#gotham request

Would someone be willing to draw Ivy Pepper wearing a Nygmobblepot T-shirt?

Requested; Yes

Summary; dating a member of your father’s cult, which prioritises the maniac Jerome Valeska felt like a good idea at the beginning. However, you should have been more aware of where your boyfriend Lance’s loyalty laid, he was a member of a cult after all.

A/N; I named the character myself, so that it would be easier to read and flow easier within the sentences. It’s also under Dwight where the character isn’t exactly much of a character in the show, and the father daughter relationship, if you get me, and it will be the same on my masterlist. Thank you for sending in the request hun, I really hope that you like it xx

Warnings; language, mentions of death, bad parenting, crazy people, murder

Dwight, the man who thought himself a notorious villain, rebelling against death and experimenting with its limits was a father. Most would have doubted such a statement that lacked hard evidence, however, the proof was provided in your veins, running through them was the same genetics that he had passed on.

Your mother was not in the picture, some days it was pleasant to imagine that she was living peacefully outside of Gotham. Unfortunately, not many folk managed to escape the city, whether their exit be by the hand of a lunatic or a mystery, they were the only routes out.

Or they were for most people, you had discovered your own through a crowd. And not any mass of people, the particular spawn was of the cult of Jerome Valeska, the legend who smiled in the wakening of his legacy. There were a number of followers, and almost all appeared the same, insane and stuck to the cause.

Lance was muscle to each strike that was ordered by your father. He was a good man, behind a thousand cogs of eye opening realisation. This was the path that he was devoted to, and had chosen to walk down, confident in the future that it would bring.

But there was another consumption that his antics had hungered him with. A praise that he was almost blinded by, it was a young woman with a father who thought himself far more lethal than he was. The only thing that could make him potentially dangerous were his goals, if he managed to defy a dead body and resurrect it, he would be a figure of grandness.

That had yet to happen, and as you all awaited, weeks and on for the experiments to provided promising results, you spent time with Lance, away from the curious eyes of the fellow members, who were surprisingly patient for their destructive appetites.

The woman was no other than yourself, in the midst of the overall mission, you came to find Lance’s presence soothing, he made your brain buzz in a good way, and he never failed to bring out a toothy smile from your eager lips.

And to find yourself wrapped in his taught arms of a night again was no surprise. Things had slowed or the moment, and a part of you dreaded the revival of the mad redhead. When he came back to life, you’d all answer to him, and he would spiral out his followers, ordering them to bring chaos upon the streets of Gotham.

Once that had sounded nice, however the closer that that dream came to becoming a reality, it made you consider the result. The chances of your boyfriend being shot on a road by a detective would have risen, and every thing that you had learnt to care for would be lost.

Lance shuffled in the cot, his face contorted in concentration, although his gaze was directed at the greyness of the wall. The solidness of a the colour made you realise that you were in the middle of all of this, the whole charade of your father’s schemes.

No, not the middle, on the lines. The separation of magnificence and absolute disregard for human life seemed to be a very thin difference, one that apparently had not minded either of the important men in your life. But once noticing this scary detail, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Even as you watched the man that you claimed to love shuffle up from under the sheets and redress himself in his dark clothing choice. A sigh fell from your lips as you thought of these reprimanding complications.

If you were to lay down your claims, you‘d be insulting everything that your father had worked so hard towards. And he was proud of himself, he acclaimed his image as a great villain of Gotham, and albeit him not being such an icon, it was a great sight to see, him being happy about himself.

Years ago, he was a wreck, a critic of himself. There’d be nothing crueller than offering an opinion where it wasn’t asked for, and harming his ‘composed’ demeanour. However, he could not be offended if you were to confide your thoughts in somebody else, and the perfect listener was in the same vicinity and room.

The quilt remained pardoned against your chest as you sat up and watched the man that had won your affections pull his trousers up the trunks of his legs, the upright position that you had accustomed yourself to be in gaining his intrigue.

It was apparent that something was weighing on your mind. And so Lance came to slide the front of his body upon the bed, his face nearer to your own so that he could pay the utmost attention to whatever was being a burden in your noggin.

“What is it darling?” The man asked, his large hand coming to cradle the curve of your face. His skin was rough from the dirty work that he had proceeded to do in the name of the apparent visionary, including capturing his body in its metal cradle, and bringing it to where the entire crew of you, even if you weren’t initially a member of the cult, squatted.

