#the riddler x fem!reader

[bittercoffeeonmykeyboard]

Pushing Buttons

The Riddler x Fem!Reader

Summary - The Riddler pushed a few too many of your buttons, and you accidentally pushed a couple of his. Pent up frustrations lead to... surprising developments.

Authors Note - Reader is referred to as "Kestrel." Genitals and pronouns for the reader aren't specified, but reader is also referred to as "Ma'am," so I figured it would be alright to specify fem!reader and FemDom. Can be read as GN!reader. This Riddler is not from any specific media, but inspired by ArkhamVerse and CodotVerse.

Warnings - NSFW 18+, Canon-Typical Violence, Dub-con, Hand-job, Hair pulling, Blood, Grinding, Biting, FemDom, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Enemies to Lovers and back to Enemies, Hate-Fucking (without actually fucking), Degradation, Reader Insert, Kinda verges on OC Insert, No use of Y/N

Word Count - 3.1k

Beta Reader/Editor - @timesnewreader

The crackle of a shitty connection stabbed your ears suddenly, as you were crouching in the rafters of the warehouse.

"Is that the sound of a bird trapped in my warehouse? Someone call pest control!" The Riddler quipped, invading your earpiece. You clenched your jaw.

"Watch out, I might have rabies." you shot back, thoroughly over this already. Your eyes scanned the building from your perch, searching for a hidden entrance or exit.

"Hah! Only mammals can contract rabies, Kestrel. And here I thought that was common sense?" Fucking hell. Time to find him, sooner than later preferably.

"You think you're so fucking smart-" You began.

"Think? No, I know I am, darling." He grinned through the radio, ego echoing in the earpiece.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you." You growled as you started to leap through the rafters as quietly as possible.

"You're welcome to try, if you can find me! Too bad you can't keep up with my marvelous intellect."

His grating voice and laugh echoed in your coms.

"Kestrel. Everything alright?" Batman's voice broke over the Riddler's fading laugh.

A heavy sigh. "It's fine. Everything is in control." You reported. "We should have Oracle check our radio security. Riddles keep finding their way into my ears, so to say." A pause.

"Understood. I'll bring that up to her soon. However, the sooner you find him, the sooner that stops happening. Good luck." A beep followed his words, and Batman closed the line.

Really. Really?

"'The sooner you find him, the sooner that stops happening', oh fucking hell, Bats." You mocked. It's not your fucking fault he keeps escaping, and then deciding to make it your issue. A bubble of frustration rose in your chest.

You started to close in on a vent above a well-disguised room, dropping down next to it as silently as possible. Which, considering how frustrated both Riddler and Batman just made you, left you quite impressed with yourself.

You fiddled with your coms controls for a second, opening a channel with the rest of the group on patrol. "I'll be off coms for a while. I have a bone to pick with the Riddler." You paused, before adding "I shouldn't be long."

You closed the line and pulled the earpiece out, readying yourself. With a loud bang, you opened the vent and dropped into the room.

"Well would you look at what the Bat dragged in-"

He was cut off by a grappling hook to the ankle, accented by a thud when his body hit the ground. Your fist would have met his face if he hadn't rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet. "I have to give you credit-"

Your foot interrupted him with almost breaking his nose. Just glanced him. Damn.

"You found me! And quicker than expected-" He levied his cane and swung for your skull. You ducked, and hooked his ankle out from under him. He hit the ground again, but hooked your own ankle and you landed on your ass. He shuffled to try and get to his feet again, and you flipped over to claw at his leg, dragging him back towards you. He swiftly tried to kick you, and landed a solid kick on your shoulder.

"Truly, one could say-" You reached to grab his arm, and he whacked your head with his cane. "Your intellect is almost on par with-" He managed to roll away form you again. "Your viciousness!" He landed a strong kick to your ribs, making you roll and groan.

You both staggered to your feet, a good six feet between you now. "You talk too much." He brandished his cane like a baseball bat. You lifted your fists, feeling rage and excitement mix in your chest.

"Now where's the fun in silence?" You barked out a laugh, before lunging forward. He swung his cane for your ribs, and you blocked it with your hand, grabbing it and pulling him into a punch, cracking his nose. "AH!"

To his merit he recovered quickly, staggering into a defensive stance as you went to kick at his ribs, managing to dodge with a jump backwards. You both still had a hold on his cane and you used both hands to drag him forward, off balance, twisted and threw him over yourself and onto his back. He landed with a cough, the impact releasing his grip on his cane.

You quickly followed him down, pinning his arms down with his own cane and straddling his waist.

"You are the most annoying man in the world. Your puzzles are shit, your ego is shit, and you deserve to get the shit beat out of you." Riddler seemed dazed, his breathing was quick and blood was starting to trickle out from his nose from your punch. "You're weak, your whole ethos sucks, and the only thing moderately acceptable about you is your sense of style, if only you weren't focused on inflating your own sense of self worth by ruining people's lives."

You spat each word at him, glaring down at him. Your breathing came heavy, filled with the adrenaline of the fight and fire of your words.

The Riddler stared up at you, eyes wide and face flushed. His face kept twitching, as if he was stuck between two expressions, unable to settle on one. "Is that all?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he smirked.

You removed one hand from the cane, leaning forward to pin him more securely as you grabbed his face. "You wish." You sneered down at him, piercing his eyes with yours. "Every single one of your stupid riddles and puzzles has been solved, every time. Makes you think that maybe, oh, they aren't that hard? Your riddles are easy and if you're trying to be a villain, you're failing. You're a nuisance at best, and a danger to society at worst. Maybe you should like, get better? Get better at doing the thing you made your entire identity around."

He was taking short panting breaths, face thoroughly flushed. You let go of his face and he licked his lips, catching some of the blood from his nose and smearing it. Your eyes caught on the motion, before pinning his eyes once again. His pupils were blown, and he chuckled. "Well! That's not very nice, now is it?" His legs shifted behind you, and you felt the movement from where you sat on his waist. He swallowed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that words hurt?"

You scoffed. "You're one to talk." You leaned back, releasing some of the pressure on his wrists, and instead placing your free hand over his throat. Not pressing, but threatening to. To your surprise, he didn't immediately try to break free from his position. Shifting slightly, you felt something press against you from behind. His eyelids fluttered at the pressure and a quiet exhale left his lips. Realization dawned on you. "You're fucking disgusting." A disbelieving chuckle left you, as you suddenly found yourself nervous.

"Never claimed I wasn't, darling." He lilted, a smirk on his lips. "What can I say? Your physical prowess and verbal assault left me defenseless. I pushed your buttons, and you pushed mine." He breathed out a chuckle, and you felt it resonate beneath your hand. "If, if you'd like…" He hesitated, gazing up and down your body, before meeting your eyes again, half-lidded. "We could push each others' buttons some more?"

The suggestion sent blood rushing to your face, and loathe were you to admit it, warmth began pooling between your legs. Your hand twitched and tightened over his neck briefly, drawing a tiny moan from the Riddler. Shock at the noise caused you to release the cane and his neck, leaving his hands free suddenly. He took this opportunity to grab your wrist and roll the two of you, flipping positions.

"Ooo, see? This could be fun!" He pinned your wrist, and traced his free hand down to your hip. "A little push, a little pull, and we're off to the races." His face came close you yours, breath ghosting over your cheeks as you felt your chest stutter. Arousal mixed with anger at his audacity, heating up with a dash of shame at letting him flip your positions.

A smirk that came off as more of snarl danced on your face, and you hooked your legs over his hip and gripped his hair, dragging him down as you flipped the two of you yet again, landing him beneath you with a breathy groan. You hand firmly found his throat again as you grinned. "Bold of you to assume you'll have any control." You punctuated your statement with a harsh grind of your hips against his, drawing out a pathetic moan. "You'll do as I say, brat. Understand?"

He nodded and swallowed, breathless.

"Speak up."

"Y- yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes… ma'am?"

Another grind of the hips. "Good." A fire was lit in your abdomen, seeing him like this. Oh, the things you'll do to this man.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him up to face you, noses nearly touching. "You're pathetic." Your lips ghosted over his, before meeting as you went to bite down on his bottom lip, keeping it trapped between your teeth as you rutted against him, reveling in the friction and his gasping moans. His hands fluttered at your hips, unsure. You slapped them away, and started pulling at his jacket and shirt. He quickly started helping you strip him until he lay before you, bare-chested. You released his lower lip to instead start trailing bites down his neck. He damn near moaned with every bite, and it was driving you wild. When you reached the junction of his neck and shoulder, you bit hard and rolled your hips, listening to the pretty little mewl he let out. You continued rolling your hips as you licked the bite, savouring the friction against your core. You could practically feel him twitch beneath you.

"Does it feel good, brat?" The Riddler nodded. "Are you so pathetic that me grinding against you is enough? "

"N… Not enough- please…."

