#Gotham Villains x Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sheep-from-rad · 7 days ago

Note

Idea! Neglected bar singer darling.

The joint they sing in is on the very outskirts of Gotham. The bars in the basement of a restaurant.

Its pretty clear darling is saving up money to slowly inch away from Gotham and from there neglectful and sometimes (often) cold family.

So they dress as a Him/femme/them fatale and saunter up to the stage and sing there lil heart out and get both the thrill of all the attention in a room being on them and the money in there tip jar to boot.

Imagine what happens when a clip of darling singing goes fucking viral. (I'd like to think it's would be "be your baby tonight" give it a listen if you want. I like norah jones' cover)

What I'm saying is there is no way any of the batfam would approve of darlings career choice.

I love this kind of asks!~ Requests are now open again but we warned, I'm a snail paced writer T__T This took a while because I have this habit where I write it down first on paper before typing it. Like I make a draft first and reread before typing it to see if I should add more or remove some. First fic about singer reader: here and part 2 here. 😅

**DC characters belong to DC and I don't give permission to feed my writings to AI. Thank you**

Masterlist(Batfam)

Masterlist (All of my other fics)

divider by: @k1ssyoursister

Okay okay, here me out. I know you said secret bar under a restaurant but my brain read the word ‘bar’ and ran away with it 😭.

You know what this smells like? Scandal and maybe even a disaster waiting to happen too. You know what's a famous bar in Gotham? The Iceberg lounge that is run by Mr. Cobblepot (Penguin) and is frequented by rogues such as Riddler.

Life in the Iceberg Lounge isn't that bad, maybe intimidating at first but it became a small comfort. Mr. Cobblepot lets you keep the tips, the lounge beauties (Raven, Lark, and Jay) are great companies, and workplace harassment? You don't really have to worry about that. If you ever get flirted on or harassed by small fries and drunkards and then rest assured a bigger, scarier person at the back of the crowd will beat the harasser and throw them out. They might be villains but they have standards and harassing the lounge’s songbird is a big no no!

The clip of the singer reader went viral for a ton of different reasons: (1) The singing and the amount of simps you raked 24 hours after the clip has been posted. I have a headcanon that Mr. Cobblepot will nickname you as either Nightingale or Songbird to fit the crew because the lounge beauties are nicknamed after birds.(2) People can see villains just chilling at the background of the video. Riddler's nursing a whiskey at the counter, Two face is playing chess with Penguin who is multitasking in helping mix some drinks. Hell, even Harley and Ivy are in the background having a moment with the strippers.

(3) Why is Bruce Wayne’s kid at the Iceberg lounge? I have a teeny tiny headcanon that even though the reader was neglected they are still forced to attend galas once or twice because Bruce won't and then it will be like a big media scandal. Also reader's public appearances with Bruce or with the other Wayne children might be low but they still have hundreds of followers. The Wayne name alone is basically a celebrity name because of Bruce being heavily revered by the public. Think of it like nepobaby shit. (4) That stage presence and sheer seductiveness. Being a Wayne, I'm sure the reader was taught etiquette by Alfred and was taught how to dress properly. They are also taught how to behave. However on that vid, you look like you were dressed by the Gotham sirens (Ivy, Harley, and Selena) themselves. All those good boy, good girl, good child stuff are out of the window. If the reader was just blending in the background before and the video is the opposite. It's almost commanding every viewer to look at them, pay attention to them, worship the very ground they walk on, and love them! At this point just expect simps.

The family loves the video but at the same time they also hate it. They had their copies downloaded and saved and then they'll immediately task Barbara into scrubbing the video off of the internet but it's too late. The video has been re-uploaded to hundreds of different accounts and some news outlets had already published articles about it. The articles ranged from sweet ones like praising the reader for their awesome stage performance and singing to downright insane clickbaits like ‘Bruce Wayne secretly allied with Gotham rogues?’

The whole thing is very stressful and I pray to the DC gods that Bruce Wayne is very healthy because this guy's blood pressure might as well go high up. Imagine trying so hard to keep up with the ditzy playboy public persona to hide your vigilante secret identity only for your kid to be filmed singing and being cozy at the Iceberg lounge. Not only that! You also placed yourself in danger too! It's not a secret that a lot of rouges knew Batman's real identity (Joker knows it, he just doesn't care. He's so cool for that). Sure they don't attack Batman when he's Bruce and sure they are a sweet pseudo-family to you right now but who's to say that they won't use you when push comes to shove?

While Bruce deals with the media, Barbara and Tim work on the damage control and tracking every video, expect heavy guilt tripping and interference from Damian, Dick, and even Alfred (in his defense, he wants you safe and will only ask for you to get a better job or at least work in a place not frequented by villains). Dick will be actively poisoning the well. He'll make you sit down and read the crime archives with him (starting from the heaviest crime down to the pettiest crime) and will tell you stories about their encounters with each of them. Damian will try to keep you from getting to work and will try to keep you in your room if you haven't moved out of the estate. He'll ask you to go around with him, feed his pets with him and even asked you to watch him train (he doesn't know how bonding works, please be understanding). If you had left the estate and then expect him to show up and walk in your place like he owns it. He's one of those cats that you feed once and then suddenly shows up and won't leave you alone anymore.

Oh, you still won't come home? You still wanna continue that dangerous job of yours? Pick your poison then. Do you want them to call Jason to get to the bar and take you home, knowing him some heads will sure go flying. Or do you want the family to stage a stakeout, infiltrate the bar, and capture and lock up all the villains forever. Go on, go choose.

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sunflowerrosewood · 5 months ago

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He Has a Nightmare HC~ Gotham Boys

