#adhdnursegoat

[adhdnursegoat]

aahhhhhhhahhah!!!! i have every post for the october series Gotham City Storybook in the queue! i cannot wait to see what yall think! it was such a blast putting this all together, and it actually went faster than I could have hoped - no stress at all. i truly hope this will be as entertaining for yall as it has been for me.

stay tuned, goats, and gimme a follow! 😎✌️

[capr1pengu1n]

hello!

I would LOVE to see you write a oneshot for Arkham City Eddie if you are interested? It's my birthday on October 18th and I just knew I wanted to request another piece from you to celebrate! You have full reign to make it as salacious as you would like. Fem reader, please, but could you maybe do a brat kink with pigtails or something? I love picturing him with a partner that acts like a brat just to get his attention. 😈

I appreciate you, friend!

Happy Halloween!!

Until the lights go down

Summary: Under Edward's protection in Arkham City, you quickly become bored of your routine, and hope to spice up your time by seducing your lover

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!eddie, thigh riding, blowjobs, rough sex, slight threat at the start, threat of exhibitionism, praise + degradation

Words: 5k

Notes: Happy birthday to the lovely @adhdnursegoat !!! Thank you for being such a sweetheart for as long as we've been mutuals, I really hope you have fun with this, and most importantly have a great birthday! <3

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Boring is not the word that you would have assumed would be your descriptor for the hellish megaprison you’d been thrown into…but as you lay on your back on the lumpy mattress, that’s the one that springs to mind. Boredom sets in like a rot, the latest gunfire from somewhere vaguely to the east of the building not even making you flinch like it used to anymore.

You weren’t completely sure how long both you and Edward had been here, although your lover was taken first. Watching the news in slight horror and anxiety as you saw the coverage detailing his move into the controversial new prison, more like a holding pen for the corrupt and the insane. Well…the corrupt, insane, and you. What both you and Edward weren’t planning on was how thorough Hugo Strange had been; Edward had never so much as whispered about your relationship to anyone, despite how much he secretly ached for Gotham to see how easily a man as intelligent as him could get a girl as pretty and devoted as you, but somehow Strange knew about you both. You’d been practically abducted and taken, chest heavy with your panicked breaths as you'd gazed upon the psychologist who had orchestrated this ordeal.

“Ah, Mister Nigma’s little pet. I wonder, will he protect you? Or will you be too much of a liability? A distraction from whatever twisted little game he hopes to play.”

His tone you remember was icy and clinical, head tilted as his eyes moved up and down you. You’d bit your tongue, knowing that any outburst may result in further injuries than just the bruises blooming on your arms beneath the guard’s tight grip. You looked down, but he stepped forward and gripped your jaw with a harsh cruelty. “I believe he’ll throw you to the wolves, that’s all a sociopath like him is capable of. You’re nothing but a foolish little girl for thinking he cares about you any more than a lapdog who satiates his primal needs.”

You couldn’t contain the death glare that you shot at him. He dropped his hand, leaning away from you before signalling to his guards, and before you knew it, you were in the lion’s den, so to speak. Forced onto the ground, you’d quickly scrambled to your feet as you adjusted to your surroundings. And as you noticed the eyes blinking at you from the streets.

With a shaky breath, you quickly assessed the situation. You knew you were the equivalent of fresh meat in here, only made worse by the fact they hadn’t given you another set of clothes, so there you stood in your skirt and jumper they'd kidnapped you in. Footsteps echoed behind you, a couple of men clearly wanting to intimidate you by jeering and laughing. Thoughts of breaking into a sprint had entered your slightly dazed thoughts, however you remember the sudden loud gunshot had seized your body up as you ducked. You quickly realised however, that nobody had been shooting at you, when you hear the inmates behind you quickly back away and speak.

“Fuck, I thought nobody had seen him in here. I ain’t getting’ involved.”

Confused, you looked up to see Edward striding towards you, confident as ever with a revolver in his hand. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed a hold of your arm and pulled you along, and you can’t deny the slight sadistic joy you got from glancing at the other inmates’ intimidated faces. Turns out he’d paid two of Penguin’s muscle to escort you both to his hideout, but he hadn’t spoken a word the whole way back, jawline stuck in a harsh line.

Once you were back, he’d lamented how stupid it was that you were here, how he didn’t have time to play the role of babysitter and keep you safe, how much of an imbecile Strange was for making such an enemy of him. But with a little difficulty, he’d assured you that he would, in fact, keep you safe, and the tight grip he’d kept on you that night confirmed it.

But now…now you were bored. You understand why he’s forbade you from leaving, but each day seems to bleed together into one long stretch of dullness. Edward barely had time for you, too busy concocting his masterplan, so that left you to wander around the building over and over again. He’d told you that you were beneath the iceberg lounge in an abandoned train-yard, but you couldn’t hear that much coming from outside apart from the occasional explosion.

So alas, you have the same shitty cold shower you do every day (although at least Edward’s hideout granted you the luxury of a shower in the first place) before getting changed. He’d given you some clothes he’d managed to obtain that vaguely fit you, but you decide to wear the outfit you’d been thrown in with. That’s when you hatch your plan.

An awful decision really, truly you were asking for trouble, but at least trouble was something interesting. So you tie your hair up in loose pigtails, rolling your skirt up for maximum effect, and skip down to where you know Edward will be. He’s sat, endlessly tapping away at his keyboard while observing the many monitors he’s set up to feed him information. You can’t deny you’ve always been impressed with his ability to multitask so well.

Scribbling some notes down on a scrap piece of paper, he hardly heard you come in until you lightly brush your finger along his shoulder and say in the softest voice you could muster, “Eddie, I’m bored.”

Taking a quick glance at you, he laughs. “You look ridiculous dear, I hadn’t realised you were so desperate for attention you’d attempt to replicate Harleen’s look. Do you expect me to be interested?”

You roll your eyes, letting your finger wander up and down his shoulder and collarbone beneath the tattered green suit jacket. “C’mon Eddie…I know you’re interested.”

“Just because I don’t want you to die an undignified death on the streets by some thug, doesn’t mean that I will drop all of my important work because you’re bored. Why don’t you dig deep into your limited cognitive capabilities and find something to do?”

“There’s nothing to do.” You lament, not being bothered by his usual condescending tone.

“And that’s my problem how exactly? Be grateful I’m letting you stay here.” Huffing, you sit up on his desk as he scribbles something else down. “Get off my desk.”

“Edward come on.” You whine, knowing you were acting like a petulant child, but at least he was actually acknowledging you.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, glasses falling down a little. “Do you have any idea what I’m attempting to plan here? What am I even saying, of course you don’t.”

“Tell me then.” You challenge, appealing to the narcissistic part of his personality that longs to be praised and recognised.

Eyes narrowing for a moment, he sits back in the chair and relents, starting to explain his plan. You hear him detail how he’ll kidnap the medical staff sent in to look after the welfare of the inmates, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting as he speaks. Always loving his voice, you allow your mind to bathe in the sound, eyes flitting over him. He’s clearly stressed, but when isn’t he these days? His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and your fingers itch to fix it��or to have him rip it off in a desperate haze before using it to bind your wrists. You blink your way out of those thoughts, as he’s still explaining the master plan, hands waving to solidify his points.

Your gaze flits to them, the dark purple fingerless gloves drawing attention to his digits, cleaner than they usually are, most likely due to his informants building whatever is left of the various contraptions, leaving his hands free to scheme. What you wouldn’t give to have those hands wrapped tightly around your throat, holding you in place as he uses you. Or perhaps have them drag along your trembling form, feeling the leather contrasting your smooth skin as they reach their crude destination. Or even have those long digits filling up your needy cunt, curling in just the right way that he knows will have you gushing all over his hand.

You notice he isn’t wearing a belt either. How easy it would be to just crawl to your knees, unbutton his trousers and have him gasping and gripping your hair as you-

“You really aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” His firm tone forces you roughly from your salacious daydream, blinking at him dumbly. Laughing coldly, he continues, “Really? Nothing to say? Maybe you’d have an inch more of an intellect in that pretty head of yours if you could restrain yourself from eye-fucking me every chance you get.”

Feeling the flush burn in your cheeks, you decide to double down. “Can’t help it. Not when you look so good like that.”

His eyebrows raise. “When I’ve been in a hellhole that doesn’t even have hot water, that is when you find me the most desirable?”

Others may not have noticed any change from your lover, but you know him too well. You notice the way his shoulders have relaxed slightly, how his legs have parted just enough for you to see. So you metaphorically pounce, moving off his desk slowly before straddling his lap, legs on either side of him, making the chair squeak slightly. “When we’ve been here and you’ve hardly touched me, that’s when. Can’t help that I’m needy”

He allows you to sit on his lap, hands moving to hold your hips gently. “Ah, my pet is feeling neglected is she?” His tone is mocking, but his wolfish grin and the way his eyes dart to your lips show he’s feeling just as pent up.

You make a noise of affirmation, moving to shift your hips over him. “Yes…you need to do something Edward.”

“Do not order me around.” He says lowly, tutting, “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here.”

You smile, finally getting what you want. “Who is in charge?”

Letting out a slight groan, he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them. “Oh you’re really playing with fire, my dear.”

You give him the most doe-eyed look you can muster before he kisses you roughly. Moaning into his mouth, you feel his tongue push into your lips, claiming you quickly and completely. It’s hungry and desperate, saliva being swapped in a way that would cause even the most provocative person to blush. In return, you do a more deliberate grind of your hips, feeling satisfaction as he bucks up into you instinctively. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

“So your plan was to wear that stupid hairstyle and slutty skirt in the hopes you’d seduce me into giving you what you want?” he mutters, eyes taking in your body on his lap. Often, he looks at you like he can’t quite believe how attracted you are to him. He’d never admit it of course, to anyone who dared to find out, he’d boast about how natural it is for a gorgeous girl like you to pursue a man of such high intellect, charisma and looks. But deep down, he’s shocked that you desire him like you do, how you’d willingly be on his lap, pawing for his attention.

