GRAHHH I NEED JEROME COMFORT-FUCKING YOU IN HIS OWN TWISTED WAY‼️‼️
oh anon don’t temp me…
it was a rough day. rain poured from the sky and the dark clouds seemed even heavier than usual, casting a near-black shadow over the entirety of the city you loved.
you were huddled in your bed when you finally let everything wash over you. tears streamed freely down your face as you watched the last bits of sun set from behind the gray clouds. now the sky was completely dark, thunder rumbling across gotham as silent sobs shook your chest. the thunder was so loud you didn’t hear jerome use the key he stole on your first date to let himself into your apartment.
he was silent, slinking through your hallway in search of your hidden form. he stopped at the cracked bedroom door and found you whimpering in bed, a loose tissue box moved to the edge for when you sopped up your tears.
he stood in the doorway and watched you. you squirmed and writhed under your thick black comforter, whining in a feeble attempt at keeping your sobs quiet. every movement of your ass under the blanket and every sweet sound from your mouth went straight to his cock.
it wasn’t his fault, not if you really thought about it. you were his girl after all, he had every right to want to fuck you, it just so happened that your sobs were the thing turning him on.
he crept toward your bed. his wet shoes were kicked off at the front door and all that remained from outside was a few droplets dripping from his soaked hair. you felt the droplet of rain before you realized jerome was hovering over you.
you screamed, but jerome was quick, muffling the high pitch with his large palm. the heat from his grip seeped into your face, and you couldn’t help but throw your hands up to hold his arm when he finally removed his hand.
he softly cooed as he slid under the blanket and dropped his weight into you. he was dense, his body pinning you to the mattress as one of his hands slipped up and grabbed both of your wrists.
“i’m gonna make my girl feel better, okay?”
he didn’t give you time to respond before harshly pressing his lips to yours. he was smothering in every sense. your hands instinctively grabbed for him, but all he did was press your pinned wrists further into where they sat on your chest.
he muttered to himself between kisses, leaning back to fumble his belt and your sleep pants off.
he looked down at you before releasing your wrists and flipping you onto your stomach.
he was uncaring about anything other than pounding you so far into the mattress that you would start crying for him, replicating the pretty sounds from when he first found you.
he was inside you with one strong thrust, briefly pausing to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion before pressing your hips down with a force you’d never felt before.
he bent over your back and started to grind so hard you felt the tears wobbling in your ducts squeeze out to run down your face. it was intense, the slow snap of his hips that followed, combined with the quiet grunts he punctuated each thrust with.
before you could realize it, you were back to sobbing. your emotions coupled with the pace jerome set sent you over the mental edge, the corners of your brain blurring together in fuzzy pleasure as jerome pinned your chest to his with a strong arm around your neck.
his head leaned as far forward as he could manage, watching your red-rimmed eyes and pressing your check to his so he could feel the cold tear trails that he caused.
his smelt of the rain that fueled your sorrow in the first place as his wet hair cemented to his forehead and the side of your face while he nuzzled further into you.
he would eat you alive if you let him, you know.
your sobs quieted as you clenched hard around him, his hips momentarily losing their rhythm at your vice grip. you mumbled his name like a prayer through cries, and that was enough to send him over the edge.
Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.
Warnings: cursing, mentions of killing, nothing too graphic.
~~~
Jim Gordon
~Jim has dealt with so much shit
~Between going after villains to dealing with the PD
~So when you two fell asleep one night
~He had a nightmare you were killed by multiple Gotham villains
~You don't notice he has a nightmare until you feel cold
~When Jim is sitting in the kitchen nursing something to drink
~But not facing the bedroom
~You have to come up from behind
~And hug him tight
~He will probably jump
~But he melts in your embrace
~He wont tell you want happened
~But he will allow to be vulnerable
~And allow you to just mumble in a sleepy voice all the reasons you love him
Edward Nygma
~Edward didn't have nightmares often
~But seemed to have them after being in Arkham
~Then escaping to home
~You would only know when you heard him arguing with himself
~That he shouldn't wake you up
~That this makes him useless
~As you could hear him mutter these things
~Pull him down to the bed
~So you can cuddle into him
~And promise that you'll always be there
~Both sides will melt
~And he'll tell you about the nightmare
~So you'll understand his pain
Oswald Cobblepot
~Oswald had nightmares often
~And you usually knew
~The reason is that he talked in his sleep and would hold onto you tight
~You would feel his hands tighten
~And whimpers fall out of his lips
~You’ll probably have to wake him up
~Just to let him know that he is not alone
~He will be sweaty and his heart racing
~But as long as you kiss his lips
~And squeeze his hand
~Oswald will calm down
~Go get a washcloth to help him cool off
~And intertwine your hands before you fall back asleep
Jonathan Crane
~Nightmares plague his head all the time
~And it isn’t because it is his fault