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of killing, nothing too graphic.

~~~

Jim Gordon

~Jim has dealt with so much shit

~Between going after villains to dealing with the PD

~So when you two fell asleep one night

~He had a nightmare you were killed by multiple Gotham villains

~You don't notice he has a nightmare until you feel cold

~When Jim is sitting in the kitchen nursing something to drink

~But not facing the bedroom

~You have to come up from behind

~And hug him tight

~He will probably jump

~But he melts in your embrace

~He wont tell you want happened

~But he will allow to be vulnerable

~And allow you to just mumble in a sleepy voice all the reasons you love him

Edward Nygma

~Edward didn't have nightmares often

~But seemed to have them after being in Arkham

~Then escaping to home

~You would only know when you heard him arguing with himself

~That he shouldn't wake you up

~That this makes him useless

~As you could hear him mutter these things

~Pull him down to the bed

~So you can cuddle into him

~And promise that you'll always be there

~Both sides will melt

~And he'll tell you about the nightmare

~So you'll understand his pain

Oswald Cobblepot

~Oswald had nightmares often

~And you usually knew

~The reason is that he talked in his sleep and would hold onto you tight

~You would feel his hands tighten

~And whimpers fall out of his lips

~You’ll probably have to wake him up

~Just to let him know that he is not alone

~He will be sweaty and his heart racing

~But as long as you kiss his lips

~And squeeze his hand

~Oswald will calm down

~Go get a washcloth to help him cool off

~And intertwine your hands before you fall back asleep

Jonathan Crane

~Nightmares plague his head all the time

~And it isn’t because it is his fault

~It usually has to do with his father

~And another person that you will know when he wakes up

~Because he gets as far away from you

~He is shaking in fear

~It’s usually when he does not consume himself in fear

~But appears in his nightmare

~Allow him to slowly calm down on his own

~He’ll immediately climb back into bed

~Because he needs to feel you by his side

~Usually he falls asleep slowly after

Jervis Tech

~Jervis usually has nightmares that his Alice runs away

~You ran away because he harms you

~Jervis is one of the ones who will wake you up

~Just to make sure you are real

~And still loves him

~Before you get tired again, you’ll notice the fear in his eyes

~Whisper to him how much you love him

~And kiss his cheek

~Before cuddling into his chest which calms him down

Victor Zsasz

~Victor wont show he has nightmares

~You usually know when you wake up

~And he’s sitting in the shared bathroom just staring

~No emotions are shown

~But you know what is going on

~So you’ll have to go in

~And kneel where you look up at him

~He won't say anything

~He’ll just pull you into his lap

~And holds you tight

~Just the silent of the night is going to be heard

~Victor will pick you up and bring you back to bed

~Usually it takes just that before the two of you fall asleep

~Victor will probably mention his nightmare later on in the week

~When he is ready

Jeremiah Valeska

~Even after the spray, Jeremiah still gets nightmares

~It happens to be about him almost killing you

~And he’ll wake up to you being sound asleep

~He’ll touch your arm

~And sigh

~Usually you know something happened because he’ll be in the lab

~Bent over

~And probably throwing things in anger

~When you ask him what’s wrong

~You’ll see the anger turn to worry

~An emotion you do not see often

~And Jeremiah will walk over to you to hold you tight

~Demanding you wont leave him

~Even though you never thought that way

~It’s feeling you near him that causes him to want to go back to bed with you

Jerome Valeska

~Jerome did not have nightmares too often

~He was awake in the middle of the night usually

~But when he did fall asleep and had nightmares

~He was similar to Oswald by holding you tighter against him

~But you would still be asleep

~Until you feel him kissing your face and neck while rubbing your hip

~When you slowly wake up, Jerome will kiss you lips and grin

~Usually you wouldn’t ask much

~Until you watch his grin falter

~That’s when you touch his face

~And kiss him softly till Jerome makes you fall back into his chest

~Once the two of you hit the bed, he’ll still be rubbing your arms or hips

~But you’ll hear him yawn

~He falls asleep pretty quick

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nxtaliaistyping · 2 months ago

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eddie getting his brains pegged out?

The Riddler getting pegged <3

Authors note: I’m physically unable to resist any edward requests atm omg, I’ve nearly collected all his trophies in Arkham knight I need him so bad. part two

18+ nsfw, fem reader, reluctant sub eddie lmao

A man like Edward, someone so prideful, so narcissistic, so egotistical, it’s hard for him to let go of the sense of control that permeates his desires. So you have to start slow.

He usually takes the lead during your sexual escapades, enjoying seeing you submit to him and give him the praise he believes he deserves. But you slowly start to push back, praising him in specific ways that have a confused blush painting his cheeks before he scoffs dismissively.

You know you have to take it slow; but you're in it for the long haul, teasingly pulling his hair occasionally, or pinning him down as you both make-out on the bed sloppily. Pushing and pushing, eventually you broach the subject, leading him to scoff at you.

"You seriously think I, The Riddler, would willingly debase myself to such an extent as to allow you to do that to me?"

At your slight pout, he rolls his eyes, "you'd have to be a very good girl in order for that to happen."

But what you don't know, is the thrilling lurch in his stomach that unfolded at the suggestion. As he dismissively leaves the room, he tries in vain to cover up the fact his bulge is pressing firmly against his suit trousers, straining the green material.

So you keep pushing, keep gently needling until the time finally comes when the genius is laying on his back, toes curled slightly as you work two lubed fingers inside of him.

"Is this it? I must say for someone so eager, you don't seem to be putting in much effort." he says snarkily, always feeling the desire for control.

"Don't wanna hurt you." you reply.

"...as if you could." he says, but his tone is soft, as if he's subtly thanking you for your care.

With the help of extra lube, you push three fingers inside, prodding around for that certain spot. He wriggles, about to make another comment before his breath stutters and his eyes widen. Found it.

"Again." he demands, and you can't help but smirk a little smugly as you repeat the motion, a soft breath escaping your lover. You keep going, scissoring him open. Each brush of your fingers around his prostate has him tightening around you, a gasp releasing itself from the narcissist. You keep a steady rhythm, wanting to pleasure him as well as just prep him to take something bigger.

“…get on with it, if you wanted t-to fuck me, you might as well do it.”

The impatience bleeds through his tone, but you relent and remove your fingers, retrieving the strap on from the closet. His eyes are firmly fixated on the toy, a little nervous (although he would never tell you that, of course). You lube it up, positioning the fake cock at his entrance.

“Get a move on, I thought you wanted to-“

As you push the cock head inside, his voice trails off into a stuttery whine. It can only be described as a whine, as it’s higher pitched and breathy as it claws its way out of his throat. His fists rake their way against the sheets below, as you keep slowly pushing. Watching his hole accommodate your fake dick is a sight to behold.

Eventually you bottom out inside of him, watching the way the sweat shines on his skin, his red hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes can’t decide whether to remain open and wide or screw themselves shut tightly.

“Fuck…m-move. Do something…fuck me.” He demands, attempting to regain some semblance of control. But you’re always one to please, so you start to slowly pull out before pushing back in.

A moan escapes him, feeling your fake cock fill him up so deliciously. You can’t help but smile down at him, watching his chest rise and fall as you repeat the slow motion a few times. Inside, his chest tightens at how good it feels, but most of all how safe he feels with you; truly a disarming realisation.

“Feel good Eddie?”

“You…fucking know it feels good you little brat-“

He’s cut off once again by a particularly harder thrust. Laughing softly, you keep up the increased pace, determined to get him to make those lovely noises.

Edward hates being laughed at, but he’s finding it difficult to snap at you when you’re nailing his prostate with every thrust. “Fuck…I-I’ll get you back for this you know…nobody laughs at me…”