You nod, knowing it’s best to not lie in this situation, to which he chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, you really are filthy, aren’t you?”

At your slight giggle, he leans and kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear. “I think it’s time I remind you that I’m in control…that I decide when you get touched, when you get pleasured. Not you.”

When you consent, he hums in mock thought, fingers tracing down to your hips, before reaching the soft skin just below where your skirt ends. He taps it a few times, relishing in the way you practically vibrate at the small contact, before reaching up and up to feel the material of your underwear.

“It’s a good thing a mind such as mine prepares for any eventuality.” He boasts, and your momentary confusion is dissipated when he produces a small knife from his jacket, cutting the material so it falls undignified to the hard floor. You pout a little, it’s not like you have an abundance of panties in here, before he moves the sharp blade to your thigh, gently tracing. “Problem?”

You shake your head quickly; you love being a brat sure, but you aren’t completely certain you want to unlock whatever sadistic desires he could have while holding a sharp object. Luckily he seems satisfied with your pussy now being out, but instead of touching it he simply places the knife back in his jacket before maneuvering you so you’re straddling his thigh. Gripping your hips tight, he moves you over the rough fabric of his trousers, before casting you a disinterested look.

“There, perhaps now you’ll be satiated by my mere frame while I continue my important work.” He says, but you don’t miss the cocky smirk that paints his face for a second as he speaks, before he quickly hides it.

Instead you let out a soft whine of protest, but the friction is too delicious to stop. So as he wheels the chair closer to the desk, his arm reaching to grab his nearly blunt pencil, you grip his shoulders and rolls your hips. A gasped moan escapes you, the whole situation coupled with how needy you’ve been for god knows how long means your cunt is alive with sensations that it greedily feasts on.

The only sounds from the room are your choked whimpers, the slow hum of the monitors and the scratching of his pencil on his notepad. You’re certain that there’s now a wet patch on the fabric beneath you with how much your pussy is leaking, begging to be filled or played with properly. Clit throbbing, you attempt to grind harder but it gives you little relief, so you press your forehead against his shoulder. You try to control your breathing, enough to formulate some plea, but deep down you know it won’t work. You’ll get your pleasure when Edward deems it time.

You aren’t sure how long you keep grinding, but your desperate moans increase in both frequency and pitch. He clicks his tongue at a particularly salacious noise that leaves your parted lips, and only then does he finally look at you; pupils blown so wide they’re like pools of ink, searching his body and face for anything that might free you from this pleasure-deprived prison he’s placed you in.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks condescendingly, and when you shake your head, a deep chuckle escapes him. “Greedy girl, you’re truly never content, are you?”

He grabs your waist roughly, stopping your movements before pushing his hand beneath your skirt and feeling the wet mess. “Soaked, as I predicted. I bet you’ve made a mess of my nice trousers haven’t you? Well, we can’t be having that. On your knees.”

You rush to follow his command, cheeks burning as he tuts at the discoloured fabric on his thigh. Still you do your best to look tempting as you gaze up at him, blinking slowly. He seemingly appreciates it, running a hand along your jaw. “You’ve distracted me from my plans by behaving like such a harlot, so it’s only fitting I treat you like one.”

As he speaks, he unbuttons and frees himself from his trousers, length springing free and your mouth practically waters in anticipation. But before you can taste it, he stops you. “No no…you have to make this worth my time, girl. Now ask me nicely.”

You swallow, attempting to formulate the words in your head before you start to beg. “Please Edward, please let me please you. I want to…I need to please you.”

He smirks. “Good attempt, but calling me my name is most certainly not what I want right now.”

Knowing his egotistical nature very well, you relent, the brattiness making way for a carnal need for him. “Please let me please you Mister Nigma, Sir.”

He gives you a soft pat on the cheek that you can only infer means you’ve done a good job before he allows you to part your lips and take the head in your mouth. Sighing in relief, you suck slowly before pushing forward to take in more, bobbing your head as you savour finally having his attention. He lets out a small groan of satisfaction that makes your clit pulse, so you keep going, dragging your tongue along the underside.

“Good…perhaps I’ve been using you wrong this whole time. Instead of seeing you as a distraction, maybe I should just chain you to the desk to keep as my own personal stress reliever. Ready to open her whore mouth and take me whenever I see fit. I’m sure my productivity would increase.” He brags, although the hand that currently isn’t stroking your hair is gripping the arm of the chair so hard you’re sure the knuckles under his glove are white.

You moan around him in response, the sounds of you sucking filling the room in an indecent cacophony. As you do, your body feels like it’s on fire, like any sensation would tip you over the edge. But you’re determined to make him come undone, blinking up at him as you take him deeper. The hand that was on the top of your head runs down to your jawline, before a wicked idea forms.

“Well, I suppose if you insist on wearing your hair like that, might as well make it useful.” He sneers down at you, before gripping both ends of your pigtails. You realise what’s going to happen, and you do your best to relax your throat as he pulls you down on his cock, using the hair like handlebars to move you as he sees fit.

He isn’t being as rough as he could be, clearly holding back from really ruining your poor throat. But he still pushes you down until your eyes water, feeling his cock reach almost the back of your throat before giving you the respite of pulling you back up to the tip. Edward lets out a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment before snapping back open. He’d never been able to deprive himself of the beauty of your face as he ruins it.

“Fuck…look at you sweetheart. Such a mess.” He says like he’s chastising you.

You can’t hope to respond, a small whine escaping you until his cock fills your mouth once more. Sure, he’s not overly big, but he prides himself on being big enough to completely fill whatever hole he deems suitable. Over and over again he uses you, until you blink away soft tears and suck in a particularly good way; a hiss escapes him and he pulls you off roughly, letting go of your pigtails.

“I suppose you’ve been good enough to warrant a reward, I’ll allow you the honour of sitting on my cock.” He says, trying to mask the real reason; that he was seconds away from blowing his load deep down your throat.

But you’re delighted you finally have the chance to feel him properly, in the way you’ve touched yourself every night you’ve been here thinking about. So you climb back into his lap, positioning yourself above him before he crudely uses his cockhead to rub your clit in circular moments. Moaning simply makes him chuckle darkly, cooing at you to “stop behaving like a needy whore and enjoy what I give you.”

Luckily he lets you finally sink down on him, feeling every inch stretch you open until you’ve taken him all the way. You both moan out, but you watch as he tilts his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm cunt squeezing around him. He’s gorgeous like this, so unlike the demeaning supervillain he presents himself to Gotham as. You have no doubt you’ll see glimpses of that in a moment, but for now you enjoy how blissful his features are.

You experimentally roll your hips, making you both groan out, before you attempt to find a rhythm. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, clearly not wanting you to go too fast too quick, seeking to enjoy you for as long as he can. But you want to just ride him hard and fast, to chase your release until you’re making a mess all over his lap.

“Always so tight for me.” He grits out, and you bathe in the praise as you keep moving up and down. Your fingers dig in to the shoulder of his jacket, before he huffs and shrugs it off, leaving him in his off-white shirt and question mark tie. As you keep riding him, your hands trail down to his tie, idly playing with the material between your digits.

His grin grows as he looks at you. “So eager to strip me, or does the pretty girl have a lewder idea of what to do with my tie?” he says condescendingly.

When you just moan in response, he doubles down. “I could bind those pesky wrists behind your back, make sure you aren’t touching what isn’t yours. Or perhaps I’ll blindfold you, so you never know what your master is going to inflict upon you.”

His words cause you to clench harder around him, and he starts to play with your clit lazily as you move. With how pent up you are, your pace increases a little as his actions and words have you practically tasting your orgasm already. His hips twitch upwards a little, clearly fighting the urge to just take you all for himself in a mad rush. But how can he when you’re so close to coming undone for him, all by yourself?

“Oh look at that, is the big girl going to cum all by herself?” he smirks, his tone making you flush with embarrassment and arousal. But he’s right, with your body moving up and down coupled with his dexterous fingers toying with your clit, you were on the edge of orgasm.

As you nod quickly, he smirks and nods in return. “Make a mess all over me dear, just know I’m not going to stop until I achieve satisfaction.”

His words had trailed off in your mind half way through as you were too busy cumming on his cock, shaking and writhing in his lap. You slump forward, and he allows you the mercy of resting for a few moments before he bucks up into you, causing you to whine softly against his ear.

But he stops, his eyes darting to one of the top monitors, and a wicked expression crosses his face. “Be a doll and turn around for me, okay?”

You nod blindly at his instruction, turning so your back was to his chest before sinking back down on his throbbing cock. In your haze to do what he’d asked, you hadn’t followed his gaze to see what he’s looking at, not until he grasps your hips and begins to move you again do you glance upwards.

On one of the monitors, is one of his informants, dressed in what you think is Two-Face’s gang’s uniform, waving at the camera to get your lovers attention. Your breath catches at the sight, but Edward only chuckles behind you, not allowing you to slow down.

“Looks like we have an audience. Tell me, what’s to stop me from broadcasting a projection of what’s happening here outside on that wall behind him? Then he’d be able to see what a little whore like you does for my attention, for the riddler’s attention.”

His voice is deep and commanding, clearly the situation has stroked his ego in that all too familiar way, his grip almost bruising on your hips as he continues. “I think it’ll be good for the denizens of this wretched place to see who is really in charge, to remind them that my intellect has afforded me not just my reputation, but anything I desire. Including my cute little pet who offers herself up so willingly to me.”

His words are punctuated with guttural moans, his need now overwhelming. But he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, so he leans forward, one hand still holding you firmly in his lap and on his cock, before flicking a switch.

“Speak.”

