#Arkhamverse fanfic

[lawful-evil-novelist]

For anyone wondering before Arkham Aftershock gets really underway: They did properly reconstruct Jon's face.

Gotham is a shithole but idk why they would ever just outright fucking leave a whole entire fucking gas mask and open fucking wounds on a man in their literal medical custody.

[intriq]

chapter 1 of my fic;

I’m sorry I’m the one you love

i went w this title cus it fits how i perceive AK jason feels towards being loved (he feels unworthy of it ur honor)

keep in mind this fic is.. gonna be both fluff filled AND angst filled (did you think i’d ever let you and jason always be happy? lmao no. ur getting the same treatment my ocs do)

In the eyes of the world, you didn’t matter. You were nothing more than a pest, a filthy rat scurrying around Gotham City. Even if you haven’t lived here your whole life, you still became a part of it’s problem. Not like you had any choice, considering you were but a child. Long since abandoned by your parents in a city you’ve since skipped and left, you find surviving in Gotham just as hard. But it’s tolerable. You know how to defend yourself, with bruises and healing knuckles to match. Gotham wasn’t an easy place to survive, much less for someone who barely knew how the city worked. All you knew is that danger was constantly lurking, in every corner and every street. You had no wariness of who the streets belonged to, of the rules etched into its architecture. All you knew of was survival.

Scavenging whenever you could, stashing the little food you could. Of course, because of you being essentially new to Gotham you weren’t aware of the rules. Or the territories and who owned what. All you knew was to run and fight to survive. Perhaps thats why he took a pittance to you. Seeing you do your hardest to survive, like him. He’s a scrawny kid, like you are. You’re both doing what you need to, in order to survive. The first time he’d seen you scrambling to steal food in the section of Crime Alley that he’d gotten in exchange for selling out his parents, Jason felt like you and him would get along. Defending this strip of land was lonely, granted him few allies considering no one wanted to even attempt to challenge him.

The first time you two talk, you worry he’ll attempt to take your hard-earned spoils like anyone else had. You’d clutched them closer to yourself, almost glaring and poised to strike like a snarling dog. The only difference being the lack of bared teeth. At the time, you were more like a wounded, cornered animal. You’d been injured because of a previous fight, pain flaring in what felt like all over whenever you attempted to move. So moving around was futile, the headache that accompanied it being the source of most of your discomfort.

It was cold, as cold as the alley you called home was dirty. It smelled and was located right outside some bar that smelled absolutely horrid. A putrid stench that lingered and seeped into the clothes of whoever hung around it. The stench clung to both you and him, mixing with the smell of car exhaust, trash, gasoline, and the other smells that clung to Gotham about as well as it’s crime rate.

But that’s fine. Jason’s been sitting still, inching closer to you every few hours. You’ve been defensive, and Jason doesn’t quite get why he is bothering at all to get you to trust him.

The first week he meets you it’s all he seems to do. When he’s finding himself food he can’t help but let his thoughts drift back to you, the only other scrappy kid that has bothered to stay around in what is essentially his turf for longer than usual. Jason’s come to learn most of what makes you tick, for the most part. Like how you refuse to move when he’s present or even looking at you, how you refuse to eat when he’s present. Jason doesn’t even get why he still bothers with you.

And you?

You don’t get it either. You don’t get why this kid just keeps coming back. You don’t bother talking back to him, just sitting there and nursing what hurts. The alley smells enough to make your head pound and hiding behind the dumpster when more rowdy drunken folk stumble outside for a variety of things. But you make it work, you suppose. And you don’t mind how the free food that comes with his company. You don’t get him sometimes, though. Don’t get his tenacity. Why he still bothers.

But maybe it’s because you also don’t understand looking forward to his short, fleeting visits. But perhaps it’s the idea that the moment your stupidly painful bruises and whatever else is wrong are healed and you can move, that he’d up and disappear. The silence between you both is as equally unsettling as it is comforting. The faint chatter of drunken patrons from the bar you rest near is just loud enough to have the same faint buzz of insects. And the air is warm and putrid, filled with the hideously disgusting odors that every city such as Gotham brings. Just any other sensible Gotham kid would give you a wide berth, but yet here he is.

Here this random scrawny street kid is, insistent on getting you to trust him. He used to talk to you, or try to. His words were always met with silence on your end. But perhaps he only continues to try after the first time he heard what sounded like a faint breathy laugh underneath that sigh you’d made to cover it up. You can’t even remember what he’d said that had been funny, but he does. It was a stupid joke, something about how this disgusting alley was at least a little warmer and better than the colder, draftier parts of the city and that the warmth was the only thing that made it worth staying in. Truth be told you’d rather be anywhere but here, even back with your parents even if they just might barely give a damn. But it was warm and never smelled. Maybe that’s why you laughed, because there was places better than this shit-hole of a city you now called home.

Yeah, maybe that was it. Maybe that’s why he sticks around, you think. Jason thinks that’s why, too.

[awsmedude]

The problem with being someone who's planned out a bit of this fic (Arkham Weaver) but also gets cool ideas for scenes and moments between characters is that I sometimes come up with scenes I think would be really awesome but I don't know if I can make fit within my story nor align it with normal Arkhamverse canon. Like, I have an idea of an introduction to Kraven where he kills Bane after coming to the Arkhamverse on the hunt for Spider-Man, but the only place a scene like that would fit is sometime after Arkham City, and my plans for Kraven require him to be introduced much, much earlier than that. Harrumph.

[crossistent]

[capr1pengu1n]

be advised, no restitution comes tonight

Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to attend a Halloween party, once Jonathan sees you in your outfit, he can't seem to keep his hands to himself

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!Jonathan, roleplay, costumes, corruption kink, choking, spanking, fear play(ish), creampie

Words: 2.6k

Notes: Happy halloween! <3 Hope you all have a spooky day! <3

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With a sigh, Jonathan adjusts the cloak that wraps around his dark ensemble, looking in the mirror with a critical eye. Halloween has always been his favourite holiday, and why wouldn't it be? The night where everyone in Gotham is after a thrill, a scare. And he'd be there to give it to them, pumping his fear gas into whatever nightclub room or cinema screening he fancied, watching on in glee as people screamed and sobbed at the intensity of their nightmarish visions. He'd laugh to himself, analysing their facial expressions, estimating their heart rate, placing small bets as to which person would crack first.

Ideally that's what he'd be doing now, but as he adjusted the ridiculous costume you'd made him wear, he had to place those thoughts away. Being invited to a party was not his idea of a good time, but he knew the optics, he knew he had to show his face, if only for an hour or two before he could slip away and start his own night of fun. And if some liquidized fear toxin just happened to make it's way into whatever stupidly expensive liquor Nygma would be sure to be drinking, then he supposes he'll just have to enjoy the show.

"Y'done yet?" He calls out to you, eyeing the bedroom door with slight annoyance. The sooner you both leave, the sooner he can get this whole socialisation over with. Muttering to himself, he checks his watch before the telltale creak of the door opening makes his eyes dart up.

You'd told him your idea of a couples costume, and he'd scoffed at first. It was only when you promised to watch some obscure french horror film with him that he finally relented and allowed you to order the costume in his measurements. But now he realises it was worth it, if only to see you looking so...delectable.

You grin as you walk up to him, long white dress trailing with each step. He watches your eyes go to the mask, and the slight blush that forms on your cheek as you take him in.

While he'd read the novel, he had never seen the film or stage adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera, only familiar with the mask that now adorns his sharp features. So he hadn't known what to expect when you said you were dressing as Christine. Immediately his hands go to trace the lace sleeves of the dress, bony digits caressing the pattern downwards.

"Jon...you look amazing." you say with a smile, the white mask coupled with the dark suit and cloak really making him appear more villainous. His stature means he looms over you as you speak, and the faintest trace of a smirk becomes etched on his face as he realises the effect he's having.

Not that his trousers hadn't gotten more tight the second he'd seen you, the picture of innocence in virginal white, your hair up and adorned with little gems. To tease you, he grabs your wrist and holds it up, pulling you closer and not letting you pull away.

"Don't you look like a little angel." he taunts, eyes dragging up and down you once again, settling on your cleavage shamelessly. Your breathing increases, slightly intentional on your part to make your chest rise and fall in an obvious way.

"Do I?" you ask, slightly coquettishly as you smile up at him. In return, the grip on your wrist tightens a little.

"You do darlin'...so innocent and corruptible."

At his words, you flush slightly as he bends down to run his nose gently along the side of your neck. The gesture makes your lips part, tilting your head and baring yourself to him as a sign of implicit submission. And he likes that.

"The Phantom wants the girl, doesn't he?" he asks, his voice slightly rougher as you nod in confirmation. "Can see why, but does she want him?"

"In the film she does...she's drawn to his mystery I think."

He hums in response, leaning down but stopping just before his lips graze your skin, content to watch the slight shiver the action elicits from you. "And what about you?"

"If it's you, then I'd follow you anywhere. Even in the depths of your lair beneath an opera house." you say breathlessly with a soft laugh, attempting to make light of the situation to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting just how turned on you've became by Jonathan doing barely anything.

He finally lets go of your wrist, but not before pushing you so your back hits the hallway wall. This time when he leans down, he does leave a soft kiss right on your pulse point, and the soft whimper that escapes your throat makes him grin.

"Jonathan...we have to go, we don't want to be late." You say, attempting to have some control over yourself. But he doesn't let you move, still crowding you against the wall.

"I have to get in character, don't I?" he teases, and you could curse his southern drawl for sounding too attractive in this moment as his breath tickles your ear. "I'm a very...passionate man after all, am I not? One that is hopelessly in love with the beautiful young opera singer."

His tone is almost mocking, but it doesn't stop you from biting your lip as his chest nearly presses against yours. Teeth gently graze your earlobe before he continues. "And my beautiful prey has stumbled into my lair so willingly, in such a temptin' outfit."

He punctuates his words by running his hands up your sides, thinking the fabric is too soft, too delicate for a man like him to be touching. But that is precisely what's turning him on, as he holds you in place. "Perhaps I should demonstrate to her the depths of my desires...show her what she's missin' out on in her pristine life."

His words act like a sharp knife, cutting through your worry of being punctual as he can observe your shoulders relaxing. To seal the deal, he brings his mouth to the side of your neck and bites down, leaving a mark. "So I can taint her."

With a shaky sigh, you nod, giving him the permission he was waiting for. His hands reach up to cup your tits, feeling the top of them roughly beneath his callous fingers. You arch your back a little, enjoying the touch despite the slight discomfort.

"Tell me my dear...are you scared of me?" he mutters, his voice taking on a dark edge as he gets into character, well, his version at least.

"Y-Yes." you say softly, playing up the innocent victim angle, just like you know he likes.

"You should be...these hands have ended the lives of many men who cross me, of men who think they can have you."

Despite the make believe aspect, your breath still catches and your hips still buck at his words, heat blossoming between your legs. Of course he catches this, moving his hands down to feel your hips, head dipping to kiss down your neck to your collarbones.

"And yet you come to me so willingly, such eager prey."

At his words, he traces his teeth down, not quite breaking the skin but giving you the threat that he could. You let out a deliciously desperate noise, almost tempted to beg but deciding against it. Jonathan always liked the thrill of the chase, of wearing you down and frightening you into submission. And you loved to give him that.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask, proud of yourself for how convincing you made your apprehension sound.

"Oh angel..." he croons, pulling away to look at you, grasping your jaw for good measure. "Whatever I please."

At his words, he grips your wrist once more before pulling you into the bedroom. You stumble to match his pace as he takes a moment to look at you once more. It's almost clinical, the way he stares at you.

"I wonder what you'll look like beneath me." he says aloud, starting to circle you, relishing in the embarrassment that seems to radiate from you. You fight to keep still, fiddling with your sleeve before he settles behind you.