Your hands travel the expanse of his chest and abdomen, feeling the skin beneath you as well as his little twitches. Having the time of your life, your fingers travel to his nipples, circling them and causing his back to arch a little.

“Ah…m-more.”

You could have been mean, made him beg for it…but there’s plenty of time for that later. At this point, you wanted to see your lover achieve ecstasy, so you play with his nipples in time with your thrusts. His hands release the sheets only to find their new home grabbing your arms.

He isn’t used to this, feeling so…out of control, so pleasured despite being so vulnerable. It’s an addictive feeling, he can understand why you love it so much.

It isn’t long before the twitching increases in his muscles, and you reach down to pump his cock, hard and angry looking; pre cum dribbling out of the head. Truly, he’s in heaven now, the sensations fulfilling desires he didn’t know he had.

“You close Eddie? Gonna make a mess?” You can’t help but tease.

“…yes…yes…gonna make a mess.”

His tone is quieter than usual, a little more broken. Seemingly his pride has leaked out of his ears with what feels like his brain as he’s railed, or at the very least is now lying dormant for now.

Moving your hand up and down, you use your other to grab his hip, allowing you to bear a little of your weight down to thrust with more vigour. Noises are truly being pushed from his mouth now, his mouth constantly slack at the dual stimulation.

“So close…” he says quietly, a lot more quiet than you’re used to him being, which makes you nod and smile.

“Want you to finish eddie, want you to feel good.”

He cums with a strangled cry, truly making a mess of himself as he comes thick ropes all over his abdomen, some reaching his chest and even as high as his collarbone. It looks like he’s shivering, clearly the experience was intense. You pull out gently, cunt throbbing at the whimpered hiss as he suddenly feels empty.

“You did so well Edward.”

“Yes yes I know I did.” He remarks dismissively, although his tone betrays how spent he really is. With an uncharacteristically soft look, he glances at you. “You didn’t do too badly either.”

High praise coming from Edward, as you dutifully grab a washcloth and clean his cum off himself. “I really should have made you lick it off, a reward for me for letting you do that.”

As if his reward wasn’t getting his brains fucked out and cumming all over himself. But you know…you know you’ll be able to do this again, and you know that next time you’ll be able to do something about his brattiness.

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acapelladitty · 4 months ago

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Whole Day Off: The Mistake

Pairing: Scarecrow/Reader (6.1k words)

Summary: Sharing a basement with Jonathan Crane proves to be every inch the nightmare it could be as an error on his part results in him being left victim to his own fear toxin while you are left to pick up the pieces of his mistake.

Fic Masterlist /// Link to AO3

Whole Day Off Masterlist

“And what about Harley Quinn? She seems nice. I mean- outside of all the obvious crime stuff.”

“Harleen has the potential to do great things but allows herself to be misled as she rapidly falls into co-dependency with her romantic interests. She would do well to develop her own skills and attempt to forge her own path but it seems unlikely.”

“Well, yeah, but is she nice?”

Visibly rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Crane nods. His knees are tucked smoothly under his desk, spine curled into its usual shrimp-like positioning as he hunches over the chemicals which are slowly being mixed by his expert hand.

“Yes, I suppose she has a certain charm to her when she’s not running her mouth.”

Delighted by the confirmation, you roll onto your side as you sink further into the semi-comfortable fabric of his couch. As naked as a babe, the chill of the room feels wonderful against your skin and you shift your thighs as you disturb the pleasant ache there.

You couldn’t quite recall who had been responsible for initiating but it didn’t really matter as you had quickly found yourself wrapped around his cock as you perched your ass off the edge of his workstation. He hadn’t even bothered to undress, simply releasing his cock from his slacks as he gripped at your hips with thin, insistent fingers. It had been messy and sloppy and ridiculously fucking hot as your hand brushed various papers aside in their fight to gain some purchase against the wood.

Crane had been just as enthusiastic, finishing surprisingly quickly and taking a moment to use his fingers to bring about your own release while he enjoyed his own comedown. Minus your usual toys and games, your body feel relatively peaceful after you had both finished – with the only exception being a deliciously aching, red mark which Crane had sucked into the heft of your left breast, just above the nipple.

A quick shower had washed away the mess left between your legs, your combined release swirling down the drain as you grimaced at some of the mould which you could see developing in the corners of the barely maintained bathroom. A mental note to maybe pick up some bleach before your next visit was neatly filed away for future consideration and leaving the bathroom had resulted in your naked frame dropping to the couch as you allowed your body to finish drying naturally.

To his credit, Crane has taken your willing nakedness with little more than a raised eyebrow as he glanced back at you from his workstation – the papers neatly rearranged as he fell back into his work routine with a casualness that suggested he hadn’t just fucked someone in that same space not ten minutes earlier. He had already taken a moment to explain that he was developing a new and experimental strain of toxin and that his attention would be mostly pulled towards that for the remainder of the evening.

But that couldn’t stop you from asking questions.

When his attention was split in such a manner, you had long since found it easier to get certain types of information from Crane as his mind chose to focus on his actions rather than his speech. Mostly you liked to ask about trivial matters, such as his opinion on various topics and his thoughts on his fellow costumed villains.

“Is Harley the nicest one? Like, if you had to choose.”

“Probably.” Crane confirmed, adding a few clear droplets of liquid to the beaker in his left hand. “Her danger lies in how loose her lips are when it comes to sharing information with others, mostly her clownish paramour.”

Sensing a slight tension in his tone, you follow up with a curiosity that makes your head tilt further towards him. A shark smelling the blood of fresh gossip.

“Are you and the Joker friendly?”

At that, Crane fully pauses his work and spins in his chair to face you fully.

“Joker is friends with no one as the concept is beyond him. He acts as more of a useful tool or a roadblock depending on his ever-changing mood. I do not enjoy spending time in his presence as his unpredictability is contemptuous.”

Falling into a comfortable silence, you know what you want to ask but uncertainty over how to do so respectfully makes you hesitate for a moment.

“Not to mention that he once almost beat me to death with a wooden chair.”

You ignore that, having learned that follow-up questions rarely led to any further information.

“The Joker, does he, like, can you- the toxin?”

You wince at how disjointed the question sounds but Crane doesn’t seem to mind as much as he shakes his head and spins back to his desk.

“If my toxin afflicts him then he shows no outward sign as such.”

Interesting.

“Then who’s the worst? Of all the costumed villains, which one is the most dangerous because the news stations and papers can never seem to agree. Lots of them say Joker but, y’know, you know them better than they do.”

Swirling two identical beakers between his fingers, Crane appears to consider the question for a moment as he pushes his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose.

“Lazlo Valentin is a particularly disturbed individual. Most of my colleagues – Nygma, Dent, Ivy, etc – do not have a tendency to play with their food for long, mostly preferring to kill and move on with their plans. However, what Valentin does with his victims is cruel. Full body modifications with a complete removal of all mental individuality, a living puppet with no will and no purpose. A walking corpse with no joy, anger, or fear.”

Crane sniffed distastefully before continuing.

“A fate worse than death. Even those enthralled by Ivy quickly succumb to her toxins or are saved from them, but those dolls of Valentin’s are unsalvageable.”