“M-Mister Nigma, sir. I planted all them trophies ya wanted down in the courthouse, although I couldn’t do one of them, since I-I was nearly caught and-“

A particularly rough thrust upwards has you biting your lip after a small noise involuntarily escaped you, but you keep quiet as you try and control the rhythm of your movements. You’re glad you aren’t being projected for the man to see, but there is still the risk he’ll hear you. After all, you aren't sure how much the microphone can pick up, so he might be able to hear the soft squelch of your cunt as you move it up and down. Edward doesn’t seem bothered by the noise you made, simply rubbing your hips as he glares at the monitor.

“And you think this excuse will be useful to you? What the hell do I pay you for? I know a simple verbal instruction is hard for a cerebrally challenged monkey to follow, but do try and keep up.” He lambasts the poor guy out front, doing a remarkably good job of keeping his voice steady and even. But you can tell he’s getting off on the power of the situation; of having his lover servicing him sexually while he chastises one of the people who works for him.

“S-Sorry Mister Nigma, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”

Cruelly, Edward decides that now is the perfect time to move his hand up to tweak your nipple harshly, causing a whine to fall past your lips. You’re sure the man heard it, his features furrowing a little in confusion on the monitor before Edward flips the switch off.

With a grunt he lifts you off him before bending you over the desk and entering you in one harsh thrust yet again, the breath being knocked out of you. He sets a rough pace, clearly chasing his own release. All you can do is cling on for dear life as he uses you like a toy. The crude noises of your pussy being filled over and over again only serve to have you clenching around him in pleasure, your eyes forced to face the monitors. Forced to see just how much control Edward has over Arkham City, how much he knows about everything going on here as your eyes watch the inmates, and crucially how none of them know that he’s fucking you like a man possessed while you observe them.

“Fuck, it’s a shame I can’t fill you up while we’re in here. Guess I’ll just have to make you a filthy mess instead.” He grunts out, and you barely have time to process before he pulls out and quickly strokes himself to completion all over your ass. Both of your breaths can be heard heaving as you take a few moments to come down, the sensations still a gentle simmer across your skin. You hear him tuck himself away, fixing his clothes before you gently try and move.

“Stay.” He demands quietly, and you’re unsure why until you feel him gently cleaning his cum away from your skin with a spare rag. Once he’s done, he smooths your skirt back down as he helps you back into a standing position. Without uttering another word, he leads you back to the makeshift bedroom, settling you on the mattress to rest. You smile softly at the feeling of him taking care of you, in his own way. He sits on the edge, fidgeting with his hands a little. Getting comfy on the mattress, you go to reach out for him before stopping yourself, sensing something is…off with him.

“I…do in fact have something else for you. I was planning on giving it to you later, but you forced my hand.” He says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in intrigue. Getting up, he rifles through a drawer you hadn’t thought to look in until he removes a small black box, with a slightly charred ribbon tied around it.

“I can imagine spending your birthday in a prison city wasn’t your ideal scenario.” He states, handing you the box as you look at him, shocked. You hadn’t even mentioned it was your birthday, not really thinking it was the right time in your current situation.

“You remembered?”

He lets out a scoff. “Of course I remembered, I’m no simpleton. I’m more than capable of remembering a date, especially when this dim-witted society places so much emphasis on someone’s date of birth.”

As you glance at the box in your hand, he continues with an awkward cough. “I confess I did have something a little better in mind. But it’s hard to procure items in here that aren’t of the firearm or explosive variety, and I didn’t factor into my plans our joint incarceration.”

With a soft smile, you move yourself into a seated position and tug on the ribbon before opening the box, seeing a simple bracelet in his signature shade of green. “Edward…it’s lovely.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He says quickly, for once his eyes were trained to the ground instead of your face, “Again, not the gift I was planning for you but…well it’s the best I could do here.”

You’re truly touched, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smile lovingly up at him. “Edward it’s perfect, thank you.”

Shuffling, you wrap your arms around him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. You don’t care that you’re both covered in dry sweat, or that you both reek of sex, all you want is to be close to him. He pretends to huff at your display of affection, but he wraps his arms around you regardless, holding you flush against him.

“Happy birthday, my dear.”

[wingedqueenlynx]

Me when I see my fellow Riddler enjoyers on the same blogs:

@caesariawritesstuff @adhdnursegoat @finniestoncrane @vveirdvvitch @illustratedartist @faeryblade

[caesariawritesstuff]

Three years ago, I started writing Cat & Mouse on a whim. It started out as a small little idea. Who knew I'd still be writing this story three years later? Because I certainly didn't. It's crazy to think how much this story has changed my life and how far it's come. I'm still in shock and awe that so many people have supported this story over the years. Thanks for being on this journey with me, Ed, and Detective!

There's so much more to come. 💜💚

Special shout out to @kleineralbtraum, @heartsick-honeybee, @jkcreation, @faeryblade, @wingedqueenlynx, and @adhdnursegoat and so many others for supporting this story and rooting for it!

[riddley-art]

Tell me you are obsessed with the Arkham Riddler without telling me you are obsessed with the Arkham Riddler!

@adhdnursegoat @wingedqueenlynx

BTW, If anybody was curious about my appearance, this is it.

[fallenfortheniche]

The Scriddler Dissertation Part 1

(As lovingly named by Adhdnursegoat)

This is a re-posting of my initial reply to the origin of Scriddler w/minor adjustments so it can stand as its own post

Data Clarification: For reference all of the following sections are based only on digital fan works/discussions of these characters that I’ve been able to find. I’m sure there are many older websites, zines, and live fan events that I just don’t know about. Most of these observations come from searching through LiveJournal, Fanfiction.net, and AO3)

I’ve been fascinated by this topic for years and it took me multiple days to write this. One of the things I’ve been doing in my off time over the last year or so is tracking how different ships came about and how they change overtime/interact with trends in fandom. Scriddler is one of the ships I’ve spent a decent amount of time looking into because it fascinated me so much.

You’ve got this ship between two prominent characters, it’s the most written about ship for each character in their primary continuity, and they have barely shared a screen or let alone even talked to each other, along with the fact that no one could really confidently say how it came about.

The thing about Scriddler is that there isn’t a point origin the can be pinned down. There was no ship defining panel or interaction that acted as a catalyst to jump start the whole thing. Instead it just started as a few people seeing the potential these two characters had for an interesting dynamic and made fan works about that. From what I’ve been able to find, fan work featuring both characters interacting doesn’t begin to show up online until around 2006. Most of these are not Ship based stories although a few of those were still posted around this time.

As time went on you began to see more romantic/sexual ones pop up. The amount of these stories started out small with only about 4 to 7 being posted a year across multiple platforms. This pace stayed steady until 2011 when Arkham City was released.

This point is where some people might consider the origin of Scriddler to be. Fans became enamored with the few audio interactions that Jonathan and Edward had and began to write more about them in the Arkham Games continuity. The reason I don’t consider this to be the origin point is two fold. 1: a relatively decent amount of fic for these characters had already been written for about 5 years at this point. 2: The majority of stories written about this ship during and post Arkham City & Asylum do NOT take place in the games continuity and instead take place in a vague ‘comics’ continuity.

Now back to the main point, you can’t find an origin for Scriddler because there isn’t one. A bunch of people all just collectively agreed that it would be neat.

(Aside 1: I’d like to note that someone once claimed that Scriddler began due to people wanting to ship Cillian Murphy’s scarecrow with someone but not having anyone in the movies so they landed on Riddler from the comics. This is definitely not the case as the vast majority of stories at the time shipped Scarecrow with the Joker not Edward to fill that gay ship void and I couldn’t find any evidence of Edward being shipped with Jon in that continuity during that time)

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Edge of Us

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fmECgUH by adhdnursegoat In the shadows of Gotham City, Edward Nashton—brilliant, bitter, and disillusioned—finds himself unraveling more than just the corruption festering within the GCPD. Tasked with mentoring Romy Winslow, a sharp and enigmatic computer science student, Edward is both drawn to and infuriated by her presence. As their uneasy partnership deepens, sparks fly in a tense dance of intellect, ambition, and unspoken desires. But in a city where trust is fragile and deception runs deep, even the sharpest minds can be blindsided by the chaos of their own emotions. Set one year before Batman: Arkham Origins, Edward’s obsession with Gotham’s decay collides with his growing fixation on Romy, and lines blur between mentor and mentee. Together, they dive into the city’s labyrinth of secrets, unearthing truths that could shatter them both. But in a world of shadows, every connection comes with a cost, and the edge between love and destruction has never been thinner. Will they rise together—or fall apart in the pursuit of their own truths? Words: 21005, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Edward Nashton, Original Female Character, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Gillian Loeb, Renee Montoya, Batman, Bruce Wayne, Black Mask, Roman Sionis, The Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot, Kristen Kringle, Jack Hartley (OC), Other Original Characters Relationships: Edward Nashton/Original Character, Edward Nashton Original Female Character, Edward Nigma/Original Character, edward nigma/original female character, The Riddler/Original Character, the riddler/original female character Additional Tags: Action, Fluff, Canon: Batman: Arkham Origins (Video Game), Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Angst, Explicit Language, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham City Police Department, GCPD, Gotham City Police Department Being Incompetent, Cybercrime, Cybercrime Division, Corruption, Violence, Organized Crime, Edward Nashton Being Bad at Beind Human, Author Being Bad at Being Smart, seriously, Forgive My Stupidity, Forgive My Ignorance, I promise it's good, Why Do I Have to Be A Sapiosexual?, No Beta, We Die Like Men, I Will Go Down With This Ship read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fmECgUH

[caesariawritesstuff]

@wingedqueenlynx @adhdnursegoat @faeryblade

Tag yourself, I'm the one who goes to bed at 9

an online friend group may include:

guy who is nocturnal.

guy who goes to bed at nine pm.

guy who is inexplicably literally always online.

guy who lives on the other side of the planet.

