Love in G Major
Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au
Word Count: 2,500+
Warnings:Ā Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens
Authorās Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne
Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, youāre one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when youāll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before youāre supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isnāt your soulmate.
Five hours.
You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.
It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You werenāt supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.
After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bachās Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.
Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.
At first, it wasnāt that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.
You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.
It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.
Four hours.
You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.
āAt least I still have my cello,ā you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.
You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didnāt shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.
Except it wasnāt your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you werenāt going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.
āHere she is,ā he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.
The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldnāt help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.
āWhat am I doing on stage,ā you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddlerās smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. āRiddle me this,ā the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, āwhat is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?ā
Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.
āI donāt know,ā you mumbled as a minute passed.
āWell, if you donāt know, why donāt we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?ā
And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You donāt know how you could live with his blood on your hands.
āWait, I have the answer,ā you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddlerās elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldnāt be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.
āWell, do go on.ā
āItās music,ā you said, staring at the deranged manās face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.
āThatās correct. And with that, let us start the games.ā
Three hours.
After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.
āBatman, I have two riddles for you,ā he said, addressing the camera. If you werenāt stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldnāt he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.
āThere are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, āWhat is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?ā You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.ā
As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably werenāt as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, itād probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.
You just hoped that they could understand the Riddlerās riddle and show up to save the night.
Two hours.
An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddlerās henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.
āWell Gotham,ā the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. āBatman still hasnāt arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.ā
At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.
āOur special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.ā
You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.
āNow come on (Y/N), donāt be shy. I know that Iām somewhat of a local celebrity but I donāt bite.ā
You shivered under the Riddlerās gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.
ā(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. Sheās going to play a song that shows up in the cards,ā he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with āPlease, noās mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.
āAnd if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.ā
You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.
As you turned around to shake the Riddlerās hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.
āLet the game begin,ā he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.
āIām sorry but weāre going to have to change the rules,ā you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.
One hour.
You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.
You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bellaās hands and feet.
Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering ālisten.ā
You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.
You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robinās laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bellaās father, the sound of the GCPDās sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.
As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you donāt fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bellaās father.
āWhy donāt you go and seek some medical assistance?ā
āI will sir,ā you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldnāt see Robin near them.
āI think you have something of mine,ā Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.
āI donāt know what youāreā¦,ā you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.
āOh. Well, I donāt knowā¦ maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,ā you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.
āAlright, you can keep it. Just donāt tell Batsie,ā he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. āIām sorry for cutting you.ā
āItās fine,ā you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.
āLetās go talk somewhere else,ā he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.
āLet me introduce myself again,ā he started taking off his mask, āIām Dick Grayson.ā
You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.
āAnd Iām (Y/N).ā
āWhy donāt we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?ā
āI would like that, love bird.ā