You dragged your hand down his chest, his stomach, and down further as you drank in the flustered look on his face. His lip was caught in his teeth, trying to reign in his gasps. You shifted from straddling his pelvis to one of his thighs, guiding your knee to put gentle pressure on him. He blinked heavily and gazed through his lashes up at you. A cheeky grin crossed his lips.

"If I knew you had this in you, I think I would've tried harder to piss you off, darling."

Your hand reached the hem of his pants, tracing them. You popped open the button and slowly, slowly dragged the zipper down.

"If I knew you would've tried something like this, I would've cuffed you earlier."

With that you shove your hand past the hem and down his pants, cutting off whatever reply would've left his lips and replacing it with a choked moan. He shuddered and threw his head back. The touch of your hand had his dick twitching, you could feel his pulse as you gripped his length. It was hot in your grip. A single pump from base to head and you could feel the precum leaking from his tip. He brokenly mewled and grasped at your suit, finding purchase on your shoulder. His expression was wrecked, pupils blown and eyebrows pinched, chest heaving as he leaned his head towards your shoulder.

"Hah, so needy. I've barely touched you, and you're about to cum? Poor little touch starved fuck." You carded your fingers through his hair, gripping and tilting his head back so you could gaze at his expression better. "Riddle me this, brat. What do you want?"

His eyes locked with yours. A shuddered sigh. "Please, touch me, please, please…." he whimpered. Your hand stayed still in his pants.

"Please, what?"

Your hand tightened on his hair, and he gasped at the sting.

"Please, Ma'am! Please…"

"Good boy." A sweet, sadistic grin passed your lips. You started stroking him in an even tempo, rolling your thumb over the head with each pump. His breath stuttered and his eyelids drooped. Each stroke of your hand had little moans spilling from his lips, his hand gripped tighter on your shoulder, digging in just shy of painful. You kept his head craned back, facing the ceiling, watching every expression flicker on his face. Increasing the tempo you pull a depraved moan from his chest. Your own breaths came faster enraptured by his reactions. The air felt like fire as it passed between the two of you, charged with energy. You started pumping faster, faster as you drank in every moan and gasp, fixed on watching him come undone with pleasure. He was so close, so very close now. He was completely flushed, cheeks and chest rosy as he panted. Whimpers and mumbling falling from his lips, shuddering underneath you. "Please please pleasepleaseplease-" fell from his lips in a chant, begging. His dick was throbbing now. His eyes met yours.

"Almost there, brat. Stay with me," a firm tug on his hair as you kept his gaze pinned with yours. His hand slid from your shoulder to the back of your neck as his face started to pinch in pleasure. You kept the pace fast and steady, watching with bated breath. His eyebrows furrowed and jaw went slack as he tipped over, eye lashes fluttering as he tried to keep eye contact with you. He let out a strangled keen, moaning as he climaxed, hot cum spurting and landing on your hand, his pants, and the floor. He went nearly limp in your grasp and you supported him with the hand in his hair, letting go to wrap around his shoulders instead. His head fell forward and into your shoulder. "Sh shh shhh, good boy, you did so good for me." You held him as he caught his breath, inhaling slowly as he came down from his high. You let go of his cock and wiped the cum off your hands with his pant leg as he raised his head back up, his rational mind starting to return. Similarly, you began to realize exactly what just happened. You looked him in the face, making sure he was alright (he was grinning), before briskly letting go and backing away from him, standing up. "Shit." "I'd say that was quite the contrary, dear. Definitely not shit." He let out a breathless chuckle.

"Put your fucking clothes back on." You turned away from him. What the fuck did you just do?? Gave the Riddler a goddamn hand job right after beating the shit out of him, that's what. Fuck it all what were you thinking! You heard the shuffle of him putting his shirt and coat back on, and only turned around once you heard the zip of his pants. He recovered quite well from the mess of a man he was on the floor mere minutes ago, the only tell being the cum stains near his crotch and the specific smell of musk emanating from him. "Well now riddle me this-" he starts. "Don't-" "What gets longer when pulled, fits snugly between breasts, slides neatly into a hole, and works well when jerked?" He grins back at you, delighting in the riddle and watching your inner turmoil flash across your face. "Oh my god. Bubble gum? A cigarette? Fuck off." You paced away from him, setting distance between the two of you. "Certainly not your dick," you called over your shoulder. "Is that your final answer? Really, I expected more eloquence but I guess you can't win all the time, now can you?" He sighed over dramatically, picking up his cane and inspecting it. The Riddler rubbed at a tiny scratch on the handle.

You could feel your blood pressure spike again. Your jaw clenched as you glared back at him. Attempting a sardonic smile but really only succeeding in a snarl, you tilted your head at him. "Eloquently, I hope rats turn your mattress into a refinery of their trash, and you wake up in a pool of your own piss." You started to stomp back over to him, anger pumping into your bloodstream, thankfully masking anything else you might be feeling at the moment. "In-eloquently, fuck off and suffer." You stabbed your finger into his chest for punctuation. He clasped your hand between both of his. "If you keep telling me to fuck off, you'll start to give me the wrong idea about us, darling." the Riddler cooed with an exaggerated pout. "You already have the wrong idea; there is no 'us'." You snatch your hand away from his. His eyes narrowed, even if his horrible, snarky grin remained. "No us, huh?" He clicked his tongue. "How disappointing." his finger found its way to your chin resting there for a moment. Next thing you know, his hand is behind your head and he's kissing you hard, more teeth than lips, and keeping you tight there against him. Shock flashes through you before the rage kicks in again, and you promptly launch your knee straight into his crotch. He releases you with a pained groan, gasping as he doubles over. Between gasps of pain, he starts a stilted laugh. You grab his arm and kick him behind the knee, pulling his arm behind his back while he's still reeling in pain. He jerks, but not before you manage to cuff both of his hands behind his back.

"That's enough of your bullshit, to the GCPD you fucking go." You haul him around and start half dragging him, half leading him to the door. Once he's fully got his feet under him, he smirks down at you. "Aw, but we were having so much fun! Truly, Kestrel, sometimes you are such a killjoy." "If you know whats good for you, you'll shut your mouth." You growled out. "Ah, I've heard that before. In fact, if I had a nickle for every time someone's told me to shut up, I think I could rival Bruce Wayne's wealth!" He chirped. Opening the door, you shove him through first, reaching to turn your coms back on. Before you can, The Riddler tilts his head back at you with a smile. "For the record, the answer is a seat belt."

big thank you to times for being a true bestie and helping me make this legible lol. they're a great beta reader!!! she has a lot of good recommendations if y'all would like to check them out!!

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

i 

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow. 

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest. 

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair. 

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all. 

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue. 

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left. 

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away. 

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?” 

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment. 

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows. 

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.” 

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat. 

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you. 

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug. 

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.” 

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change. 

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?” 

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured. 

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?” 

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye. 

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.” 

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…” 

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room. 

“Do you find control attractive?” 

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly. 

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs. 

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.” 

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.” 

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.” 

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement. 

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.” 

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds. 

“Then who, may I ask, are you?” 

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.” 

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer. 

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes. 

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.” 

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame. 

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly. 

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?” 

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him. 

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?” 

And just like that, it’s become a game. 

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper. 

“Being found out…” 

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone. 

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?” 

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets. 

“So far,” he sighs. 

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.” 

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically. 

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages. 

“Thomas Wayne.” 

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless. 

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk. 

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?” 

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades. 

“And why would I tell you that?” 

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head. 

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.” 

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts. 

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond. 

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.” 

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either. 

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.” 

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes. 

“You admire me?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.” 

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you. 

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.” 

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him. 

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.” 

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly. 

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne. 

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back. 

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted. 

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease. 

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.” 

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned. 

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?” 

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be. 

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book. 

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention. 

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat. 

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body. 

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.” 

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down. 

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit. 

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.” 

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?” 

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.” 

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits. 

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow. 

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?” 

“It would be mine too.” 

“Against Thomas Wayne?” 

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair. 

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.” 

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.” 

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk. 

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale… though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat. 

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.” 

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly. 

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet. 

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.” 

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness. 

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one. 

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.” 

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”  

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…” 

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods. 

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.” 

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses. 

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city. 

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild. 

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress. 

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face. 