[adhdnursegoat]

hi goats~

This is a 🔞 nsfw blog, minors dni 🔞.

I'm Tris, I'm a 29 yo, cis-fem, and I live in Alabama. Pronouns are she/they.

Since I was 12, I've been a fanfic writer and appreciator. However, once I graduated high school, I took a decade-long hiatus from both reading and writing due to school and adult life. Earlier this year, I had the urge to indulge in fanfiction once more, and now I am back with a fresh outlook and a dirty mind bursting with ideas.

It's been a pleasure exploring what the community has become in my absence, and I'm eager to dive back in.

ao3 I Best of: Riddler I WIP

A little more about me:

I have adhd; got my diagnosis at 27. It was a revelation.

The thing I'm proudest of is being a double major in nursing and psychology. I have been a registered nurse for 8 years and recently earned my BSN. I am still working on my BSP. As of 11/2024, I've been accepted into Nurse Practitioner school! 🥰

Currently, I work on an inpatient psychiatric unit caring for adults and substance use patients. My long-term goal is to become a mental health nurse practitioner.

When I have time, I volunteer as a sexual assault survivor advocate on call for my local crisis center.

what i write:

I am 95% Riddler focused (Arkhamverse, Zero Year, Young Justice, BTAS, Lonely City, and general). I will also write for Scarecrow and maybe the Sirens: Ivy, Selina, and Harley.

I am pansexual but I predominantly ship straight. Please keep this in mind when you read anything I write unless I explicitly state someone or something is gender neutral.

I strictly write f/m, gn/f or m, and f/f.

You may notice that many of my original/reader characters have some connection to nursing, medicine, psychology/psychiatry, or neuroscience. This is my little signature/crutch. I write what I know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm a little fucked in the head, so some of the stuff I write may not be to your liking. I will attempt to post content warnings.

Being an advocate for sexual assault survivors, I try to remain respectful and grounded when exploring these topics. But please note that I do write about this at times.

I'm willing to explore most kinks (even ones I have not tried), so I will list the ones I will not write for: > 🚫incest > 🚫 underage > 🚫 ageplay (physical age gap/ May-December is okay) > 🚫waterworks/scat/vomit > 🚫 raceplay > 🚫 bestiality > 🚫 anything extreme like fisting

masterlist:

Daughter of Fear - Riddler x Fem OC Gotham City Storybook Candy - Arkham City Riddler x Fem Reader Power Play - Zero Year Riddler x Fem Reader In Vein - Arkham City Vampire! Riddler x Fem Reader Human - Arkham Knight Riddler x Fem Reader Make Me Cry - Arkham Knight Riddler x Fem Reader The Edge of Us - Edward Nashton/Enigma X Fem OC

It is wonderful to meet you, and I look forward to interacting with y'all!

[capr1pengu1n]

So let's all pretend that we are undead

Summary: After an encounter with something you're sure wasn't human, you come to find that he can't seem to keep himself away from you

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), vampire au, so typical vampire things (vampire lore is whatever i say it is), choking, fingering, dom!Edward, power play, marking, stalker behaviour

Words: 4.6k

Notes: So after the lovely @adhdnursegoat posted her amazing vampire edward fic (which you all should read cause it's so delicious), i remembered i'd posted a vampire au fic on ao3 ages ago and never posted it on here, so here it is. I edited it so it flows better with how i write currently.

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The hairs bristle on the back of your neck as you walk your standard commute home, the physiological response a frighteningly normal part of your life for the past couple of weeks. You keep walking, one foot in front of the other as the wind lightly blows your skirt around your thighs. Out of the corners of your eyes, shadows move and twist into alleyways and darkened shop windows under the moonlight.

The feeling of being watched is something quite new to you. Of course, you were once a child cowering under the blankets at night, fear emanating from that corner of your room that was just a bit too dark, a bit too empty. However, the feeling had naturally dissipated once you reached adulthood. You grew up, realised no monsters were lurking in the shadows, or creatures hiding beneath your bed ready to feast on your ankles. At least, that's what you thought. But now, since you'd met him, you felt you were always the subject of someones intense gaze.

Thinking about the first time you met him, was it even a him? It made your head grow fuzzy and unfocused. You distinctly remembered the panic you felt after missing the last bus, the biting chill of the night air as you walked back, the tight feeling of your shoes and the planning to return them as they weren’t fitting right. The pre-occupied thoughts must have led you to take a wrong turn, but after that the memory feels wrong; like a tv full of static occasionally getting a flash of cable network. You remember a sort of warmth, a hand? Maybe, you think something must have pushed you. But what you mainly remember is the terrible ache in your neck the morning after, how groggy and light headed you'd felt. You shake your head and continue to press on, the faded memory won't help you get home after all. Although for a reason you can't quite place, the colour green won't leave your mind’s eye.

A clatter causes you to turn around, your heart jumping to your throat at the loud noise. False alarm, you watch as the empty pepsi can rolls sadly along the pavement. You get your phone out to entertain yourself until the screen flickers and the battery dies. You start to slightly panic now; you knew you’d charged it so there’s no way it should be out of power this quickly. As the streetlamps flicker too, you increase your pace. You’ve watched enough horror films to know you don't want to hang around when weird things start happening, so you maintain a quick stride, ducking through shortcuts and ignoring what you thought are footsteps behind you on multiple occasions.

“I think you dropped something.”

Before you register the question, you feel something grab your arm hard enough to have you stumbling. Your head spins around to face your attacker, ready to fight. He's tall, easily able to overpower you as you're pushed back against the wall and your face tilted up towards him. He looks…human? What an odd thing for you to think, it’s not like he can be anything else. Glasses frame his admittedly handsome face, and your eyes dart to the tailored suit that clings to him in a dark shade of green; the more you look at it, the more your mind seemingly feels fuzzy, so you opt to stare into the pools of his eyes instead.

You feel the blood pumping throughout your entire body, the nervous twitch of your fingers as your mind races. You want to run, to scream, to stay and find out what exactly the man before you wants. He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, gazing down at you in what could only be described as fascination. “Shhh, don’t fret” he whispers, the cadence somehow putting you more at ease and making your body feel weightless.

“What- what do you want?”

He seemingly laughs at that, like the mere thought of you attempting a conversation with him was somehow amusing, but he divulges you.

“I have come to apologise; I can’t help but think I-“ he pauses, “over-exerted you last time we met.”

You go to explain that you’ve never met him before, but like a tidal wave it comes crashing back to you. It was him. He had done something, left that mark on your neck and had you deliriously waking up inside your apartment with no clue how you came to arrive there. Now, all you can visualise in your mind’s eye when you think about that night is the dark green that adorns his figure.

“Clever girl, I knew you’d remember. Although I admit I was not the most gentlemanly presence that night.”

While his words imply that he's trying to apologise, his tone carries no such weight.

“Someone as delicate as you all alone, you’re lucky it was me who found you.”

Scrambling in your mind, you manage to crawl out of the haze he seemingly has you under to demand an answer to a question that has plagued you you. What happened that night? But all he says in reply was “I was hungry.”

Before you can hope to say another word, he softly brings his hand up to your jaw, tracing down your neck until he reaches the marks he left.

“They’ve healed well” he breathes; his voice so soft you could barely hear it. “I suppose it’s too soon to drink from you again, I do want you to remain intact.”

You should be scared, should be screaming for help and fighting him off, but you aren't. You don't want to, why do you want to be his captive? While you don't understand who, or what, he is, you somehow know that he doesn't want to hurt you. Instead, all you have to contend with is the embarrassing realisation that you have been pressing your thighs together the whole time he spoke, his voice vibrating through you as his touch sends little jolts all around your body. His eyes flit down to your thighs, and your whole body seems to shift under his gaze.

“Such an eager little thing” he muses, “I wasn’t expecting such a response, but it is indeed welcome”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and when he places his hand on your thigh you can't stop yourself from rocking forward. That motion causes a real laugh from him, a noise deep and inhuman, something that in any other situation probably would have sent shocks of anxiety through you but instead sends you deeper into your own depravity. But he withdraws his hand, and takes a deliberate step back away from you. Confusion sweeps across your face, although his remains impassive.

“No, if I am to take you it will not be in an alleyway like a common whore.”

Your face flushes as the reality of what you had just been so eager for him to do sets in, you don't even know this man’s name yet you were so willing to have him touch you so intimately.

“Go home pretty girl, I’ll announce myself when the time is right”

His tone leaves no room for negotiation as he moves to walk away, not before stopping to utter “My name is Edward, since you were wondering.”

You get the sense he already knows yours, despite never giving it. You blink and he's gone, he hadn’t walked away, he was simply gone. Dissipated into thin air like a blow of smoke. So, you start to walk home yet again, body still aching and your mind reeling at the encounter you’d just had.

It's a few days until you have an encounter with him again. The hour is late, although this time thankfully you're safe in your apartment, having finished your depressing routine of re-watching your favourite show alone with a quick dinner you’d prepared. You're just starting to doze off on the sofa when the knock comes at your door. Freezing, you turn towards the door and listen again. Another knock comes, loud and imposing. You weren’t expecting visitors, so shyly you get up to look through the peephole but nobody sees to be there. Opening the door, you jump when you see him, Edward, staring at you from the hallway.

“Mind if I come in?” he inquires, and something about the way he speaks makes you want to say yes to anything.

You manage to shake that disturbing feeling but stammer out a yes and step aside for him to enter. He looks the same as when you’d saw him last, his pristine suit spotless save for a small dot of red staining the crisp white of his shirt. He walks straight into your living room, looking around in feigned curiosity while you awkwardly pick at your sleeve. What were you even meant to say to him?

“Have you been thinking of me?” he asks, and stares deeply at your shocked expression. You hadn’t expected him to say something so blunt, so you change the subject to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting you had.