His hands go to the back of your dress, where you’d nearly cracked your back attempting to tie a cute little bow. Feeling the dress loosen, you know he’s undone it, before he reaches around to grip at your throat, pulling your back roughly against his chest. He doesn't move or relax his grip, simply humming and pressing his mouth to your jawline.

"You're tremblin' like a leaf." he says in a self-satisfied manner. "Maybe I should show y'the things I can make you feel."

Pressing his fingers in a little, the sensation of him choking you has a soft mewl escape your lips, eyelids fluttering shut. Your life is in his hands, both in the roleplay and in reality, and it causes your thighs to press together firmly.

"The pleasure that comes from fear, the endorphins your body releases when you’re unsure if you should run or submit.”

He hisses the last word into your ear, before bending you over the bed. You yelp softly, bracing your fall on your elbows as he quickly pushes the long white skirt up. As more of your skin is revealed, he lets out a guttural noise as he sees the matching white stockings and garter belts you’d put on underneath.

“Such a fuckin�� sight.” He says, snapping the elastic of the stocking against your skin to make you jump.

His constantly cold hands trace up to your panties, feeling the wet material beneath his fingertip. Smirking, he circles it methodically, your clit receiving a dull stimulation.

“Please…” you beg him softly, trying to grind down on his digit.

He wants nothing more than to drag this out, to make you beg and scream for him before he finally takes you. But he knows time is fleeting, and you both need to make an appearance soon. So he quickly pulls down your underwear, so they stay around your knees, before pushing a finger inside your sloppy sounding cunt.

“So wet…I knew you were secretly a dirty angel. Practically soaking through your nice underwear. All f’me.”

At his words he pushes a second one inside, stretching you out as he fucks you with a suprisingly gentle rhythm. Your thighs shake a little, and images of you screaming and writhing with his fear toxin in your system flash across his mind.

Pushing back against him, the rhythm of your hips moving forces him out of his daydream, and he deems you stretched enough to pull his fingers out, wiping them on your ass.

He fiddles with the zipper of his costume, before he gets an idea. Grabbing you, he forces you around the bed, so you’re still bent over, but are now facing the mirror you'd used earlier to admire yourself in your dress.

You gasp softly in embarrassment as you realise what he wants, but your eyes can’t tear themselves away from his face, how gorgeous the mask looks settled on his striking features. So captivated, you miss that he’s taken his cock out until he taps it against your asscheek, before pushing it against your soaked folds.

“Do you want me? Beg. Beg me to debase you, to corrupt you.”

“Please…” you say, needing him desperately as he grinds his cock along your cunt, never quite breaching. Holding his gaze in the mirror, you reiterate. “Please corrupt me.”

He grins, before pushing in, and your mouth parts into a slight 'o' shape as you’re filled. The ever so slight burning stretch only adds to the sensation, your hands gripping the sheets as he settles inside you as deep as he physically can get himself.

“Good…” he gets out through gritted teeth.

At your airy moan, he starts his even pace. The slick sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, and you have to look down to avoid the image of your own desperation in the mirror. A hand grabs at your hair and pulls, disrupting your carefully placed hairstyle.

“Look at yourself, watch as the monster everyone fears takes what he wants.”

You moan louder, watching your own expression in the reflection as you’re fucked. Luckily he doesn’t seem to mind when your gaze travels upwards, watching his facial expressions. His jaw set in a tight line, he looks at you with an almost sadistic expression. Like he unashamedly wants to break you.

His hand grabs at your hip, feeling the material beneath his grasp as he bunches it. With each thrust, the dress ripples and moves, and he looks up to see your breasts bouncing with each snap of his hips.

“How depraved you’re become, moanin' like a paid harlot on the Paris streets.” He groans, and you’d admire his dedication to the roleplay if your brains weren’t leaking out of your ears. “Such wanton desperation from a girl as delectable as you.”

You whine at his praise, unable to hold yourself up anymore so you let yourself fall into the pillows. The image causes Jonathan to speed up his thrusts, gripping one of your hands and moving it in a demand for you to self pleasure. Not needing to be told twice, you start to circle your clit, moaning out at the sensation.

“Good girl…need you to cum around me, show me how lustful and immodest I’ve made you.”

You nod, feeling the pleasure build and build. A sharp slap to the ass makes you jump, writhing in place. Sure that you’re makeup is most likely a mess now, you drag your cheek across the sheets to get a better look at the mirror, more specifically at your lover.

The fact he hadn’t taken the costume off makes it even better, his cloak moving with every thrust. You’re a little surprised his mask has stayed on, but you thank whatever sex deity allowed it to remain in place for the image it gives you. This’ll be masturbation fodder for a good while, you’re sure of it.

“Gonna cum…” you manage to get out after a while longer, his cock thrusting into your g spot with cruel precision now. He growls behind you, slapping your ass again just to be cruel.

However the stinging pain tips you over the edge as you cum with a soft cry, clenching around him. You keep rubbing your clit, prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible. Hands falling back to the sheets, you feel Jonathan slightly reposition you, before he starts thrusting harder.

Clearly chasing his own release, he grips both of your hips and rams into you, and his breathing patterns lets you know it won’t be long. So you keep letting out pathetic sounding gasps and whines, arching your back for him. He groans, feeling his balls tighten.

“I’m gonna fill you up, make you keep my cum all throughout the stupid party.” He manages to get out, before he’s spilling inside of you. After a few more shallow thrusts, he stills, basking in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

Eventually he pulls out, quickly yanking your panties up snugly so his cum can’t leak out all the way. You whimper at the sensation, cold and uncomfortable, but at the same time so...right.

“There…nice and snug.” He condescends, patting your ass before pulling your dress back down. Helping you up, he turns you around and holds your cheek, looking down at you. “Was I convincing?”

You nod dumbly, still frazzled even as Jonathan looks at his watch. “Good, if we leave now we can still make it in time to see Nygma relive his childhood years after toasting his glass.”

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[creepling]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ dating digger harkness headcanons

this is a very specific reader because i love the idea of this grimy hobo having a cute, smart girly partner that is the candy floss to his raccoon energy OKAYYY. also tcm shenanigans will be back shortly, i just had to give some love to a dc rogue like the old times<33

tags: feminine reader (wears dress, skirt, heels, mild makeup and has breasts and v) but gn pronouns. sugar daddy digger if you squint. reader is a jailbird. cuddling. pet name: birdie. smut under the cut - minors dni. polaroid nudes. (m) masturbation. thoughts of: oral (m receiving) and cowgirl.

If you were to ask Digger the first thing he noticed about you, his caveman mind would be objectifying. But your ass did look very flattering in your skirt and the smile you shot his way was the cherry on top. He likes them sweet and innocent, you like them rugged and dangerous. It was a match made in hell heaven.

After a few dates spent in dingy pubs and lover’s lanes, he was enamoured by you. He’s never had someone look at him the way you do. Eyes full of light, glistening at the sight of him. You always welcomed him with open arms, practically throwing yourself at him. He liked how easy you were to pick up, and the way you wrapped your limbs around him. How your soft skin blushes red against his scruffy neck. No matter the setting, you sat so close to him that you were more or less on his lap. He wraps his arms around you, or has a hand on your thigh, letting nearby acquaintances know you belong together. Digger thinks to himself, “I got so fucking lucky.”

His love languages are primarily gift-giving and physical touch. More times than you can count, Digger has fallen asleep on top of you. Either on the couch, while watching a movie or he found a way to snake between your legs while sleeping, he has a habit of using you like a pillow. You developed a kinship in moments like this where you play with his hair, massaging your fingers into the nape of his neck or twirling the strands that curtain his temples. You muse at his sleep-full hums, watching this rogue unwind under your touch, satisfied like a dog receiving pets. The gift-giving is when his rogue side is on high voltage. He wants to give you the world, shower you with jewels, let you wear the best of gear. “You want diamonds? Yeah, I’ll get you diamonds,” He’ll muse, mixing his pleasures with yours. When he robs a bank, the majority of his stolen dollars has been spent on you since you met him. Did your car get towed? He bought you a new one, along with the insurance. Need a new dress for the weekend? He’s got you sorted, along with heels and a bag to match. “Can’t have my bird in peasant clothes!” He protests, “Not with that cracken’ bod.” Queue the wink.

He loves showing you off, chuffed that he proved his doubters wrong that he could settle down and have a gorgeous significant other. “What they see in you, I don’t know . . .” They say, whether that be Deadshot, King Shark, heck even Amanda is amazed by it. He keeps candid polaroids of you in his pocket on the job, looking at them when he misses you. He squeezes the unicorn plushie you gifted him when he is stressed, anything to feel your presence when you’re half the world away. A shit-eating grin on his face when people tease him about his love for you, using it to embarrass him. “Awh, it’s puppy love,” Harley cooes, and Digger nods, all chuffed with himself.

Digger gave you the nickname “Birdie” because well . . . You’re a jailbird. He is in prison for heinous crimes, after all! Oh, is he touched-starved when you’re standing there, pretty face to the phone, separated by glass and talking in your voice that melts him like butter. His eyes are eating you up, desperate to have his hands on you. He’ll do all the suicide missions going to shred off the jail time, to get closer to the day his lips are kissing yours. Blackmailing Amanda to get you the best of the best, pay off college debt, holidays abroad, and spoil you when he cannot. “Oh, Birdie, when I get out of here I’m not letting you out of my sight, you’re stuck with me.” He groans, drunk on love. All you do is smile, sliding a pack of Polaroids under the screen when the guards aren’t looking. “Have these to tide you over in the meantime,” you tease. Digger rushes back to his cell, flipping through the photos. First were of you in dresses that were his favourites, the type of ones that are flowy and floral, framing you so delicately. They get more desirable as he flips them over, and his eyes lull in lust.

Digger loves the dirty photos you send him, it drives him fucking insane. It’s good to keep you fresh in his mind, but it borders on teasing just having you to look at. He didn’t have the brightest imagination, but this was good practice. Imagine how soft your thighs are under his callous hands, what your lips taste like with the lipgloss you have on. Your delicate hands trace his bulge, your touch replacing his heavy-handed grasp. Bucking into your hands as he sucks your breasts, teasing your nipples, muttering how perfect you are. His sweet little birdie, all belonging to him. Your eagerness proves your devotion. You take his infamous size so well, your spit coating his cock as your tongue swirls around his pulsing tip. As he wanks himself off, muffling his groans, he has the faintest memory of your cunt. How wet you always were for him, how eager you bounced on his cock. His eyes closed as he pumped his cock faster, edging to the echoes of past moans you chanted in his ear.

[ilovetheriddler]

The Different Riddlers on a date at an amusement Park. Mini fic Scenarios.

Oh boy! That's a lot of riddle loving menaces! These are all short little mini fic scenarios centered around the idea of an amusement park date!

Word Count: 2,160.

Contents: Kissing, mentions of puking briefly, highly suggestive themes but nothing too explicit.

Gotham.

Just where had Ed wandered off to? You weren't quite sure, and it was honestly making you a bit worried. You knew how much he had been looking forward to this date, planning it months in advance to be just perfect, so the idea that he'd just leave without a word confused you.

You attempted to call his phone a few times, only to be met with his voice mail, where on earth had he run off to? You tried looking through the crowd for him and were starting to lose hope of finding him until you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you along with them. By the time your mind fully registered that it was Edward, you were already sitting down, with a bar being lowered in front of you.

"E-Edward?! Where were you?"

"Huh? Oh! I was looking for the ferris wheel! I couldn't find anything about where it would be located on their website, so I wanted to find it as soon as we got here."

You let out a slightly surprised yelp as you felt yourself moving. As you saw the ground getting further and further away from your feet, you realized that you were on the ferris wheel. He had wandered off, found it, and dragged you to it after that. You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ed, you could have just told me that when we first got here! Why were you so excited for the ferris wheel anyway?"

