the scourge of Gotham, did not get nervous over a boy. Not even one that he was madly in love with. One that he would do almost anything for. But what if… 

No! He was not going to think about things going wrong. Batsy would see reason. He had to. Or Gotham’s streets would run red with blood.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce Wayne was a little bitch. At least, that’s what Batman thought. Nevermind the fact that he was Bruce Wayne; that was a technicality. No, in his civilian persona he chose to be a little bitch. It diverted suspicion away from what he spent most of his waking nights doing. And yet, he felt… empty. Like something was missing. Maybe he spent too much time as Bruce Wayne. Or maybe it was the opposite. Anyways, he was headed to the GCPD to be a public disturbance. Of course, he would be a calculated public disturbance. The real reason for his trip to the GCPD was to gather intel. Gordon had come to him about a potential mole in the precinct, and had asked him to discreetly monitor the officers. Batman was not discreet. Neither was Bruce Wayne, but at least no one knew that Bruce Wayne could sucker punch them into oblivion.

So that was the reason why Alfred was driving them into the grey, grey city in a black, black car, dodging traffic and politely cursing the absolute atrocities that were committed by the drivers of Gotham on the daily. 

Of course, it was just their luck that when they arrived it was absolute chaos. Bruce was not a betting man, but he was willing to bet the entirety of Wayne Enterprises that the Joker was behind it. It would make sense. The Joker was a psychopath, with no moral compass to speak of. Or, Bruce thought, perhaps he had too much of a moral compass. 

Gotham cops, and even cops in general, were not the most compassionate of creatures. Maybe this was the Joker’s twisted sense of justice. But it was not his job to psychoanalyze his arch-nemesis. Although, it wasn’t like the shrinks at Arkham were doing a good job of it. 

Bruce shook himself. Gotham needed him; what was he doing thinking about the Joker’s motivations? That sort of thinking was reserved for the Batcave, and if Bruce were being completely honest with himself, his bed. Now was not the time. 

“Alfred,” he said, voice slipping so naturally into that gravelly growl, “Is there a Batsuit anywhere close to here?”

Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“Sir, do you even have to ask? I would have thought you had every location of every Batsuit memorized.”

“I’m a Bat, Alfred, not a computer,” Bruce replied dryly.

“I have one in the trunk, sir. Should I drive towards the nearest safehouse? Or mayhaps an alley?”

“Alley will be fine. Our main priority is protecting the people.”

Then, somehow, impossibly, things got even weirder. Well, perhaps not so weird for Gotham, but definitely weird by literally anybody else’s standards. The Joker was on a pedestal, rising above the chaos below like an angel. An angel in a wedding dress wielding a flamethrower. 

Miles away, Superman heard a chorus of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” from Gotham. That was a rare occurrence; nobody in Gotham was disturbed by anything. Until now. Clark paused. Should he go investigate? No, Batman probably had things under control. Besides, he thought, punching a robot, he had his own problems.

Back in Gotham, the Joker was having a roaring time at the GCPD. Everybody was confused and hysterical, which was just the way he liked it. He signaled to Harley, who turned on the speakers attached to the trucks his henchmen had ridden in.

“Good morning, Gotham!” he yelled, his voice amplified by the lapel mic on his breast, “Are y’all having a lovely time?”

“No!” the people of Gotham yelled back, on fire and spiteful.

“Well, alright then. Would you like all of this mayhem to stop?”

“Yes?” yelled the people of Gotham, on fire and suspicious.

“Well then I only ask for one thing, dear Gothamites. I want…” Joker paused. Make them wait for it…

“Batman’s hand in marriage!”

Boom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Batman in question was halfway through putting on the Batsuit when he heard the shocking declaration. Now, Batman of course did not freeze in shock. The only time Batman was frozen was when Mr. Freeze scored a lucky hit. What he was currently doing was… analyzing the situation. While not moving. With his mind completely blank. It certainly did not take Alfred getting out of the car and slapping him across the face to get him to move again. It was five minutes before Batman burst onto the scene of the decimated GCPD, and everything was still on fire. Fucking typical. Only now the Joker was using his flamethrower (was it bedazzled?) to burn down the entire precinct. And the firefighters were trying to get through a blockade of stolen, armored trucks. 

“Fuck,” Bruce whispered under his breath. Then he said it a little louder for good measure. Joker was speaking again, having caught sight of him.

“Batsy, my darling, did you hear my proposal? You marry me, and I’ll stop terrorizing Gotham!”