The concern in his voice sounded real, and you believed it to be, and for the moment it was. There was an ironic purity to it, even more so as you worried for his well being also.

“We should get out, whilst we still can.” It was a personal, opinionated confession, one that you could be criminalised in the eyes of criminals by. Your honesty earnt a scoff from the half dressed man, the air flying from his mouth in disbelief.

“Holy fucking shit, you cannot be serious.” Lance laughed to himself, stunned by the words that had passed through your concerned tone. He put space between the pair of you, shaking his messy head of hair and raking his hand through his locks. “We were in this together, and now you just wanna split?”

“It’s not like that, I never chose to kiss the feet of some dead dude. The reason I am here is my father, this is his road, that he so happened to drag me down. I never wanted any of this, and it will only end up in a great mass of bodies in the streets, it always does in these situations.”

It was as though Lance was not listening to the argument behind your formatted mind, he was more focused on the stone cold statements that you had surpassed in private to him.

“You never wanted any of this, what about me?” That was not what you had meant at all, he was blinded by the build up of anger in his bones, too much so that he couldn’t listen to any denials of such a rhetorical answer. “Was I just entertainment for you, a distraction, or where you trying to distract me from the most important inclusivity of my life?”

This life that your father had led you into was one big charade, Lance had became a great part of it. If it were not for him, you’d have disappeared far away from these antics long ago, but you couldn’t bear to leave him.

Not when he was so blinded by a ridiculous dream that he’d put his life on the line for it. A man barely out of his teen years that he hardly knew anything about, a corpse that your father had attempted to resurrect, but to no avail managed to do so.

“Not at all, you know me.” You half begged, a frown quarrying the centre of your face, separating it into two halves. “I would never do that, I care about you!”

“I thought that I knew who you were, but you’re just another rat trying to survive off of the streets of Gotham.” He spat, grabbing a hasty hold of your upper arm, throwing a robe for you to dress yourself in out of modesty, allowing you to put it on before he pulled you through the halls of the base.

“You’re hurting me.” Before he would have not hesitated to stop whatever he was doing if you were to have said those words, now however, it was clear that all had changed.

Lance didn’t even pass her a second glance, not until he reached the tall room in which was storing Jerome’s body on a platter, and her father, the mastermind, if you could call him that, behind the entire operation.

“Honey.” A great smile widened his mouth at the sight of you. Dwight was pleasantly surprised to have your presence at such a moment, in which he was trying to do the unimaginable, and it made him feel proud.

But Dwight’s feeling did not last, for he noticed the aggressive grip that Lance had pierced into your arm, a furrow of his brow hinted his confusion. The man stalked closer, poison in his eyes as he looked at your boyfriend.

“She’s a traitor.” Lance informed him, but Dwight could only laugh, and it sounded almost familiar, as though he had been practising to sound like the Valeska boy.

“She, is my daughter. Now if you aren’t so inclined, loosen your grip on her, or I’ll have to make quick work of you.” Lance allowed your limb to slip from his grip, and you were fast to move away from him.

It ached, not only where he had kept a tight hold on you, but the fact that he was so easily swayed to call you out on your attitude. If he were to convince your father of your viewpoint, you would lose both of them.

So, as much as it pained you, you grabbed one of the knives that was laying around, and threw it into his chest. His throat gurgled as his blood rose through the column, and skewering sounds of sobs tore past the barrier of your lips.

Dwight was confused as Lance’s body fell limply, and harshly to the ground, but once more, he felt pride. Pride that his daughter, you could protect yourself, and that you would not allow any man treat you like an object, even if you loved them.

“It’s okay.” He came to put his arm around your shoulder, offering you a fatherly comfort. “It will be okay, when Jerome rises, we will all be saved from this worldwide machine of sanity.”

Fandom: Gotham

Characters: Ed Nygma, reader

Pairings: None

Summary: You work on the mayor campaign for Oswald Cobblepot. On a late night, you are approached by one Ed Nygma. 

Word Count: 808

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Request for @noodlecupcakes . I know it doesn’t hit exactly what you wanted. And it took far too long to get to you. I focused on this when I sat back down to write finally. I hope you enjoy it. I just couldn’t manage the smut and I think that hung me up so much on trying to be able to finish it. Still not used to the whole reader format either so I hope it isn’t too choppy.