“Damn you…"

[randomcreator-09]

It's Cuffing Season (Jonathan Crane x Barista!Reader)

(Gif ain't mine > @breakfastonuranus)

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨NSFW [Stockholm Syndrome (Pretty self-explanatory), Abduction, Chocking, Bondage (cuffing), Oral (M!Rec), DubCon (cnc maybe?), PnV (Wrap it before you Tap it), Breeding kink, Candle Play, Overstimulation, and some other things that I may have forgotten], He fell in love with you but you didn't love him (as much) back so he had to do what any villain would do ^^, Crane's top but a softy his little princess, Crane just loves us~, Yes a lil Fluff and a bit of angst :3, also maybe mention of death (Parents)✨

🐧I'm learning my vocabs on NSFW content XD look how I'm adding up every smut warnings I know XD and it's actually not there XD. Please tell me if those are actually in the story damn :"D. Anyways this fic is for that request made, I hope this satisfies your need :3 cuz it did mine XD Although the phasing might be fast somehow... I tried putting all my ideas in one place heh, I hope I wrote it well :"D also the song comes in my mind as I wrote this is the one above... It's cuffing season~🐧

5K Words (I tried shortening it really... this is the best I could do ack)

Now... enjoy you mentally ill people (like me XD)

KINDLY REBLOG TO REACH MORE PEEPS ^^ (also heart it if you love it ^^ tnx)

-----

"Jonathan Crane!" you screamed to the top of your lungs as you read the order name on the cup. Looking around to see if anyone would answer to that name, and there he came.

A man in his well-tailored black suit, accompanied by his brown vest and black tie. A divine for any lady to look at, but for you it was the last thing you found interesting about. You didn't have time to swoon over men right now. Tuition at your college was more than the budget your parents left you before passing and you had to work your ass off to get through. Plus this business was not running well (your parent's business) so you had to do what had to be done, work to the bones.

"Thanks, Miss?" he muttered as he grabbed his drink from the counter and looked you straight in the eye. He had ocean blue eyes that were accessorized with his rectangle cut glasses which made him look more heavenly. His lips pursed and cheeks well contoured, anyone could really just fall in love with this man with one look, you thought, but not you.

You were making the next order as you spoke, "Y/N" you said without thinking of anything, flashing him a quick smile before returning to getting busy.

He smiled back, but you didn't see that as you busied yourself. He nodded before leaving the store. It was sunny that day, a busy day in Gotham City. People out and about, havoc on the neighboring store and policemen drinking their coffee in your store, this was Gotham City, bow.

-----(Jonathan Crane POV)

As Jonathan walked through the streets of Gotham City, he smirked. 'Y/N's hands were on this cup' he thought smiling to himself, as he sipped through the lid. It has been long since he was obsessed with something, not to mention someone other than Batman.

He first saw you on the day havoc happened at your store, a burglary. He was in line to order his usual coffee, clearly pissed at how the line was moving slowly when three masked men came in pointing guns at your employee. It was his first time seeing you then, the owner of the café.

You came out with a nonchalant look as you came from the back kitchen and pointed a loaded shotgun at the masked men. "Out" was the only thing you said as the masked men went running (unfortunately their guns were empty and were just actually toys). He was amused how you knew their guns were empty, even then, you exuded confidence in what you did that day, something Crane found fascinating.

From then on he went to the café from day to day (if he had the time even hour by hour). When you weren't there he would just walk away with nothing in hand, but when you were, he'd order everything on the menu to keep you standing there picking his order from the glassed window, to see your cleavage creeping out your tight V-neck shirt, as his pants would feel tight with his bulge poking it. He really should do something about his obsession with you he thought.

And think he did. He has planned to abduct you and manage your dead parent's business while you were gone, so you'd call him a 'good boy' after manipulating your mind to love him. He planned on paying for your tuition after it too! He has spoken to your school's board to give you a scholarship already (to which you declined because the head of your college was known to give scholarships to people he'd like to fuck). He had a room for you in his apartment already, complete with all the clothes you have in your own small apartment (with extra touches of clothes he likes to see you in... such as expensive lingerie and such).

'Just you wait my love' he thought as he kept the empty cup to his stash of cups with your handwriting on his office desk drawer. 'you will be mine soon', as he closes the drawer shut with a bright smile.

-----(Your POV)

You breath was a mess, your memory a foggy one, as your vision went on and off.

You only remembered the dark night enveloping the streets. As you closed the shop early today (because one of your employees had midterm examinations and you had too), you were out at the back of the shop throwing the heavy bag of trash to the bin when your sight turned dark.

In panic, you tried to fight the four arms that kept you from removing the bag over your head to no avail. Screaming was useless in Gotham, so you didn't try to do so. They guided you up in a spaced van and tied your hand back, they were being rather careful with you, you thought. Like a porcelain from china being transported to the England museum.

Before you know it you were dead asleep, as you inhaled funny smelling air (sleeping gas you presumed).

Minutes passed by as your vision went on again. Seeing that handsome blue-eyed man smiling at the sight of you, and your out again.

-----(Jonathan Crane's POV)

'She's here!' Jonathan's mind was in haywire. He was excited as he saw you being ushered in his apartment by two of his men. However his smile faltered as he sees your wrist red from the rope tied around it.

"Fuck! I told you to be careful with her! You fucking dimwits!" he screamed as he trashed around his living room, throwing anything he saw to his men. "Sorry, Sir Crane, she was a feisty one you see-" he shot the man, he had no time for explanations. "Get out of my sight" he glared at the other who ran out.

Jonathan kneeled down to untie you and remove the black bag over your head. Oh, how majestic you looked sleeping, he could stare at you forever, even maybe when the two of you are old, he smiled at that.

"Welcome Home, Y/N" as he kissed your forehead before carrying you princess-style to your new room.

-----(Your POV)

As you blinked your eyes, adjusting to the light of the room. You finally see the room you were in, it was not your room. Panic consumes you as you realize there were shackles on your wrist, chained to the bed.

You couldn't possibly scream now, since you didn't scream earlier where it could have been evident. You just observed the room, looking for something to get yourself free. The room was in your favourite colour, shockingly it made you more at ease than panic. Some of your missing favorite clothes were on the open closet as well, with boxes of maybe new clothes. Pair of shoes and sandals that screamed 'expensive', you thought of the possibility that maybe a girl abducted you, but some of them were visibly your size.

Before you could find a way to escape the door creeks open. You close your eyes to pretend to be sleeping, but the person to open it doesn't seem to buy it.

"Oh Darling, I mean no harm," his deep voice echoes the room. You closely open your eyes to see the same man that goes to your cafe shop and only ever smiles at you.

"You!" exclaiming as you squirm through the chain to fight him. He rushes to you as he places a tray of food on the floor. "Darling, Darling Angel calm down my Love. I am here to protect you from this dangerous world, I am your only hope in this dark world. By the time everything is in havoc, you are safe here." as he tries to sooth you, patting your head as he sat beside your bedside.

"Fuck You, Jonathan!" you hiss at him, remembering his name as he was always in your cafe, in which he chuckles. "I believe that's not how you thank your saviour love," his voice in a darker tone than earlier as he stands up and picks up the tray of food, placing it on your lap. "Now, I will remove the cuffs on your wrist and you eat peacefully without fighting your savior or..." he pauses as his fingers tickle your wrist and moving slowly to grip on your neck ever so softly "... We do it the hard way and I might punish you, which, believe me, you might even enjoy, Y/N" as he smirks at you.

It took all in you to not tear up then. You prayed to God that this was just a sick dream and that you fainted from overworking, but it wasn't. As you feel his hands tighten their grip making you look at him, you suddenly drown in his ocean-blue eyes. If you weren't a busy woman and had time to date you'd probably dated him before, but this was sick, something you never thought a man with such a political figure like him would do.

Kicking the tray of food to the floor, you squirmed again, the cuffs tightening with your every move. Swearing to his face that you will never cooperate with him and he can kiss your ass. He laughs at that, he stands up after releasing your neck as you gasp for air. He then cleans up your mess and closes the door with a rather loud bang. As you cried in the room, waiting for the inevitable 'punishment'.

Hours has passed and the room turned dark along with the night creeping in the room. The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. Your breath hitched as the sound of footsteps filled the room, heavier this time. Jonathan Crane appeared once more, but now the light was dimmer, casting flickering shadows across his face. In his hand, a single candle burned, the flame dancing in the darkness.

"You seem to have a lot of fight in you," he murmured, setting the candle on a nearby table. "But I wonder..." He trailed off, his voice low and taunting as he approached the bed, pulling a small chair closer to where you lay cuffed. "How long will that fire last?"

He dragged the chair, its legs scraping against the floor, and sat down. His eyes gleamed with a sick curiosity, studying your every move, every breath. His fingers hovered over the flame, feeling its heat before he slowly turned his gaze back to you.

"You know, fear has many faces," he whispered. His hand, now inches from your skin, tilted the candle slightly. A bead of hot wax dripped, falling closer... closer...

"Please..." You whispered staring at the falling bead of wax rolling down the candle.

The first drop landed just above your stomach, the sting sharp but fleeting. You flinched, a hiss escaping your lips. Jonathan smirked, leaning forward. "Fear, pain... they blend together. And soon, you'll understand just how much I can make you feel."