You shudder at the thought, flexing your fingers against your hips. Professor Pyg always looked quite frightening in the arrest photos which littered the tabloids as his crazed eyes - always dilated and wild - shone from that horrible pig mask he donned as his blood-soaked heft was bundled into a police van.

“A couple of the girls I used to work with always thought the Riddler was handsome.” Forcing a slight tease into your tone, you slip your arm under your neck to prop your head up. “They liked his suits, I think. And they said he was cute.”

The derisive snort was all the response you needed as Crane refuted the very idea.

“I believe your friends would benefit from severe psychological interventions.” He offered dryly.

Laughing at that, you shift enough to stretch; raising your hands overhead until a satisfying pop sounds somewhere in your shoulders.

Glancing over, you just manage to catch Crane watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Easily distracted, Dr. Crane?” You ask, rolling back into your original position.

He chooses to disregard the tease – his attention focusing back on his toxin as his shoulders drop into a more relaxed position. The quiet is comfortable and you take the opportunity to plan out the remainer of your week, from work goals to nightly dinners. Your apartment had been left in some state. The constant fluctuation between your time there, at work, and your ongoing meetings with Crane had left little time for some much-needed deep cleaning and if you were going to be picking up bleach for this nasty basement then it seemed outrageous to not get your own shit in order.

A crash of something which sounds like smashing glass brings your attention back to Crane and your whole body flinches in place as it is immediately followed by a sharp bellowing noise as Crane throws himself back from his chair to stand with an almost inhumane speed.

“Hey! What’s wron-”

In lieu of an answer, Crane dashes towards you and the sudden movement causes a full-bodied recoil as you push yourself further into the couch. Your obvious fear makes no difference to him and you gasp as his hands wrap around your shoulders and pull you harshly to your feet. Something wet touches at your shoulder and you glance down to see a streak of red painting your skin.

Fresh blood.

His blood.

The wound on his wrist, sharp and clean and an obvious result of the glass which had smashed, doesn’t look too deep and your attention snaps back to his face as you go to ask if he needs help fixing it up.

However, your words die in your throat once more as you take in his expression and the genuine anger and urgency which lies within it.

“I’ve made a mistake. The toxin in that smashed beaker has laced the fresh cut. You have only a few minutes to leave before I succumb to its influence.” Grunting as he rolls his shoulders, Crane’s hands slip to your jaw and tense to hold your head in place roughly. “The dose is nowhere near fatal but the experimental elements will increase aggression until the fear takes full root. I would rather you weren’t the subject of my violence. Leave. Now.”

Listening to his explanation with a thudding heart, the coppery scent of his blood makes you feel almost nauseous as you panic in kind.

“I can’t leave- not like,” you gesture to your naked frame with wide eyes, “I can’t make it out like this. My stuff. My keys.”

“This strain blurs the line of fight and flight. If you do not leave my sight then there is a very real chance that you will be severely hurt, little mouse. A fact neither one of us will be particularly enthused about. You are not built to endure the violence this toxin will force upon you.”

Growling the words, Crane’s head darts around the basement as he rapidly seeks a solution – his hands growing tighter on your face until you have to whimper and pull away due to the discomfort.

“My chair.” He hisses out from between clenched teeth as he visibly forces himself to walk towards the dental chair. “Restrain me in my own chair and we will both be kept safe from harm. I have no idea if this strain with cause violence towards the self so this will work well.” The last sentence is spoken with more of an inward inflection as his brilliant mind works in quick overdrive.

You follow him with shaking limbs, adrenaline thrashing through your veins as you watch him drop into the dental chair – his shirt, slacks, and lab coat making his positioning uncomfortable. He takes a moment to strap his own legs in, his teeth biting at his lower lip as he powers through whatever the hell the toxin was beginning to wreak on his trembling frame. Unable to do much more than agree to his demands, you wait until he’s lying back to pull the thick strap over his chest and secure it before doing the same with the wrist restraints.

“If,” Crane grunts, struggling to speak coherently, “if it looks like my vitals are dropping too low then there is a syringe with adrenaline within the drawers. It may help.”

“Jonathan” your body moving on auto-pilot due to the panic and stress which is thumping within your head, “what do I do? You need to tell me what to do. What if-”

“I value you for more than just your body, witty girl. React to the situation as appropriate and do what seems right. But I would like you to leave me, I’d rather not be subject to your observations.”

The strain of his voice and body is palpable, every word taking an obvious effort as he tested his strength against the restraints which held him in place. His hair, the various strands already mussed from your earlier fuck, is pushed back from his face and you take a moment to press your fingers to his jaw in unspoken support as you take his advice to heart and beat a hasty retreat.

Still nude, you do as instructed and let instinct guide you.

Having left him to his heavy breathing, you immediately dart to the stairs and take them two at a time as you twist and lock the latches to the basement door – ensuring that no fresh company can make itself known. In doing so, you are also wilfully locking yourself down here too and that fact doesn’t slip by your thoughts while you dip your hand into your handbag and pull free the bottle of water that you had stashed in there before leaving your apartment.

Taking a gulp of the water, the warmth of the liquid is vaguely repulsive and you swallow it down with a grimace as you quickly throw on your abandoned panties and shirt - not bothering to button the fabric up properly as you attempted to give yourself at least some decency given the turn of events.

Peeking around the corner of the room as a sudden howl of anger makes you jerk in place; you take in Crane’s appearance with a soft inhale.

It's hard to see him like this.

His composure, so typically set in stone and utterly unshakeable, has been stripped away by his own mistake and the sheer scale of the emotion on display makes you feel as though you were bearing witness to something profane.

Something wrong.

Snarling like a wounded animal, Crane pulls at the thick restraints which hold him in place without care. The dental chair creaking dangerously, it does seem capable of holding him back but the knowledge does nothing to bring you any peace as you circle behind him silently.

"I'll kill you!" Crane snarls, his voice high and strained as he screams at nothing. "I'll kill- I'll rip you apart - you fucking bitch!"

Taken aback by the sheer hatred in his voice, your chest shudders as you clutch at your shirt.

"I did it once and I'll do it again…dig you even deeper…show you how little Johnny died well before you did."

It was impossible to not listen, to not steal the little titbits of information which his heightened state was allowing to slip free, and you stow his words away for later consideration.

I did it once and I’ll do it again.

Someone he had killed in the past? Maybe his first kill? Given the amount of hatred in his voice, it must have been a woman who seriously wronged him. Hell, maybe even his mother. Or a sister.

It’s new information but information which leaves you with more questions than it answers and you continue to stare at him as his rage-filled expression refuses to leave the ceiling – whatever demons existed in that space tormenting him more than your quiet presence ever could.

Eventually, after the seconds had long grown into minutes, the fight seems to leave him and his body goes limp against the chair. Panic swelling in your chest, you slowly approach him to check his vitals.

His chest is moving rapidly, heavy breaths making you relax slightly as you hope that exhaustion will make his experience a little easier. He had said something about aggression being the altered factor in the compound but it was still his fear toxin so a sinking feeling told you that the worst was still to come.

Crimson drips from the restraint which circles his right wrist and the sight of it makes you wince as you recall his earlier injury and how it has still not been treated. Given his relaxed stance, you touch around the skin gently, unable to see the extent of the damage hidden below.