~It usually has to do with his father
~And another person that you will know when he wakes up
~Because he gets as far away from you
~He is shaking in fear
~It’s usually when he does not consume himself in fear
~But appears in his nightmare
~Allow him to slowly calm down on his own
~He’ll immediately climb back into bed
~Because he needs to feel you by his side
~Usually he falls asleep slowly after
Jervis Tech
~Jervis usually has nightmares that his Alice runs away
~You ran away because he harms you
~Jervis is one of the ones who will wake you up
~Just to make sure you are real
~And still loves him
~Before you get tired again, you’ll notice the fear in his eyes
~Whisper to him how much you love him
~And kiss his cheek
~Before cuddling into his chest which calms him down
Victor Zsasz
~Victor wont show he has nightmares
~You usually know when you wake up
~And he’s sitting in the shared bathroom just staring
~No emotions are shown
~But you know what is going on
~So you’ll have to go in
~And kneel where you look up at him
~He won't say anything
~He’ll just pull you into his lap
~And holds you tight
~Just the silent of the night is going to be heard
~Victor will pick you up and bring you back to bed
~Usually it takes just that before the two of you fall asleep
~Victor will probably mention his nightmare later on in the week
~When he is ready
Jeremiah Valeska
~Even after the spray, Jeremiah still gets nightmares
~It happens to be about him almost killing you
~And he’ll wake up to you being sound asleep
~He’ll touch your arm
~And sigh
~Usually you know something happened because he’ll be in the lab
~Bent over
~And probably throwing things in anger
~When you ask him what’s wrong
~You’ll see the anger turn to worry
~An emotion you do not see often
~And Jeremiah will walk over to you to hold you tight
~Demanding you wont leave him
~Even though you never thought that way
~It’s feeling you near him that causes him to want to go back to bed with you
Jerome Valeska
~Jerome did not have nightmares too often
~He was awake in the middle of the night usually
~But when he did fall asleep and had nightmares
~He was similar to Oswald by holding you tighter against him
~But you would still be asleep
~Until you feel him kissing your face and neck while rubbing your hip
~When you slowly wake up, Jerome will kiss you lips and grin
~Usually you wouldn’t ask much
~Until you watch his grin falter
~That’s when you touch his face
~And kiss him softly till Jerome makes you fall back into his chest
~Once the two of you hit the bed, he’ll still be rubbing your arms or hips
The beach. Even at the sight of it, Jerome went wild. Flipping off his shoes in a matter of seconds. One nearly knocked his brother Jeremiah in the face. Having moved his head back just in time. Chuckling manically, Jerome threw his socks behind him as well. One landing on Jeremiah’s shoulder.
Making him sigh loud. Giggling like a kid being given a popsicle, he started running for the sand. Hands flopping in the air. You gasped loud, picking up his shoes from the ground. – “Jerome! Your shoes!” – you called out after him. Struggling to get your shoes off as well. Hopping on one foot to shove it off.
Eyes widening at seeing Jerome drop to his knees into the sand. Scooping some up and throwing it like confetti in the air. Sand carried away by the wind. Some sand falling in his eyes, blinding him for a moment. But never spoiling his fun.
“Jerome!” – you called out, getting in motion with haste. Returning when you felt the weight of a shoe drop. Bending down to pick it up. Lifting your posture back up, greeted by an extended hand of Jeremiah. Holding Jerome’s sock.
Smiling sheepishly back at him, you accepted the lost sock. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Jerome throwing more sand up. Head back, mouth open with pleasure. Some sand falling on his face. – “Jerome, no!” – you scolded, hurrying over. Feet touching the sand as your body wobbled from side to side.
Trying to maintain your balance on the sudden tricky terrain. Jeremiah sighed loud, taking a step. Feeling something get caught underneath his foot. Removing his foot to the side, he bend down to pick up your shoe. Exhaling with a hum at your tardiness.
Jeremiah refused to take off his shoes. Holding your shoe with one finger in the heel. Dangling on his grip as he made his way through the sand. Sand shifting away with each step. Jeremiah stopped at a proper distance of the sea. Plopping his chair down in the sand. His gaze went up to you, seeing you fight with Jerome.
Jerome kept laughing and throwing sand as you scolded him for cutting it out. Jeremiah whistled loud for your attention. Both Jerome and your heads jerked up. Both staring in his direction. You gasped soft, getting up from your knees. Hurrying back to Jeremiah.
“Sorry.” – you told him setting the shade umbrella down in the sand. Having been carrying it this entire time. – “There all good.” – you breathed out, wiping some hair out of your face. Before you could run back to Jerome for another scolding, you were held back.
“Y/n, aren’t you forgetting something?” – Jeremiah asked, quirking an eyebrow up from behind his sunglasses. – “Oh.” – you answered returning back to him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you pressed down on it. Getting on your tips to kiss his cheek. Flustered he blinked confused.
Clearing his throat as he moved his finger that held your shoe up more towards you. Face turned away with a fluster. Your gaze fell on the shoe, making you realize it. – “Oh.” – you let out in a different tone. Taking your shoe from him and cherishing it to your chest. You barely heard him until his arms wrapped around you from behind.