“Over my dead body. You’re insane!” Batman shouted back, though he was barely audible above the sounds of general mayhem. 

“Maybe so, but this is an offer that’s too good to pass up, don’tcha think?”

Bruce stopped and thought about it. Personal sacrifice had never meant anything to him. He had given up any semblance of a normal life the moment he put on the cowl. And marriage to the Joker came with an end to his reign of terror. Who knew when an offer like this would come again? And, who knew what the Joker’s retaliation would be if he refused? Oh, fuck. Was he really doing this?

He was. He found himself scaling the demolished precinct, trying to get up to the Joker’s level. Or, metaphorically, stooping down to it. Either way, soon he found himself standing on the Joker’s pedestal, gazing upon him in all his wedding dress and flamethrower glory. Fuck, he was beautiful. 

Wait, did he really just think that? Well, said a tiny, sarcastic part of his brain, he is your future husband. Oh, fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I accept your proposal,” Batman growled at him, looking both angry and nervous at the same time. Damn, that was a look. Wait, did Batsy just say yes? Joker gaped in shock. He hadn’t actually expected this to work. Batsy looked nervous, and Joker would bet his entire criminal empire that he did too. God, they really were a pair of idiots, weren’t they? 

“Hey, boss!” Harley shouted up to them. 

“Oh, thank God,” he and Batsy said. In unison. 

“Wow, we’re practically an old married couple already, Batsy!” Joker joked as they watched Harley get closer to them, dragging a harried justice of the peace behind her. 

“Don’t push it,” Batman warned, a tic forming in his jaw. 

“Alright, my love,” Joker purred. Oh, this could be rather fun. He’d be able to mess with his Bat as much as he wanted once they were married. Which would be very soon. Oh wow. He and Batsy would be married. As in, till death do us part. 

Or maybe not. The Justice of the peace had apparently broken free of Harley's grasp, and was now taking to the hills along with the rest of the populace. Smart guy, Joker thought. Or not, since Harley appeared to be in pursuit.

"So, we're getting… married right now? You're not going to try and court me first?" Batsy said, and was it the Joker's imagination or did he look put out? Well, that simply would not do. He only wanted the best for his Bat.

"Why, Batsy, what do you call all of our midnight trysts?" he replied, hoping to assuage his beloved.

"You consider trying to kill each other foreplay?" And oh, wow, was that a bit of sardonic humor in Batsy's voice?

"Why, yes I do! Would you rather I took you out to dinner? I, ah, don't quite think that would be received all too well, Bruce Wayne in a fancy restaurant with the Joker. People might talk."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce gaped.

"How the hell do you know who I am? And why the hell did you say that so loud! Isn't your mic still running? Oh my fucking God, what is wrong with- wait, no, that's a stupid question," Bruce was well aware that he was rambling, but it was definitely justified because his insane arch-nemesis knew his secret identity! 

"Relax, baby, I already disabled the mic. And it wasn't that hard to figure out your 'secret identity.' Bruce Wayne is the only person in Gotham with enough money to fund this kind of endeavor and a tragic enough backstory to warrant it. I'm insane, not an idiot," Joker said.

Bruce relaxed, if only slightly. This could actually work to his advantage, if he played his cards right (pun intended). Joker had never come after him in his civilian persona. Maybe that was a sign of trust between them? Bruce mentally shook himself. How could he ever trust the Joker?

You’re trusting him enough to marry him, that sadistic voice inside him whispered. 

“Oh, motherfucker,” Bruce groaned, feeling a headache coming on. 

“What’s wrong, dearest?” Joker asked, looking for all the world like a concerned bride-to-be, and wasn’t that a scary thought?

“What the fuck do you think is wrong, Joker, I’m marrying an insane clown with a penchant for extravagant murder sprees,” he snapped. This situation was getting too ridiculous even for Gotham, they were thirty feet in the air and the Joker was wearing a wedding dress. He was allowed to be a little angry. Angry at what, he didn’t know. Angry at the world, the Joker, himself; it was all the same thing. 

He found himself staring at the Joker, almost accusingly. Though Bruce was loath to admit it, Joker did look stunning. 

 “Batsy, not to alarm you, but we have a wedding to...perform? Do? Is that the right word? Either way we’re getting hitched. Come on, you can look at me during the honeymoon, God, this corset is tight.”

Joker lowered the platform they had been standing on, which really was too small for two grown men, and began to walk towards his Lamborghini, Bruce awkwardly following him. 