"Well... I thought it would be a pleasant experience! You know? I find the circular motion to be the perfect mixture of soothing and exciting, plus I get to be close to you... so there's that as well..."

He threw one of his arms around your shoulders and pulled you slightly closer before his lips met yours in a sweet and prolonged kiss.

Batman: The Animated Series.

Edward had been extremely pleased when he found out that there was a small arcade within the amusement park, nothing super fancy, just some older arcade cabinet games, but he was thrilled and you thought it was really sweet how clearly overjoyed he was.

He was currently on his third game, having already acquired the top scores on the previous two. They were puzzle games, which explained why the small little acarde section was practically a ghost town. Not too many people going to an amusement park were really going to play older puzzle games. But these were exactly the type of things that Edward loved.

"My dear! Look at that, I've bested yet another person's score. My skills at this are truly unrivaled."

"I can see that, I'm glad that you're having fun... I was honestly a bit worried that you might not enjoy coming here..."

"Nonsense! This is the most amusement that I've had outside of my own riddles in a long time!"

You couldn't stop yourself from giggling as he pulled you to sit on his lap as he continued playing away on the acarde games. You felt your face heat up slightly as he started kissing your neck gently.

"E-Edward! We're in public!"

"Don't worry, my dear, I'm not going to go too far, just a few kisses here and there.... and besides, there's not exactly anyone else in this specific section. Now, is there?"

His soft and just slightly mischievous laugh rang out right next to your ear as he continued his kisses on your neck and trailed them down to your shoulder.

Arkhamverse.

You had honestly thought that Edward would turn down your idea for an amusement park date, so when he did actually agree to go, you were incredibly excited..... Keyword being were... You genuinely loved Edward so much, but being slung around in a bumper car as he repeatedly slammed into other cars with enough force to almost give you whiplash wasn't exactly what you had in mind!

But you couldn't lie, seeing Eddie with that Grin on his face, cackling to the point where several people were onlooking with deep concern, was truly all it took to make it worth it. At least he was enjoying himself.

"Ahaha! These Imbecilic fools are no match for my excellent driving skills!!"

"....Eddie, your license has been revoked on several different occasions...."

"Only because of the fact that the people of Gotham city can't handle my superiority, so they try to restrict me!"

You continued to be swung around like a rag doll for another thirty minutes until the staff had received enough complaints and forcefully removed the two of you from the park. Going as far as to Ban Edward for life as a precaution. He wasn't pleased about it, not at all.

A few days later, you'd walked into his lair and found him frantically constructing his own version of the bumper cars, specifically to use in one of his traps for the caped crusader. You noticed a man tied to a chair on the other side of the room, the same man that had thrown you both out and banned him.

"Eddie...? Why exactly do you have that guy tied up?"

"It's very simple, I needed a guinea pig to test out my latest project!"

You knew that it was better to pick and choose your battles with Edward, so while you did feel sorry for the poor amusement park worker, it was late and you didn't want to argue over it, so you just went back to bed.

Telltale.

Edward had been on the fence about whether he actually wanted to join you on your trip to the amusement park. He wasn't exactly a young fellow anymore, so walking around all day didn't sound too pleasant. However, he did suppose that he should spend some time with you doing something that you wanted since you've been such a good assistant when it came to his plans.

So despite this being meant as a sort of reward for you, he didn't miss a single opportunity to complain about his joint pain and about how hot out it was, as if he hadn't willingly chosen to wear an outfit with a lot of layers. Luckily, though you didn't mind, you were used to Edward's complaints and were just glad that he was spending time with you.

Much to both your and his own surprise, he genuinely enjoyed the log flume of all rides, He could sit down and relax, and occasionally being splashed by the water made the heat slightly more bearable. He ended up going on that same ride a few times in a row before the two of you decided to take a small break on a bench nearby.

"So um... Thank you so much, Edward. I honestly didn't think that you'd even want to come here with me..."

".... I didn't originally intend to. However, I decided that you deserved a bit of my presence... as a reward for your recent work...."

You leaned against his shoulder, which seemed to throw him off slightly, before he quickly regained his composure and chuckled at the sight. He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to lean in a bit closer before pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead.

2022 Batman.

Edward could hardly believe it when you told him that you wanted to take him out on a date to an amusement park. He'd never been to one before, so he was extremely excited! Not only because of the fact that he always wanted to do things like this as a child but couldn't, but because he'd be doing it with you, it'd be an actual date!

He was originally fairly nervous about the idea of how some of the rides would be, but once you both got there, he found himself having quite a pleasant time! Until you got to the Rollercoasters, then it went from a pleasant time to an amazing time! You were both screaming quite loudly while on them, but it was different for both of you. Edward had this look in his eyes, a look of unbridled gleefulness. He looked ecstatic as you both rode the Rollercoaster. In fact, he insisted on riding it another ten times!

You couldn't help but wonder if the reason why he was enjoying it so much had anything to do with the adrenaline his brain was producing as a result? Perhaps it was giving him a feeling that was somewhat similar to how his actions as the riddler made him feel? There was no way to be sure. He was overjoyed as you both got off the ride again. Unfortunately, you had to run over to the nearest trash can, feeling horribly queasy after being forced to endure a rollercoaster eleven times in a row. Edward looked extremely concerned as he approached you and started rubbing your back, attempting to help you through your nausea.

"A-are you alright, my dear? W-was that too many times? I'm so sorry if I overdid it...."

"...It's fine, Eddie. I'm just happy to see that you're enjoying yourself.... but yeah, after the seventh time, it might have been a bit much...."

Zero Year.

You were extremely skeptical and a bit cautious of wherever Edward was dragging you off to, He hadn't seemed all that interested in the amusement park a few minutes ago... what could he have possibly seen or stumbled upon to suddenly shift his mood so drastically?

You were even more confused when he stopped in front of a currently shut down maze of mirrors. You felt chills run down your spine as you glanced over at him to question what exactly he was planning, only to see that mischievous look in his eyes... whatever it was wasn't good if he had that look in his eyes, you could at least say that for certain.

He wandered inside, and you followed behind him. Just what was he planning? After walking for a few minutes, you started to grow frustrated. Perhaps he simply did this to annoy and inconvenience you. You turned around to say something but stopped dead in your tracks as you saw him unbuttoning his suit jacket before tossing it on the ground.

"E-Edward? W-what on earth are you doing?!"

He slowly stepped closer to you, a sly grin plastered on his face as he leaned in closer to you.

"Oh, come on.... there's no one around, and I'd truly be a fool not to take advantage of all of these... mirrors, wouldn't I, my dear?"

"Excuse me?! I bring you to an amusement park, and your first idea is to have sex in a shutdown maze of mirrors?!"

He disregarded his shirt on top of his suit jacket before moving on to unbuckle his belt. His breath drifted across your ear as he lowered his voice to sultry whisper.

"Precisely.... Don't lie to me and say that you aren't the least bit aroused by the idea...?"

The bad thing is that he wasn't wrong.... and that bothered you more than anything else.

Unfortunately, the two of you ended up being banned for life once a worker who was cleaning up the area stumbled upon you two in the throes of passion. Edward seemed unbearably smug, though. Even as you were both thrown out.

Young Justice.

Edward was overjoyed by your invitation to go to the amusement park together, it would be your and his first ever official date, and he was confident that it would be perfect... alright, maybe not fully confident, somewhat confident... he wasn't actually confident, that was a lie, he was deeply worried about something screwing up the entire date.

So he kept his eyes open, watching the area with a keen eye, he'd let this date be ruined over his dead body! As the date contained on there seemingly wasn't any major issues... Until he realized that there was a tunnel of love here and that you really wanted to go on it with him.

He was ultimately unable to say no, so the two of you got on the ride, sat down in those stupid little boats, and started floating along the long, dimly lit corridor. Actually.... the atmosphere would be absolutely perfect for stealing a few kisses from you. Yes, it'd be perfect!

He put his previous concerns behind him as he grabbed you suddenly and slammed his lips against yours, an intense passion behind the kiss. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away to catch his breath, only to then reconnect them again and again. It was everything he had hoped that it would be. However, then the ride stopped suddenly, and he was sent falling off the boat and into the water, soaking his clothes.

"Damn it!! C-can't those idiots run a ride correctly?!"

"Are you alright, Eddie? That was quite a sudden fall...."

You helped him back onto the boat, but now he felt that his pride was damaged slightly, so he just sat there and sulked in his drenched suit, his favorite suit!

[crazydeershark]

Broken souls

Part 2.

AK!Jason Todd x Civilian!Fem reader

Summary: Your life at GCPD, uncovering Gotham’s criminals and darkest secrets. Jason coming back as Arkham knight.

Warnings: cat calling, violence.

A/n: This can be read as a stand alone, but I suggest reading Part 1.

Btw!! Its lightly based on the AK game but doesnt follow exact lore.

Arkham Knight. His name was everywhere. Gotham’s streets, the GCPD you worked at, the news, even your local convenience store.

And you despised it.

You despised not being able to do anything about it.

Your role wasn’t that big. You were just Officer Gordon’s assistant. Fresh new worker, untouched and incorruptible, unlike 50% of Gothams “police”. You payed close attention to conversations, sneaked in places you definitely shouldn’t have. A few months is what it took you to figure it all out. It made you feel foolish, for putting your trust in the police.

Gotham needed its justice. While most thought it was far beyond saving, you knew it still needed good people fighting for it. Like you and Gordon. Gordon was dedicated to fighting crime. You admired his commitment, but it was not sustainable, mentally especially.

You found out about his “friend” pretty soon too, or maybe Gordon just wanted you to know, about Batman. Their little check ins on the rooftop, every few evenings.

You couldn’t help yourself. So one night, when you saw your boss going up the stairs, you knew the drill. You followed him carefully. Maybe because you knew they were going to talk about Arkham Knight, or maybe you just needed to see Batman. To make sure he’s real. To make sure Robin was real.

You tried your best to stay hidden, and to hear their conversation through the heavy rain. The only words you could make out were “report” and “knight”, everything else sounded like gibberish.

When you heard heavy footsteps you ran back to your shared office. Pretending nothing happened.

You saw Gordon come in, files in his hand.

“Good evening, Officer Gordon.”

“As good as it gets, kid.” He scoffed out, clearly irritated. You decided not to question it. Old man, had a lot on his mind. What you did pay attention to, were the files and where he placed them.

You stepped out of your office,

“Done blowing the officer, huh?” One of the detectives made a crude gesture, hollowing his cheeks and mimicking a blow job, a few snickers came from the guys around him. You ignored them, nails digging in the flesh of your palm. Fighting back tears of anger.

Yes, being accused of sleeping with your older, married boss was one of the downsides of being a young woman who’s working in the Gotham police department.

You wanted to wipe those grins off their face, but you knew you couldn’t. Not alone at least, which, in this case, you were.

Officer was getting ready to leave from work, when you walked into the office.

“Don’t worry, I’ll close.” You pointed out to the keys in his hand, “still got a ton of papers to work on.” You felt guilty for lying.

You weren’t a bad person, right? You were just curious.

“Alright, don’t overwork yourself too much.” He nodded.

“Unless I wanna become like you?”

“You don’t, kid” He smirked, heading out.

You waited a bit, got up, closed the door.

The files. You gently got them out, eyes scanning over the words.

𝐆𝐂𝐏𝐃 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭- 𝐀𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 & 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚.

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𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 - 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙨 𝙀𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮

𝙍𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚: 𝘼𝙧𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨 & 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩: 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙤𝙣

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𝙎𝙪𝙗𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

𝘾𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚: 𝘼𝙧𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙉𝙖𝙢𝙚: 𝙐𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣

𝘼𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙬

𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙇𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚

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𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 & 𝘾𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨

𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙨: 𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝟮,𝟬𝟬𝟬+ 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢.