Startling you with a jump scare. – “Y/n!” – Jerome let out in a deep voice. Letting his face rub against your back. Then he moved his face over your shoulder, kissing your cheek with a deep kiss. Overexaggerating his gesture with a big smack. His eyes falling on his brother, seeing him roll his eyes.
Jerome grinned from ear to ear. – “Want to go in the water with me, Y/n?” – he asked. Before you could answer, he had picked you up. Throwing you over his shoulder. – “Jer… Jerome!” – you called out with a loud huff. – “Careful!” – Jeremiah warned his brother.
Posture moving forwards, but restraining himself. Not wanting to dare himself into the waters, he was forced to watch his brother toy with you so carefree. Annoyed he sat down under the shade umbrella to block the sun out. Glaring at his brother walking into the waters till knees high.
Taunting you with dropping you into the cold waters. Your toes dipped into the cold waters, making you scream it out. Holding on tight to his body. Begging him not to drop you. Jerome only laughed. Finding pleasure in it.
When Jerome wanted to go further into the sea, you protested. Shouting and calling it out with every might. Fighting against his grip and breaking loose. Your feet plunged into the sea, making you shriek loud from the cold. Water up till your knees, you started running for the beach.
The sudden change of terrain nearly made you trip into the sand. Sand sticking on your feet and rubbing against your skin. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Jerome chase after you. – “Jerome!” – you screamed out, quickening up your pace. Yet Jerome was faster. Tackling you to the ground. Arms having wrapped around you. Falling in the sand with you.
He landed on top of you, hovering over your body. – “Got ya!” – he panted out. – “You are no fun.” – you responded with a glare. Jerome leaned down to give your nose a quick kiss. Catching you off guard. You shoved him off you, getting back up. Covered in sand on more places now.
Annoyed, you started rubbing it off whilst making your way over to Jeremiah. Jerome rolled over in the sand with a pleased sigh. Moving his arms and legs to make a … snow… sand angel. You joined Jeremiah as he already had a towel extended to you. You accepted it, wiping the sand off your legs.
“He’s an idiot.” – Jeremiah mumbled under his breath. You laid the towel down in front of Jeremiah. Coming to sit down on it. – “You okay Y/n?” – he asked. You hummed loud in response, staring at the sea. Jeremiah moved forwards in his seat. Sitting at the edge, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.
Jerome got up, shaking the sand off him like a dog. His brother rolling his eyes at him with a click of his tongue. You reached into the cool box for a drink. Blinking surprised at the fruity drink in it. – “Thank you.” – Jeremiah said, plucking it from your hands. – “Where did you get this?” – you questioned. – “I have my ways, sweet Y/n.” – he spoke leaning back in his chair.
You pulled out a soda can. Jerome came running over dropping down on his knees at your feet. Panting like an exhausted dog. – “Want me to make you a sandcastle? I’ll make you a sandcastle, Y/n.” – he addressed with a point. Reaching for the bucket and shovel from the bag. Chuckling amusingly, he stationed himself near you.
Shovelling sand to drop into the bucket. Turning it over with haste. Waiting a few seconds till he lifted the bucket up. His smile dropping as the sand folded in. Grunting grumpily, he glared at the sea. Getting up, stomping annoyed over to the sea. – “Be careful!” – you shouted at him.
“Yeah, yeah.” – he responded with a wave of his hand behind his head. You and Jeremiah were watching him. Watching him scoop up water. Turn around but stand still on the sand. Staring down into the sand. A moment later, he started to hop on one foot.
Calling it from the pain. – “Jerome!” – you gasped out. Seeing him get angry, throw the bucket at the sand. Giving the sand a good kick till you saw the silhouette of a little crab fly in the air. Making clear to you he had been pinched. Jeremiah sipped from his fruity drink, staring with a judging glance back at him.
Jerome returned to you. Lowering himself onto your lap. Rubbing his head on your lap for comfort. Acting like a big baby. – “Aww did you get pinched?” – you asked moving your fingers through his hair. Jerome nodded with his head, holding onto your knee.
“You need a kiss?” – you whispered at him. Jerome lifted his chest up with haste. Turning his cheek to you. Tapping it invitingly. You laughed, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He fell backwards into the sand with a dramatic grasp for his heart.
“I’ll make you the prettiest sandcastle ever. Mark my words Y/n.” – he pulled the bucket closer to him. You handed him another bucket. Watching him mix sand with bits of water to make it a vaster structure. Jeremiah was awfully quiet, making you tilt your head back to look up to him.
“You need a kiss too Jeremiah?” – you asked, seeing the jealous look on him. Even with those sunglasses on. – “Yes.” – Jeremiah grunted out, turning his head away. You got up, setting your hands on his knees. Leaning in to leave a kiss on his cheek. Taking your time to do so.
You then sat back down. Watching Jerome make wonky sandcastles that were beyond perfect. Whilst his brother was silently judging him from behind his shades.
Victor Zsasz is one of the most feared men in Gotham. You never seem to care about his reputation.
Then, one night, someone corners you outside a bar.