Glancing uncertainly at his lined face, your fingers work quickly to loosen the restraint, unlatching it enough to free his hand as you turn his palm up to see the damage.

As though hit by an unseen electric force, life springs back into him in an instant and you scream in fright - not expecting his sudden movements to spark up again. In a flash, his hand flips the script to wrap around your own and his fingers wrench your pinky back with so much force that you feel the bone creak like an old floorboard before it slips out of place with a jerk. Roaring in pain as a white-hot agony spreads from your damaged finger, you lean down in a frantic effort to use your good hand to pull him off.

Again, it proves to be a mistake as his animalistic growling grows somehow more feral as he drops your hand and instead lashes out with his clawed fingers. He's lightning quick and you feel his sharpened nails digging into the sensitive skin of your throat before you can even register just how much you had messed up. The toxin having stripped him of his sensibilities, his face twisted into something awful and he bares his teeth like a beast as he claws into your neck.

"Jonathan, stop!" You choke out, scratching at his hand with your own fingers as you attempt to pull yourself free. It makes no difference to him, the words not registering in his mind, and the tears in your eyes are quick to blur your vision as you choke and panic. "Dr. Crane!"

Digging your thumb as harshly into his wrist wound as possible, he hisses as he releases you and you can't even take a moment to gather your breath as you throw your entire weight into forcing his hand back into the restraint you had foolishly allowed him free of. It takes a moment, despite his best efforts, and his anger only seems to increase as he finds himself trapped again - his unseeing eyes focusing back on the ceiling and whatever demons are tormenting him.

You run from him, leaving the dentist’s chair to instead get closer to his workstation. Hands shaking so terribly that you can barely open the drawers of his desk, you bring your thumb to your eyes as you wipe away the pained tears that refuse to stop flowing. Your pinky is sitting at an odd angle, the digit throbbing with pain with every slight movement, and your neck feels savaged and wet as small droplets of blood sit on the skin where his nails have dug deeply enough.

Pulling free some alcohol wipes, you tear them open with your teeth and rub them across your neck to clean the small wounds. It stings like hell and a sobbing inhale is all you can manage as you fix yourself up as best you can. The finger will require a doctor but you suspect that it is only dislocated and not truly broken.

Again, he had hurt you.

And again, you were staying to see the events through.

A small voice, one born of fairness given the circumstances, whispers that he wasn’t in his right mind and that he didn’t mean to hurt you in that moment. But with it came a voice of equal measure, one which echoes past events that were better left unspoken.

He didn’t mean it.

He never did and yet…

Shaking your head to knock the thoughts free, you refocus on the task at hand as you gently touch at your pinky with a soft wince.

“Do you want to hit me, Dr. Crane?”

“Right now? Yes.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. If it were anyone else-”

You had seen it then, the desire to hurt, to lash out and make himself feel better but he had stayed his hand despite your own attempts to push him into violence.

“I’m sorry.”

Startling at the sudden cry, you almost drop the alcohol wipe which is still clenched between your fingers. Where anger had laced his tones, the voice which now carried across the basement couldn’t have been more different as it contains an anxious desperation. Something entirely foreign to what you know of him. It does make you curious though and your feet move softly against the floor as you creep back around the other side of the basement and glance around the thin curtain which separates that area from the rest of the space.

His eyes are closed, the wire-rimmed glasses haven fallen from his face to lay across his chest, but you can see his eyes moving rapidly beneath the shut lids as they dart around, unseeing. The lines of his face are more pronounced than ever as his features twist with every whimpered word – forehead creasing and lips wrapping around the soft words which spill free.

"I'm sorry, great granny. Don't-don't send me to the church. Not the birds! Please."

A memory rose, unbidden in your mind, as you recall your hands rolling across the expansive skin of his back and the scarring which lay there. Some of the marks were white with age, small and scattered across his shoulders and upper back, and his words gave them a history that made your chest ache.

Despite the many documentaries and conspiracies which cropped up about many of Gotham's finest criminals, their choices and crimes making them a prime piece of media fodder, the details of many rogues were shaky at best when it came to their histories prior to their criminality.

Exceptions like Dent, whose rise and fall had been documented in the public eye for all to see, were rare and a lot of the mystery surrounding the various costumed villains who terrorised Gotham made them almost like folklore curiosities.

I did it once and I’ll do it again.

Had Jonathan killed his great granny?

He howls and your neck jerks, igniting discomfort in the fresh claw marks, as you approach him slowly. His eyes are still snapped shut, mouth twisted in distress as his head thrashes from side to side – each movement making his shock of hair grow steadily more unkempt and messy. A thick sheen of sweat coats his skin and you pull the cuff of your shift over your fingers as you attempt to wipe away the worst of it.

At the soft touch, Crane startles as though burned and his eyes are wild as they meet your own – the absence of clarity sending a thrill of anxiety through your chest. His lips move but no words can escape, only a stilted whimper which slips free as his head flinches away from your touch.

“Shh, Jonathan.” Shushing him with the softest possible voice you can muster, you allow your shirt to pull back to your wrist as you card your fingers through his damp hair. The restraints are holding as strong as ever and since his aggression has passed, you feel safe in trying to offer him even a little comfort. “There’s no one here but me and you.”

The worst of the toxin seeming to have passed, you grow bolder in your movements as you slip your free hand across his cheek – feeling the bones there pressing into your skin as you soothe him.

Something heavy curls in your stomach, not quite pity, but a sympathy which lies alongside the anxiety and discomfort that pounds within your head.

“Go to sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Surprisingly, the gentle words appear to work as whatever strength is keeping him alert seeps from him in a long exhale and his eyes stutter closed. His breathing still erratic as hell, you continue to stroke along his hair until you are convinced that he has passed out.

Once certain, you pull away and retire back to the couch; body slamming against the fabric with an exhausted sigh as you settle in to wait for him to wake up.

x-x-x-x-x

Two hours pass in a blink and the first sign of life from Crane is a hoarse coughing fit which makes your fingers flinch as they thumb through one of the many psychiatric journals which litter the basement. Now empty, the plastic bottle of water which you had been slowly sipping from lies by your side and you accidentally knock it to the floor as you jump from the couch as though electrocuted.

Padding your feet across the basement floor, you can see he is awake as you come closer but you pause at his side to allow him to make the first move. Tension sits heavy in the air, awkwardness and stress hanging between you like a weight.

Crane is a mess.

He looks awful and you can’t help the grimace which stretches your lips as you approach him with all the caution of a handler approaching a wounded lion.

“Are you okay?”

A basic ask and one that is met with emptiness as Crane flexes his hands.

“Let me out.”

Nodding quickly and ignoring the sharpness of his tone as it pierces your chest, your fingers move swiftly as they work through the various restraints which hold him in place. Starting with the ankle restraints, they all remove easily enough until you reach the strap which holds his injured wrist in place. The leather is stained with his blood, the wound having stopped bleeding at some point, and you shudder as you gently pull his wrist free – not wishing to do any more damage than what is already there.

