Gobblepot Gazette

Even though it was very last minute, I wrote something for every challenge prompt, and so I am proud to call out "Bingo"!

My fics turned into a little series with a happy ending, which you can find here.

Thank you for the fun event, @gobblepotgazette ❤️

Will You Stay?

It's rare for Oswald to enjoy the sunrise. He's not an early riser, and if he has to get up matutinally, his mind immediately drifts to work, problems, schemes.

Today, he wakes to pleasant warmth at his back and the sound of songbirds, just as a rare golden ray breaks through the usual Gotham haze.

It's ridiculously peaceful. It is perfect.

“Morning,” murmurs Jim behind him, voice gruff with sleep. His lips graze Oswald’s ear, making him squirm.

“Will you stay?”

They both have work, naturally. But that's not what Oswald means, as they both know.

“... I'm not going anywhere.”

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

Make The World Make Sense Again

Dinner is a quiet, slightly awkward affair.

Olga had expected a guest, but clearly not Jim Gordon.

Victor, despite being off duty, stands like a sentinel next to the serving cart by the wall, staring and snacking on their desserts until Olga smacks his hand and drags him into the kitchen. He throws Jim a pointed look while being led away.

Both men forget about it as their conversation picks up, as they sit closer together. As their breaths catch, leaning in.

“May I?,” Jim murmurs. Oswald nods.

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

Gentle, Almost Reverent

Oswald remembers the first time he'd ever been in handcuffs. Also, the first time he'd been cuffed around Jim.

And, shamefully, he recalls that he'd wished Jim would tie him up in a wholly different context.

He's almost disappointed Jim left all of his police gear back at the precinct. Another part of him is relieved. He'd do nearly anything for Jim, to make him happy, to make him stay.

But he's so, so nervous.

Jim's hands are gentle, almost reverent. Huffily, Oswald mentions it.

“Well, I've a lot to make up for.” Another loving touch.

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

Don't Turn Away From Me Again

“I can show you the files,” Oswald blurts out, before Jim can turn away again. He's turned away from him so many, many times over the years.

“They're… at my mansion.”

He wishes he could take the words back. He should've bitten his tongue off instead of uttering them.

‘Do something,’ he urges himself, ‘say something. Explain.’

His treacherous mouth doesn't obey.

Impossibly, Jim grins.

“Is that the only reason why you're inviting me into your home?”

Oswald feels the old instinct to deflect, get mean. He exhales instead, heart racing.

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

On Good Days, You See Me

On good days - when Oswald feels powerful and confident -, he knows he has a talent for flirting.

His peacock attire and slim, smallish build may not be everyone's type, but he does have some winsome qualities, and he knows how to use them. Attractiveness is mostly about presentation. Clothes that flatter him, a dash of makeup, a wink he'd never admit to having practiced in front of the mirror.

Today is a good day. And yet he feels shaky, talking to Jim. He masks it well, but it annoys him.

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

To Pull You In Or Strangle You

Jim's necktie’s crooked. Oswald can't take his eyes off of it while Bullock rambles on and on.

Usually, the kingpin prides himself on being an attentive listener. But he's also a details person. And just like so many other things about Jim Gordon, that tie is driving him insane.

Jim clears his throat, and their eyes meet.

“...You even listening?” Bullock.

“Of course.” Oswald smiles at Jim instead of Harvey, who turns to leave with a scoff.

Oswald's hands fix Jim's tie before he can stop them, then… rest there, momentarily. Jim freezes, flushes.

@gobblepotgazette @broken-lycan

Your Words, Your Smile

Joking doesn't come naturally to Oswald. Never has, he thinks.

He can turn on the charm in a mere second, use words like honey or like knives. But his humor isn't gentle, nor shallow, and if he tries to force it to be, it turns awkward at best. Just another thing that makes him ‘other’.

Just another thing that makes him and Jim alike. They're both hardened by the city and by life, their quips at each other are quick and sharp like a viper's bite.

You can also find this ficlet here.

Never Like This

They've shared car rides before, but never like this.

Oswald is all too aware of the warmth of Jim's body next to his, despite his car's spacious interior. He almost chuckles, thinking that he's just as nervous as when he rode in the trunk of Jim's police car, long ago.

This time however, he's nervous for a wholly different reason. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that Jim agreed to this.

In the rearview mirror, he catches Victor's amused gaze.