𝙑𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙨: 𝙈𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨, 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮-𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙨.

𝙒𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨: 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝-����𝙚𝙘𝙝 𝙗𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨, 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙧𝙨.

𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚: 𝘼𝙧𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 (𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧),

𝙐𝙣𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 (𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩).

𝙇𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨: 𝙊𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙥𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙠𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢, 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜:

𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨’ 𝙄𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 – 𝙈𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩

𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙩 – |abandoned|

𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 – 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙩 – 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩

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𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮 & 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙨

𝟬𝟮:𝟰𝟱 𝘼𝙈: 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙤𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡. 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙.

𝟬𝟯:𝟮𝟬 𝘼𝙈: 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖��𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝘼𝘾𝙀 𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙨. 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩.

𝟬𝟰:𝟬𝟬 𝘼𝙈: 𝙈𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙏𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧. 𝙋𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝟬𝟱:𝟭𝟱 𝘼𝙈: 𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙈𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙞 𝙄𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙. 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧.

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𝙏𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 – 𝘼𝙧𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙩 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨:

𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙚.

𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣’𝙨 𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙣𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨 (𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙣).

𝙋𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙚:

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨.

𝘼𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙬’𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙖𝙡𝙨.

𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢’𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

─────────────

𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙮

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧.

𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙪𝙥.

𝘿𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧-𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨.

𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧—𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝟮𝟰 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨.

𝘼𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. 𝙃𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚.

─────────────

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢’𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮.

𝙂𝘾𝙋𝘿 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚, 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨.

𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙.

𝙀𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙍𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩.

You got your phone out as fast as you could, taking pictures of the papers.

There wasn’t a lot of useful information, not even pictures. You didn’t know what he looked like, you heard and read about his military style gear, his mask. That was it.

What you didn’t know about, was his “personal” fling with Batman. You thought he was crazy, well, not as far-gone as scarecrow, but at least similar intentions. Causing Gotham chaos.

You packed your bag, put your coat on and placed the report back neatly.

On your way home, you realized you shouldn’t have gotten so caught up back at the department. It was too late to be walking home alone. The alleys felt like hidden dangers lurking around the corner, like someone was constantly watching over you. Waiting for you to crack. You gripped your bag tightly, pepper spray in hand.

Like that would help you.

You thought back on the papers. You felt like you needed to do something. You needed to help. But how?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw what seemed to look like a group of men, heading towards.. you. Speeding up as you were calculating your moves, panicking on the inside.

Walking in their direction was not a choice. If you turned around and started running? They’d be after you.

And you were anything but a good runner.

What other choice did you have?!

You took a deep breath, turned around, and ran as fast as you could. Not long after, you heard the group speed up, their steps echoing through the alley.

Fuck.

You were too deep into the alleys, you weren’t gonna make it to public space.

They were getting close. Too close.

Worst of all, you were running towards a dead end.

You turned around, what a bad choice that was.

Your foot got caught in an uneven crack in the pavement, you lost your balance. Colliding with the cold, hard concrete.

“Get up, sweetheart, let’s make this quick.” A nasty smelling man sneered, yanking you up. His grip so tight on your arm it bruised.

You trembled in fear.

“Make this quick? Look at her. She’s a piece of candy. Ain’t she?” Another man whistled, the other agreeing.

You were trapped, terror settled deep in your chest.

“That she is. Now be good for us, phone and wallet, and maybe we’ll let you go..”

You stayed silent, mind racing, your pepper spray was useless.

You reached your shaky hand in your purse, grabbing your phone and wallet, ready to hand them.

Suddenly, the air shifted, growing thick.

A figure appeared out of nowhere. It was like a blur of motion. He moved so fast you could barely process it, almost as if his movements were robotic, lacking humanity.

All you could hear were screams and grunts, pounces, thuds and bodies being slammed.

You and the figure were the only ones remaining.

Silence fell over you, along with a tension so thick you froze in place.

You stared at the figure, wide eyed.

He stood tall, intimidating. His presence was suffocating. Almost as if you forgot how to breathe. Body covered in dark, form fitting military armour, reflecting panels on his arms and chest barely catching the little light there was.

You squinted your eyes through the dark, trying to make out his helmet.

“Get out of here.”

You flinched when you heard his voice, distorted by what sounded like a voice modulator.

You took a deep breath, questioning if all of this was just a bad dream.

It wasn’t.

You speed up, passed the figure scared, and ran home. You didn’t have the guts to look up.

When you got home, you locked your doors, your windows, everything.

The only thing that was stuck on your mind was the figure.

You didn’t sleep that night, even with all of the pills you took.

Military gear, tall, intimidating.

No. You were paranoid. It couldn’t have been.

It couldn’t have been the Arkham Knight.

Right?

A/n: sorry guys you’re in for a wild ride cause I am notttt making this fast.😝Hope you enjoyed my loves!!

IMPORTANT: If there were any grammar mistakes or unclear phrases please let me know! English isn’t my first language!!

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAG LIST PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS🫶🏻🎀

Tag list: @koji-ibitsu @d1nne

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 (in replies because tags aren't working in the post for some reason)

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

I just want y’all to know that this chapter was written for you—I prefer the story ending at Chapter 2 😉

If you enjoy the read please kudos, comment, and reblog ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You catch the door before it clicks shut. You don’t want to leave him like this. You can’t leave him like this, so you inhale a deep breath and creep back inside, steeling yourself for rejection or another hateful outburst.

His weeping tapers off into sniffles and the occasional cough. You can feel his eyes following you as you pad over to his couch and grab the neatly folded throw blanket, casting a furtive glance towards his gun, which is still lying undisturbed where you left it, before returning to him. His eyes have fallen away from you—his head sagging between his slumped shoulders, chin touching his chest—and you hope he hasn’t gone away again to that terrible place in his mind. When you drape the blanket around his shoulders he flinches but gives no other protest, even pulling it more tightly around himself. He doesn’t order you to leave—doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there—so you kneel down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. He looks so defeated, so beaten down by the world; an abused child wrapped up in his security blanket for comfort after another unfair punishment. Your heart can’t help but break for him.  

You sit for a moment, listening to his soft sniffles and harsh breathing until you find the right words to say. Then you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor again, his tearful eyes hidden behind a curtain of sweat-damp black hair.

For what? Passing out? Getting strangled? Knocking me to the floor then screaming at me? But you keep those questions to yourself, asking him instead: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

He slowly shakes his bowed head, as if it’s filled with lead, as if those awful memories of his are weighing it down.

“Then why don’t you lie down? Maybe get some rest?” you suggest. “I can bring you some Ambien…”

Your voice trails off because he shoots you a wary look. But then his face softens and he nods before muttering, “No drugs.”

“No drugs,” you echo softly, your brain jumping to conclusions again about this brooding man of few words. Perhaps he’s a recovering addict or something. You push yourself to your feet then reach out a hand to help him up. He stares at it then his eyes fall away again. He’s really not a fan of eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says.

“It’s Y/N,” you offer eagerly. “What about you?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he answers, “Jason,” in a barely audible voice, as if he’s ashamed to utter the word aloud.

Heavy silence swells around you and you’re acutely aware of your outstretched arm hanging awkwardly in the air. He wipes his bleeding cheek against his shoulder, smearing more blood onto his hoodie. You pull back your proffered hand and use it to push a lock of hair behind your ear as you fumble for something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretches on. And suddenly you're back at dinner with John Preston Anderson III trying to make conversation while he scrolls on his phone, pretending you don’t exist. You have to swallow down a bubble of anger that threatens to erupt.

“I’m… sorry for whatever happened to you, Jason. I… can stay with you, if you want.” Suddenly your face is afire and you’re mortified that you just invited yourself to sleep over at his place only seconds after learning his name. “On your couch, I mean,” you clarify, blushing furiously, but his eyes never leave the floor. Thankfully.

He coughs then shakes his head again. “I already ruined your night.”

A bitter laugh bursts out of you at that without your permission, and his head jerks up, startled, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours. You clap both hands over your mouth as if you can shove the rude sound back inside you. Guilt grips your heart as you see the pained expression on his pale face. It’s not anger or hurt or annoyance, but rather that same look of fear that you witnessed earlier when he was cowering in the corner, as if your laughter frightened him. 

You rush to explain, to put him at ease. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… if you only knew the night I’ve had. Anyway, I’m glad we finally got to meet. It’s nice to put a name to the-the face.” You stutter that last part, realizing after the fact that it’s probably not very nice to bring up his unmistakably-scarred face like that, or complain about your night to the guy who got strangled, so you blurt out before your mind can catch up with your mouth: “It isn’t every night that I get to help a handsome stranger in distress.”

Your face somehow turns an even darker shade of crimson. How many times can you put your foot in your mouth in one conversation? But to your surprise and relief you’re rewarded with a little laugh from Jason, a sound that seems awkward and unnatural, as if he doesn’t get to laugh very often. Some of the color returns to his cheeks as he blushes the prettiest shade of pink. When the corners of his mouth quirk up into a timid smile you realize that he has absolutely gorgeous lips, despite the swelling. Full and soft, finely laced with small silvery scars—little arrows pointing to where they need to be kissed. Jesus Christ. Again, you literally just learned the guy’s name and now you want to kiss him. No, that’s a lie. You’ve wanted to kiss him since his rude ass scowled at you the first time. What is it with you and Ted Bundy types?

“I’ll have to pass out more often,” he says shyly, fingers plucking at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His blue-green eyes find the floor again, as if his script is written there. “Turns out it’s a great way to meet beautiful women.”

Beautiful… beautiful… The word echoes in your mind like a heartbeat. No one has ever called you beautiful. Your chest comes alive with sudden warmth as butterflies take flight. You want to stay there with him for the rest of the night. To kiss him on his busted lips. To wrap him up in your arms. To protect him from whatever hurt him. Instead, you grab one of the discarded ice packs and hand it to him, heart still fluttering wildly in your chest. “Google says you should get some ice on that. Your throat, I mean.” Goddamnit. He just said you’re beautiful, and you reply by handing him an ice pack. How the hell are you so bad at flirting?

“Who am I to question Dr. Google?” he replies sarcastically with a smug little smirk on those beautiful lips, but still does as he’s told, accepting the ice pack then holding it against his red-ringed throat.

You gaze down at him as you grope for the perfect words to say that will turn this scene into one worthy of a romcom. You consider inviting him back to your place to share that bottle of merlot you’ve been dreaming about all night. But then remind yourself that the poor guy is traumatized, definitely in no shape for a romantic nightcap. You can’t help but find yourself wishing, as if you can will it into existence, that he’ll look up at you, that your eyes will meet, sparks will fly, and he’ll flirt with you again. Maybe even invite you to stay the night with him. But his eyes remain glued to the floor, and your heart drops in disappointment as your ridiculous delusions are dashed by his silence.

“I should… probably go, for real this time. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you before I go?” you ask, coming back down to earth from the high of his compliment and seeing him again as the guy who’d gotten cut and strangled then passed out cold on his floor rather than an object of your lust.

He shakes his head, then he glances up at you, those stunning blue-green eyes of his finally finding yours, sending a fresh flutter to your chest. “You’ve done more than enough. It was… really nice having someone to talk to. To… distract me from… other things.”

His kind words give you a boost of confidence. “Well If you ever want to talk again, you know where I live. Or if you need a babysitter.”

You smile at the puzzled look that crosses his face and nod towards his houseplant.

He laughs that adorable little laugh again. “I may take you up on that offer sometime. Goodnight Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

[finniestoncrane]

Arkham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1.2k it's SHAVING AS A SIGN OF INTIMACY TIME listen this might be the beginning of several on this theme it's a kink i've loved for a while!! anyway, eddie has requested some assistance with shaving from reader, who he has decided he trusts enough to hold a razor to his tender skin *drool* also i'm not sorry for how autistic eddie is about his question mark shirt, he is literally me 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: little bit of humorous threats, shaving, flirting, suggestive towards the end

"Must be painful for you, having to ask for help."