No longer held in place, Crane’s body moves shakily as he pushes himself free of the chair. His expression is queasy and it doesn’t surprise you too much when his first port of call is to make a stilted dash for the nearby bathroom, his long legs visibly trembling with the effort of carrying his struggling body. After a moment, you hear the sound of retching and grimace at how viscerally it echoes across the virtually silent basement.

Uncertainty roils in your heart, a desire to follow and make sure he was okay battling it out with a vague understanding that any attempt to help him at this fragile moment would result in backlash. As such, you remain in place, carefully keeping your dislocated pinky free of the arm of the chair to limit the damage.

Eventually Crane reappears and you can see that he has take the time to make himself presentable. His clothing is neatly fixed into their familiar positions, shirt and pants smoothed out as the lab coat circles his thin frame like a blanket. The wire-rimmed glasses are perched back on his nose, pushed as close to his eyes as possible, and you can tell from the slight sheen of his skin that he has splashed water on his face.

But it does little to hide how obviously worn out he is.

“It would be better if you left. Now.” Crane states, the words coming out as plainly as though he were commenting on the outside weather.

“What?” Not quite sure you had heard him correctly; you give him the chance to repeat.

Despite the casualness of his words, you can see the irritation spark as his instructions go unheeded and he’s forced to make his point once more.

“Your services are not required. So, leave me.”

Stepping away from the dental chair with a swift motion, you don’t bother to hide the genuine confusion you feel as you watch him approach you with a tactical hesitation. “After all- after all that? That’s it? Just leave?”

You can see his struggle, the forced nonchalance barely holding in place as his fingers shake and his lips set into a harsh line as he stops before you – deliberately straightening to his full height to ensure that he towers over your shorter frame. He was angry for sure, but below the anger you could see the shame which really guided his words; the loss of control which always makes him dangerously volatile.

“Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, is meaningless. So, leave me to my work and I will decide when I want to see you next.”

Fire igniting in your soul at the thought of being dismissed like a child, you stand your ground as your partially opened shirt flutters around your thighs.

“No. Absolutely not! Not after all the shit I just had to go through for you.” Tilting your chin up at him with open defiance, you are too annoyed to really take in the anger which sits on his features. “I didn’t wait all this time to be kicked out lik-”

“I said, LEAVE!” Crane hollers, his voice raising heavily on the final word as he lashes out with a careless hand to push you away from him. Unfortunately, since you weren’t expecting the physical touch, his hand catches you off-guard and you trip over your own feet, falling backwards on your ass as your hands splay out to prevent your body from falling any further.

A bolt of pain, sharp and intense, lances across your injured hand as your pinky connects with the floor and you can’t hold back the howl of pain which rips free of your lips as you quickly pull your wrists forward to cradle your hands to your chest. Facing both the stress of the last few hours and the agony of your hand, there’s no fighting the tears which immediately begin to fall from your eyes and your sobs quickly grow stuttered and messy as you sit there like a pathetic beast, content to wallow in adrenaline-fuelled misery.

Not expecting you to fall, nor the intense reaction which followed, Crane pauses long enough to look down at you – truly look down at you – and even through the hail of tears you can see the genuine regret which passes across his pinched face.

“What happened to your hand?” Crane asks, his hands dropping to loop around your shoulders as he pulls you to your feet once more with a surprising gentleness. His voice is tight, resigned to the answer which he knows is coming.

“You.” Rubbing at your eyes with your good wrist, you can’t hold the truth from him. “When you were on the chair. It lo-looked like you were passing out and I wanted to check the bleeding in your- in your wrist.”

“Let me see.”

His voice softer than it has been in quite some time, you can’t help the flinch of your arm as he takes your other wrist in his hand – examining the damaged pinky with an unreadable expression.

“Hmm, no break. Possible fracture but most likely dislocated.” He mutters to himself, diagnosing the injury with a clinical precision before speaking more clearly as he held your watery eyes with his own. “I will need to reset the bone.”

Nodding even as your lips stutter out a thinly held sob, you know it’s going to hurt like hell and you try to brace for the discomfort as much as possible.

“This won’t be pleasant and I apologise for it. I would never intend to-” Crane cut himself off, perhaps sensing that his words were meaningless in the moment. “But I will fix it and give you some painkillers to manage the discomfort. Follow me.”

He guides you to his work bench and you move on autopilot, allowing him to open a bottle of unknown pills and drop two into your good hand; an offering which you take without hesitation as you swallow the pills dry, ignoring the horribly acrid taste they leave where they press against your tongue. As you do, Crane takes the opportunity to spread your injured hand out on the edge of the wooden table – ignoring the spilled mess which still litters the floor.

“I will need to relocate the bone. Might I suggest that you bite down on your shirt because it won’t be a particularly enjoyable experience.”

Following his advice, you bite down on the cuff of your shirt from your free hand. The fabric tastes of nothing and you choose to focus on the texture as you refuse to look at your injured hand while Crane gently locks his hand around the dislocated pinky, ready to fix his errant mistake.

Without warning or additional comforts, he wrenches the pinky forward before setting it back into place in one swift motion.

The hot pain which explodes from the area has you stamping your feet against the floor as you bite down harshly on the shirt in your mouth. But Crane is as efficient as ever and the intensity of the pain dies as quickly as it started and the dull, aching throb which follows is much more manageable as your bleary eyes attempt to flex the digit – a choice which sparks fresh pain but also a smidge of relief as the pinky twitches at your command.

Giving you a moment to compose yourself as the painkillers still need time to truly kick in, Crane’s attention is snatched up by your throat as you roll your head with a loud exhale to centre your thoughts.

“The marks on your neck?”

A nod.

His jaw flexes and you can feel the disappointment rolling from him in waves as his thin fingers extend in an unspoken question as they hover in the space before your neck. You accept his touch with a slight incline, allowing him to ghost his fingers over the fresh scratches which are no longer bleeding as your throat constricts beneath his digits.

He doesn’t need to ask, already knowing the answer, so he instead takes a step back from you – allowing you some space from him in a vague show of apology. Taking in his appearance, from the tightly pinched expression which has lost all of the earlier irritation which his shame had sparked, to the miniscule tremble which sits in his limbs as he forces himself to still as much as possible, you can feel how tired he is.

How tired you both are.

“You’re exhausted.”

“I-” He begins his retort but it dies in his throat, unable to deny the accusation. His gaze is dull, lacking its usual intensity, and something within it melts the anger which is swirling within your own thoughts.

Reaching out with your good hand, you grasp his hand within your own as you silently lead him over to the couch. Surprisingly, he allows it and you use that to your advantage as you gently push him down to sit on the old fabric.

“I’ll leave when I see you lying down.” You mutter, willing to meet him halfway. “You can’t work like this and it’s only going to result in another accident.”

“You’re right.”

Twisting on the couch, his long frame fills the space in an instant as his legs shift to hang over the arm. His agreement was unexpected and it brings a soft smile to the edge of your lips as you turn and your hands drop to close around your handbag, quickly rifling through it to check that you had everything you needed. Happy to uphold your end of the bargain and leave, you only pause when his voice catches you unawares – the weariness in his tone undeniable.

“You can stay.”

Not willing to pass on the opportunity, you nod at the offer.