“Who are you? Why are you- “

“Why am I here? My dear I thought you’d be happy, after all it was you who was so desperate for my personal attention when we last spoke was it not?” He replies, the smugness present in his tone.

You know you have no way of avoiding the inevitable, shameful memories pouring through as you recall just how horny he’d made you with just a few simple touches. Although the rationality thankfully starts to come back to you, as you still hadn’t had a clear answer as to what happened to you during that previous encounter.

“I suppose I’ll lay your suspicions to rest; I can see they’ve been plaguing you.” He starts, ignoring your shocked expression as he seemingly reached into your mind and pulled out the interrogative you’d been thinking of. “When I first laid eyes on you, the hunger I had been experienced increased tenfold, I needed to have you in my arms while I drained the blood from your neck”

Now you really are speechless, the cold tone in which he admits to such an act causes a chill to run up your spine. It was so…inhuman. You should laugh in his face at such a story, but your thoughts go hazy and you find yourself accepting his speech as fact. As he speaks, he walks closer to you, and when you crane your head to look at him, his neutral expression can't quite hide the darkness in his eyes. 

“And so, I did. I bit into you and you satiated me. It’s been a while since my prey was so happy, even through the daze of your vision.” Amusement bleeds through his cadence as he recalls the memory of you pliant in his hands, reaching up to once again trace the mark left on your neck, now nearly healed.

“What the hell are you?”

The sound of his uncanny laugh reaches your ears once more, deep and unsettling. Instead of answering, he leans closer to your neck, his hot breath brushing against the mark he left. Tense, you close your eyes and brace for pain that never comes. Instead he simply kisses the spot, causing you to shiver and making him hum in appreciation.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands, “Do that and I will have you experiencing pleasures your fragile mind cannot hope to quantify.”

You can't stop the noise that rips from your throat even if you'd have tried, and despite any self-preservation you may have, you nod sheepishly.

“I said tell me, sweet thing.”

“I want you.”

“Good choice.”

He pushes you against the wall and you await his next rough movement, but instead he kisses at your neck, leaving little marks in his wake, and making you gasp at the coldness of his lips. He holds a tight grip on your hips, keeping you still and where he wants you, so all you can do is stand there and take his teasing. You feel something sharp as he drags what you guess are his fangs along your neck down towards your collarbones, your loose shirt allowing him access as he continues to leave his mark on your fragile skin.

“Do you have any idea,” He drawls against your shoulder, “how hard it is to hold myself back from ravaging you? Ever since that night, my desires have been plagued by you.”

You try to rock against him at his words but his grip remains firm.

“To think some mortal girl could overtake my thoughts like this.” The mixture of resentment and lust was clear in his voice, pulling away to look at you before grabbing your neck with his hand. You stand there, at the complete mercy of this man, this creature who could destroy you so easily, and it scares and exhilarates you in equal measure. But those thoughts come to an end when he finally kisses you roughly. Like a symphony, everything in your body seems to sing in delight, your eyes almost rolling back as the ecstasy of his lips on yours overtakes you. Maintaining the grip on your neck, his other hand makes its way down to your hips and up under your shirt. With every trace of his ice-cold fingertips up your torso, he leaves goosebumps in his wake and your body trembles. 

“Such a gorgeous thing.” he rasps, inches away from your lips. “So eager for my touch.”

You can only nod in response and grip on to the lapels of his jacket. You have never felt such burning desire in your life; the more you look in his eyes, the more the ache between your thighs intensifies. 

“Come now, let’s continue in more comfortable surroundings.”

He pulls away and leads you to your bedroom, you're so overcome with desire you fail to notice how he knows the layout of your apartment without you telling him. Before you can ponder that, you're sprawled on your back upon your bed, with him towering over you like the apparition of a god. He traces his hand over your body before lifting your shirt slightly to fully expose you to his gaze.

“I feed your anger, and I sicken your desire to satisfy me with every look, what am I?”

It takes you a moment to process what he says, but you're in no sense to try and decipher a riddle. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind, more so wanting to tell you the answer himself, proving his intellect.

“Envy, my dear. When I look at your body it makes me long for the warmth a mortal can provide.”

“You really aren’t human, are you?” you manage to stammer out, which awards you a low laugh from him.

“No. No I am not, although it doesn’t seem to be affecting you negatively now does it? I think you like it.”

He smiles then, a wicked grin that can only be described as a predator smiling at its prey. “Is that true? What a foolish little girl you are, getting aroused at the power of another being. Someone who could tear you apart.”

As he says the words, static jolts through your body making you let out a whimper and push against nothing. You look at him and he revels in your reaction, before the same sensation wracks through you. It's like you've had the air sucked from your lungs, you gasp and writhe as he commands your body without even touching you. But it isn't enough.

“Please- “

“Hm? Is there something you want my dear?”

After the third time he sends electric through seemingly your soul, you relent; you beg for him to touch you, to hurt you, to give you anything other than the blissful torture he was subjecting you to.

“If you insist.” is all he remarks callously before getting on the bed with you, ripping your underwear off with a hidden strength and pushing your skirt up, before lowering himself until he's eye level with your dripping cunt. The lewd position makes you embarrassed, but when he licks a stripe up you, your thoughts turn to mush and your head falls back. He repeats the motion before focusing on your clit, sucking while he grips onto your thighs. You can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips as he continues to please you with his mouth. Such divine pleasure coming from a creature shrouded in malevolent power makes the sensations so visceral, so intense. Bringing a hand to his hair, you attempt to shift your hips upward to feel more of his tongue but he keeps you firmly pressed into the mattress.

“You taste delightful.” He states against you, the vibration pleasantly shooting up your body. He continues to lick circles around your clit, and you gasp when you feel one of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Ask for more and I’ll give it to you, in abundance.”

So, you do. You beg for more in a way you didn’t think possible from you, sounding so desperate to your own ears. Looking down at him, you see the sadistic glint in his eyes at the way you sound, it's clear he was reveling in the power he has over you.

Luckily, he divulges your request, pushing a finger inside you; the coldness of it makes you whine and once again you attempt to shift under his grip. He ignores you, moving in and out until he feels you're ready enough for him to add a second one. All the while he continues to lavish your clit with his tongue, giving you an ecstasy that leaves your body ignited with lust. You need more, you can't take anymore. It's too much and not enough all at once.

Your pitiful cries seem to spur him on, thrusting his fingers a bit faster and crooking them just right to have your eyes rolling back into your skull. Over and over again, he has you at his mercy and you adore every second. To think you’d found out this man, this thing wasn’t human and in the same encounter offered yourself and your body willingly to him scared and excited you in one single warped wave of pleasure. He starts to gently suck on your clit once again, his fingers thrusting faster and rougher into your soaked cunt. You know it won't be long before you come undone beneath him, the prediction coming true as you feel it build inside you. Just like before he seems to once again enter your mind and know what you're thinking.

“Are you close already? My my how desperate you truly are, do you want to cum?”

You nod eagerly; your vision hazy as something seems to overtake your brain like a blanket atop a candle. You hear him speak again, but not just through your ears but through your mind.

“Submit to me, become mine and I will grant you the pleasure you crave.”

There's no other option, you have to say yes and you know you want nothing more. So you offer yourself to him fully, claiming to be his, watching as he seemingly comes alive; his fingers moving impossibly quick and something like colour appearing on his cheeks.

“Then cum.”

With his permission you let go, crying out his name as fireworks seemingly explode in your entire body. Squeezing your eyes shut, you can't control the frenzied movement of your body as it thrusts up into him. His grip on your thigh had loosened, allowing you to ride out your frantic pleasure as it seemingly lasts for an eternity. When you finally come back down from the heavens you're breathing sharply, opening your eyes to see Edward rising slightly from his position. You barely have time to think before he leans forward and bites your inner thigh. A sharp pain rushes through you as you look down in shock, seeing him lap up the blood that trickles from the wound; your thigh now has the exact same mark which was on your neck and despite both your morality and post-orgasm haze, your cunt throbs at the sight of him drinking up your blood.

“It seems I couldn’t control myself.” He states matter-of-factly, wiping a trace of blood from his lips with his finger. He then looks at you with an expression you can't read, before leaning over you and placing the finger in your mouth. Without thinking you suck the bloodied finger clean, staring at his eyes which darkened at your actions.

“Good girl.”

It had been the only time thus far that he’d praised your actions, which leads to you flushing and turning your head away. He brings you back to facing him with a hand on your jaw.

“You’re so easy to read, I hardly need to comb through your mind to know what you’re thinking.”

You stare at him, unsure as to how to vocalise your feelings. You settle on asking him how he can read your mind, which results in him smirking slightly.

“Reading your mind? What a simplistic way to put it. But I suppose if that’s the language it takes for you to understand, yes people like me can do that with ease.”

You feel a little embarrassed at the condescending way he speaks to you, although it isn't long before you forget all about it when you feel him push you so you're on your back once again. You look up at him, before he captures your lips in a fierce kiss once again. Each time he does this, it always strikes you just how cold his skin is to the touch.

“Now,” he starts, “I will take you properly, hm?”

You're a little shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you nod regardless. As he gets you in position, that same clouding of your mind happens as it had earlier; the weight of something pressing on your thoughts, making you feel so desperate for his attention, his touch, his anything.

With a gasp from your lips, you feel him enter you, a whine escaping your lips at the sensation. Grabbing on to his shoulders, you feel the air be drawn from your lungs as he pulls out and thrusts into you harshly. 

“You feel…divine” he manages to say into your ear, before his thrusts become slower. He traces his hand down your body, grabbing at your tits before growling slightly and ripping your top completely off; you’d been so caught up in what happened you’d forgot you were still wearing it. With every slow thrust you almost feel your sanity slipping away more and more, your fingernails digging in more and more to his shoulders.