"Where are we going?" Bruce found himself asking against his better judgement. 

"To where the ceremony is being held. Did you really think I'd marry you in the ruins of a police station? Not really my, ah, style, wouldn't you say?"

Bruce had to admit he was right. Joker's style was much more… gauche. It was something to be appreciated. Almost. 

They approached the car, Joker sliding easily into the driver's seat. Bruce walked around to the passenger side, feeling vulnerable.

Christ, he was getting married. To his arch-nemesis. That was knowledge that would probably never sink in fully. How was this his life? He was in a car, a Lamborghini no less, with the Joker driving them to their wedding. Their fucking wedding. Bruce was panicked. No, no; not panicked. Batman did not get panicked. He was a calm, collected figure of justice, and he should damn well act like it. That didn't stop his stomach from twisting into knots. God, he really was like a bride on her wedding day. 

Would Joker expect them to consummate their marriage? Ice flooded his veins. Bruce may be into men and women, but he had never once had relations with another man. He had fantasized, of course, imagined strong hands on his hips and a thick cock in his ass, but he had never acted upon the desires that left him tangled in his sheets, panting. But now… he was getting married. And the Joker was a man. Who was most likely in love with him, however much sense that made. Maybe now…

No. He would not submit to the scourge of Gotham for something as base as desire. He never had, and never would. But would he if it were for the good of Gotham? What if this was the only way to save his city? Joker had promised to stop his villainous ways if Bruce accepted his proposal, and he had. Wouldn't such a union between them, however complicated, ultimately do only good? And perhaps, if he played his cards right, he would never have to sleep with the Joker. 

The bastard part of his brain told him that this was bullshit. He happily ignored that part of his brain and stared at the Joker. The white of his wedding dress was almost paler than his skin, and the purple accents were entirely typical, yet also somehow… alluring. The dress was sleeveless, and Bruce spent five minutes trying to figure out what laws of physics allowed it to stay in place. Eventually he realized that Joker was wearing a corset that had to be crushing his ribs. Bruce wanted, for just a moment, to take it off of him. To loosen the vice that had to be uncomfortable, had to be unpleasant. To ease, to soothe. That thought, that want, scared him more than anything else that had happened today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things were going perfectly. Almost too perfectly. Surely it couldn't be this easy? Joker wasn't paranoid, but surely Batman had something up his gauntleted sleeve. He always did. Batman may have been one of the smartest people on the planet, but he was also about as observant as a brick wall. There was absolutely no way in hell that Batsy had realized his feelings that fast. 

Oh god, this was a sacrifice play, wasn't it? Instead of actually confronting his feelings, he was rationalizing what he was doing. Well. That certainly would not do. 

They had arrived at the venue, chosen specifically for its sentimentality. It was the Gotham Bank, specifically the rooftop. He glanced at the Bat, trying to gauge his reaction. He had become rather good at reading his expressions, even concealed as he was under the cowl. 

Batman, no, Bruce, was speechless. For a moment, anyways.

“This-this was where we first met,” he said, softly, almost reverent. Joker felt something in his chest give way and shatter. Bruce liked it. He had done well. He smiled, a soft thing, so unlike his usual, mania-induced grin. He looked at Bruce, who was looking at him. This was the man he loved. This was the man he was going to give up villainy for. This was the man he was going to marry. He had never been so sure of anything. Goddamnit, he was in love with Bruce Wayne, the Bat of Gotham, and he was going to shout it from the rooftops. Literally. He offered his arm to his Bat.

"Shall we?"

Batman hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but then he took Joker's arm, and up they went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going absolutely perfectly. They were scaling the Gotham Bank, with him in Batsy’s arms. Thank god he didn’t mention the staircase that led up to the roof. Or, thank god that Batsy knew about the staircase and didn’t want to use it anyways. Either way, everything was working out absolutely fantastically. He rather liked being pressed close to Bruce, arms around that strong, bulky frame, so unlike his wiry one, and Harley’s voluptuous curves. Batman was solid. It was nice. 

When they finally reached the roof, he found his surprise for Batsy waiting for them. All of their friends were there. His bridesmaids- Harley, her wife Ivy, and Selina- were stunning in their violet dresses. He had taken the liberty of, ah, not exactly kidnapping, but rather… violently persuading the various Batboys to act as the groomsmen. They looked murderous, which was not ideal, but he could work with it. At least he didn't have to gag them. And really, they could get out of their handcuffs easily. He had seen them all do it before; they were perfectly capable of escape. And yet they weren’t. He wondered why.