"And it might be painful for you to suffer the consequences of your insolent tone."

You lifted your hand up, holding the handle of the very old fashioned razor blade between your fingers and dangling it in front of him.

"And it might be even more painful for you to suffer the consequences of your own shitty attitude if you don't behave."

With a playful smile, you pressed a finger below his chin, lifting it up, noting the smile that curled slightly on his lips, one he was trying to suppress in favour of remaining stoic in your presence.

"You know, Eddie, if you would take proper rests between working on your projects you wouldn't make so many mistakes."

The blade was close to him, not close enough that it made contact with him, but enough that he was lucky you pulled it back quickly enough when he lifted his head once more.

"I don't make mistakes! I have suffered a minor injury to three of my fingers, a consequence of poor tools. It's difficult to source higher quality material when you're a known and wanted entity."

You gently tilted his head back once more, nodding along to his rants, knowing by now when it would be a futile effort to argue with him. And by the time he had finished rambling, you were ready with the blade and the shaving cream, both in hand as you stared him down, patiently waiting for him to be quiet.

"Well? Are you going to get on with it?"

He barked the question at you, and you prepared yourself to begin, stopping short as he raised a hand.

"Hold on. I don't want you to make a mess of my shirt."

He shrugged the green, paint stained, short-sleeved shirt from his slender torso, leaving him in just a low cut, torn vest.

"You're very clumsy."

"Eddie. Clumsy enough that you're worried I'll ruin your already disgusting shirt, but not so clumsy that you'll trust me with a sharpened blade against your throat?"

For a moment, you had him stuck. He didn't have an argument, any words, you seemed to have caught him. But instead of replying, he simply sighed and waved you off.

"The texture of these fresh hairs on my face is far more annoying than any potential nicks, life-threatening or otherwise. This shirt is the only one I own, and it's to the exact fit I like it after the years of wear."

"Your priorities are interesting."

"I'm interesting."

That was his rebuttal, and he was satisfied with it. So you began your work, carefully placing your palm against his cheek. A soft touch, a careful carress, a gesture of reassurance. You cared for him, despite the playful teasing, the insistence on his part that you were only a disposable assitant. You went above and beyond, in awe of him, unable to resist the urge to worship him. You wouldn't let harm come to him by your hands, that's what the touch meant.

And the fact that he seemed to trust you, regardless of whether that was pushed onto him by the circumstances, meant the world in return.

As the razor made it's first pass over his skin, he seemed to raise himself up slightly, a natural reaction to the cool of the metal. So you laid your hand on his chest, pressing him back down and keeping it there. His heartbeat was steady, skin clammy against yours, a brush of soft hair coating his chest.

While you were't able to detect any change in Eddie's demeanour, he was worrying that you could. The moment you touched him he had felt his blood run cold. The threat, the imminent danger, the possibility that you could, at any moment, take his life. But the odd certainty that you wouldn't. It was all swirling through his mind, picking up flecks of the ill-timed arousal as it went.

Each teasing touch felt like it made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and he could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and under the foam on his upper lip. His body grew warmer, worked up in response to the intimacy, the delicate, tender way you handled both him and the potential weapon. And then it happened.

He squirmed slightly, hoping to adjust himself in a way that prevented his growing erection from becoming obvious. If he could keep your focus on his face, on the job at hand, then he might be able to calm himself down before he embarrassed himself. But the more you touched, the more aroused he became, hard against the front of his pants, and then, disaster occurring as his precum leaked out, staining a tiny mark on the front at his crotch.

Eddie's mind quickly flitted through the catalogue of quick excuses he could think of. He could play this off as a natural reaction. An expected response to someone touching him and being this close to him. Nothing to do with you or his deep attraction to you.

He could admit that the intimacy was exciting, allow a sliver of vulnerability to show as he confessed that it was one area that he wasn't all that experienced in.

Throw a curveball? Tell you that the danger was far more arousing that he imagined? That could backfire though, as he was well aware of how irritating he was, and inciting, or inviting, violence might not go as well for him as he hoped it might.

And finally, the ridiculous notion of proudly displaying the effect of your touch flashed through and was quickly stomped out. There was no way he would be able to play it off with any amount of confidence or charisma, and it would take a considerable amount indeed. But now it was in his head, the idea that you might be encouraged, enticed, by his arousal. Enough that it would strike a chord within you, making you as hot and needy as he was. That you might letyour hand trail down the front of his shirt, fingers skimming over the growing, throbbing bulge, offering, perhaps, to shave there too. To finish him off with a flourish. To hold him, touch him, until he-

"Edward?"

He snapped his head towards you, cheeks flushed and pupils wide as he came bck down to earth from his flight of fantasy.

"Edward, are you alright? You didn't answer..."

"I'm fine. my mind was elsewhere. You know how it is being a genius, or... you don't actually. But if you did, you'd know it was difficult to stop your brain from rattling through equations and plans and world changing ideas. So forgive me if I automatically reverted to paying attention to that instead of you."

Deciding to meet him with his own attitude, you tossed a towel towards him as you walked towards the sink, dropping the razor in as you spoke.

"Well, if that's a close enough shave you can wipe the foam off now. And maybe use the towel to clean yourself up further down too."

You had noticed. And you were teasing him.

And worse than that, the insolence, the cruel taunt that suggested you considered yourself good enough to stand toe to toe with him, he found that it only made him harder.

[i-am-not-the-riddler]

Butterflies?

Arkham Riddler x Reader: word count, 912. Okay but Eddie getting kinda flustered when you tend to his wounds.

⚠️CW: mention of blood, a little fluff, Eddie realising he’s a human being and not a robot

The sharp clatter of metal echoed through the dimly lit workshop as Edward worked intently on his latest project - a series of robots designed to carry out tasks with ruthless precision. His brow was furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of the monitors casting shadows across his face. You stood nearby, cataloging his latest notes, eyes glancing up occasionally as you tried to follow the intricate process of his genius.

He muttered to himself under his breath, words slipping into riddles as they often did when he was particularly focused. You’d grown used to it by now, the way his mind seemed to work on an entirely different plane from anyone else’s. It was part of what made him so fascinating—and so infuriating at times.

Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath from Edward, followed by a low curse. Your head snapped up, and you saw him clutching his left hand, blood already seeping between his fingers. The pliers he had been using lay discarded on the floor, a tiny smear of red marking where he had dropped it.

"Edward!" you exclaimed, rushing over to his side. "What happened?"

He grimaced, holding up his hand. "Just a... minor miscalculation," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Nothing I can’t handle."

You frowned, not buying his nonchalance for a second. The cut was deeper than he was letting on, a jagged gash running across the side of his palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor, staining the metal surface beneath him.

"That’s not ‘minor,’ Ed," you said, your voice firm as you grabbed a clean cloth from the nearby table. "Sit down."

He looked as if he might protest, his pride clearly wounded as much as his hand, but there was something in your tone that made him pause. Reluctantly, he sat on the edge of the table, still holding his bleeding hand in front of him.

You carefully took his hand in yours, your fingers warm against his cold calloused skin. His blood smeared slightly against your palm, but you ignored it, focusing on the wound. “This is pretty deep,” you murmured, pressing the cloth against the cut to slow the bleeding. "You should’ve been more careful."

Edward scoffed, though it was half-hearted. “I’m always careful,” he grumbled, though the tightness in his voice gave away the sting of the injury. His eyes flicked down to where your hands were gently tending to his wound, his breathing slightly uneven.

A strange flutter stirred in his stomach, something unfamiliar and unwelcome. It wasn’t just the pain. It was… something else. The way your fingers brushed against his skin, the care in your touch. It made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. He frowned, trying to brush it off, attributing it to the adrenaline and discomfort.

You reached for a bottle of disinfectant and some gauze, your movements practiced and efficient. As you began to clean the wound, Edward winced, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on you, as if studying every small detail of your face—the furrow in your brow, the way you bit your lip in concentration.

"You don’t have to do this, you know," he said after a long pause, his voice softer than usual. "I could’ve handled it."

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Maybe. But you don’t have to do everything on your own, Eddie.” Your voice was gentle, almost too gentle for someone as sharp and calculated as him. "It’s okay to let someone help once in a while."

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your words. For someone who prided himself on solving every problem, it was strange to hear that. Stranger still that it came from you, his assistant, the one person he could always count on for efficiency, logic, and order. And yet here you were, tending to his wound with a softness that was unsettling in ways he couldn’t quite articulate.

The flutter in his stomach returned, stronger this time. His mind scrambled to rationalise it. Perhaps it was just the rush of adrenaline wearing off. Yes, that must be it. It had to be.

As you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand, your fingers brushed against his wrist, sending an unexpected jolt through him. He tensed slightly, trying to suppress the odd sensation that seemed to crawl up his arm.

"There," you said with a small smile, tying the bandage securely. "All done. Just try not to reopen it, okay?"

Edward looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers slightly. The bandage was snug, the bleeding had stopped, but his focus wasn’t on the injury anymore. His eyes drifted back to you, lingering a little too long on the way you smiled at him, the way you stood just a little too close.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words coming out awkwardly, as if they didn’t quite fit in his mouth. Gratitude wasn’t something he was used to expressing, especially not in moments like this. Vulnerability was a puzzle he had never solved, one he hadn’t even wanted to.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. "You’re welcome, Ed. Now, let’s try to get through the rest of the day without any more accidents, okay?"

He nodded, his mind still reeling from the strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. As you turned back to your work, he let out a slow breath, rubbing his bandaged hand absently.

The flutter in his stomach hadn’t gone away.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

You remember how Kellerman just straight up speculates that Jon is just evil in his second to last interview tape? You think Jon ever listened to those tapes?

[drvoos]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

ft jason todd

she/her pronouns used

i love you, i’m waiting for you

She could vividly remember the day Jason Todd died just entering his teenage years. Bruce had come to her — his large hand resting on her shoulder. The weight from his grip would forever linger. He was her best friend. Her protector, her robin. How he could be there one second, being the sun that kept her from the darkness, and the next, six feet under.

His funeral was even more bleak. The gray smog filled Gotham sky threatened rain. Appropriate for the mood. Dick stood by her the entire time, offering his comfort in the way of pulling her into his side to offer up a shoulder to cry on. As they lowered the casket into Jason’s final resting place, thick drops plopped onto her head, indicating it was time.

but my best enemy is you

Bruce Wayne approached Batgirl on the busy bridge in front of Ace Chemicals. GCPD cars lined the edges, yet they truly weren’t of any use.

“Any word from inside?” His gruff voice questioned, posting up next to Batgirl in front of Gordon.

“Nothing,” Gordon starts, gesturing with his head for the two bats to walk with him. “We think there’s a skeleton crew left in there but they’re not responding and the facilities locked down.”

“If they’re still alive we’ll find them.”

Batgirl hummed, leaving the boys in order to further examine the front of the building.

“They should be able to tell us what Scarecrows up to..”

Batman’s words were cut short as the loud hum of a helicopter exploded in the ears. The red bird raised above the ledge of the bridge, its bright light shining right onto the Bats. She narrowed her eyes. Inside, a man dressed similar to them, only more red and mechanical. While Batgirls suit was new technology, nothing on her body compared to his.

The helicopter glided to its right, before blasting the very tip of the bridge, ensuring that no one would get inside.

The Bats showed no fear, cautiously approaching while everyone else ran to cover. The light was blinding, bathing them both. For a moment she swore he was staring directly at her. He was shaking his head, as if he was fighting something. Then, he left.

flee from me, the worst is you and i

Batman had parted from her awhile ago. Too many workers that needed to be saved for them to constantly stick with eachother.