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The campaign had consumed your life. You had put in every bit of time and every ounce of effort that you had to make sure things went as smoothly as you could. You weren’t exactly any sort of high ranking campaign member. In fact, you were sure that Oswald didn’t even know you existed. That was okay though. You weren’t doing this for the recognition. You believed in what the man was saying and thought that he deserved to be the one in office. He could help Gotham and you wanted to be a part of that. Something needed to change, things weren’t what they used to be. Gotham was in a downward spiral and it needed to end. 

You were sitting at the desk that was tucked away in the corner of the room. Everyone else had gone home for the night but you knew that you could work on getting a few more emails out. You were typing away, focused on the work at hand. So much so that you missed the sound of someone walking towards you. 

She’d been hiding outside the window on the fire escape, just like when they were kids… except when they were kids Bruce wasn’t lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and potentially… No. She wasn’t going to think about that. This is Bruce, she thought, He’s going to be fine. …He had to be fine.

She had heard the phrases, “broken ribs,” “punctured lung,” and “concussion,” come from inside the room, so she knew he was in bad shape.

It had been quiet in the room for some time, so finally Selina decided it was safe to come in, climbing through the window. She wasn’t prepared for what she would find when she did, however. Knowing that he was in bad shape, and actually seeing him were two very different things.

She had heard doctors and nurses discussing what the supposed cause of his injuries were – saying that he had fallen from the fire escape of some hotel; but of course, Selina knew the truth. He didn’t fall. Not by accident, at least. He had perfect balance – she knew; she was the one who taught him how to balance on, and jump across rooftops when they were children.

She stared at the young man, lying unconscious in the hospital bed in front of her, and felt tears spring to her eyes. Bruce was hooked up to a monitor that was quietly beeping, there was a tube coming out of his chest, a cannula in his nose, and an IV in his arm. He looked weak, and vulnerable, and so… unlike the Bruce she knew.

It made her angry to look at him. Angry with whoever the hell he’d been fighting, angry with him for deciding he needed to be a hero, and… angry with herself for not trying to stop him.

The young man let out a soft groan and his eyelids fluttered open as he slowly took in his surroundings. “S'lina…” he muttered as he stared up at her with half-closed, slightly unfocused eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Selina said, the words coming out louder and harsher than she had expected. Bruce just continued to stare at her though, not fully coherent.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself – to me?! …And Alfred.”

Her voice was still harsh, but there was a wavering to it now, feeling the tears that had sprung to her eyes earlier were now threatening to spill over. This was the worst she’d ever seen Bruce…and it terrified her.

“…’m s'rry…” the boy said, and though he was barely conscious, Selina could tell he was sincere.

She sighed and slowly sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to move him too much, worried that she’d make him worse.

“It’s not your responsibility to protect the city, Bruce. I know you think it is. But it’s not, and if you keep doing this, you’re gonna get yourself killed. …And I don’t wanna see that happen. I…well… y'know.”

Tears began to streak down Selina’s cheeks as she looked into the eyes the of the broken boy in front of her. The boy she cared so deeply for… even though she could never seem to tell him.

Bruce smiled slightly up at her and slowly placed his hand on top of her’s. “…Yeah…” he said, so softly that Selina nearly didn’t hear him, “…I know…”

She sighed shakily and carefully lowered herself on the bed so that she was lying next to him.

“…Wha ’re you doin’…?” Bruce asked in confusion.

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone. I gotta make sure you’re okay.”

Bruce let out a soft hum and shifted to get closer to Selina, stopping suddenly when a sharp pain shit through his chest.

Selina sat up then, worry clear on her face as she helped the young man back into a position that, while not comfortable, was at least less painful. “Don’t move,” she said, “you’re gonna make it worse.”

Once Bruce was settled again, Selina laid back down, resting her head gently on his shoulder – the only contact she was sure wouldn’t cause him pain – and letting out a quiet sigh of content. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was safe, and at least they were together.

“…Selina…?” Bruce asked, nearly asleep in the comfort of Selina’s company.

“Hmm…?”

“…I… love you…”

“…Yeah. Me, too.”

She smiled, slightly embarrassed, and gently kissed the boy’s cheek. He was already fast asleep.