“How does it feel? To have a…creature so superior to you inside you? He whispers, the pride in his voice suffocating. Despite his narcissism, you can't help but whine and tell him how good everything feels, not quite being able to articulate the pleasure he was giving you through more than just his physical touch. 

He begins to speed up after your admission, grabbing at your hip and waist before stroking his hand up and wrapping it around your throat; not squeezing but simply holding. You have no doubt that even though he was fucking you, he still posed a danger to you, and as you looked into his cold eyes you could see that that was the point. He delights in the control he has, that he could just as soon kill you than he could make you cum. And more importantly, he knows you like it.

You feel your eyes roll back slightly as he continues his pace, the slight noises of pleasure from his lips make your cunt throb more. He doesn't seem to get tired or over-exert himself, instead maintaining whatever rhythm he desires.

“Such a…greedy thing” he states, his thrusts getting faster, “You truly are a vision, what a pretty pet I seem to have found.”

You shudder at his words; your fingers having moved to drag your nails down his back as he adjusts his head near your ear to whisper into. The pleasure, the sensation, it's overwhelming. You shift your hips, the angle causing him to hit that spot inside you that has your mind reeling. All you can do is nod and release noises from your mouth that upon reflection you’re sure can't have come from you, they're so…desperate.

“And I’ll be sure to make you into such a good pet for me…all mine to use.” It was clear he meant what he said, his hand tightening on your throat. You can't help but moan at his words, the chill of his body pressing against yours mixing to create a euphoria in your head. Over and over, he thrusts into you, getting deliberately rougher as you two get closer and closer.

It was then you feel something you can't describe, an oppressive feeling throughout your entire body that simmers just below your skin. You don't know how, but you know it's him causing you to experience the strange sensation.

“Do you feel it? The control I have over you?” His grip tightens on your neck even more, causing you to struggle for breath. The feeling in your body swirls and fills every pore, every inch of you. You have never experienced anything like this in your life, the sheer ecstasy and torture of being at this monster’s mercy, inside and out.

“What fun I shall have with you, your mind cannot hope to quantify the things I am able to do to you, and I will do all of them.”

You aren't sure whether it's his rough pace, his harsh words or the fact that whatever he's doing to your mind decided it was time, but you cum loudly and frantically. The waves of pleasure crash into you; you feel as though if it wasn’t for his form pressed so close, you'd fall through the mattress and into nothingness. The world seems blurry and disjointed, your nails digging in to his back so harshly you're sure in the back of your mind you're leaving marks. Strained breaths claw their way up your throat as you feel his grip loosen, his thrusts never faltering for a moment. Overwhelmed, the feeling of him pounding into you while you're still so sensitive causes you to whine pitifully, but all you can do was lay there and let him use your body. The drag of his cock pulling out and pushing back in to you hurt so good, you almost don't want it to end despite the overstimulation. You aren't sure how long it takes, or even if you cum again from the sheer amount of pleasure your body was receiving but you feel him cum inside you, rambling about how you belonged to him as he rides out his own high. 

All that you can hear in the room is your loud laboured breathing, as the weight of his body on you was now gone. You look up at him, seeing him adjust his clothes like he’d simply done something mundane, not fucked you within an inch of your life. He glances over at you, at how pitiful you looked; half naked and sweaty, thoroughly satiated and he smirks a little. Within a moment he reaches over and strokes your cheek slightly, the intimacy surprising you. He brushes some hair out of your face, his fingers slightly shaking before standing up.

“Rest, your fragile body needs it.” His tone sounds distant, but there was a hint in his face that he wants to say something else but refrains.

“Will I see you again?”

Your question makes him smile slightly, walking towards your bedroom door but stopping before he left.

“Would you like that?” 

The way he asks makes you think he's experiencing surprise, as if the thought of you wanting to interact with him again was somehow unusual. You nod your head.

 “Then yes…I’m sure you will.”

He leaves without saying another word, leaving you still sprawled out on your bed, your mind racing. With slightly shaky limbs, you adjust yourself and wrap the blanket around your trembling form, exhaustion settling into your bones. The next morning, you're ready to write the encounter off as a wildly inappropriate dream until you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, still naked. Marks. Lots of them. All over your neck, with what looked to be fingerprints adorning the side. And as you gazed at the massacre of your skin, soft fingertips gently running over the blotched marks, you can't help but smile.

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[wingedqueenlynx]

Rules: without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favourite films, then tag ten people to do the same

Thanks to @finniestoncrane and @vaporwavebeach for tagging me. I tried rebloging Finnies tag earlier but my tumbler got screwy (Most likely load in after a few hours smh lol) but here's my movie gifs

No pressure tags

@caesariawritesstuff @adhdnursegoat @exaflux @ssaltyttaffy @lime-oh-nade

[caesariawritesstuff]

@adhdnursegoat @wingedqueenlynx

Literally me because it is CONSTANT

the accidental unfollow followed by the refollow of shame is so fucked

[caesariawritesstuff]

Rule #1 of the #RiddlersSisterWives: on Wednesdays we wear green.

@adhdnursegoat @wingedqueenlynx @riddley-art

[riddley-art]

Pawns of the Past: A RiddleCat love story

Chapter 1

Summary: Set six months after the fall of the Justice League, thanks to the Suicide Squad, and five years after Arkham Knight, Riddler tracks down Catwoman, who’s been living far from Gotham, determined to reclaim the money she stole from him. Their tense confrontation takes an unexpected turn as old sparks reignite. What begins as a mission of revenge slowly evolves into a complicated romance, forcing both Selina and Eddie to confront their feelings, their pasts, and the possibility of a future neither expected.

I’m beyond excited to finally share the project I’ve been working on with the incredible @adhdnursegoat! This is our very first RiddleCat fic, and we’re so thrilled to bring it to life today. 💜💚

Also, a very Happy Birthday to the amazing @wingedqueenlynx! We thought today would be the perfect day to premiere our fic. We hope your special day is filled with joy!🎂🎈

Rated: Mature

Archive of our Own link

There are people from your past who never truly disappear. Even when they’re not in your immediate orbit, their presence lingers like a phantom—a constant reminder of what was, what could have been, or what went wrong. Very few people leave a lasting impression on him. Batman, naturally. Commissioner Jim Gordon. And then, there’s Selina Kyle—Catwoman.

She has always been there, someone oddly placed in his life. Their relationship isn’t straightforward. It never was. But it isn’t like the others, either. She isn’t an enemy in the conventional sense, nor an ally. She exists in the gray, just as she always does. Both unpredictable and reliable in her own way, and that’s what makes her stand out. She was never fully committed to either side, but she leaves a mark, a lingering taste of chaos and allure in his life.

The new him, the version that exists after everything fell apart, can admit that he kind of had it coming. He should have known better. He should have never captured her. It was a miscalculation, one he wouldn’t have made if his judgment hadn’t been clouded. But at the time, he was too caught up in his own web of narcissism, pride, and arrogance.

He had thought he was untouchable, intellectually superior, always a step ahead of everyone—including Selina. He underestimated her. He always did. She wasn’t just some thief to manipulate, just another pawn in one of his grand schemes. No, Selina was different. And in his blindness, he didn’t see that. He captured her, placed her in one of his elaborate death traps, assuming she would be just another piece in his game against the Bat. 

But she kicked his ass.

And now, years later, with the benefit of hindsight and a bruised ego, he’s man enough to admit it. She got the better of him. She outwitted him. It wasn’t just a fluke; it was a wake-up call. And perhaps, in a strange way, he respects her even more for it. She wasn’t someone to be underestimated or reduced to a mere obstacle.

But that doesn’t mean she has gotten off scot-free.

Even now, after the dust has settled and Gotham has changed, she is always there—like an echo. The memory of her, the feeling of unfinished business, gnaws at him. Selina never disappears entirely from his thoughts. He can admit her strength, her cleverness, but that doesn’t erase the fact that there is a score to settle.

Yes, she defeated him once. Yes, she exposed his hubris and made him confront his fallibility. But he isn’t done with her.

Riddler, the ever-proud Edward Nigma, still feels the sting of his defeat at her hands. And that sting fuels a quiet determination. He’s learned from the encounter. The new him isn’t blinded by arrogance anymore. He’s calculated, deliberate, and methodical. He may admit that she got the better of him once, but he won’t allow that to be the end of their story.

She owes him. She stole from him. He can handle the bruised ego, the physical pain from the ass-whooping, but the money? The loss of his fortune stung worse than the sting of her claws or the sharp crack of her whip. For Edward Nigma, it wasn’t about the violence. It was about the humiliation, the blow to his carefully constructed sense of superiority. Selina Kyle didn’t just beat him physically—she outwitted him, left him scrambling in the rubble of his own failure.

That night was the beginning of his ruin.

Well, after weeks of meticulous tracking, he's finally less than a mile away from the infamous Catwoman. Five long years have passed since the night she stole every cent he had in his accounts, and blew up his prized robot factory, leaving him not only penniless but utterly humiliated. For someone like Edward, whose pride and identity are rooted in his genius, it was an unforgivable offense.

Over the years, he’s plotted his revenge. His mind, sharp as ever, has concocted a hundred different ways to make her pay. He could have easily ended it in bloodshed, an elaborate trap leading to a satisfying, fatal conclusion. But somewhere along the line, his anger cooled, and something else replaced it—pragmatism. He realizes there is more to gain from Selina alive than dead, and more importantly, he’s learned a thing or two about humility. Besides, his recent experience with bombs has given him an uncomfortable empathy for what he put her through.

He remembers that night well, that Halloween when everything between them fractured. He had placed an explosive device on her, an unforgivable betrayal of whatever shaky trust had once existed between them. Their relationship had always been a tightrope walk—sometimes adversarial, sometimes friendly, sometimes… more. But that night, he crossed a line, and she responded in kind.