“Can I get some help here?” The worker begged sheepishly, a little bit nerved by the lurking shadow in the corner. Batgirl quickly opened the door, grimacing as she saw how the man was tied up.

“Thank god your he-,” The glass roof shattered on top of them, militia sliding down on ropes. Her eyes narrowed. When all of the men had spread into position, the guy from the helicopter slowly descended as well. Batgirl could only hope this was their last interaction. His heavy combat boots slammed against the floor, a humorous chuckle distorted by his mask.

“Keep your guns trained on her…If she even looks like she’s planning to leave that room, open fire.” He approached her as if he was a predator stalking his prey, tilting his head and eyeing her up and down. His armored hand pressed against the glass in front of her.

“…See you’ve taken the old man’s offer. Became his weapon.” Her breathing was shaky, biting her lip and nostrils flaring. Who the hell was this guy?

“Who are you.” She demanded, stepping closer to the glass. Her whitened eyes narrowing further.

The Arkham Knight gave one more distorted chuckle before retreating his hand off of the barrier.

“You’ll see soon enough.” With that, him and his men disappeared back into the night.

but if you keep searching for my voice

Batgirl held her breath as she clutched onto the ceiling, watching as militia and goons alike filled the room she was in. The Arkham Knight rushed in behind them, clearly angered at her disappearance.

“Raise the defense shield. Keep all access points covered.”

Whoever this guy was, he clearly wanted her for something. While the Arkham Knight was talking to someone through his coms, Batgirl was plotting. Scheming. There was about 14 militia in the room, however she didn’t know how many were armed. Deciding to take a risk, Batgirl pounced like a cat.

She dropped from the sky, crushing someone with her armored boots. She continued to pick the men nearest to her off. She was a blur of black, going on pure adrenaline. Finally, Batgirl turned her sights on the Knight. He easily dodged her punch my harshly grabbing her arm, however that gave her the perfect opportunity to clutch his neck. Only, he did the same. They were tangled together.

“Who…are you.”

She choked out as he applied more pressure onto her throat. He let out a small laugh.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

With all of his might he pushed her off of him before disappearing in a bank of smoke.

forget me, the worst is you and i

Batgirl rushed in, clutching the gushing wound on her side that had been inflicted by one of the many bombs sent at her. Her mask had been practically torn apart, leaving only half on her face. She keeled over while trying to hold the doorframe for support. In front of her was Jason. Her Jason. His mask was in a similar state as hers, glitching and cracked due to the heavy blows that had rained down upon him. Bruce was on top of her Jason with his fist drawn back. Batgirl could only imagine what her partner was about to do.

“Bruce.” She whimpered, her voice nothing but a whisper. She was sure her vocal cords were damaged a bit. The two boys turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden entrance. When her and Jason made eye contact the entire world slowed to a halt. The entire time…this entire chase…it was him. Bruce slowly lifted himself off of his former Robin, backing away to allow Jason some room.

“You did this to me…” He growled, reaching into his belt.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce’s voice was full of worry and truth. Batgirl knew he meant every word. Jason was quick to draw his gun, pointing it directly in Batman’s face. Batgirl hobbled a few feet closer, still hunched over.

“You left me to rot in that abandoned wing of Arkham…for over a year! With him!”

Bruce quickly held out his hand towards Jason.

“It’s not too late. We can fix this,” He gestured towards the crippled Batgirl behind him. “Together.”

For a while, Jason said nothing, only lowering his gun and his head. Bruce turned away, contacting Alfred to tell him the sad yet good news. He found Jason.

With the energy she had left, Batgirl limped over to where Jason laid on his side defeatedly. When he lifted his head, his mind was made up.

“My god…is he alright?” Alfred worried through the com.

“No. No he’s not.”

However when Bruce turned around, the two were gone.

This took surprisingly longer than I thought it would lol! It’s my first fic, so please mind any errors I’ve made. I’m still getting used to Tumblrs format (Wattpad girl). I tried not to use any names such as y/n or an oc name because personally I cannot stand fics that have that. I’m also in love with this song from Arcane and I thought it would fit perfectly. Anyways, thank you for reading! :)

[caesariawritesstuff]

Sorry if this is a boring or lame request but could you write something short with someone being nice to a younger Eddie? Your hcs for him made me feel bad for the rat man ☹️

Nice

Summary: Edward is having a bad day at work. Things would certainly look up if someone else were nice to him.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I quite like the idea of this fic being canon to the Cat&Mouse!Verse as an old one-shot for Origins!Ed. As always, I apologize this took me ages to get to. Please forgive me, anon!

Edward was running late.

His car had a flat tire. He’d spilled coffee on his brand new sweater. And to top it off, he heard that his rent was increasing next month.

To say Edward Nashton was having a bad day was an understatement.

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he raced up the steps to the GCPD. The fall chill made him shiver, the leaves different shades of orange and yellow as the autumn weather settled in. Sweat beaded across his brow, and all the time he’d spent hunched underneath his car trying to change the tire for two hours, struggling to get the nuts and bolts off until his fingers blistered and bled, had left his back aching and sweat stains on his armpits. He could smell himself, no thanks to the fall sun beating down on him, and now he was growing even more flustered as he made his way into the GCPD, desperately trying to get to work.

Commissioner Loeb was going to kill him for being late.

Stupid brute, Edward thought as he looked around the lobby. It was currently being decorated for Halloween. Orange and black banners were strung up across the walls, including flying bats being attached to the ceilings. There was even a skeleton in the corner of the room. A little morbid, if you asked him. Not like he cared much about such a silly holiday. Halloween was a wase if time. Besides, most people didn’t even known it’s origins. The idiots. The least people could do was educate themselves. Frowning, he quickly took the elevator down to the Cybercrimes Division office. He needed to get inside and punch in for his shift. It was so unlike him to be late – he was always punctual, always on time. This was a first for him. Never had his morning been rife with such unfortunate events before. Well, the least he could do was get himself another cup of coffee and get himself settled in for the day.

As he made his way into his office, he flicked on the overhead light and stepped inside. The office was small, just for him, with a complete set up of computers and monitors he’d painstakingly put together for his own benefit. Perhaps it was against work policy, but he didn’t care much, either, as he worked better when things were to his own liking. He stripped off his jacket and draped it across the back of the chair, catching both a whiff of his body odor and the unfortunate dark stain across his new blue sweater. He reached up, brushing a finger across it, frowning. The popping of his tire jerked his car forward, making him splash the coffee onto himself; he’d have to scrub the stain out later tonight when he got home. Quickly, he turned on all of his equipment and got settled into his comfortable office chair. As soon as his laptop was on, he logged in and punched in for his shift, making a note for his reason at being late. But, Edward quickly got to work, losing himself in the monotony of codes and tech across his screen.

He was so lost in the work for hours, his fingers racing across the keyboard with lightning speed, his focus sharp and controlled – and a sudden knock at the door made him jump.

“Jumpy, Nashton?” an irritating voice drawled from the other side of the room.

Edward swiveled in his seat, his eyes narrowing at the intruder – one Detective James Armstrong. A hulking brute of a man, well into his forties, with a head of thinning blonde hair, revealing the beginnings of liver spots across his scalp. His dark, beady eyes reminded Edward too much of a shark, and when he smiled, he flashed teeth.

An uncomfortable tremor went down Edward’s spine. He’d never liked Armstrong – he was always a pain in the ass. Too full of himself, too much of an empty-headed jock, like most of the men at the GCPD were. There were very, very few people Edward respected in the precinct, and Armstrong was not one of them.

“Can I help you, detective?” Edward asked, raising a brow.

“I came by earlier looking for you,” Armstrong said, a shadow passing along his face, looking like he’d been put out. “You weren’t here. I’m surprised. Normally you’re on time. Late night?” He wiggled his brows in a suggestive manner.

“Flat tire,” Edward said, curtly. Not that it was any of Armstrong’s business, but the concept of Edward having the kind of “late night” Armstrong was implying made his stomach churn with uncomfortable knots.

“Huh,” Armstrong said. “Well, sucks for you. Now, can you log this into evidence for me? I need a full run through done on it.” He wandered further into the office, a laptop tucked underneath his armpit.

“Very well,” Edward said, because it’s not like he could say no. Armstrong set the laptop down at a spot nearby, and Edward bristled. The man was wearing far too much cologne, and it tickled Edward’s nose.

“Get it back to me ASAP, will you Nashton?” Armstrong asked. “I don’t really want to here late. Got a hot date tonight.”

“With your wife, I presume?” Edward asked. He wasn’t blind to the fact Armstrong didn’t wear his wedding ring.

Armstrong scoffed. “Yeah, right. The old broad hasn’t put out in years. Got a hot date with one of those girls at the strip club. Maybe I’ll slide you her name if she’s any good.”

“I’d prefer not,” Edward said with a click of his tongue.

He wasn’t interested in such things. Not that he didn’t have needs, but still, he could meet his own needs when they arose. Besides, he wasn’t interested in anything Armstrong had to offer, anyways. He wasn’t blind to the way the man talked about his wife, either, or how uncomfortable this kind of talk made him feel, made him bristle in his seat. Edward was certainly not interested in listening to Armstrong’s sexual exploits – not that he had any of his own, but still. He frowned. God, look at him? In his twenties and still a virgin. How pathetic.

“Well, let me know when you’re done, Nashton,” Armstrong said, though there was a bite in his voice this time. Edward waited until the brute left before turning back to his work. He was too busy, anyways, and this new piece of evidence only added more to his list of things to worry about. Good thing he was capable of multitasking and using his time wisely.

Edward continued with his work, keeping himself busy, even though his blistered fingers were already sore. Around one o’clock, his stomach growled, and he’d grown desperate for caffeine. He sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes, but left his cave to make his way to the nearby break room and grab a cup of coffee. He’d grab himself a cup, then return to his office and eat his lunch in the privacy and quiet of his own work, comforted by the machinery around him. His head throbbed, pain pounding behind his eyes; talking with Armstrong left him more shaken up then he wanted to be.

As he made his way into the breakroom, he took a look around at the white-tiled floor and plain gray walls. Off to the left was a counter with a microwave and coffee pot, and what appeared to be a freshly brewed pot, the smell of roasted beans enticing and pleasant in his nose. But it was the sudden incessant, loud voices that made him halt in his tracks, and made his hackles raise on end. His gaze slid to the right, towards a few tables and chairs where Armstrong and his cronies were sitting, several other officers whom he deemed to be just as hulking, idiotic brutes. His stomach twisted in knots, and he frowned, averting his eyes, determined to get his cup of coffee and leave before they could notice him.

“Nashton!” Armstrong cried. “Finally out of your cave, huh? How’s that evidence coming along that I sent your way?”

“Working on it as we speak,” Edward mumbled, ignoring the man’s burning stare as he made his way over to the coffee pot. He didn’t want to deal with Armstrong’s overbearing nature at any point now, or in the foreseeable future.

Edward was just finishing pouring himself a cup and setting the coffee pot down when a hand clasped across his back. The force was so hard that he jumped slightly – sloshing a splash of hot coffee all over his brand new sweater. Again.

“I mean it, Nashton,” Armstrong said. “I want it done by the end of the day. Got that date tonight, remember?” His breath reeked of cigarettes and old ham.

“How could I forget?” Edward muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Get any action yourself lately, Nashton?” asked one of the other officers.

Edward didn’t spare him a glance, his cheeks heating to the millionth degree as redness crawled up his throat. He turned away, his eyes catching on a plate of cookies that had been left behind, with a note that said: Help Yourself! – Mary Beth. There was one sugar cookie left, in the shape of a pumpkin with orange icing. He paused; well, he supposed taking the last one wouldn’t hurt. But just as he was about to reach for it, Armstrong’s hand shot out, and he snatched up the last one, holding it tight between his grubby fingers.