The next drop fell, then another, each landing with precision, calculated to push you further without overwhelming you. Every slight movement you made only caused the shackles to tighten, reminding you of your helplessness.

"You will cooperate," he whispered darkly, "whether you like it or not."

The steady drip of hot wax continued, each drop sending a fresh wave of stinging heat across your skin. You couldn’t help it—you began to squirm, the restraints digging deeper into your wrists as you tried to twist away. Your heart raced, fear coursing through every vein.

“P-please,” you gasped, your voice shaking as you felt the heat of the wax inching closer to your chest. “Stop, I—I can’t take it.”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down your spine. He tilted the candle just enough to let a few more drops fall, ignoring your pleas. "Begging already?" he teased, the sound of his laughter dark and unsettling.

You squirmed harder, desperate to escape the pain, but there was nowhere to go. The shackles held you in place, trapping you in his game. "Jonathan, please!" you cried out, your voice breaking. "Stop, I’ll do whatever you want, just—please!"

He stood up then, towering over you, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. "Do you really think begging will change anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”

He chuckled, low and menacing, as he straightened, letting another drop fall from the candle with eerie precision. “I want you to remember this moment. Every time you think of resisting me... every time you think you have any control.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the heat burned into your skin again. His laugh echoed in your ears, cruel and unrelenting, as if your suffering was nothing more than a twisted form of entertainment for him.

"You’ll break," he said, his voice eerily calm. "And when you do... you’ll beg me to continue."

Your body trembled under the growing layer of hardened wax, the pain numbing into a dull throb as you finally broke down, tears slipping down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your chest, your will shattered as you lay helpless beneath him, the hot wax pooling in small rivers over your skin, solidifying into painful reminders of his control.

Jonathan finally paused, watching the tears fall with a look of satisfaction in his cold eyes. He placed the candle back on the table, its flame still flickering faintly. His gaze drifted down your body, where the wax now covered your skin in thick patches. He licked his lips, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension.

Your eyes flickered downwards, catching the unmistakable bulge in his pants. The air shifted, heavier now, as he undid his belt with a slow, deliberate movement, the metal buckle clinking softly in the oppressive quiet.

His voice was low and dangerous as he looked down at you. "You've been such a defiant girl, Y/N," he said, his tone almost casual. "Now… you’re going to make it up to me."

He tugged down his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood there, commanding and unyielding. "I think you know what comes next," he murmured, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his as you tried to keep it there. "And listen very carefully—if I feel your teeth, you'll wish I had only used wax." you gritted your teeth as he aligns his length to your lips, making you look at his pink veiny cock.

He leaned in, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force you to meet his gaze. His grip was firm, but the smirk on his face was even crueler. "Now," he ordered, his voice deepening with lust. "Take me. And don't make me regret giving you this chance."

As you slowly opened your mouth to accommodate his grit. He slowly moved in your mouth. Soliciting a quiet moan out his lips as he slowly thrusts in and out your mouth, hands still tangled on your hair. "Good... Good girl," he hissed as his head bobs back from pleasure.

Tears ran down your cheeks as your throat chokes on the tip of his cock. Shackles still on your wrist as he slowly picks up his phase, making you squirm again, moaning at how his restless speed in your mouth made you feel soaking wet down below, bucking your knees together to create friction.

His speed was ethereal now, you hesitated, your throat tightening as you leaned forward, but Jonathan’s grip on your hair tightened, his warning clear in his eyes. You started, gagging slightly as he pushed you to take him deeper, but there was no room for hesitation. The pressure built, and just as you choked, he pulled back slightly, his hand flashing across your face with a sharp slap.

"Don’t stop now," he growled, dragging you back roughly. The force left no room for escape as he pushed you to take him fully, his breath quickening, his control slipping as you obeyed, doing your best to keep up. His pace quickened until the tension broke, and you felt him reach his climax.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck! Take it! Take it, love!" Jonathan groaned, his body shuddering with release as he rutted into your mouth, the taste of him thick on your tongue. He held you there for a moment longer before finally pulling away, leaving you gasping for air, your throat raw and your body trembling.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, Jonathan's hands moved to the cuffs, undoing them with a gentleness that sharply contrasted the earlier brutality. As the restraints fell away, your sore wrists ached from the pressure, but you barely registered the pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he murmured softly, easing your arms down to your sides as you panted weakly, exhaustion washing over you. He wiped the sweat and wax from your skin with a damp cloth, moving with surprising care as he cleaned away the hardened remnants from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped the corners of your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your lips.

“You did so well,” he whispered, his voice now gentle, devoid of the harsh edge it had held moments before. “You’re perfect.” His words were soft, almost affectionate, as he covered you with a warm blanket, tucking it around your body as if wrapping you in a cocoon of safety. "My fucking perfect angel." as he kissed your forehead.

As your eyes fluttered closed, too tired to fight sleep, Jonathan leaned down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Rest now. You're mine, and I’ll take care of you," he whispered, stroking your hair soothingly until you finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

-----(Months after abduction, Batman is dead)

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you gazed out the window, your reflection staring back at you. Months ago, you had cried endlessly, resisting every touch and command Jonathan gave. Now, those tears seemed so distant, almost laughable. The ‘punishments’ he promised had turned into something you craved—each session pushing you to new heights of pleasure. And afterward, the aftercare was so tender, so sweet, you had never felt so wanted. So cared for.

He had taken over everything: your safety, your business, and even your education. Your café ran smoothly under his careful management, leaving you to focus on finances from the comfort of his condo. The outside world? It felt foreign now, just a backdrop beyond the glass. Here, with him, was all you needed.

The door clicked open, and you immediately recognized the soft footsteps crossing the threshold. You didn’t turn around, but you could feel his presence before he even touched you. Jonathan was back.

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you against him. “How was your day?” he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned back into his chest, feeling the weight of the day fade away as you melted into his embrace.

“Hard,” you groaned, thinking about the lessons. The professors he hired for you weren’t easy, and today had been especially draining. “College was hard... why do they make it so difficult?” (The professors came to the apartment, Jonathan doesn't want his princess to walk or drain herself to go out).

Jonathan chuckled softly, his hands trailing up and down your waist and hips in slow, soothing movements. "Difficult?" he whispered, pulling your head back gently so that your lips were inches from his. "I’ll have to deal with that professor, then... make sure they know better than to push you too hard."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a kiss, his grip firm as he held you in place. The tension melted from your body as you sank into him, the world outside completely forgotten. The kiss was slow but possessive, his lips claiming yours with an undeniable hunger that left you breathless.

When he finally pulled away, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice was a low, commanding murmur. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, your body already responding to his words, anticipation building as he guided you up the stairs to the room, knowing exactly what was coming next.

As you reached the top of the stairs, Jonathan didn’t lead you toward his room. Instead, he pulled you toward yours. The familiar space, the one place that was entirely yours within his domain, now felt smaller with him so close. The moment you entered, he pressed you firmly against the wall, his body pinning yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

His lips captured yours again, more intense this time, his hand snaking around your waist as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the controlled desire in the way he held you, as though he was fighting to maintain his composure. When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes darkened as they roamed over you, a quiet hunger simmering beneath the surface.

With deliberate slowness, Jonathan reached for the silky coat draped over your body, sliding it off your shoulders with one fluid motion. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around your feet, leaving you standing there in the black lingerie you knew he adored. His breath hitched, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sight before him.

The lingerie clung to your curves, the sheer black fabric leaving little to the imagination. Intricate lace patterns adorned the cups, framing your chest in a way that was both delicate and provocative. Thin straps crisscrossed over your torso, highlighting your waist, while the sheer fabric cascaded down, barely covering the tops of your thighs. The black lace was cut in such a way that it hinted at more, teasing him, daring him to explore further.

Jonathan’s breathing became shallow, his eyes locked onto you as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. "You really do know how to get under my skin," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he stepped closer, his hands tracing the outline of the lace. “You wore this... just for me?”

You nodded slightly, your skin tingling under his touch. His fingers trailed along the delicate fabric, his restraint faltering as he admired every inch of you. "Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Jonathan leaned in again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. This kiss was different—fiercer, more demanding—as he poured all his desire into it. You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

In one swift motion, he removed his vest and necktie, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The smooth fabric of his shirt clung to his form as he slipped it off, revealing the taut lines of his chest and arms. Your breath caught at the sight, his body a perfect blend of strength and control.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he took your wrists, binding them together behind your back with his necktie. The gesture was possessive, a reminder that you were his, and the thrill of being restrained sent a rush of excitement through you.

With a gentle push, Jonathan guided you back toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment your back hit the mattress, he hovered above you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, trailing up to your neck, where he nibbled lightly, teasingly, as if savoring every moment.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, each word laced with fervent desire. He continued kissing his way back to your lips, his voice low and filled with promise. “I could breed you right now, make you mine in every way.”