Years later, Edward thinks back to his freelance work with the Suicide Squad. Watching those miniature bombs being injected into people’s heads, seeing the terror on their faces as they realized their lives could be ended at the push of a button… it had shaken even him. He remembers seeing men and women reduced to quivering wrecks, their dignity stripped away by the fear of instant annihilation. The memory still lingers in the back of his mind like a bad aftertaste, making him realize just how monstrous his actions had been.

It gives him a new perspective on what he did to her. He understands now, in a way he hadn’t before, the violation of it. The fear she must have felt, knowing that he had that kind of power over her. It was a level of cruelty even he hadn't fully appreciated at the time.

So now, after all the years of anger and plotting, he’s decided to take a different approach. He doesn’t want to kill her, and he doesn’t need to break her spirit. Instead, he’s resolved to do something that surprises even him. He’s going to ask for his money back.

It sounds ridiculous on the surface, even laughable, but Edward has never been one to shy away from the absurd. He’s long since learned that the simplest solutions are often the most effective, and at this point, he’s willing to swallow his pride to get what’s owed to him. And really, given what he did to her, he has to admit, asking for the money is a fair conclusion. It’s almost reasonable, considering their history.

A part of him feels smug about it. After all, it takes a genius to come up with a solution this simple.

As he closes the distance between them, less than a mile now, Edward finds himself more curious than angry. What has Selina been up to all these years? Has she been running from him, or did she forget he ever existed? The latter would be worse. He’s not sure he can stomach the idea that she’s moved on, while he’s been obsessing over her betrayal, over the money, over that look on her face when she realized what he’d done to her. He wonders if she thinks about that night, or if he’s just another ghost from her past she left behind.

He doesn’t expect an apology. Selina doesn’t do apologies. But he’s ready for a confrontation. Maybe she’ll laugh in his face, or maybe she’ll try to fight him again. But either way, Edward is ready for her. He’s different now. He’s not the same arrogant fool she humiliated five years ago. He’s learned patience, a hard-earned lesson in the art of revenge.

This time, it’s not about winning. It’s about closure. About moving on from this chapter of his life.

But a part of him knows—deep down—Selina Kyle is not someone you just walk away from. She’s always been a wild card in his life, an unpredictable force. Whatever happens when they meet, it won’t be simple. It never is with her.

And perhaps, after all these years, he’s finally ready to embrace that.

This time will be different. This time, when their paths cross again, he’ll be ready for her. There will be no missteps, no underestimating her abilities. She might have thought she got away clean, but the truth is, he always comes back. That’s his nature. He doesn’t let things go, not when there’s a puzzle still left unsolved, and Selina Kyle is one of the most intricate puzzles of all.

She’s not just a reminder of his past mistakes—she’s something more. Selina is both a rival and something else entirely. The tension between them, the way they constantly dance around one another, never truly on opposite sides but never aligned, has always been part of the pull. Their dynamic is a game of its own, one he is determined to master.

But for now, she remains untouchable, a ghost in his past that lingers, taunting him with the memory of defeat and the promise of another chance. And when that chance comes, he’ll make sure he doesn’t fall prey to the same weaknesses.

This isn’t over. It’s never really over with Selina Kyle.

Granted, he never truly intends to kill her—or at least that's what he tells himself to feel better about it now. But deep down, he knows he'll have to tread lightly, or that lingering resentment might surface.

Arriving at a secluded plantation nestled in the Smoky Mountains of Sevierville, Tennessee, Riddler has to admit—it’s the perfect place to disappear off the grid. With the sunset set to dip below the horizon in the next hour, he slips into the thick brush about half a mile from the house and quietly spies on her. He needs to be certain she’s not only home alone but also that there isn’t any high-end security in place that could potentially put his life in danger.

She’s pretty smart, and that’s one of the things he likes about her. As he opens his backpack to pull out his homemade binoculars, chatter starts buzzing in his earpiece. The Suicide Squad—they always know how to ruin his train of thought.

"Are we finally rid of that Riddler? We haven't heard a peep from him in weeks. Ahh, maybe someone finally did the job!" Harley Quinn chimes in, her voice gleeful over the comms.

"Damn it! Someone beat me to it—I already had my plans all drawn up," Captain Boomerang grumbles, clearly disappointed.

"Saved me several bullets," Deadshot adds darkly, his tone as cold as ever.

"I'M NOT DEAD, you annoying parasites! I'm on a business trip, if you must know!" Riddler shouts, his voice booming through the comms. "Trust me, you'll get your fill of my beautiful riddles soon enough when I return!"

Riddler smiles smugly after his outburst, thinking he’s won this round.

"Well, shit, you spoke too soon, mate!" Boomerang quips with a laugh.

Rolling his eyes, Riddler turns down the volume on his earpiece, focusing back on the task at hand. He raises his binoculars, scanning the area to see what he’s up against.

"What kind of 'business trip' are you on, anyway? We all know nobody would hire you! You practically beg Waller to let you set up challenges for us, like the attention-seeking loser you are!" Harley cackles through the comms, her laughter ringing in his ears.

"Let’s just say I’m visiting an old friend to collect an investment they’ve been holding onto for quite a few years," Riddler replies coolly, still peering through his binoculars as he speaks into the earpiece.

"Oh, paying Catwoman a visit, eh, mate? I’d pay to see her kick your ass!" Boomerang’s smirk is practically audible. 

"She’ll probably claw his eyes out before he even realizes he’s getting his ass kicked," King Shark finally chimes in, his deep voice rumbling through the comms.

Edward is starting to realize that this must be how Batman felt whenever he interrupted him with a random riddle after one of his challenges. The constant chatter, the distractions—it is almost poetic.

He loses his train of thought the moment he finally catches sight of her on the second story of her house. Slowly zooming in, he starts to take in more details. 

The years have been kind to her—she still looks as attractive as ever. The subtle sway of her hips as she moves around the room ignites old feelings he thought he had buried. But, who is he kidding? He’s always found her stunning, and nothing has changed. There is a timeless quality about her, an allure than seems to transcend the years and the chaos that often enveloped their lives. 

She hasn’t changed much over the years, except for one noticeable feature. "She grew her hair out again... just like she did in Rome all those years ago." A slow smile spreads across Riddler's face as memories of that heist flood his mind. He can hardly believe it’s been ten years since they pulled off that audacious caper together, a whirlwind of adrenaline and shared glances.

Edward remember the was her hair cascaded down her shoulders then, an inky curtain framing her face, just as it does now. 

They had been a formidable duo, feeding off each other’s wit and daring, pushing boundaries together in a dance that was exhilarating and perilous. That time in Rome was more than just a heist; it was a moment in time where everything felt possible. A moment where they were united in a shared goal, and their banter felt electric. They were a team, partners in crime and mischief, driven by a shared thrill. 

"Whoa, whoa—what happened in Rome!?" Boomerang’s voice suddenly cuts through his thoughts, dragging him back from the precipice of nostalgia. Riddler blinks, realizing he’s forgotten to mute his comms.

"Oh, that’s where they made out on a ship!" Harley teases, her voice dripping with mischief. Riddler clenches his jaw, fighting the impulse to launch into a tirade of about the ridiculousness of her assumption. 

Only Harley’s statement is true…

"WHAT?!" all three men shout in unison.

Frustrated, Riddler lowers his binoculars, glaring at nothing in particular. "We did NOT make out," he snaps, the heat of indignation creeping into his voice. "We just... kissed. A bunch of times." He waves his hand dismissively at nothing in particular, struggling to find a better way to describe it—even though it’s not entirely true.

"Yeah, in her underwear!" Harley adds, piling on the mischief. The mental image she conjures is embarrassing, blurring the line between memory ad fantasy, and he grimaces, a heat creeping up his collar. 

The silence that follows over the comms is deafening, each second stretching out as he feels the weight of their collective surprise and judgment. Riddler feels his frustration rise to the point where he nearly crushes his earpiece in his hand, his mind swirling with indignation and bashfulness. How did he end up here, with his past on display, under scrutiny from this absurd group?

"Well, damn, Nigma," Boomerang finally breaks the tension, "you’ve got some game after all." Riddler can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes him frown, irking him more than he would care to admit.

"What game is he playing?" King Shark chimes in, sounding genuinely confused.

"The game where he’s not just a lonely loser after all," Boomerang quips, clearly reveling in Riddler’s discomfort. "No wonder you want to pay her a visit—you’re hoping to score some more 'points,' aren’t you, mate?"

"This sounds like a fun game! Can King Shark play?" King Shark asks, his confusion genuine.

"This is not a game! That was a long time ago!" Riddler snaps, bringing his binoculars back to his eyes. "I’m just here to take what’s rightfully m—" But his thoughts freeze at the sight before him. 

Selina is now completely naked, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of her home, the casual confidence with which she moves, leaving him momentarily dumbstruck. He has no words, and his face grows hot.

He swallows hard, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air, desperate to find something to say but utterly speechless. Never in his life has he seen anyone so... well, voluptuous. The sight is captivating, a vision that both ignites a primal instinct within him and remains him of boundaries they had once navigated together. His heart pounds in his chest as if it’s about to burst, echoing the rush of adrenaline through his veins. 

He hasn’t felt this surge of male instinct in what feels like forever. The years of calculated control he had imposed upon himself start to unravel as memories of her linger. As he tries to regain his composure, his mind races with thoughts that seem both inappropriate and entirely avoidable. He knows he should look away, to respect her privacy, but the sight of her unabashedly beautiful has stolen his executive functions. 

"He probably just saw her naked. That’s what shut him up," Harley teases, her laughter ringing out through the comms. 

Harley’s words are like a jolt to his system, snapping him out of the trance Selina had him in. He quickly lowers the binoculars, turning his face away, fighting the overwhelming urge to sneak another peek. He reminds himself—he’s trying to be a gentleman, not a creep.