“I’ll be waiting,” Armstrong said, chomping down, spewing brightly colored crumbs from his mouth. The absolute slob.

Edward frowned, disappointment settling in his belly. It was rare when he indulged himself in the small things, and now he remembered why. Other people always took first, and continued to take and take, never having their fill. And by the look of all the crumbs in front of the other officers at the table, he was certain they’d eaten almost the entire plate and left nothing behind for anyone else.

Turning on his heels, he left the breakroom, coffee in hand, grinding his teeth together in frustration. This day only seemed to grow worse and worse, and his irritation was at an all-time high. As he walked back down the halls, he passed by Mary Beth Johnson, an older woman well into her fifties, with a head of short graying hair and purple glasses that hung on the bridge of her nose. She was one of the filing clerks for the GCPD, and Edward supposed she was nice enough; he’d never had a problem with her before.

She offered him a kind smile, coming to a halt. “Hello, Mr. Nashton. Did you get a chance to try some of the cookies I brought in?”

“Not exactly,” Edward murmured. As if on cue, Armstrong and his cronies sauntered out of the breakroom together, laughing and talking about some rather lewd things that made Edward bristle, and uncomfortable knots twisted in his stomach.

“Oh. I see,” Mary Beth said, seemingly catching on to what he was saying. Her pink-coated lips turned downward in a disapproving frown. “Well, have a good day, Mr. Nashton.”

“You as well,” Edward sighed.

He returned to his office shortly after, getting back to work. For the next few hours, he kept himself occupied, performing and completing his tasks well beyond his skill level and with the utmost precision. He finished running the program on the laptop Armstrong gave him, and by the end of the day, the brute still hadn’t come to collect it himself. Sighing, Edwad decided to deliver it to Armstrong himself; he planned on staying late anyways to make up for the two hours he missed this morning. He made his way to the Narcotics Division floor, where Armstrong worked, and quickly found his office – but it was empty. Groaning under his breath, Edward set the laptop down on the man’s desk and wrote him a quick note on a nearby sticky pad. Well, hopefully now Armstrong wouldn’t complain about him being “late”.

Edward quickly returned to his own office, but as he approached, his steps came to a slow as he realized the door was open a crack, not at all how he’d left it. The hairs on the back of his neck rose on end as he neared, before pushing the door open and stepping inside, but he saw nothing disturbed – until his gaze came to land on something resting near his keyboard. He wandered over, before he suddenly felt a strange lightness fill him when he realized what it was – because it was a small package of Halloween themed sugar cookies, wrapped in plastic with a neat little orange bow. Attached was a note: Happy Halloween, Mr. Nashton – Mary Beth.

Edward smiled. Perhaps not everyone here at the GCPD was an idiot, after all.

[adhdnursegoat]

Cat & Mouse stim board for @caesariawritesstuff 💜💜💜

sources: x x x x x x

[capr1pengu1n]

Hi! Hihihi! big fan here!

I am fiending for something mouth watering, torturing, jaw dropping smutty fun with our boy from Assault on Arkham. Female reader please. Maybe she's a nurse working a shift at Arkham or a therapist or care tech? I'm just seeing total domination, daddydom/zaddy type vibes. But feel free to do whatever you feel.

Thank you for your time and consideration!!

Tata~!

Corrupting the young with your uncivil tongue

Summary: While on shift at Arkham Asylum, what should be a routine check on an injured inmate turns into something a whole lot more.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), Assault on Arkham!Eddie, dom/sub dynamics, praise and degradation, choking, rough sex, fingering, face fucking

Words: 4.4k

Notes: Thank you so much sweetheart, you're too kind! This gave me an excuse to rewatch his scenes on yt (mgg really is one of the perfect voice actors for him, even with his sometimes dodgy vocal deliveries)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being a nurse meant seeing the truly ugly side of Arkham Asylum; the dangerous patients always being one movement away from lashing out at times. You didn't mind your job, in fact it was rather rewarding at times to help those you could, being able to feel as if you were making a difference in this cesspool of a city.

But many of the inmates you knew you couldn't trust, dangerous criminal masterminds who were constantly using Gotham City as a battleground for their many wars with the batman. And you knew deep down that The Riddler was one of those men. But still, he'd been nothing but...kind.

Well, maybe kind is a little bit too strong of a word. But he'd always been one of your better patients, never giving you too much trouble. And you couldn't deny the tiny part of you that lit up when you saw his name on your rota, no matter how much you pushed the feeling down in the crevices of your mind. His snarky smile would always be waiting for you when you administered the pills that he most likely just hid under his tongue, or to patch him up whenever his big mouth got him into trouble.

It seems today was one of those days, as you made your way to the rather empty infirmary and saw Edward laying in bed, flicking through a book without a care with one hand, the other handcuffed to the side. The doctor that saw to him had been rushed off his feet, rumblings of a mass riot causing all of the staff to be more overworked that usual, if that was even possible for a place like this. Still, you stood by his bed and closed the privacy curtain.

"There you are sweetheart, I was beginning to believe i'd been forgotten about. A distressing thought, i'll have you know."

You can't help but laugh softly at his dramatics, as he lowers the book to his side to give you a look at his face. A cut was across his cheek, not overly deep.

"Ah yes, this. Well that'll teach me not to display my mental superiority at dinner time, lest i'm slashed again. I really should have enacted some sort of revenge before one of the idiotic guards blundered in."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nothing more than a scratch, my dear."

There's that smile again, self-satisfied and smug, but with a hint of something else. He adjusts himself so he's sat more upright, watching with sharp eyes as you look through his medical chart, not missing the slight confusion on your features.

"Does anywhere else hurt?"

"If i say my chest, will I get to remove this horrid jumpsuit?"

You flush in spite of yourself, laughing softly at his insinuation which delights him greatly. Placing the chart down, you look back at him as he adjusts himself yet again.

"I see no reason why you'd need to stay, I can call for you to be escorted back to your cell now."

"Yes about that," he starts, looking around in a dramatic manner, "why is there no guard here anyway? Don't tell me they hardly see me as a threat? I'll have you know I-"

Shaking your head, you interrupt him. "No no, there's rumors of a riot starting. Everyone is on high alert. And it seems that there's a mistake on your chart...it says you have a broken leg. I doubt they thought you'd get very far."

The momentary annoyance of being interrupted dissipated when he heard your words, and he lets out a bark of a laugh.

"Oh the ineptitude of these fools truly never fails to amuse me." With a smirk, he tilts his head as he looks at you before continuing. "But i'm sure a girl like you wouldn't have made a mistake like that."

At his praise, you can't help the flush of pride that swirls in your chest despite who he is, as you smile softly. Pleased with the way you respond, he reaches up and gently tugs you closer to the bed by your arm.

"Does it take truly so little to flatter you?" he asks, causing you to look away for a moment before he squeezes your arm. "No. Look at me."

You do as he says, looking at his eyes through his glasses, before nodding a little. "I guess not..."

"Pity." he murmurs, looking at your chest unashamedly. "I'd have thought you'd be used to compliments, looking like that."

You feel the embarrassment and excitement bubble up in you at his words, despite your better judgement, despite the fact that a criminal mastermind is flirting with you and you like it. Forcing yourself to clear your head, you glance away yet again.

"Thank you."

"No problem darling."

Before turning to leave, he coughs slightly to get your attention.

"Hold on a moment. You really think it's a good idea to go out there? You said it yourself, a riot could break out at any moment." he declares, his eyes firmly fixed on yours.

"Well...yes. I could always go with the guards, they'd protect me."

"I could protect you." he says without missing a beat, without blinking. The look of shock must be evident on your face as you look at him.

"Why would you do that?"

"Why do I do anything?" he challenges, the rattle of the handcuff cutting through the room.

"...you do things when they benefit you." you say softly, trying to match his gaze.

"Exactly. Or maybe I want to protect the pretty nurse who always turns a blind eye when I don't swallow my pills."

"I-I don't-"

"Don't lie sweetheart, it doesn't suit you."

Hesitating, you glance down to where his hand is cuffed to the bed. This is a bad idea, an awful idea and you know it. But your apprehension is delicious to him, and he leans in as best he can.

"And you like the idea, don't you? Of The Riddler's protection?"

You swallow audibly, not denying his accusation. "I can't...i'm not Harley Quinn or anything, i'm not gonna go running off with a psycho-"

"Don't call me that." he snaps harshly, his tone serious and even making you flinch a little. Upon realising, he clears his throat a little in an attempt to calm down. "I'm not trying to dump you in a vat of acid to prove your devotion darling. I'm simply saying I could protect you."

Upon being under your gaze yet again, he puts on a smirk. "Besides, I'm not blind. The way you look at me is quite different than the way the other dimwitted orderlies do. It's...refreshing."

You release a breath, shaky and slow as you weigh up your options here. If a riot does break out...he probably could protect you. And it's not like he has any reason to harm you, right? Nodding slightly, you try and come up with some pathetic excuse before he interrupts you.

"What time is it?"

Slightly bewildered by the question, you glance at your small watch and reply, "About 7."

He hums, rolling his neck. "Might be a good idea to get me out of these handcuffs sweetheart."

Frowning, you go to ask him why before the power goes out. The room is plunged into darkness, causing you to jump at the sharp noise of the lights going. Frantically you stumble to try and head backwards before you feel a hand grasp at your waist, and suddenly you're pressed against a man's broad chest.

"Okay, I may have lied about needing your help to get out of the cuffs." Edward murmurs, before laughing smugly.

Panic sets in as you scramble to get away from him, but he only laughs harder and uses both hands to hold you still.

"Oh please stop struggling. You know I could overpower you. But I meant what I said darling, I'll protect you." he coos into your ear, and you can feel the satisfaction radiating from his smile in waves as he lets go of your arm.

"Now, be a good girl and barricade the door when the lights come back on."

"How do you know the light's will-"

With a bang, the lights come back on, and on instinct you follow his instructions. Regardless of the morally dubious actions of the serial killer you've found yourself with, you know how bloody Arkham riots can get, so self preservation wins out as you take a chair and push it against the door. Barricading yourself in with The Riddler.

He watches you carefully, half expecting you to make a run for it, but being slightly relieved when you trail back to him. "Good."

"How did you know when the lights would go off?"

"You're a smart girl darling, figure it out."

He must have known about the riot, hell he might have planned it. But what you couldn't understand was...

"You planned the riot, or at least knew. But why aren't..." you pause, as he steps closer, too close, "why aren't you trying to escape?"

He chuckles, lifting his hand to cup your chin. "Oh you naive girl. You think I orchestrated this just to escape? Perhaps I was wrong about you, or perhaps you're just too modest."

Observing the look of realisation on your face, he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone. "You can't taste it until you undress it, what am I?"

You can't deny the hitch in your breath at his, albeit cheesy riddle, which causes him to laugh more. "The answer isn't what you're probably thinking, but it's still an apt description of what I want to do to you."

What he wants to do to you. That's all you can hear rattling away in your brain as you let him stroke your cheek, down to the side of your neck.

"And trust me my dear, I want to do a lot of things to you."

"Like what?" you ask, the words spitting out without processing, but he smirks anyway.

"You want me to tell you? Tell you how much I want to dominate you completely? Have you completely at my mercy, as this whole asylum tears itself apart from the inside on my orders?"

You couldn't suppress the small whimper that escapes your lips even if you tried, as you nod your head. Instead, he moves his hand to wrap around your throat, slender fingers gently squeezing.

"How about I show you?" he rasps out, before slamming his lips against yours. It's all consuming, the way he keeps you still with his grip as his tongue forces it's way into your mouth. He explores every inch, reveling in the small moans he swallows as he uses his other hand to grab your hips, pulling you against him so you can feel the bulge straining against the garish orange jumpsuit.