“Shut up.”

@gobblepotgazette

This is for the Gobblepot Mini Fest. I'm writing more entries for it right now. Last minute, of course, as always with me.

I've also posted this ficlet here.

Anything You Offer Me

There are many sweets Oswald likes, even craves, on occasion. Ice cream isn't one of them. Too messy, too sticky, too inelegant.

Apparently, Jim's tastes are different. Oswald finds himself staring as Jim waits for his order in front of the run-down truck's window. When Jim turns and sees him, Oswald curses internally. Should've kept walking.

A moment of silence.

"You want one too?," Jim asks.

"Yes," Oswald replies, unthinking.

He steps up to his old friend, eyes the flavor selection.

“You can try mine first, see if you-...” Jim trails off, clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says even though his first reaction to Oswald’s accusations was to retaliate with his own. But he’s so tired, so drained, and he can’t find the fire within himself for that.

“James?” Oswald looks at him quizzically, tilting his head. So bird-like. So familiar. He’s missed that familiarity more than he cares to admit, and it feels so natural to just thump his forehead against Oswald’s shoulder in this moment of weakness before him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, closing his eyes. “For everything.”

“Well,” Oswald huffs, breathless. “That must be a lot even if you only consider me and mine.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trying to warn you, again.”

“I heard you, James.”

“Did you?” Jim raises his head and - he didn’t expect to see that face so close, all the lines of it exquisite and familiar and beautiful.

Prompt: Ice cream

Harvey had convinced Jim, to stop for an ice cream.

It had melted and his hands got all stick. He ate the cone and waved at Harvey as he was leaving.

He needed information on a murder suspect and there was no one better infromed on crime in Gotham than Oswald Cobblepot.

He entered the club and Oswald smiled like always. But there was a hint of amusement on hid smug face.

Dear Gobblepot fans! We're holding a Mini Fest for our favourite couple!

The rules are simple: whatever you write should be mainly about Jim and Oswald, and it shouldn't exceed 100 words. Yes, that's right - you don't need to come up with some elaborate plot, it can be simply a short scene or even just a single sentence if that's more your vibe.

As always, you can create anything else for the event if you feel like it, be it art or moodboards or playlists, let your fantasy fly free! You can make multiple entries too!

The event starts on June 22 and concludes on June 30, and we'll post a recap after.

Here are some prompts to help you come up with ideas:

Please mention us @gobblepotgazette so we'd see and reblog your creations!

There was much left unsaid, as always, when Oswald gazed up into blue eyes. He saw the nerves and tiny, hidden spark of fear within. He moved into Jim's space, fingers sliding up the cheap material of that lapel. He felt more than heard his old friend's breath catch, but he made no move to pull away as Oswald's deft fingers rectified the mess that was Jim's tie, squaring it against the quick thump of the man's pulse.

Oswald awoke already brimming with annoyance. He tried burrowing into the pillow, but his shoulder twinged, finally snapping his eyes open.

Oh. It was a hospital.

A hospital?

That explained the scratchy pillow. It didn’t explain Jim Gordon slumped nearby in a plastic chair.

He thought he would bleed out in that alley. Alone, no phone, shot three times and disposed like some nameless underling.

Face warming, the beeps crescendoed, alerting the brilliant detective. Worry melted to a tiny smile, and a gentle squeeze told Oswald that Jim held his hand all night long.

Gotham feels muted, far away, drowned beneath the hum of the engine. They don’t speak – the chauffeur and his two passengers stare silently ahead. Jim had fucked up - Oswald had come to the rescue, pretending like it was a good business decision. Nonetheless, he’s fuming, cold glare burning holes into the fancy leather interior of his car. In this enclosed space, it’s hard for Jim not to notice the floral notes of the kingpin’s cologne, or his freckles peaking from beneath rain-ruined make-up. Eyes fixed on the road, Jim carefully reaches out to brush Oswald’s hand with his own.

"Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems."

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon Additional Tags: Kissing, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, (very mild but I'd rather warn for it), Drabble, Bisexual Jim Gordon Wordcount: 100 words

the starter is from a prompt list by @/twopercenta but either they deactivated or renamed so I can't credit them by linking the post :(

another (and most likely the last) creation for @gobblepotgazette's event! I had such a blast writing these drabbles! its such a fun thing to do between working on my longer fics.