#gotham fluff

⸻

Mount Justice feels too big now.

Too quiet.

Half the dorms are empty; the kitchen doesn’t hum with Wally’s voice or M’gann’s hovering plates. The new recruits fill the halls, sure—but they don’t fill it. Not the way the originals did. Not the way it used to be.

You’ve gotten used to the silence.

You tell yourself you like it.

So when the knock comes—three quick raps against your door—you sigh, already knowing it’s one of the kids.

“Go away!” you call, not moving from your bed. “I’m busy!”

The knocking pauses. Then again. Louder.

You groan. “I said I’m busy!”

A beat of silence. You smirk to yourself, then add, dryly,

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!”

That usually does it. Works every time.

Except this time, you hear a quiet laugh—low, warm, unmistakably familiar.

“Is that supposed to keep me away?”

Your head jerks up.

That voice.

It can’t be.

You stand too quickly, heart racing, bare feet silent on the cold floor. You reach for the door handle, hand trembling just a little, and pull it open.

And there he is.

Nightwing.

Dick Grayson.

Standing in the hallway like a ghost made of blue and black and memories you’d locked away.

You blink, once, twice—because you’ve imagined this before, but never with that smile. Never with his hair still damp from rain, or that stupid smirk tugging at his mouth as he takes you in from head to toe.

His eyes drop—just for a second—to your oversized T-shirt and shorts.

Then back up, slow.

“You’re not naked,” he says, mouth twitching.

You roll your eyes to hide the way your pulse spikes. “You disappointed?”

He grins. “A little.”

You cross your arms. “What are you doing here, Dick? You don’t—no one—comes back here.”

He leans against the doorframe, and for a moment he’s not Nightwing, not the leader who left to run missions and disappear into Blüdhaven. He’s just the boy who used to steal snacks at midnight, who used to spar with you until sunrise.

“Had a mission nearby,” he says casually, but his gaze softens. “Thought I’d check on the last one standing.”

You huff out a breath that’s half-laugh, half-ache. “So that’s what I am now? A relic?”

“More like a legend,” he counters, voice quieter now. “You kept this place alive.”

You shrug, looking away. “Someone had to.”

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s that familiar weight in his tone—admiration, guilt, longing, all tangled together. “But it shouldn’t have been you alone.”

You swallow, throat tight. “I chose to stay.”

“I know.” He smiles faintly. “Still doesn’t mean you had to do it alone.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The words get stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. He steps a little closer, close enough that you can smell rain on his jacket, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You missed me?”

You scoff. “Not even a little.”

He chuckles, and the sound hits you right in the chest. “Liar.”

You meet his eyes, and for a second the years between then and now collapse—the battles, the silence, the distance. It’s all gone, and it’s just you and him, standing in a doorway, pretending it’s still simple.

“Come on,” he says finally, nodding toward the hall. “M’gann left cookies in the kitchen. You can tell me about the newbies. I’ll pretend I don’t miss this place.”

You hesitate. Then you sigh, stepping aside to let him in.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But next time, knock and wait.”

He grins as he passes you, low voice close to your ear.

“Noted. But you’re gonna have to come up with a better line than ‘I’m naked.’”

You shove his shoulder, hiding the smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up, Grayson.”

“Gladly,” he says—and for once, it sounds like a promise.

⸻

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

~But you’ll hear him yawn

Warm days like this are the bane of your existence.  You should stay home – those deadlines are looming heavier than midwestern storm clouds – but after two straight weeks of sweaters and rain, you can't resist throwing on a T-shirt and shorts and going for a walk.

You don't really follow that "long walks in the sun cure depression" crap – there's obviously more going on there – but this is pretty nice for a break.  The golden rays are a warm embrace on your skin, chilly from your apartment's AC.  The green of the grass pushing through cracks in the sidewalk, the scattered rainbow flowers, the cobblestone bricks beneath your feet – all made blindingly vivid without the rain dulling them.  Even the usual smog that plagues the city seems to fade around you.

You love the beauty of Gotham.  It has its problems – even this casual walk comes with a pocket taser and pepper spray – but you can pretend those don't exist while you're admiring its gothic beauty.

The downside to ignoring the world around you?  You don't see the street sign until you walk right into it.

The cartoons lied to you.  You're not seeing stars at all!  …oh wait – there they are.  They're not the fun little dancing stars, and there's a suspicious lack of birds circling your head, so you definitely have every right to complain.  Ooh, can you sue for  advertising?

"You good?"

A shadow covers your face, blocking out the warmth.  You force your eyes open past the throbbing in your nose to see a man bending over you.  He's nothing more than a silhouette, the light framing his head like an old Mercy meme, but the shock of white contrasts his black hair so vibrantly that you can see it with perfect clarity.  He seems harmless enough – even genuine in his concern.

"I mean… I'm alive.  That counts for something, right?"

He chuckles as he reaches for your face.  You jerk your head back, away from his probing fingers – or you would, if the ground weren't directly beneath you.  He feels around your aching nose as gently as he can, but you can't stop a hiss of pain from slipping out.  So embarrassing… unless it's broken.  Then it's totally justified.  (As if breaking your nose on a street sign isn't even more humiliating…)

"Not broken!  Gonna have a wicked bruise though.  Lucky you."  You breathe a sigh of relief and accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet.  You stumble as your feet try to find purchase where your head just was – thankfully, he doesn't let go of you until you're solidly upright.  He repeats his earlier question:  "You good?"

Your face grows hot as his eyes roam across first your face, then then the length of your body.  There's something about that piercing stare that makes you wonder - is he admiring you or sizing you up?  "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"I mean, I usually ask if it's cool before I take someone's picture.. but if you're offering."

He breaks out in peals of laughter when he sees the shock on your face.  "What, you can dish it out, but you can't take it?  C'mon now.  I thought you were better than that."  He sticks his hand out again, this time offering a handshake.  "Todd.  Jason."

You eye his hand as if it's a very well-disguised gun before you cautiously accept it.  "Name.  Your."

Todd (or is it Jason?) laughs again, squeezing your hand with a grip that betrays at Ieast a few muscles under that faded red hoodie.  "Well, N/, you should probably get some ice for your face – it'll hurt like a bitch otherwise.  Trust me on this one."  You do.  You can't help it.  His crooked nose boasts the bumps of many breaks.  "There's a coffee shop a couple blocks that way.  I'll treat you."

Hey wait – you weren't expecting a date out of this!  "You – don't trouble yourself or anything!" you stammer, your face flushing anew.

"I'm not.  I filled up their punchcard, so you're not costing me a dime."  He rubs his finger and thumb, rubbing them together like a gleefully maniacal fly.  "What can I say?  I'm thrifty."

You can't resist.  "Sure.  So thrifty that you had to pay at least 5 bucks a punch… so you spent 50 bucks minimum for what, bragging rights?"

"Shh!"  His eyes widen in horror, but they hide a mischievous twinkle (not well – the Perseverance could probably see it all the way on Mars).  "Not so loud!  I can't have Random Passerby #3 hear you!  I'll be ruined!"

"Hmm…"  You pretend to consider this very seriously.  "Perhaps I could be convinced to not expose you.  With a coffee that you pay for.  Oh, and I'll need that punchcard.  Blackmail, you see."

"Ugh… the price I pay for social media status points."  He starts walking toward the coffee shop in question, so of course you follow him.  He owes you a coffee and a punchcard.  "So… how'd that sign taste?"