You turn back to stand before the couch, looking down at him with a calm expectancy and he grunts as he pulls his upper body up, giving you enough space to slide into the space he had just vacated. Taking the offered seat, you recline comfortably and allow him to lie back once more – his head dropping into your lap with a muffled thud.

“I know you don’t want to talk,” you begin quietly, “and I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t see or hear anything.” At the words he stiffens against your thighs, but you press on regardless. “But I’m not going to ask and I’m okay with staying here until you’ve slept.”

Tracing nonsensical shapes along his hairline with your right hand as you attempt to soothe out the deep lines of his forehead, you inhale softly as his hand loops around your left wrist. Two firm fingers press against your pulse point, feeling the steady beat which thurms there, and the sensation seems to bring some peace to him as he relaxes further into your touch – exhaustion having robbed him of much of his typical stoicism and defensiveness.

“Would you like me to sing something?” You offer, thinking of the small beat-up old radio which sits at the furthest end of his work desk, a testament to his subtle enjoyment of music.

“Please,” he mutters in response, the words barely slipping free of his tight lips as his eyes drift closed, “my day has already been ruined and I think that tone deafness you indulge in may push me over the edge, witty girl.”

Not expecting the teasing insult, it nets him a soft chuckle as you pull at the hair which sits atop the crown of his head with a gentle tug and respond in kind with a similar mutter.

“Bastard.”

#i hope y'all enjoy and as always sorry for the delay #jonathan crane #scarecrow #whole day off #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x you #scarecrow fic #gotham rogues #batman villains #dc comics #batman #jonathan crane fic #dr Jonathan crane #dccomics

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plush4bunny · 2 months ago

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She takes a pull of her cigarette and then blows the smoke upward. For a moment, your mind superimposes the photos of her you saw in the magazines to the flesh and blood woman in front of you, and you are left almost breathless. She looks beyond tempting despite - or maybe because of - her unconventional looks.

- scene from @chrism02’s 1st chapter from their Oswalda Cobblepot x reader fic called “Weave the magic”

#oswalda cobblepot x reader #oswalda cobblepot x you #oswalda cobblepot #batman caped crusader #Oswalda Cobblepot (Batman: Caped Crusader)#dc comics #dc fanart #gotham rogues #batman villains #fanart #fanfiction fanart #fanfic rec #fic rec #art #illustration #artists on tumblr

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i-smoke-chapstick · 6 months ago

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all i can think of are gotham villians that would 100% get incredibly possessive, pissy, and pouty when they have a dream of Y/N cheating on them.

Oswald? Yeah. He’s waking up in a cold sweat, drinking himself into a hangover with lots of insecure thoughts, before being very standoffish the next day with you, maybe even a little mean. More irritated then usual. You can either wait it out for him to calm down and realize he’s being silly or he’ll get hyper attentive to every move you make and accuse you of ACTUALLY cheating 😭 knock some sense into this man pls. superstitious and paranoid bird man thinks it’s a sign.

Jerome. Unlike Oswald, he will surprisingly gently wake up in the middle of the night. Theres no cold sweat or jolting awake, he just opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a few minutes….before settling on VIOLENTLY shaking you awake. You’ll be half asleep, and youll have to listen to him rant into the next day about how dream you is a total sleeze. You’ll be able to go back to sleep though, since his ranting is pretty much white noise. Despite this, he’s inwardly pouting. Will be passive aggressive the next day.

Jervis!!! He wakes up with a start and cannot erase the thought of someone else touching you. Makes him violently ill. Will polietly excuse himself from bed (Jervis, reader is asleep, they cant hear you) and will either throw up or just start tweaking. Won’t be able to fall back to sleep. The next day expect some eerily calm smiles and EXTRA affectionate doting, just incase you think you arent getting enough attention at home with him. which is where you belong.

they are all delusional. i love them sm

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batman-dc-imagines · 8 months ago

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Hello! I love your Gotham character letters and I was wondering if you could do the J squad (separately) writing the reader a letter promising to come visit them soon because they escaped from Arkham but they can’t yet cause of Gordon and the GCPD? Thank you!!!!

A/N: A situation ship is a relationship that hasn't been explicitly defined but you can view your relationship with these boys however you wish. I also tested out more rhymes with Jervis.

Gotham!Jerome Valeska

Relation: Situation ship

𝙃𝙚𝙮𝙖 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨,

𝙈𝙚, 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙫. 𝘼𝙩 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙. 𝙒𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬! 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡. 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙡’ 𝙅𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙘𝙥𝙙 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚. 𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧��𝙨𝙨𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙝? 𝙊𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙢𝙚, 𝙞𝙛 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙨 𝙗𝙮, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 ‘𝙚𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖? 𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤! 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘼𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙬!

-🃏𝙅

Gotham!Jervis Tetch

Relation: Situation ship

𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫,

𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐌𝐫. 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭. 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧. 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫.

~ 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢��

Gotham!Jonathan Crane

Relation: Situation ship

𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘢. 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘑𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯.

-𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘑𝘰𝘯

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adalwolfgang · 7 months ago

Note

ADAL!!! saw your requests/inbox is open…and i had to send in a little something something!!!

heard you do “i ship you with…” so i was wondering what gotham character you might ship me with!!!

As far as physical appearance goes, I’m a 4’11 cis female with long brown hair and brown eyes, tan skin, hispanic, and wear a lot of black and red :> (and wearing glasses when im not in my contacts sksksk)

As far as personality goes, I’m a little eccentric, lots of jokes teehee, my MBTI is INTP, aquarius zodiac sign, and I love a possessive jealous protective man 🤞 I’m bisexual with a preference for men, and my ideal date idea is a movie at home !! or a grocery store date (i love shopping!!)

tysm adal ^_^ u dont have to if you dont want too, or if you dont do these anymore!! Just thought it might be fun !!

A/N: AHHH YES!! I wont ever stop doing these so you're good! Also sorry for the wait! Im trying to get through asks today because the numbers are starting to stack up and I don't want to keep holding it off anymore! But my inbox will always be open!

I ship you with...

Oswald Cobblepot!

Let's start with the height difference.

He loves it.

A lot.

Almost everyone he's ever encountered is always taller than him, or his height is used against him.

Definitely has a sort of power kink toward it if yk what I mean.

Now onto your color scheme.

We've all seen his many outfits throughout episodes and how fashionable he is.

He'll spoil you to your hearts content on whatever you want.

Including clothes.

There's a black and red outfit you've been wanting from a store down the street?

It's sitting on your bed by the next hour or so with a little love note attached to it.

If he's feeling it, you'll both be matching that day, wearing the similar black and red that you love so much.

He'll also make sure you always have a spare set of glasses or contacts on hand.

Just incase yk?

If anyone dares to even tease you about your clothes, glasses, looks in general?

Dead.

I can't stress the 'anyone' enough.

He knows what it's like being talked down to and mocked so he isn't having non of that when it comes to you.