That's a mistake on their part.
please note that i haven't seen this show since like 2018 or something so i might have his characterisation wrong, this is just from memory
The first thing people noticed about you was that you didn't seem afraid of Gotham.
Not in the way sane people should be.
You walked home after dark with your keys threaded between your fingers and your chin held high. You worked late shifts. You crossed neighborhoods people avoided. You rolled your eyes at threats.
You weren't reckless.
You just refused to live your life terrified.
Which was why nobody could understand how you'd become friends with Victor Zsasz.
Or perhaps "friends" wasn't the right word.
Victor himself would probably laugh if someone called it that.
The relationship had started six months earlier in the most ridiculous way imaginable.
You'd spilled coffee on him.
Not just anyone.
Not some businessman.
Not some random criminal.
Victor Zsasz.
One of the most dangerous men in Gotham.
You hadn't known who he was at the time.
You'd been rushing out of a café, juggling your phone and a paper bag of pastries, when you collided directly with a bald man wearing a long black coat.
The coffee had gone everywhere.
His shirt.
His jacket.
His face.
Silence had fallen over the sidewalk.
Absolute silence.
The kind that made the back of your neck prickle.
Then you'd looked up.
And found yourself staring into the darkest eyes you'd ever seen.
Cold eyes.
Dangerous eyes.
The eyes of a man everyone around you suddenly looked terrified of.
"Oh my God." You'd winced. "I'm so sorry."
The silence had stretched.
One second.
Two.
Three.
The people nearby looked ready to witness a murder.
Then you'd shoved your napkins into his hands. "Seriously, that's entirely my fault."
Victor had blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
As though you'd somehow confused him. "You apologising to me?"
"You look shocked."
"You know who I am?"
"No."
A pause.
"No."
Another pause.
"You got a name?"
"Y/N."
Victor had stared.
Then grinned.
And that should have been your warning.
Because Victor Zsasz smiling was never good news.
Not for anyone.
Unfortunately for him, you simply smiled back.
And walked away.
A week later he appeared again.
Then again.
Then again.
At first you assumed it was coincidence.
Then you realized Victor Zsasz was not the kind of man who accidentally showed up everywhere you happened to be.
The bookstore. The diner. The corner convenience store. The laundromat.
Eventually you'd looked up from your coffee and sighed. "Are you stalking me?"
Victor sat across from you.
"Maybe."
"You know that's weird, right?"
"You still ain't scared."
"No."
His grin widened.
"Interesting."
You learned very quickly that Victor fascinated you.
Not because he was dangerous.
Everyone knew he was dangerous.
That part was obvious.
What fascinated you was everything else.
The strange humour. The dry observations. The fact that he always remembered your coffee order. The way he tilted his head when listening. The way he watched people. Like he could see right through them.
Most people never got close enough to notice those things.
Most people ran.
You didn't.
And somehow that seemed to puzzle Victor more than anything.
"Why?"
He asked it one rainy evening.
You were sitting beneath the awning outside a convenience store while rain hammered the streets.
"Why what?"
"Why aren't you scared of me?"
You considered the question.
Victor leaned against the wall beside you.
Watching.
Waiting.
You shrugged.
"I think you're dangerous."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Good start."
"I think you've probably done horrible things."
"Better."
"But you've never hurt me."
The rain continued falling.
Victor didn't move.
"You look at me like I'm a person."
The words were quieter than usual.
Almost careful.
Victor's expression changed.
Just slightly.
"You are a person."
His jaw tightened.
For some reason that answer seemed to affect him more than fear ever could.
Weeks became months.
Months became something neither of you wanted to define.
Victor started showing up at your apartment.
Not invited.
But not exactly unwelcome.
You'd find him sitting fire-escape adjacent at two in the morning. Eating takeout. Watching the city.
Sometimes he talked.
Sometimes he didn't.
Sometimes he simply sat beside you.
Comfortable in silence.
The closest thing Victor Zsasz had ever known to peace.
Naturally, Gotham noticed.
Rumors spread quickly.
Especially dangerous rumors.
And there was nothing more dangerous than being associated with Victor Zsasz.
People stared.
Whispered.
Avoided you.
Some tried warning you.
Others assumed you were crazy.
A few assumed you were just as dangerous as he was.
You ignored them all.
Victor pretended he didn't care.
You knew better.
Because every time someone looked at you wrong, Victor noticed.
Every single time.
The problem was that not everyone in Gotham understood boundaries.
Some people saw a woman alone and thought opportunity. Some people saw kindness and mistook it for weakness. Some people made very stupid decisions.
Like the three men outside McCarthy's Bar on a Friday night.
It was nearly midnight.
The streets were wet from earlier rain.
The neon signs reflected across puddles.
You'd stayed later than expected.
Said goodbye to friends.
Started walking home.
At first everything seemed normal.
Then footsteps appeared behind you.
Three sets.
Too close.
Too deliberate.
Your stomach tightened.
You kept walking.
The footsteps quickened.
So did yours.
A voice called out. "Hey sweetheart."
You didn't answer.
Another laugh followed.
Then another.