His lips found yours again, deeper and more passionate, as he whispered more pleasurable words that made your skin tingle and your body ache for him. “You were made for this,” he murmured between kisses, his hands exploring the curve of your waist, igniting a fire within you that was impossible to ignore.

As Jonathan continued to kiss you, his hands roaming your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your knees began to buckle, the sensations overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him, searching for more friction, more connection. Each subtle movement sent sparks coursing through your veins, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

Jonathan noticed immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He pulled back slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "What do you want, love?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, relishing the power he held over you.

You bit your lip, your breath coming in quick gasps as you looked up at him, eyes filled with need. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling with urgency. “I want you... I need you to take me.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction radiating from him at your plea. “Is that what you really want?” he taunted, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “To feel me inside you?”

“Yes! Please, Jonathan,” you begged, the desperation in your voice making it clear just how much you craved him. You felt vulnerable, yet utterly alive, and the anticipation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips again, the kiss a mixture of passion and possession. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

With a low, sultry laugh, Jonathan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his belt free, the leather falling to the floor with a soft thud. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his hips until they pooled at his ankles, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him as he locked his eyes onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, the air thick with anticipation. “Now, tell me again,” he said, his voice a deep growl, “What do you want?”

Your heart raced, the need for him consuming your thoughts. “I want you, Jonathan,” you replied, your voice a soft plea. “I need you to take me, to claim me as yours.”

"Fuck," he says with a low growl, Jonathan removed his boxers, exposing himself fully as he stepped closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. As he aligned himself with your entrance, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “You were just made for this, weren’t you, love?”

Without warning, he pushed into you hard, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out. You felt him stretching you, the sensation igniting a fire within you.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, your body arching to meet him as he began to move, he placed his arms behind your back as he thrusts deliberately and powerful. The world around you faded away, leaving only the rhythm of his body against yours and the electric connection between you.

His thrusts became faster, harder, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel your climax building, as his thumb drew circles on you clit, the tension coiling tighter with each movement. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You feel so good around me.”

As you neared the edge, he leaned down, kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans as you spiraled into your first climax. Your body quaked, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he continued to thrust, riding the waves of your pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching your face with a predatory gaze. “So beautiful when you come apart for me. I want to see you do it again.”

The words sent another shock of pleasure through you, and you felt yourself approaching another orgasm. Jonathan picked up his pace, his hips driving into you relentlessly, urging you closer and closer. “Come for me again,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to feel you clench around me.”

With a final thrust, you tumbled over the edge again, your body quaking as your second climax took you by storm. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and desperation, and Jonathan’s grip on your hips tightened as he surged deeper.

“Fuck, take it!” he groaned, his own climax building as he thrust into you one last time. “Take my fucking seed, princess. Be filled with my seed and carry my child, angel.”

As he released himself deep inside you, you felt the warmth spreading, a final wave of bliss washing over you. Screaming as the world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment of connection, pleasure, and possessiveness.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, Jonathan huffed and puffed, catching his breath. He looked down at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice low and warm. “The way that lingerie hugs your body, it was made for me. Your breasts bounce just right for me to enjoy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your breasts, savoring the way they felt beneath his mouth. Each kiss sent a thrill through you, and your breath hitched, the sensation making your heart race. You loved being worshipped like this, the feeling of his admiration washing over you, igniting a fire of desire deep within.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with reverence. He pulled back slightly to admire the way the lingerie framed your figure before carefully removing himself from you. You felt a rush of emptiness at his absence, but he quickly set to work, cleaning you off with gentle hands, his touch almost reverent.

After making sure you were taken care of, he leaned down again to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer. “Such a good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone affectionate and possessive. He reached behind you, deftly untying the necktie that had bound your wrists, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

With a smile, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. “How was your day?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was long,” he replied, nuzzling against your hair. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You both lay back against the bed, the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. As you nestled into his side, the warmth and safety enveloping you made you forget all about the world outside—and the circumstances that had brought you together.

In that moment, it felt like everything was perfect, just as it should be, and you let the worries of the past fade away into the night, content to simply be with him.

-----

🐧Damn... Rollercoaster it was to write this XD I hope it gave off Stockholm syndrome aha :"D Anyways I loved Jonathan Crane on this fic :"3 his the possesive I need >:D but at the same time its kinda... lovely how he abducted us like we were a stray cat and never letting us go out but also respecting our privacy by having his own room too. Yeah he has his own room but he comes to yours becuase he likes sleeping with you better. Anyways hope you enjoyed it hehe ^^🐧

Tags are in the comment

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Good Enough - Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Edward has never felt good enough for anyone or anything. When the self-help resources fail to work and the feelings of inadequacy grow stronger by the day, he begins to doubt that he's even worthy of being loved, but you're there to comfort him and remind him of just how much he matters.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Minor spoilers for Riddler: Year One, a lot of angst, hurt with comfort, fluff, mentions of smut (but no actual smut)

Repulsive. Broken. Unwanted. Not good enough. The words he told himself had buried their way into his thoughts, repeating themselves like a twisted mantra that never ended, even with the constant use of every self-help tip and coping skill he had learned. That same mantra had been there so long that he couldn't remember when it had first started.

Maybe it was never something new at any point; maybe it was just the truth that he kept trying to deny with ledgers filled line to line with positive affirmations that he could never convince himself of. 'You are good enough.' No, he wasn't. He never would be. He was fighting a losing battle against himself.

At least at the end of the day, he had someone to come back home to, someone who told him every day how much she loved him. Before he had met you his only form of salvation was his puzzles, like it had always been since he was a young child. With you here, though, he had more than just riddles and crosswords online and in the local paper to look forward to after a long workday. You were the only good thing that Gotham City had to offer. You were an angel, his angel.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and closed it behind him, a smile making its way onto his face at the sound of your shoes against the wooden floor as you made your way from the bedroom and toward him. You grinned widely as you saw him, your arms outstretched and wide open before you wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Hi," He murmured in greeting, hugging you back as he nuzzled his face into your soft, beautiful hair. You smiled even wider, looking up at him with eyes that always made him melt with just a single look into his own. "How was work, Eddie?" You questioned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It was—" He paused, trying to find the right words. Shit. It was shit. His boss was a condescending, passive-aggressive, arrogant prick who slacked off more than he worked and still managed to be more successful in his career than Edward had ever been. As much as he wanted to vent, he didn't want to burden you with more than he already was by being with you.

"Fine." He finally decided, putting on a fake smile. "Same old calculations and whatnot. Nothing interesting." He lied. It was another day of statements from Zach that were insulting enough to strike a nerve, but not obvious enough to report to HR. Not like it'd matter, it would probably get swept under the rug and forgotten about. Some days Edward wondered if his superior was actually the pompous dick he thought him to be or just an idiot with confidence.

"Oh." You could see right that smile on his face. Something was bothering him like it had been for days now and you could tell. It broke your heart knowing he was struggling and that same struggle left him unable to feel okay confiding in anyone. "Are you sure...?" You questioned, a hand moving upwards to cup his cheek gently, the man leaning into your comforting touch.

He had lied to you. How could you lie to her? You manipulative, disgusting freak. As the thoughts filled his head, guilt washed over him. God, he didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your affection, and most certainly not your love. Did he deserve any love at all? Was there anything to love about��

"Eddie?" Came your soft voice, the sound like that of an angel. He broke himself out of his thoughts, smiling at you again. "I think I'm gonna go pick us up some takeout for dinner. What do you want?" He changed the subject, moving away from you and back towards the door.

"No." You said a bit sternly, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the nearby couch, sitting down with him. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Tell me what's wrong, Eddie."

"It's not you, I promise that it's not." He insisted quickly, afraid he had upset you with his earlier lie. She's going to leave you. She never should've been yours to begin with. You ruin every good thing you get. He grew tense as the fears filled him and threatened to consume him whole. You were so perfect, so deserving of every amazing thing the world had to offer and more, and he was just... Edward Nashton.

"Woahwoahwoah!" Your hands shot forward at the sight of tears beginning to well up in his eyes, your thumbs wiping them away as they fell. "I'm not mad, honey. I just—" You stopped, unsure how to phrase things. "I'm worried about you. You can tell me anything, as cliche as that sounds. You're not a burden to me; you never have been, and you never will be."

He buried his head into your shoulder, sobbing into it as your arms came to hold him close to you. "Why? Why do you love me? I–I don't understand..." He cried softly against you. "All of these years you've spent with me and I can't comprehend why. Is it out of pity?" He asked. While to anyone else it would've sounded like a bold accusatory remark, you knew that the question was genuine. He needed to know.