But that image of her will stay with him for the rest of his life—after all, he has a photographic memory. He remembers everything. Every detail of her is etches into his mind: the way the light dances across her skin, the curve of her body, the confidence she exudes so effortlessly. It is overwhelming, an image that feels both sacred and illicit. 

As much as he tries to push it out of his mind, the memories of that kiss they shared years ago flicker in his mind’s eye, resurfacing with a clarity that both excites and unnerves him. The endearing scent of her perfume - the was it had enveloped him, sweet and intoxicating, drawing him closer as they had learned into one another. 

He recalls the smooth touch of her silk underwear against his fingertips, the way it had felt against his skin, so stark to his mechanical world. That single moment of intimacy has been a revelation, a glimpse into a connection that had always simmered just beneath the surface. 

And then there was the sweet taste of her lips, something intoxicating that he felt only Poison Ivy was capable of possessing. But Selina’s kiss was venomous in its own right - addictive, unforgettable. He remembers how time seemed to stop, how the world around them faded - a fleeting escape from the chaos around them. 

Riddler’s thoughts spiral, his focused split between chasing her image and trying to respond to the team . He feels the heat of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks, even in the anonymity of his surroundings. He has always prided himself on his intellect, his ability to compartmenatlize his emotions and desires, yet here he is, undone by a memory of a kiss and the sight of a nude woman. Is it infuriating, yet the frustration is laced with a begrudging admiration for Selina. 

"He totally just saw her naked, no doubt," Deadshot chimes in, clearly amused.

"Wow, Nigma, a peeping Tom, huh? Didn’t know you had it in you," Boomerang adds, laughing along.

“Ooo, tell me, does she have big boobs? Is this part of the game you’re playing?” King Shark asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“SHUT UP!” Riddler barks, taking a deep breath to steady himself before slowly exhaling. “I am not a creep, and I’m not here to rekindle anything with her. I’m just here to get my money back—for the last time! You’d better start studying because when I return, the challenges I create will be so mind-numbing none of you will be able to function properly.”

“Oh yeah, Nigma, we’re so terrified over here,” Harley teases, clearly enjoying the rise she’s getting out of him. “And let me know how your first time goes!” she adds with a mischievous laugh, igniting a spark of annoyance in Riddler. 

��Aaahhh!” he screams, yanking the earpiece out and stuffing it into his bag, with a forceful huff, desperate to block out their voices once and for all. The chatter of the team feels like a cacophony, each jibe more irritating than the last. He knows they are having fun, and it feels like a tidal wave of judgment crashing down on him, drowning out any sense of focus he had managed to muster. 

“Mmm,” he smirks to himself, “joke’s on her—I’m not even a virgin.” He says it proudly, but then the reality sinks in; it’s been years since he’s even touched a woman. The rush of bravado dissipates, replaced by an uncomfortable awareness of the truth: he hasn’t had any meaningful physical connection in ages. Come to think of it, that trip to Rome might have been the last time he got any action.

“I really am a loser,” he mutters in defeat, the smugness draining from his face like a leaky balloon.

Shaking his head, he tries to refocus and gets back to work. With deliberate movements, he raises his binoculars again, hoping enough time has passed for her to get dressed, and scans the house for her once more.

Selina is still in the same spot, but now dressed in a lavish dark purple gown. The fabric is reminiscent of the Catwoman suit she wore back in the good old days. The gown clings to her in all the right places, accentuating her curves, the deep violet fabric shimmering slightly in the evening light. It’s elegant yet dangerous—just like her.

Riddler’s breath hitches slightly as he takes in the scene. She looks poised, her movements graceful, as if every step and gesture has purpose. He finds himself captivated, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, each one trying to grasp the essence of the woman before him. 

She has the same confidence that used to draw him in, back when their partnership—if you could call it that—was less complicated.

He can’t help but admire her, not just for her looks, but for the way she carries herself—always a step ahead, always unpredictable. Memories flood his mind—heists they’d pulled off together, the moments they shared between the chaos. She’s the only person who ever made him feel like an equal in their twisted world.

As he watches, she moves to a table near the window, casually sipping from a glass, completely unaware of his presence. Riddler knows this moment is crucial. He has to get his head back in the game. But every time he thinks about stepping forward, confronting her, he hesitates.

What would he even say? His carefully rehearsed words seem to evaporate in the face of the real thing. Is he really just here for the money? The thought gnaws at him, but he quickly pushes it aside.

He’s Edward Nigma—the Riddler, not emotions. He needs to focus. But seeing her again after all these years, looking so composed and untouchable, makes it harder than he imagined.

Focus, Nigma, he tells himself. This isn’t a reunion—it’s business.

Of course, Selina has a life of her own. She always has, but seeing her like this, dressed to impress and clearly waiting for someone, makes something twist uncomfortably inside him. He isn’t here for emotions, though—he has a job to do.

Riddler’s mind quickly shifts gears. If she’s going out, this is his opportunity. He’ll slip in once she leaves, retrieve what’s his, and be gone before she even knows he was there. It’s a flawless plan. Classic Riddler—strike when the other person least expects it.

The breeze blows her dark hair as she steps outside onto the porch, a small purse in hand, standing tall and elegant against the backdrop of her lavish home. The sun is just beginning to sink below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the Smoky Mountains. She glances down the driveway, clearly waiting for someone to arrive.

As he watches her now, he feels a pang of longing. The playful rivalries, the teasing back-and-forth, the way they could challenge each other and still find common ground—it was intoxicating. But it’s also a reminder of what was lost. They had drifted apart, their paths diverging after that fateful night. She had become an enigma, a shadow he could no longer grasp.

Minutes pass, and Riddler watches from the shadows as Selina checks her phone, then glances down the road again. Another ten minutes go by. She sits down on the porch steps, her fingers tapping idly against her phone, each tap an unspoken word echoing her frustration. Though her form remains poised and graceful, tension seeps into her demeanor, her once lively energy dimming as the minutes stretch on. 

Thirty minutes. Then forty. The sun is completely gone now, the last traces of twilight fading into darkness. Selina is still there, sitting on the porch, her head resting in one hand as she checks her phone for what must be the hundredth time.

Riddler’s smirk fades as he continues to observe. No one’s coming, he realizes. The thought brings an unexpected pang of sympathy. She’s dressed to impress, waiting for someone who clearly isn’t going to show. Her confident, alluring exterior has cracked just enough to show the disappointment underneath.

It is disconcerting to finally see past Catwoman’s armor. He notes the subtle was her shoulders ag, the slight droop that gives her a weariness he had not expected to witness. When she finally puts her phone down, letting out a soft sigh that lingers in the cool evening air, it is as it she is resigning ehrself to a reality that her evening is not going to unfold as she hoped. The strength that usually defines her has ebbed just enough for him to glimpse the woman behind the mask. 

Riddler hesitates, crouched in the brush, binoculars still trained on her. This wasn’t how he planned things. She was supposed to be gone by now, making it easy for him to slip in and out unnoticed. But now, watching her sit there alone, the thrill of the heist doesn’t feel quite as satisfying. In fact, it feels almost hollow. 

Something inside him shifts. Maybe it’s the old memories resurfacing, or maybe it’s the sight of Selina—someone so strong and independent—looking vulnerable. Either way, he knows this is his moment, but not in the way he originally planned.

With a deep breath, he steels himself and makes his decision. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he carefully makes his way toward the house, the soft grass giving away under his boots. As he approaches the porch, the light from the house casts long shadows across the yard. Selina, lost in thought, doesn’t seem to notice him until he’s just a few feet away.

“Waiting for someone?” he asks softly.

Selina jumps slightly, turning to face him with wide eyes, startled eyes. For a moment, she just stares at him, clearly surprised by his sudden appearance.

“Eddie?!”

End of Chapter 1

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Edge of Us

by adhdnursegoat In the shadows of Gotham City, Edward Nashton—brilliant, bitter, and disillusioned—finds himself unraveling more than just the corruption festering within the GCPD. Tasked with mentoring Romy Winslow, a sharp and enigmatic computer science student, Edward is both drawn to and infuriated by her presence. As their uneasy partnership deepens, sparks fly in a tense dance of intellect, ambition, and unspoken desires. But in a city where trust is fragile and deception runs deep, even the sharpest minds can be blindsided by the chaos of their own emotions. Set one year before Batman: Arkham Origins, Edward’s obsession with Gotham’s decay collides with his growing fixation on Romy, and lines blur between mentor and mentee. Together, they dive into the city’s labyrinth of secrets, unearthing truths that could shatter them both. But in a world of shadows, every connection comes with a cost, and the edge between love and destruction has never been thinner. Will they rise together—or fall apart in the pursuit of their own truths? Words: 21005, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Edward Nashton, Original Female Character, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Gillian Loeb, Renee Montoya, Batman, Bruce Wayne, Black Mask, Roman Sionis, The Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot, Kristen Kringle, Jack Hartley (OC), Other Original Characters Relationships: Edward Nashton/Original Character, Edward Nashton Original Female Character, Edward Nigma/Original Character, edward nigma/original female character, The Riddler/Original Character, the riddler/original female character Additional Tags: Action, Fluff, Canon: Batman: Arkham Origins (Video Game), Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Angst, Explicit Language, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham City Police Department, GCPD, Gotham City Police Department Being Incompetent, Cybercrime, Cybercrime Division, Corruption, Violence, Organized Crime, Edward Nashton Being Bad at Beind Human, Author Being Bad at Being Smart, seriously, Forgive My Stupidity, Forgive My Ignorance, I promise it's good, Why Do I Have to Be A Sapiosexual?, No Beta, We Die Like Men, I Will Go Down With This Ship via https://ift.tt/fmECgUH

[caesariawritesstuff]

@wingedqueenlynx @adhdnursegoat @capr1pengu1n

I only aim to please

i dont need a "career" i already have a 9 to 5 its called listening to my music while making flop posts for my three active mutuals