In the seats lining the aisle were Gotham’s finest criminals, all dressed in their Sunday best. Scarecrow’s burlap looked especially nice, and did the Penguin have a new suit tailored for the occasion? Even Bruce’s loyal butler, Alfred, was there, looking altogether quite calm for a senior citizen surrounded by dangerous supervillains. 

“Batman!” Grayson called out, almost leaving from his spot as the best man. It was cute how he was still trying to hide his mentor's identity.

"Nightwing," Batman growled out, looking uncomfortable,

"What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask the same about you," the Boy Wonder replied with a smirk that almost belied his unease.

“I’m doing what’s best for Gotham,” Bruce said, and what Joker wouldn’t give to see under that alluring cowl to see the expressions flit across his face. 

“Doing what’s best for Gotham my ass,” Jason Todd, the infamous Red Hood said from where he was standing, “You two have been flirting with each other since day one. Y’all just need to bone.”

Batman spluttered for a moment, then said,

“Bone!? Bone!? How dare you- wait a minute, didn’t he kill you?” Bruce said, incredulous.

“Yeah, but I got better,” Todd said, looking much more nonchalant than he usually did. But, then again, this isn’t supposed to be an angsty story, is it? 

Everyone decided to just go with it. Good.

“I, ah, hate to interrupt this lovely father-son moment here, but we do have a wedding to do, right darling?” Joker said. He was growing just the tiniest bit impatient. He wanted to be married, dammit! 

Batsy, to his credit, had the manners to look abashed. Wow, he had now seen more expressions on Bruce’s face today than he had in all their time together thus far. Joker extended his arm to his love.

“Shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking motherfucking fuck

Alarm bells were ringing in Bruce’s head. This wedding was happening right the fuck now! Jesus fucking hell. Holy shit. He must look like a total idiot right now, but he was allowed to be a bit concerned! Joker was waiting for him, arm outstretched. Bruce grabbed it, his brain on autopilot. Or, not on autopilot, the pilot was there, but said pilot was almost certainly having a panic attack and quite possibly going into cardiac arrest. 

They were walking down the aisle.

They were at the altar.

The justice of the peace was there now, a bit more bruised than he had been the last time Bruce had seen him.

Everything was muted; he was swimming through noise and panic with the peace of a drowned man. All he could hear was a dull roar, that is until Dick slapped him on the shoulder. Suddenly, everything slipped back into focus.

“...Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the justice said, his voice wavering only slightly. Damian looked to object, but was held back by Tim. Bruce was somehow grateful.

“And now, would you speak your vows?” the justice said, glancing nervously around.

“I shall,” Joker said, looking suddenly solemn.

“Batsy, from the moment I met you, on this very rooftop, I knew you were the one. No one but you had ever been able to bring out the best in me the way you have. Whether we were fighting or flirting, I always felt complete. And now I want to be complete with you, officially.” 

That was- unexpected. Bruce honestly hadn’t thought the Joker was capable of feeling things, at least not things like- no, he refused to say it. Everyone was staring at him, why was that? 

Oh. He had to speak his vows. What the hell was he going to do now? He had no idea what to say. He was Batman, he didn’t need words; a well placed glare was usually enough to portray his meaning no matter who he was speaking to. He cleared his throat. 

“Joker,” he began, “I- I don’t really know what to say. This entire situation is completely ridiculous, but I mean what situation with you isn’t? I guess it’s just a part of your charm.” Oh fuck, did he really just call the Joker charming? He glanced over at his children and, yep, they had definitely caught that. Even Damian looked smug. Okay Bruce, deep breaths. You just have to get through this then this whole nightmare will be over. Well, said that little voice in his head, damn that voice, it really will have only just begun. 

“Joker, while I admit the circumstances of this are not exactly typical, I really don’t think any kind of wedding with either of us could be. I almost hate to admit it, but you bring out the best in me, and I can only hope that in the future I can bring out the best in you,” he finished. That should be enough, right? He looked at Joker, and almost froze. The Joker was smiling, but not his normal, maniacal smile. It was soft, and hopeful, and it made something in Bruce’s chest crack open. Oh, fuck. 

The justice of the peace, still looking terrified out of his wits, seemed to gather himself enough to say,

“You- you may now kiss the groom.”

Bruce didn’t even have time to panic.

#dc #dc comics #the joker #joker #batjokes #fic #bruce wayne #batfam