"Look at me, Edward." You commanded gently, him moving so he could face you and meet your eyes with his own. The sight of tears running down his face and wettening his glasses broke your heart. "Three years we've been together. In those three years, I've fallen more in love with you than I have anyone else. We've made love more times than I can count. I even wait for the day you'll put a ring on my finger, no matter which one it is. It could be made out of scrap metal for all I care, as long as it's from you.

You're smart, Eddie. Tell me, does everything I just listed sound like I only pity you? Or does it sound like I'm head-over-heels in love with the man in front of me? You are good enough. I love you, Edward Nashton."

That made him cry even harder, but you were there to hold him, just as you had been since you stumbled into his life. If he wasn't good enough for himself, then at least he was good enough for his angel. You wanted a ring on your finger? He'd get you one in due time. Anything for the one who showed him that he could be loved, that he wasn't some type of vermin in the cesspool that was Gotham City. You are good enough. For once, he believed it.

[420korn]

BY THE SEA

⛧ when you and dwayne leave the dreadful beauty pageant to get some fresh air some things spill out, more than intended for the day.

- no warnings!! maybe mild cursing

(dwayne x fem! reader)

as you and dwayne flop on the worn-out chairs in the random room you two stumbled in you sighed.

this whole roadtrip that dwayne basically begged you to go on was chaotic to say the least. his grandpa passed away, he found out he couldn’t fly jets, that damn horn on the car wouldn’t shut up, but you still were there for dwayne.

you really liked dwayne. it was a miracle that he actually allowed you to talk to him and become somewhat apart of his life. he didn’t let anyone do that. you had to admit you have a crush on him. but you knew he didn’t like you, most definitely not.

you snapped out of your hazy thoughts as two little girls ran across the hall. giggling in puffy skirts, tons of makeup they didn’t need, and reeking of fake spray tan mixed with strong fruity perfume.

you had already had enough of that shit after seeing a room full of girls who looked like that. as you were about to sit up and ask dwayne to leave he spoke for you

“let’s get out of here.”

“yes please. my head hurts from all the colors.”

-🦇

you two ended up on the pier, watching as the waves clashed with each other and people screaming with joy. you smiled to yourself.

you took a glance at dwayne, knowing that it was stupid because if you looked you wouldn’t be able to pry your eyes away.

you looked at his dyed jet black hair flowing in the wind, his shirt going in all different directions as he leaned up against the wood.

he finally looked up at you, feeling the pair of admiring eyes on him.

“what?” he said with a grin

“nothing.. im sorry for everything that happened today. it’s been fucking crazy.”

“it’s okay really. im sorry for making you come with me. if i knew it was gonna be this bad i wouldn’t have even thought you should’ve came.”

“no it’s okay! im happy i came. im happy i was able to comfort you..” you said taking a risk with this response.

dwayne’s face slightly heated up at this comment, even if the winds made it as cold as ever.

“i have a question though..why did you ask for me to come?”

dwayne’s face heated up even more. he thought it was obvious why he asked for you to come, why he said if you came he would go. dwayne was head over heels for you. you both had the same music taste, sense of humor, style, and he thought you were stunning. the way you tried so hard to adjust to him and his calmer life style made him even more in love.

he honestly didn’t know whether to hide his admiration by making a quick white lie..or to truly show his feelings.

dwayne stared down at the ocean with one thing on his mind ‘fuck it’.

now dwayne would never have this type of confidence, but some random talk with his uncle frank about how you only live once, and to do whatever you want and fuck the rest, got him to change his thinking

“i thought it would be obvious.” he said trying to make it subtle.

“what do you mean?” you said confused.

“i like you.”

it was silent..the wind blowing across the sea becoming louder and louder as dwayne looked and read your face.

nothing…

but then..a shy smile. he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a deep sigh.

“really?”

“yeah..i’ve liked you for a while ya know..”

you smiled even harder at him, more red and pink tints filling your cheeks. he was trying hard to not smile but couldn’t help it.

“youre so cute” you said focusing on his eyes.

he looked down, embarrassed by how hot his face was.

you slowly crept over to him, closing the distance between you two. you reached for his hand on the railing and held his pinky with your own, not wanting to move too quickly.

he picked himself up off the railing looking at you for a moment and back to the ocean

that’s when he felt a pair of lips softly kiss his cheeks, the gloss in which covered your lips definitely staining it. he looked down at you, a grin on your face.

“you ready to go inside?” you said now taking his hand in yours.

>🎱🐼📖

THATS IT!!! bro i know months ago i said i would post more, BUT I HAD NO IDEAS. this just came to mind when i was randomly watching little miss sunshine for the 20th time. plzplzplz request some stuff so i can have motivation to post and have good ideas PLEASE!!!!

thank you for reading !! 🦈💤🤍

[starshinesluvr]

some old semi accurate height differences i drew a few months ago, wanted to practice proportions.. maybe ill redraw this soon (..◜ᴗ◝..) + fem eddie teehee ♡

[adhdnursegoat]

Assault on Arkham

cw: fluffy goodness 😊

word count: 986

Edward leans against the doorway of your shared living room, the top few buttons of his white shirt and his tie loosened. He looks as smug as ever. You’re curled up on the sofa, flipping through a magazine while sipping on a cup of tea. As soon as you notice him, your eyes light up, and he gives you that smile—the one that sends a thrill down your spine, even after all this time.

“Welcome home, husband,” you say with a teasing lilt, setting your cup down on the side table.

He arches an eyebrow and strides over to you, sliding to the couch beside you. “Thank you, wife,” he replies smoothly, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Now, indulge me, my dear—how was your day?”

This is the ritual. Every time he comes back from his “work”, he asks you this question. It doesn’t matter that his life is filled with puzzles, schemes, danger, and heists, while yours is a mundane nine-to-five. He listens to you as if your day is just as thrilling as his. And for a moment, it feels like it is.

You stretch out your legs across his lap, getting comfortable. “Ugh, let me tell you what Karen did today,” you start, already feeling the irritation bubbling up at the mention of your co-worker's name. Edward’s attention is wholly focused, as if he’s about to hear the most intriguing riddle of his life. “She’s at it again—trying to take credit for my work! I mean, can you believe her?”

He makes a noise that is somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “How dare she,” he drawls, pinches the bridge of his nose as if this affront to you offends him on a personal level. “The nerve of that woman. Really…” Edward’s tone is casual, almost conversational, but you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. He dramatically clasps one of your hands. “Should I pay her a visit, my love?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away from his grasp and swatting him on the arm. He flinches away with a cheeky grin. “No, you will not pay her a visit. I can handle Karen just fine on my own, thank you,” you say firmly, though you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips. You know he is joking… but you also know he is not.

It’s almost ridiculous how protective he can get, even over the small annoyances in your life. It’s also endearing and makes you feel like you are a queen.

“Very well,” he sighs, leaning back against the sofa. “I shall refrain from enacting my brilliant yet terrible revenge upon this Karen… for now. But do go on, I live for these tales of your daily conquests.”

You laugh, feeling the tension of the day start to dissipate. That’s the magic of this ritual—no matter how insignificant your problems seem in comparison to the criminal mastermind sitting next to you, he always makes them feel valid, important. It’s as if your grievances are his fun little puzzles to solve, and he savors each one with the same intensity he reserves for his grand schemes.

You continue, recounting every petty slight, every ridiculous email Karen sent, and every snarky comment she made. And Edward listens, nodding along, his eyes never straying from your face. He interjects now and then, offering his own brand of sarcastic commentary that has you snorting with laughter.

When you’re finally done venting, you feel lighter, like you’ve shed the weight of the day. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with my whining,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m nothing special… Just an office drone complaining about office drama.”

Edward shifts, twisting to rest his elbow on the back of the couch, a fist against his cheek. “Now, that,” he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his other, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “is where you’re entirely wrong.”

You blink at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. “I am?”

“Absolutely,” he declares, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are everything to me. Your stories, your frustrations, even your hatred of Karen—they’re all pieces of you. And you, my dear,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “are my favorite little puzzle. Always changing, keeping me on my toes.”

Your heart skips a beat, the warmth of his gesture seeping into your skin. How does he always do this? How does he take something so mundane and make it feel like the most significant part of his world?

You squeeze his hand, feeling a rush of affection for this man who, despite his less-than-ideal ‘career,’ makes you feel like you’re the most important person in his life. “I love you, you know that?”

His blue eyes gleam, and he nods, releasing your hand only to slide his arm around your shoulders, pulling you fully into his lap. “I do,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I love you. This”— he gestures between the two of you— “is the best part of my day. I assure you.”

You snuggle further into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as a contented sigh escapes you. “You’re pretty amazing,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

“I know,” he affirms with a chuckle, resting his cheek on top of your head.

In the quiet of your living room, with the weight of the day melting away, you hold onto this moment. The ritual of recounting your mundane life, of being with him, of knowing that no matter what, he’ll always be there to listen and make you feel like you matter. It’s these small, everyday acts of love that make up the intricate, beautiful puzzle of your marriage with Edward. And it's a puzzle you’ll never tire of piecing together.