The sound echoed down the alley-lined street.
Your pulse began hammering.
You hated that.
Hated feeling vulnerable.
Hated feeling cornered.
You crossed the street.
They followed.
One moved ahead.
Blocking your path.
The other two closed behind you.
Your heart dropped.
"Move."
The tallest man grinned. "Nah."
You glanced around.
The street was nearly empty.
No help.
No witnesses.
Just three men who clearly thought they held all the power.
One reached for your arm. "Come on."
You jerked away. "Don't touch me."
His smile vanished.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Predatory.
Ugly.
Dangerous.
"Think you're too good for us?"
You backed up.
Slowly.
Calculating.
Looking for an opening.
Finding none.
The second man stepped closer.
The third cracked his knuckles.
And then—
A voice cut through the darkness.
Soft.
Almost cheerful.
"Oh."
Everything stopped.
The men froze.
You froze.
Because you recognized that voice immediately.
Victor.
The men turned.
Confused.
Victor stood twenty feet away.
Hands in his pockets.
Head tilted slightly.
Smiling.
Not a pleasant smile.
Not even remotely.
The kind of smile people saw in nightmares.
"Oh," he repeated. "I don't think you boys understand who that is."
Silence.
One man scoffed.
"Who the hell are you?"
Victor actually laughed.
The sound made your skin prickle.
Not because you feared him.
Because you knew what came next.
The leader took one look at Victor and visibly paled.
Recognition.
Horrible recognition.
The color drained from his face.
His eyes widened. "Oh God."
Victor's grin widened. "There it is."
The other two glanced between them.
Confused.
"What?"
The leader stumbled backward.
"Run."
"What?"
"RUN."
Too late.
Far.
Far too late.
Victor moved.
Fast.
Terrifyingly fast.
One second he stood across the street.
The next he was there.
Violence erupted.
Quick.
Efficient.
Brutal.
The kind of violence only someone like Victor could deliver.
The alley echoed with screams.
Then apologies.
Then begging.
Victor ignored all of it.
Because the moment he'd seen them cornering you, something inside him had snapped.
You'd never seen Victor angry before.
Not truly angry.
You had now.
And it was horrifying.
Not because of what he did.
Because of how calm he remained while doing it.
The men never stood a chance.
Not for a second.
Not against Victor Zsasz.
When it was over, silence settled over the street.
Victor stood breathing steadily.
Not winded.
Not shaken.
Just staring.
The three men fled the instant they could.
Desperate.
Terrified.
Victor let them go.
His attention had already shifted.
To you.
Immediately.
Entirely.
"Y/N."
His voice sounded different.
You swallowed.
"I'm okay."
He crossed the distance instantly.
Checking you over.
Shoulders.
Arms.
Face.
As though searching for injuries.
"You hurt?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Victor."
His eyes met yours.
Bright.
Dangerous.
Terrified.
You reached up and placed your hand against his cheek.
His entire body went still.
"I'm okay."
The words were soft.
Certain.
Victor closed his eyes.
Just briefly.
The tension draining from him all at once.
"You scared me."
The admission surprised both of you.
Victor looked away immediately afterward.
As though he'd revealed too much.
You stared.
Then laughed softly.
The expression he gave you was offended.
"I mean it."
"I know."
"You could've gotten hurt."
"I know."
"You shouldn't walk alone."
"You sound like my grandmother."
Victor groaned.
You smiled.
And for the first time that night, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Something changed after that.
Neither of you acknowledged it.
Neither of you needed to.
The near-miss had shattered whatever walls remained between you.
Victor stopped pretending you were merely someone he knew.
You stopped pretending his presence didn't matter.
The truth had become impossible to ignore.
For both of you.
A week later Victor appeared on your fire escape.
Again.
Except this time he seemed oddly nervous.
Which was ridiculous.
Victor Zsasz wasn't nervous.
Ever.
Yet there he was.
Avoiding eye contact.
Fidgeting.
You narrowed your eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
Victor sighed dramatically.
Then muttered something.
"What?"
He muttered again.
"Victor."
His eyes squeezed shut.
Then he blurted, "Want to go out with me?"
Silence.
Victor looked ready to jump off the fire escape.
You stared.
Then laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was adorable.
Which Victor would have hated hearing.
"You asking me on a date?"
"No."
"Victor."
"Maybe."
You smiled.
The soft kind.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that always left him speechless.
"I'd love to."
For once in his life, Victor Zsasz looked completely stunned.
Months later people still feared him.
Still crossed streets.
Still whispered.
Still avoided eye contact.
Victor Zsasz remained one of Gotham's most dangerous men.
One of its deadliest.
One of its most feared.
None of that changed.
But when he walked through Gotham now, there was often someone beside him.
Someone who rolled her eyes at his dramatic stories. Someone who stole fries off his plate. Someone who teased him mercilessly. Someone who never looked at him like a monster.
And every single time Victor glanced at her, the expression in his eyes made one thing perfectly clear.
The men outside that bar had made the worst mistake of their lives.