He doesn't want his darling going through the same shit he went through.

He's gonna do whatever it takes to make you live the best.

As a queen.

His queen.

He's not the best at telling jokes but he does have a certain sense of humor.

Like laughing at the people, who've hurt either him or you, who are on the ground screaming in pain.

Again, a certain sense of humor.

Lets say you try a harmless prank on him, and end up scaring the shit out of him.

He'll scold you but is smiling by the end of it.

If you tell him a joke, he'll laugh at it.

While also staring at you with a loving gaze.

Back to him loving to spoil you, he much prefers taking you out to extravagant places for a ideal date like a fancy restaurant but won't mind just chilling at his mansion and snuggling up on the couch with you.

He doesn't get the whole shopping dates you mention though.

Why do something like that when he can just make others do it for you?

If you beg for it enough, he'll agree.

But he makes sure zsasz and a couple other of his men come along.

Again just in case.

He'll tell them to spread out and not stick so close to you both so it can feel like it's just you and him having a nice bonding moment.

Don't expect him to carry anything though.

Poor Zsasz we'll probably get stuck acting as some pack mule.

#x reader #reader insert #gotham #gotham oswald cobblepot #gotham rogues #gotham villains x reader #gotham x reader #the penguin #dcu #gotham villians #gotham series #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot #gotham oswald cobblepot x reader #gotham imagine #I ship you with...

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house-of-slayterr · 3 months ago

Text

Jonathan Crane Headcanons:

Tag: @kados-of-chaos @keffirinne @myers-meadow

As I’ve said in a previous head cannon I do believe Crane has some form of OCD. Something he’s fully convinced he can treat himself as he doesn’t believe in seeing the other psychiatrist in Gotham, let alone his colleges he views an inferior at Arkham. He easily grows obsessed with patients, much more quickly than Harley ever did with Joker. But he doesn’t fall in love with that, his obsession is much much darker. His compulsion drive him to devour every part of his patients psyche, learn everything about what makes them tic, he’s gonna as far as to steal items from his favourite patients or visit them once they’re “good” enough to leave Arkham. His patient obsession helps to distract him from his Batman obsession, and he uses both to avoid the intrusive thoughts he hates so much. Most of which are about his father.

Because of this, it’s not far fetched for you to become an object of his obsession. Jonathan will learn every inch of you body, lurk in every corner of your brain. Jonathan will be sure you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you. He believes this is healthy, and will resort to giving you Stockholm syndrome to make you fall in love with him. He needs control in his relationships, he’ll only hurt his darling little bird if they break his rules, but he fully believes it’s for your safety. Jonathan would kidnap you and steal you away form everyone he thinks is poisoning you without hesitation. Even using some drugs from his job or his own fear gas if he has to, in order to program you.

I believe Jonathan enjoys more than just psychological tortures. The man loves to see red, but he’s less interested in it being by his hand specifically. To keep up his rouse he likes to “save” people, but little does everyone know he always orchestrated the situation anyways. He’s driven many patients to kill before, he finds it amusing how weak and easy they are to push over the edge. Then they get caught for doing his biding and he gets to hide in plain sight. But he’s also convinced patients to turn the blade on themselves before. Partially if you were his darling, he’d drive you to carve his name into your own skin. Do things to prove your dedication to him. He finds your devotion to him amusing and will reward you after. But he will make you worse before he lets you get better, there’s no way he’s letting you out of his care, even if it means breaking you mentally.

He cares a lot about his public imagine and what the people at large think about him. His suits, his hair, his face is always impeccable. Never a spot on his glasses or a wrinkle in his suit. He must look perfect when leaving the safety of his home or lab without his scarecrow mask. Which, by the way, is always on him or close by, he can’t be without it for too long. Once he’s trapped his darling little bird, he’ll do the same to you. He’ll fuss over hair, makeup, general appearance, he’ll even iron your clothes for you if you refuse. He won’t be seen with you unless you look as adequate as he does. He knows people like to stare when you go out, might as well give them something to stare at. But people should be careful not to stare to long or they be visited by a certain scarecrow at night, defending the honour of his favourite bird.

Jonathan I believe would be a very sexual man, he pretend at work to not be interested in anything of the sort, most people not even used to seeing the doctor dating anyone. When he’s single, his sexual fantasies play out much darker. But once he has someone to share his desires with, the man becomes a feral animal. He’s gone as far as to beg for more before, addicted to your touch, taste, sound, it’s all that distracts him now form the intrusive thoughts. He loves to tie you up, see you helpless, roleplaying as your psychiatrist or doctor is his favourite. Doing things to you he’s not allowed to do to patients. He’d never dare taint his fingers with their feeling, or his mouth with their taste. If his mind wonders, his body is still only yours. He growls a lot during sex and loves if you dig your nails into him and leave mark he has to hide. He finds it scandalous and exciting to have your little secret written all over him. Jonathan doesn’t like children, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his breeding kink, he’s obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. Even if your AMAB it wouldn’t stop the filthy words from pouring out of his mouth, of how much he wish he could claim you that way. He’s certainly a dom, but he can switch between hard and soft. He’s willing to be more gentle if you need but some nights he needs to be rough, use you to get out his pent up frustrations. Usually after he comes home defeated by the Batman. He will have you at his will for hours whenever he can. Not letting up no matter how much you squirm.

Surpassingly, he’s a cat person. He’s not a big fan of dogs as most people don’t train there’s, but cats, you could convince him to rescue a few. But they must be as put together as they two of you. He will brush and groom them frequently, make sure they’re healthy and put them in little outfits for family photos. He’s much softer to them than he is to people. He’s very gentle and reassuring if an animal passes away, as he knows what to say to grieving people. He’ll not leave your side until you’re ok again.

He loves to be of service if you’re sick, tacking care of you is his top priority. Especially if it’s something serious that causes you to go to the hospital, he will be there everyday to check in for hours unless he’s pulled away from a work emergency. Even then he doesn’t leave you happily. He will nurse you back to health and bow to your every whim until you’re on your feet again. Because he knows you’d do the same for him.

No matter how tempested he is, he won’t experiment on his darling unless they ask for it. He wants to break you from your fears the same way his father freed him. But he knows how painful the process was and won’t put you through that unless you agreed or he truly thought it was for your safety. He will however get you used to his fear gas so it can never backfire and be used against him to hurt you. But don’t worry, if you scared he’ll hold you close and help you sleep at night.

Jonathan is not one to share, he won’t let any other villain in Gotham lay a hand on you. Not without consequences. He’s willing to take out the others or even work with Batman to do so just to keep you safe. He doesn’t view the other villains as his friends or colleagues and will crush them if they get in his way. Or try to hurt his little bird. Jonathan also goes feral when you wear his clothes or cologne because of it. He loves when you smell like him, it makes him happy. He never gets mad for long if one of his favorite shirts or blazers goes missing when he finds you fast asleep wearing it. He loves to show you off but makes it clear you’re just for him.

An: lol I got bored this morning idk if any of these make sense.

#fang writes #gotham headcanons #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #the scarecrow #gotham villains

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