[championofmyheart]

Rules ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊⁺⊹⋆₊˚⊹ᰔ

do not copy, modify, or repost my work as your own.

do not be vague with your requests. be descriptive and specific with what you want the fic to be about!!

please be patient & polite with me, I am a student with lots of responsibilities so I may not respond to your request immediately 😭I will not be responding to any rude asks <3

I write for gender-neutral, fem, masc, & plus-sized readers.

I focus on sfw works! slightly suggestive is fine with me but I do not write smut at the moment.

besides the non-negotiable regulations, I am open to any and all types of fics.

this includes (coloured are my favs :3)

hurt/comfort

angst

fluff

slightly suggestive

sh comfort / or any type of comfort

sibling au

any aus' (esp when it comes to Ethan Landry !!)

mainly writing for

Scream American horror story Across the spider verse Mcu Evan Peters (characters) Paul Dano (characters) Jack Champion (characters)

feel free to request either way! I am multifandom, these are just my favs <3

all fics will be under the tag "champion of my heart fics ≽^•⩊•^≼"

[the-odd-devil]

The Sky Is Dark, But I See You : Chapter 2

Edward Nashton x f!reader Dark Academia College AU

Summary : Edward Nashton is horny. Eddie POV from chapter 1.

It just takes for you to smile at Edward Nashton once to make him obsessed with you.

Word Count : 3 297

Warnings : Didn't think it would be like that, but chapter 2 and there's already a lot of smut oops. 🙈 

masturbation, semi public masturbation, obsessive behavior, kind of stalker-ish?, humilation, mention or oral (m! recieving), slight voyeurism.

Tell me if I forgot any! Thanks <3

Author's Note : Finally chapter 2! Woop woop! A lot more porn than I thought, but I wouldn't want it any other way.😌 I hope you'll like it! I had a lot of fun with it!

A big BIG thank you to @always-andromeda for proof reading, it's always an amazing experience and it helps me a lot with my english!

Chapter II : Who Is She

He’ll forever remember the first time he saw you. It was one of those moments that felt out of time and space where every detail is clear and stays in your retina, leaving an indelible print of the scene in your brain. Time slowed down. You were the only bright and colorful aura in the dark hallway that leads to his coding in Python class. He could pin every color that made you, a beautiful and saintly painting in his mind. He saw you because you saw him, eyes burning his; burning his whole being. He felt seen for the first time when you laid your eyes on him, a soft, caring look that had never been given to him before. 

He doesn’t know how he deserved that pure gaze from a beautiful creature, warming his heart underneath his clothes, cold and wet from the shitty Gotham weather. Soon, the light warming burned him, it was too much for poor Edward, not even used to the smallest attention directed towards him. He looked down. Oh, he regretted it immediately.   He wanted more. That feeling would not leave him. It consumed his thoughts; ate at his brain. He wanted more, more, more. 

Other students had already judged him on his looks and were avoiding him as much as they could. His reputation wouldn’t survive a stained crotch. In a clumsy and swift move, he finally let himself free and came in his hand after a few strokes, breathy moans that he tried to keep low as he was finally aware of the situation.

Head low, he accelerated his pace. So overwhelmed that tears started to form in his eyes and his breath quickened. The butterflies in his stomach began to make him nauseous. By the next turn of the hallway where he was sure you couldn’t see him, he ran to the closest bathroom. He felt  the other students watching him and knew how pathetic he looked: cheeks red, forehead sweaty, tears falling down his face while he tried to make his tall figure as petite as possible. The shame was growing as he could feel himself getting hard, the memory of your eyes on him, the warmth that this pretty girl he didn’t even know the name of gave him, mixed with the humiliation of the situation was too much for him.

He was painfully hard when he finally locked himself in the bathroom. He let his tears fall from his eyes and whiny moans fell from his lips as he threw his head back to the wall. He was a fucking mess, the shame being washed down by how horny he was. Slowly catching his breath, he was trying to calm down, each exhalation coming out as a whine or a moan. The only thought left in his head was the hope that no one else was in that bathroom or, at least, didn’t see him enter.

His attempts to calm down were in vain. His hand found its way to lightly stroking himself over his pants, removed from what his consciousness was screaming at him. He soon was rutting on his hand, hips losing their will too. He was starting to get close, too close. A moan, louder than the previous, woke him up as he was on the edge. His pants weren’t stained yet. Even if everyone must’ve been in class by now, he didn’t wanna risk walking to his dorm room with a stain on his pants.

Mind clearer after his release, he was finally able to calm down and catch his breath.  After putting his pants back on, he went to face the mirror, trying to fix his state. He looked like an even bigger mess, hair pointing every direction, oval glasses slightly crooked on his head, marks of his tears all over his cheeks, and a rest of drool at the corner of his lips. His clothes were no better, sweater, shirt and trousers wrinkled and out of position. He avoided his reflection, unable to stand how pathetic he looked.

He quickly made himself presentable, splashing his face with water to cool down and wipe off the mess before repositioning his clothes. He checked in the mirror that he looked ok. He hated his image – as always – but he didn’t look as though he’d just jerked off in a college bathroom after a girl looked at him with a little bit of sympathy. What time was it? Maybe he could still go to his Python class.

Were you doing it on purpose? He was really starting to consider this hypothesis. Because he was seeing you way too often. He felt like he was going crazy. And he was. Maybe he wanted you to be following him. Maybe he was starting to hallucinate visions of you in the hallways multiple times a day. You were becoming a difficulty, a problem. Graduating was his only way out from the misery he was predestined to. Widely opening its arms, the depths of hell waited for him. 

You were distracting him, but he’s addicted. His whole body heated up every time he felt your presence, he was feeling hot, too hot. He felt like his brain was overheating and that his dick was trying to take control while hardening in his pants.

He had some more active periods than others, skirts of girls flying through the wind, the first time he saw a girl in her underwear after entering a room without knocking, when he first discovered porn, when he hid to watch a boy of his dorm jerking off, when he observed a couple having sex in one of the orphanage's rooms. He knew deep down that he was a pervert. But at least he could function, preparing himself for greater causes. Somehow, you were different. You noticed him, and that changed everything. 

Most of the time he succeeded at controlling himself; not looking at you, praying that he wouldn’t smell your perfume today. He knew he looked like an idiot, face all red and looking at the ground; he could hear the other students laughing at him, he looked pathetic. Did you find him pathetic? Did you like it? On those days he was just a couple of minutes late, catching his breath at the next corner where you couldn’t see him anymore.

On other days – the unfortunate ones – days when he couldn’t control himself, days when his brain was boiled and only his erection was able to take commands, he missed a class. Too busy releasing himself in some toilet paper in a dim bathroom, hand on his mouth trying to muffle his moans.

Edward hadn’t been a compulsive masturbator before you. He did what he had to do in some unsanitary bathroom at the orphanage where he could be alone for a few minutes, hoping that nobody would notice he was gone. And of course nobody ever noticed.

He was scared to look up from his paper and meet your gaze. He was scared of what he’d see, unsure of your intentions, unsure of his body. His body that was already betraying him, cold sweats and unbearable heat, he knew his face was red. Oh, you must be delighted. He thought that if he succeeded in controlling his breath until you went away, everything would be fine. Just 3 hours maximum, the library would be closed by then, and he’d be able to go back to his dorm room. 

He certainly wished you hadn’t noticed him this day, sitting across from him at the library. You’re doing it on purpose, you're clearly doing it on purpose. There were dozens and dozens of unoccupied seats all over the library, and you’re sitting in front of him. His brain hurt. Why were you doing that? What did he do? Did you want to make fun of him? To ridicule him in front of everyone? He could feel tears forming in his eyes, too many thoughts and emotions going through his brain. 

But he should know that he wasn’t this lucky. Was it curiosity? Was it to know if you were looking? Was it a deep desire? Intrusive thoughts? He looked up and met your gaze. It instantly lit up, happy to have finally caught the attention that you were looking for. You gave him your prettiest smile. His eyes opening wide, he could feel his whole body going into shock. His blood ran cold but his skin felt like it was bubbling and boiling. He let out the most pathetic whine and it woke him up from his paralyzed state. He tried to hide by looking down at his paper.

His eyes were burning, unable to close as he stared blankly at his paper. His senses seemed to disappear to be contained in his body;  he couldn’t  hear, see, smell, feel or taste anything. But he felt like he was going to explode. An orgasm ready to be released at any instant. Pleasure, both contained and denied, burned through him.

Time passed and he didn’t even feel that. The next thing he remembered was the librarian waking him from his trance to tell him that they were about to close. She asked him, concern in her voice, if everything was ok. He blinked, feeling cold tears on his burned cheeks and his already wet underwear.