"Get on your knees." he growls out against your lips, and you drop obediently. "Good girl, you're learning your place."

Not deterred by his condescending words, you gaze up at him as his fingers fiddle with the zipper of his jumpsuit, freeing himself after a moment. Your eyes immediately dart to his hard cock, watching as he pumps himself a few times and gently rests it on your cheek.

"A man can get certain...urges in a place like this. A lesser man would have probably resorted to his own hand to achieve momentary gratification, but I knew...I knew if I waited, victory would be all the more sweet."

He taps his cock on your lips, and you open and let your tongue gently run along the head. Gritting his teeth, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, keeping you still and not allowing you the privilege of tasting him just yet.

"Ask me nicely. Tell me you've wanted me the same way." he demands.

"I've wanted you." you reply, staring up and giving him the most pleading expression you can muster. "I've always been attracted to you, I've always wanted you Edward."

He groans quietly, running his cock along your lips once again, humming appreciatively as you seem to have learnt your lesson in keeping your tongue to yourself.

"I do love you saying my name. But I think a different word is in order, after all, i'm here protecting you."

You know he's desperate for validation, desperate to feel superior and in control, but god you want to give it to him so badly.

"I've always wanted you sir." you ammend.

"That or 'master' will do." he smirks down at you, before tapping his dick against your lips deliberately. Getting the hint, you open up and let him push your head. Luckily he gives you the grace to not shove his whole length down your throat, pushing you halfway before letting you set the pace. You get to work immediately, bobbing your head as you suck, blinking up at him to observe his reactions.

You can't deny he looks stunning, his frown and brow lines relaxing as he lets you service him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment to truly indulge in your wet mouth. He'd been in Arkham a few weeks now, and if what he said about relieving himself was true, it really had been a while since he felt such carnal pleasure.

As he opens his eyes again, he looks down at you once more, stroking your hair as you moan softly around his cock. While he certainly isn't going to admit it, he's relieved you were so eager to get on your knees for him, happy he got the signals right, happy he wouldn't have to admit that his lust was unrequited, what's he thinking, he's the riddler! Any woman would be lucky to have him, he's a specimen -

His thoughts are stopped when you push further, taking him deeper into your throat before pulling away for breath, taking him in your soft hand and jerking him. He let's out a slightly higher pitched noise, before growling and gripping your hair with both hands.

"Arms behind your back dear, let's see if I was right to choose you."

You do what he instructs, taking a deep breath before he pushes his cock into your willing mouth. This time he doesn't hold back, holding you in place as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth, before pushing deeper. Suppressing the urge to gag, you moan brokenly around him as your fingernails dig into your own arms, willing against your body's natural instinct to put your hands on his thighs and push against him. Instead you behave, letting him fuck your mouth and take his pleasure from you.

The look on your face has him getting close rather quick for his liking, but he's way too desperate to care. Glazed eyes, spit covered lips and chin from where his cock is pushing out your saliva, he thinks you look gorgeous. His one hand remains in your hair as his other grips your jaw.

"So good for me...fuck, almost makes me wish I hadn't had those idiots cut power to the cameras in here. Seeing my favourite nurse choking on my cock..."

He moans softly, cock pulsing as he gets nearer his climax. Rhythm faltering, he desperately ruts into your throat, wanting to cum so badly it almost hurts. All the while he's mumbling and muttering how slutty you are, how much this is usually beneath him, how good your mouth feels until-

"I'm gonna cum, you're gonna, shit, swallow it...swallow it all." he demands, before his hips still as he pumps his cum down your throat. Choking, you do your best to swallow all he gives you before he releases the death grip on your hair. You pull away and gasp shallowly for oxygen.

"What do you say?" he says condescendingly, although you don't miss the laboured breathing that betrays his excitement.

"Thank you." you start, but the firm tap on your cheek gives you the incentive to rephrase, "Thank you sir."

"Better. You know how few people can say they've had the privilege of The Riddler fucking their face?"

Despite how fucked up morally you know it is, you can't help but feel slight pride at his words, knowing that it's you who he chose to sleep with. He tugs you up by the arm, before humming and squishing your cheeks together, tilting your face from side to side as he appraises you.

"How about you lay on the bed." he says, and despite the phrasing, you can infer from his tone that he's not asking. So you do, hearing the cheap infirmary bed creak as you lay down. Outside you can vaguely hear noises, yells and chants mostly, but you try your best to tune it out as Edward makes quick work of ridding you of your nurse uniform. He gives a wolf whistle, smirking shamelessly.

"Not bad at all." he mumbles, which you assume is quite high praise for him, as he gropes your tits roughly. "I knew I wasn't wrong to have been taken by your looks. It's a bonus you have half a brain in there somewhere."

Feeling a little mean, he gives one of your breasts a sharp slap, grinning as you flinch and squirm. He repeats the motion, and again for a third time on the other one, before soothingly massaging the tender skin.

Before long, he can't resist parting your legs to get a good view of your dripping cunt, needy and pulsing after being treated so roughly by him.

"Oh poor thing." he coos, the falseness of his sympathy only adding to your arousal. "Do you need master's help?"

You can only nod pitifully, as he brings his fingers to your clit and circles slowly, as if observing the consequences of his actions. At your hips jerking, he uses his other hand to pin you firmly to the bed, the structure squeaking under the weight. He continues to play with your clit, alternating his pace and rhythm to keep you on edge, never quite allowing you to reach the peak of the satisfaction he could bestow upon you.

"Such a needy hole, look at it. It's just begging to be filled, isn't it?" he asks, to which you nod again. In response, he slaps your cunt harshly. "If i wanted to talk to myself, i'd have simply jerked off in the safety of my isolated cell. Speak."

"Yes, yes I want to be filled." You say quickly, embarrassment fading away to let the desperation uncurl its claws in your mind. Seemingly satisfied, he slowly pushes two fingers into your pussy, barely suppressing the groan at how wet and hot you feel.

Starting to pump his digits, he curls them to press into your g spot, watching as you tense and make soft moans at the sensation. His other hand wraps around your neck, smirking at your wanton desperation.

"So quick and eager to have a criminal's fingers inside of you. And a nurse at that, don't you have a duty of care?" he taunts sadistically, languishing in your shame and embarrassment as he keeps fucking you harshly with his fingers. You try and shake your head, but you can't with how he's choking you ever so slightly; a reminder that your life is in the hands of one of Gotham's most feared supervillians. And your cunt has never been wetter.

But you aren't the only one affected. Edward was never the type of man to be able to go multiple rounds, and age didn't exactly help that fact. But whether it was being in the Asylum, his abstaining from self pleasure, or just you, he was hard as a rock again and itching to know what your pussy might be like around him.

"Please..." you start to beg, slightly dazed from the onslaught of sensations.

"Please what, hm? Please stop? Please fuck me? Oh please I want to be fucked by the greatest intellectual this city has ever known?"

You can hardly digest the intense self importance he's displaying as you nod again as best you can. "Please fuck me sir."

"Getting better, but say it louder. More conviction. I'm not an easy man to please." he threatens, moving his fingers faster, practically bullying the inside of your pussy as he releases the grip on your neck, allowing merciful oxygen to grace your airways.

"Please sir, please fuck me. Please make me yours, your slut. Please." you beg between moans, body tensing.

"I will." he assures you, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his face to observe your fluids, "but you should know, you became my slut when you so willingly got on your knees for me."

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him as he kneels firmly on the bed, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under you. You almost voiced your thanks at the action, before he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit.

"Once more, for good luck."

What an asshole, he doesn't even believe in luck, you think to yourself, but the stimulation on your core was leaving your breathless and needy, so you indulge him.

"Please fuck me master, I need you. I need The Riddler."

Playing into his ego, his persona, almost always works (not that you know that, opting for an educated guess instead) and he rewards you by sinking into your pussy, moaning uncharacteristically higher pitched. Once he bottoms out inside of you, he takes a moment to really take in the scene in front of him, before grabbing hold of your hips and starting to move.

You moan, the fingering causing your cunt to already be sensitive and on fire with urgency as he starts to fuck you. He bends over you, taking his glasses off and placing them at your side before starting to move his hips faster, determined to rid you of any other thought but him.

"That's it, fuck, go dumb on my cock for me." he encourages, as your eyes glaze over. "My dumb little nurse, so willing to spread her legs."

Not being able to deny his accusation, you simply hold on to his arms for dear life as he picks up the pace even more, thrusting into you and watching your cunt soak his cock in your wetness.

"Making such a goddamn mess." he grunts, leaning down and slapping your clit for the sake of it.

You whine at that, body jerking in response as he chokes out a small chuckle. Soothing it, he rubs circles with his thumb in time with his thrusts, content with the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips. Outside, the noise of the riot were obvious now, and he uses it to his advantage.

"What if someone were to see? Would they think i forced myself on you? Or would they see you for what you truly are? A whore who wanted one of her patients to fuck her." he demeans you, and all you can do is attempt to shake your head.

He tuts, leaning so his breath tickles your lips. "I told you, lying doesn't suit you sweetheart."

Perhaps you were a whore, for wanting a man like Edward to make you feel something, but you can't hope to deny that what he's making you feel is good, so damn good.

"I'm a whore." you mumble quietly, before he groans. He feels your walls tightening around him, can feel the way your body is tensing as you near release.

"Say it properly, and i'll let you cum all over The Riddler's cock. How about that?" he says it like he's giving you a gift, something so unbelievable that you should be grateful he even considered it. But either way, you give in.

"I'm a whore, i'm your whore sir." you manage to get out between punishing thrusts, nails digging into the meat of his biceps. "I'm The Riddler's whore."

He moans, slamming into you with conviction. "You're damn right you are."

You're unsure if that meant you had permission to cum, but between his thrusts and his thumb playing with your clit, you knew you couldn't stop it as you cum hard around him. Your back arches, giving him a hell of a sight as he chases his own orgasm brutally.

"Yes that's it, take it. Take what i give you...take my cum, god you're so lucky. So privileged, so-"

He cuts himself off with a groan, mumbling your name as he buries himself completely inside of you as he finishes. You squirm softly at the warmth of the sensation, but not being able to go anywhere due to the death grip he has on your thighs; you're most certainly going to have bruises.

After a few blissful moments, he pulls out, admiring how your cunt flutters around nothing before his cum slowly leaks from your used hole. He gently reaches down and collects some on the tip of his finger, before pushing it back inside, laughing at your overstimulated gasp.

"There. Now wasn't that more enjoyable than running to the guards for help."

Giving him a sweaty nod, he climbs off of you and fixes him jumpsuit, before rolling his shoulders and standing up. You force yourself to sit up a little, watching as he smirks.

"I'm a little ahead of schedule, I confess I was foreseeing a little more convincing on my part for you to let me bed you." he says, uncharacteristically self deprecating, now matter how slight.

"Ahead of schedule for what?" you ask, before your answer is revealed when he picks up an empty chair and smashes the window.

"Oh sweetheart, while I did want to fuck you, did you really think i'd not pass up the opportunity for escape? I think my sabbatical has reached it's conclusion." he announces, walking over and grabbing your wrist to look at your watch. "The morons should have neutralised the guard post by now, if they actually listened to what I had to say."

At your hesitance, he smirks as he lets go of your wrist and leans down to give you a lingering kiss. "Perhaps i'll visit you again, you certainly made quite the impression on me."

At a loss for words, you stutter out a quick "okay" before he turns and begins to climb out the window. Not before turning for one last look at you.

"I really should have left a mark, people need to know you're mine now. Get changed sweetheart, in my estimations you have about ten minutes."

With that, he's gone, and you're left on the bed, cum dripping from your cunt and sweat slowly evaporating from your naked skin. Still, you suppose, he did protect you from the riot.

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(perhaps one day I will include a daddy kink in my writing, but alas I fear today is not that day)