Not because they'd crossed Victor Zsasz.
Because they'd threatened the one person in Gotham he would burn the entire city down to protect.
And Victor had never been particularly good at mercy when it came to things he loved.
Jason finally jogs back to hand over his number (with some hilarious “did I just swear in front of your kid??” backpedaling). Back at the art booth, Dick and Tim can’t resist teasing him when they realize who he’s been talking to. Meanwhile, Ren proves she’s the ultimate wingman—dragging the truth out of you, hyping you up, and volunteering herself as Sophia’s babysitter so you can finally say yes to a date.
🥀return to story master list🌹
Jason POV- the park
Jason’s halfway across the park before it hits him.
He stops, mutters, “fuck,” under his breath, then spins on his heel and jogs back.
You’re still by the bench, watching Sophia barrel down the slide while Ren pretends not to hover. Jason slows to a walk, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay, so shit—I totally forgot the part where I’m supposed to give you my number,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Also… did I just cuss in front of your kid? Crap. Dammit. I mean—ah, hell. Okay, wow, I’m making this worse.”
Ren snorts audibly from the playground.
You laugh—really laugh—and Jason swears it’s better than half the victories he’s ever had in the field.
“Here,” you say, holding out your phone. “Save it before you dig the hole any deeper.”
He grins, relief tugging at the corner of his mouth as he taps his contact info in and hands it back.
“Jason Todd,” he says, just in case.
Like you don’t already know.
You glance at the screen, then back up at him.
“Noted.”
Jason lingers a second longer, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Guess I’ll text you. About coffee. Or whatever comes after coffee.”
Sophia shouts something from the slide. Ren waves at you like she just won a bet.
You shake your head, still smiling, and Jason finally turns away—boots crunching over gravel, grin tugging wider.
She asked me out, he thinks.
And I didn’t screw it up.
Not yet.
____
Jason stalks back toward the canopy where Tim’s STEM table is set up, helmet tucked under his arm. The afternoon sun glints off the laminated Wayne Foundation – Youth Science banner overhead.
Tim is hunched over the display, explaining a robot arm to a kid with sticky fingers. But the second Jason drops into the folding chair behind the booth, Tim side-eyes him like he’s been waiting.
“That was a long ‘bathroom break,’” Tim says.
Jason grunts. “Yeah, well, lines are hell.”
Dick’s leaning against the booth pole, arms folded, grin sharp. “Lines, huh? More like you were leaning on the park fence making eyes at the single mom.”
Jason shoots him a glare. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you were,” Dick cuts in, pushing off the pole. His tone shifts from smug to dawning realization. “Wait. Receptionist at the clinic, right? Brownstone in Old Gotham? I’ve done patrol out that way a few times…” His brows lift. “Holy shit. It’s her.”
Jason freezes just long enough for Dick’s grin to turn victorious.
Tim finally looks up from the robot, smirking. “Jay’s got a crush. And here I thought you only came today to babysit me.”
Jason exhales hard, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You two are insufferable.”
Dick’s grin softens, but there’s curiosity now. “So? Are you gonna keep acting like nothing happened, or…?”
Jason leans back in the rickety folding chair, helmet balanced on his knee. His voice is low, almost swallowed by the laughter of kids running past.
“Actually,” he says slowly, letting the words land, “she asked me out. And I said yes.”
Tim nearly drops the robot controller. Dick whistles under his breath, grin fading into something closer to pride.
“Well,” Dick says, clapping Jason on the shoulder. “Don’t screw it up.”
Jason smirks faintly, eyes sliding back toward the playground where you’re standing with Sophia. “Yeah. Thanks, mom.”
But under all the ribbing, one thing thrums steady in his chest:
You asked him out.
And he said yes.
____
Your POV
The moment Jason’s out of earshot, Ren pounces and steers you toward the nearest bench, Sophia bolts ahead, balloon string trailing behind her, before clambering toward the slide with all the determination of a future Olympian.
“Spill.”
You blink. “Spill what?”
Ren narrows her eyes, grinning like a shark. “Don’t play dumb. Who the hell is Mr. Hottie Bugatti? Because that was not just small talk. That was… sparks.”
You feel your cheeks heat. “It wasn’t—”
Ren cuts you off, wagging a finger. “Nope. Don’t even try it. I saw the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in this entire park not sticky with ice cream.”
You groan, covering your face with one hand. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, please.” She leans in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “The man winked at you. Men do not wink unless they’re either plotting murder or trying to get a date. And judging by your face, it wasn’t murder.”
You can’t stop the small laugh that escapes. “Ren—”
“Don’t ‘Ren’ me. I’ve seen you go three years without so much as batting an eye at anyone. And now some leather-jacketed walking bad decision smiles at you, and suddenly you’re blushing like it’s prom night? Girl. Details. Now.”
Your smile fades into something softer, You take a breath and just say it—quiet, half-amused, half-wary.
“He’s—Jason Todd.”
Ren’s head snaps around so fast you half expect to hear a crack. “Wait—the Jason Todd? Like—Wayne kid Jason Todd? Gotham tabloid Jason Todd? That one?”