// I thought this was a really cute idea. I dida little research into what symptoms a panic attack has, but since I’ve never experienced one, or seen someone experience one, it may not be accurate? I’m sorry if it’s not, it’s just due to my lack of experience with them.

Also I assume by his ex you meant the reader? I wasn’t sure, but that’s how I did it.

Warnings: None.

Rating: Fluff. //

   A loud crashing noise drawsBarbara and Tabitha’s attention. Tabitha rolls her eyes. “What are those idiotsdoing now?” She asks, pushing the door to the living room open. “Hey, stopmessing ar-” Tabitha’s eyes land on Jerome, who’s breathing is growinglaborious. Her eyes widen slightly, and she freezes.

“Are you-what’s wrong? Didyou get hurt?” Barbara questions, moving forward. Jerome’s hand clutches at hischest as he looks up at Barbara, and his mouth opens, but nothing but a shakybreath leaves his throat. Barbara raises an eyebrow at Tabitha before they moveover. “Jerome, are you okay? Cut it out. This isn’t funny.” His eyes wanderaround the room, and he shakes his head.

“She’s gone.” He whispers, his eyes distant, his body trembling.Jerome swallows roughly, and reaches out to grab hold of something before hefalls to the ground. Tabitha and Barbara immediately go to the ground with him,trying to get his attention. A small groan leaves Jerome’s throat, and his facecontorts. He turns onto his back and closes his eyes tightly, his hands shaking,and his chest heaving with his breathes. Barbara turns and stands up, rushingover to the phone.

“What are you doing?”Tabitha asks.

“Calling the police, heneeds help.” Tabitha stands up, and grabs the phone from her.

“What are you thinking? Wecan’t call the police!” She looks back down at Jerome, who is whispering nonsense.

“We need to call someone.”Barbara says, going back over to Jerome. “Look at him, I don’t know what’swrong…” She looks up at Tabitha suddenly, her eyes widening. “What about y/n?”Tabitha’s eyebrows furrow.

“Who?”

“The girl that he wasseeing? Y/n. Her number has to be in here!” Barbara begins looking through thephone’s contacts, and Tabitha kneels down next to Jerome, unsure of what to do.

“Hello?” Y/n says, her voicewary. “Why are you calling?”

“Y/n! Thank god, Jerome’shaving some sort of panic attack. He won’t calm down, y/n, you need to comeover here.” Barbara says quickly, looking back over at Tabitha and Jerome.

“You’re at Theo’s?” Barbaracan hear the sound of her grabbing keys, and she smiles.

“Yeah, hurry.” Barbara hangsup and is back at Jerome’s side in a few seconds.

 When they hear knocking atthe door Tabitha stands up and rushes over, yanking it open. Y/n barrelsthrough the door just as Jerome is beginning to move around frantically,searching for something.

“Jerome,” y/n says softly,walking over to him. He looks over at her, his eyes wide.

“Y/n?” He whispers, hiswhole body going into another fit of tremors. Y/n throws her keys onto thetable and puts her hands on Jerome’s arms, pulling him to the ground gently.

“It’s okay, Jerome you’refine.” She whispers. He grips her arms tightly, his breathing shallow and fast.“You’re going to be fine, everything’s okay Jerome.” He moves closer to her,holding onto y/n like he was drowning. Jerome buries his face in her neck as atear falls down his cheek. He’s skin is cold and clammy, and his breathing isshaky, but slowly becoming more normal. “It’s okay.” She whispers.

“Don’t leave, y/n.” Hemumbles, his arms tightening around her even more.

“I’m not leaving, I’m righthere.” He shakes his head, lifting it so he can look at her.

“No, don’t ever leave. Don’tleave me again.” His eyes meet her gaze, and she smiles softly at her. “I needyou, y/n.” He whispers, looking down. His body begins to tremble again slightly.

“Jerome, stop. Jerome, it’sokay. Look at me.” Y/n says sternly. Jerome’s eyes close, and she lifts hisface. “No, Jerome, look at me.” His eyes open slowly, and she nods, giving hima reassuring look. “I won’t leave you Jerome.”

“You promise?” He whispers,grabbing a hold of y/n’s hand.

Mk... so Jeremiah Valeska as the Phantom?

He gives those dramatic sewer man vibes.

Idk...

Thoughts?