You nod, adjusting Sophia’s backpack strap higher on your shoulder. “Yeah. That one.”
“No wonder he’s got that… you know.” She gestures vaguely at the air, then bluntly, “Have you seen the ass on him? He must have a multi-million dollar gym or some cruel personal trainer.”
You burst into laughter just as Sophia shrieks, “Mama, watch me!” from the top of the slide. You wave back, heart softening as she whooshes down into Ren’s waiting arms.
“Promise me one thing,” Ren adds, softer now. “If this goes sideways—if he’s not what you think—no heroics. You call me. You call Jordan. We will drag you out of any romantic dumpster fire. Deal?”
Ren grins wide enough to rival the sun. “Good. Now tell me everything. Voice? Smile? What’s his order at Starbucks? I need details. I’m living through you, babe.”
_____
Back at your Place
Back at your apartment, the smell of pizza lingers in the air. Sophia’s finally tucked into bed, soft snores drifting down the hall. Ren’s curled up on your couch with a glass of rosé, looking way too smug for someone who only contributed breadsticks to dinner.
“You gonna text him,” she says, swirling her glass, “or should I break into your phone myself?”
You roll your eyes, grab your phone off the coffee table, and type before you can overthink it.
Ren nearly spits her wine. “He’s fast. I like him already.”
Your phone buzzes again.
You bite your lip, thumbs moving.
you’ve barely hit send, Ren yells over your shoulder, “I’M ON IT! Tell him I’m on it!”
You sigh, grinning despite yourself, and add:
Ren raises her glass like a victory toast. “Damn right he does.”
You lean back against the couch, staring at the screen.
Hey.... soz for the wait! This is more of a filler/worldbuilding chapter so no Jerome for now, but I'm in a flow now so expect more regular updates!! (if I don't drown in assignments lol)
The two files lay sprawled out in front of you on your parent’s mahogany coffee table, daring you to open them. You glare at them for a while, sat in your childhood living room nestled comfortably in upstate Gotham. Despite the plush furnishings and elegant wallpapers picked out by your mother, the house felt soulless. It always had that cold atmosphere, unable to thaw even in summer. But now more than ever, this glacial house feels as though it’s more of a film set than a home. Every cushion set to the perfect angle, books on the shelf organised alphabetically. You’d always thought it was ridiculous, but now the house was yours you couldn’t bring yourself to change a thing. There was a desperation to cling on to memories of childhood, Christmases and birthdays captured more fondly in family photo albums than in your own memory.
There had been cleaners in once the house was no longer deemed a crime scene, once everything was wrapped up neatly. Since then, a thin layer of dust had coated most of the surfaces. You sat gingerly on the sofa, wary to not crease the fabric in case the ghost of your skittish mother would come rushing into the room, anxious to smooth over any imperfection in her path. You didn’t come back home often; you preferred to just stay in your college dorm room. It wasn’t quite so tainted by bad memories and grief. Most importantly, it was your space, you could be as disorganised as you wanted and the only person who could hold you accountable for your imperfections was yourself. The guilt of not often seeing your parents, or Barbara, since you started University a few months ago washes over you. But as you already know, there’s nothing you can do to change the past.
You look back to your sisters Manila file waiting patiently on the table before you and decide to pick it up at last. You skim through it. You already know what’s going to be there. You skip over the crime scene photos for today, the lawyer can handle that one. Feeling a small sense of pride having stolen from the GCPD you lay the file back down, satisfied with your (pathetically small) rebellion against the system which had failed Barbara so badly.
Your gaze shifts to your other stolen file. You’re not entirely sure why you took this one. Morbid curiosity, you tell yourself. You brace yourself for what you’re about to see and open up the file.
The first thing that captures your attention is his mugshot. Honestly, he looks ridiculous, with a gruesome grin plastered on his face; one which makes you want to slam the damn file shut. But you don’t. You’ve committed a more-than-petty crime, and you may as well make the most of your idiotic decision. Skimming the page, you see he was 18 at the time of his arrest, probably closer to 19 now. Same as you. Awfully young to be in Arkham. You continue to scan over the bulky text covering most of the first page. Mostly dates, family contacts – which there’s a severe lack of. Just his uncle it seems. That bad-tempered ginger man from Arkham maybe. Oh – his crime. Matricide. You hadn’t expected that. Same as Barbara, sort of. Your stomach churns at the thought. Maybe that’s why they’re buddies, you think sarcastically.
There’s not much more to read, it seems he grew up in a travelling circus. You’d probably been with Barbara at some point. Beneath your overwhelming feelings of disgust, you feel sorry for Jerome. God knows what he must have went through to make him do such a thing. Your own sister had done the same, the shit she’d been through certainly didn’t justify her actions, but it sure as hell explained why she snapped. Still, both of them were murderers. Arkham seemed to have twisted your sister into someone who she wasn’t. Jerome had probably also suffered the same fate. Either way, you hoped never to see him again, with a crime like that he’d probably be locked away for God-knows how long.
You turn the page to see a collection of photos. Some are of a small trailer, littered with empty bottles. Spirits, wine, beer. A small kitchenette, looking suspiciously spotless. An even smaller bedroom with an aging bunk bed squeezed between a slim closet and the wall. If you squint you can make out tattered books stacked up next to it with a stale looking glass of water placed on top. The trailer must’ve been where Jerome and his mother lived, and the scene of the crime. You begin to turn the page again but stop when you see the familiar splatter of blood on one of the pictures paper-clipped to the upper corner of the next page. You shut the file abruptly, placing it back next to your sisters on the coffee table. You eye the files like they’re about to explode before you. That’s enough snooping for now.
You stare at them again for a while, still humiliated that you stole from the GCPD. You needed to return these files. You’d photocopy them in your parent’s study and get them back in the morning. Surely they wouldn’t need them before then. God, you hoped not. The gravity of what you’ve done swallows you like quicksand, but you try not to think about it as you drag yourself up two narrow flights of stairs to get to your room on the third floor.
Wood creaks under your step as you ruefully stare at the posed family portraits hanging on the walls, the expensive drapes framing windows overlooking the neighbourhood. Cars speed by and mothers chatter as they push their babies along in strollers. The grey cloud which perpetually looms over Gotham somehow seems closer today, and you feel your eyelids grow heavier as you reach your bedroom door, already ajar.
You push the door open and see your old cat, Cass, perched upon your bed as if it’s his own. His shiny black fur stands out against the muted pastels of your unmade bedsheets – giving the illusion of a little nest which you immediately dive into. He meows at your intrusion and paws at your face to greet you, the last two inhabitants of the Keane residence curled up in one room at the top of the grand house, slipping into a deep slumber almost instantly.
You wake up to the piercing ringtone of your phone echoing off the high ceilings and walls of your room – grasping for your phone you eventually get a hold of it and pick it up. No caller ID, weird. Hopefully it’s not your professor calling about your attendance, wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of this disaster of a day. Reluctantly, you accept the call.
You wait a beat before speaking, ‘Hello?’
A familiar voice answers, ‘It worked! Nobody suspects a thing!’
You breathe an audible sigh of relief. ‘Ed! Thank God’
‘Yeah, just me! I apologise about the lack of a caller ID, I don’t want to cut any corners as what we did today was… slightly illegal. Did you find what you needed?’
You clench your jaw, reminded of your not so petty crime this morning. ‘Yeah I did, thanks so much for your help – I’ll get the files back ASAP!’
‘Wonderful! Happy to be of service! No rush with the docs, just bring them back in the next couple of days, put em’ on my desk if I’m not there. The files aren’t reviewed often, unless there’s an incident. So you should be fine!’
He seems a little too cheerful for someone who’s an accessory to theft. Nevertheless, his words calm you a little. ‘Right, I’ll make sure to be quick. Thanks again Ed, I owe you big time.’
He politely says goodbye and hangs up the phone. You immediately sink back into your bed with a huff, to which Cass matches with a meow. Eventually you get up and walk to the window to see the sun low in the sky. You must have been out for hours.
After feeding Cass and cooking yourself a cardboardy frozen pizza you slump back upstairs, Barbaras file in hand, to your father’s study. You take the pieces of paper out carefully and lay them on the photocopier, wary not to glance at the crime scene pictures. As the machine whirs to life, making all sort of splutters and beeps, you look around the high-ceilinged room, which before the murder of your parents you had rarely set foot in. The mahogany bookshelves lining the wall behind the desk hug masses of books, encyclopedias and other random nick-nacks your father had collected when he was a more adventurous and much younger man. When he and your mother had just met.
It was difficult to imagine a young version of your parents. The lines etched into your father’s face and the grey laced into the blonde of your mother’s hair. It killed you that you would never really know what happened that night. With that freak ‘the ogre’ or whatever he liked to call himself. Truthfully, you blamed him. It was difficult to place all the blame on your sister for her actions. But then there was the thing with Lee, Jim’s new girlfriend. That was a little harder to defend.
The printer starts spitting out copies of the pages. Slowly but surely. Despite your family’s wealth, your father refused to ‘waste money on these newfangled electronics’. He seemed to have a vendetta against the modern world. He didn’t even get a cellphone until a year ago. Sometimes it still rang, so eventually you tossed it. Same with your mother’s. Eventually, the photocopier came to a stop.
You left the room ad quickly as you entered it, tossing the files on your dressing table and collapsing into bed, you sink into another dreamless sleep.
*bangs open the lid of my dusty coffin*
look! I have created something!!!
the statues close their eyes, the room is changing
Fandom: Gotham (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Additional Tags: Jealousy, Pining, Established Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Possessive Behavior, Gotham (TV) Season/Series 02, Episode: s02e11 Worse Than a Crime (Gotham TV), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Wordcount: 310 words
Summary:
Jim sees the familiar and close way Oswald and Ed interact with each other and mourns what he could have had. Oswald is a bastard about it and decides to twist the knife.