“Ye-yes…thank you…”

The walk to his dorm was painful to say the least. The friction of his pants on his hard cock made it difficult to walk without looking like a creep, even more so that, being as vocal as he is, he had to bite his lips and cheeks to not moan at each step. He was very glad that it was pitch dark outside and that the students he ran into were far enough away that they didn’t notice him.

She left with a confused expression.

Finally coming back into his own body, he looked down at his crotch in panic. Ok, no wet spot on his pants, but he was painfully hard. He was hoping that holding his coat in front of him in the dark would be enough. 

His roommate Ryan was studying at their dorm that night.  It was the reason why Eddie went to study in the library in the first place.

He wished he’d noticed when you went away so that he would have been able to “use” the library bathroom. Everything was closed this late. He had no choice but to go back to his dorm room.

And the most difficult part was still to come.

Ryan was a nice guy; smart, handsome, popular, and good at school. Eddie couldn’t bear being close to him, his presence only making him feel worthless. He had to adapt his schedule to his, minimizing the time they had to share the room. It was an inconvenience, but still better than having to talk to Ryan.

The walk to his room was better than expected. For once he was thankful for his ability to be forgotten. In front of his door, he prayed that Ryan was sleeping or went away for a snack or to meet one of his numerous friends. The light underneath the door was telling him otherwise.

He was nice to Eddie, which he initially thought would be a good thing. But every time he talked to him it just felt condescending, as if Eddie was lower than him. He knew Ryan saw him as a creep, just like everybody else, but he was too nice to treat him like one. And tonight would not help that reputation.

Hopeful, he put his ear on the wood. Shit, he’s there. Eddie took a deep breath and decided that the best option he had was to run to the bathroom, keeping his coat in front of him, hoping that no questions would be asked.

He opened and closed the door quickly and silently and started to head to the bathroom, his head low and face still red. Ryan caught him immediately and was his usual self, trying to engage in conversation with Eddie.

“Eddieboy! Hi!”

“Yeah… Yeah! I… um… I had a bit of a migraine at the library… I just need to take a shower…”

His upbeat tone made Eddie jump. He looked up at Ryan like a scared puppy who had just peed on the carpet. His forced smile began to be replaced by an interrogative expression seeing the nerd’s red face and eyes.

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh, ok! Have fun in the shower!” 

He was used to Ryan saying that every time he took a shower. But this time, it made Eddie jump again, feeling like Ryan somehow knew what he was about to do. It made Ryan embarrassed of the double meaning of his sentence. 

“Oh… um… thanks man…” 

“I mean! Um, yeah… you deserve a good shower…”

How Eddie was capable of turning a simple, single word conversation into a living hell was a curse that he had to live with. 

He ran into the bathroom and closed the door without looking at him.

Alone in the bathroom, he could finally breathe. His breath came out more as a low moan that immediately triggered his fight or flight response, scared that Ryan had heard him. He stopped for a few seconds, paralyzed. Then he heard Ryan turn on the radio. Good.

He finally calmed down, letting his coat fall on the floor and soon his other clothes followed. The hot water felt like a pause. A pause from Gotham’s cold rain, from the students cold gaze. But soon he felt too hot, seeing you again in his mind, beautiful you who smiled at him. His soft dick was hardening again at the thought of your smile. But this time he had no reservations about letting his imagination and his hands do what they wanted freely.

He needed it so bad. He needed to touch himself while thinking of your pretty lips so badly. In his wildest dreams, he wasn't shy and creepy Edweird. He was charming and dominant, capable of getting up from his chair and flirting with you. Smiling back, winking, sharing a look that said "you and me, in the bathroom, right now.” Your knees on the tiles of the library bathroom, you would suck him off, without even having to share a word. He would grab a handful of your hair and guide you, whispering soft praise of how good you were sucking his dick. Such a good girl, who knew just what she had to do. He came in breathy moans that he was succeeding to keep low enough so that the water and the radio were covering them.

He didn't know how long he stayed in the shower; he still hadn't cleaned himself and the water was starting to get cold. It was late and he had to wake up early tomorrow. He washed himself quickly, put on a towel, and got out his PJs. Good thing that Ryan was already sleeping, he didn't want to have to pretend to be happy that his roommate was kind enough to talk to him. PJs on, mind and dick empty, he drifted off to an unusually calm and relaxing sleep.

Eddie's heavenly hell had just begun. It seemed that you knew what you did to him and really liked it, continuing to flash him your prettiest smiles. It was becoming difficult to concentrate since he saw you at least once a day. When you didn't notice him, he couldn't help but hide and drink up your image. His brain didn’t even register that other students could see him spying on you. He couldn't care, too busy remembering every little detail of you. Every curve, every freckle, every wrinkle when you smiled, how your outfits always matched. He was addicted, you were consuming all of his brain.

You were making a mess out of him. He couldn't even count the number of times he made a fool out of himself after you flashed him a smile. Every time your smile hit him it was like an electric shock in his body made him lose control, his whole body so hot that his glasses started to fog, mind incapable of recording his surroundings. His brain was too absent to tell him he should be careful to not look creepy, his dick having taken full control. He was starting to struggle studying with you appearing in his mind every time he was trying to concentrate, his brain too dependent on you. 

He was using every break and every bathroom he could to jerk off. He thought that if he masturbated often enough, he'd get bored of it. That it wouldn’t be as exciting as before. He was very wrong. He had to bite his hand every time to silence the dirty moans that escaped his mouth and dry off his tears with toilet paper before going to the communal sinks to properly wash his face and hands. 

He couldn't escape you and, truly, he didn't want to. He drank a lot of coffee before, but now he was certainly developing a severe caffeine addiction, spending all of his time sitting at a table that got the best view of you while you were on your shift. During those afternoons, he could feel himself going insane watching you from afar. You, waving and smiling at him and the little hearts you drew on his tickets and cups. He kept every single one of them in a box under his bed.

All of that plus the clearly unhealthy amount of caffeine in his system and he was left rock hard and shaking when he had to go back to his dorm. He was thanking every God he could think of when Ryan was not here after that afternoon's numerous coffees. Finally he was able to jerk off somewhere else other than in a bathroom. On those evening he fucked his pillows like a mad man, covered in sweat and drooling. He had to buy himself more pillow cases. 

His grades were suffering from the torment you put him through. He really had to do something, anything. He would not let Gotham ruin him. You, on the other hand… 

He thought of a lot of solutions, some better than others, some more possible than others, some even sinister. His favorite scenario would be to do to you everything he dreamed of. But his brain, even if capable of resolving the most complicated puzzles, couldn't find a solution for him to make the first move. He just knew it would be a terrible idea, even if he succeeded in formulating some words, he was too scared of how his body would react.  

His train of thought stops when someone knocks at the door, interrupting his professor. The loud noise makes him jump, but seeing you at the door makes his heart stop. You are taking the same class??? Oh my god you are taking the same class… He starts to panic as an evil smile appears on your face when you notice him too. He plunges his head in his paper, trying to disappear. He knows he is already bright red, but he couldn't help but flash some looks at you while you go to your table. 

His mind is running a thousand miles per hour, somewhere between panic and screaming, "THIS IS YOUR CHANCE, DO SOMETHING!" He doesn't even notice the professor talking about a group project until the paper for duos comes to his table. He figures that he will, once again, have to do the work of two alone, He assumes that, too panicked to react, he lost the chance he could’ve had to be paired with you. Wait… 

Tag list : @generouspour ; @unholybabyface

[writing-blog-iguess]

Oswald Cobblepot

Summery: Cass and Steph requested a story about her and Penguin. How they met, Bruce trying to convince her to quit working for Penguin, and her last day.

Warning: really bad description of a fight, fluff maybe, angst maybe

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for months and it’s finally finished. Go me. As always feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

Ao3

-------

Given her job at the hospital and the clinic she sometimes volunteer’s at, she doesn’t get many days off. And when she has them, she takes them with a smile and relaxes outside underneath her favourite tree at Wayne Manor.

She’s happy and content at reading, and she smiles when Stephanie and Cassandra join her. They plop down on either side of her, and she starts reading out loud. Her smile only widens when the boys come out of the house to play a game of football.

And her morning is spent in a peace that she hasn’t seen in a while and she’s happy. It isn't until Alfred carries lunch out that Stephanie gets the ball rolling. “Mom, can you tell us a story?”

She raises an eyebrow at her, and laughs when she sees her boys tripping over themselves as they run towards them at the sight of food. “What kind of story would you like to hear?”

The two girls think about it for a minute. It’s Cassandra who spoke first. “Penguin.”

She shouldn’t be too surprised. The girls were away on a mission when the boys asked about her history with Harley. And when they got back, they were disappointed that they missed it. So they demanded their brothers to give them cliff notes of the stories.

“What about penguins?” Tim asked, as he plopped down beside Cass and grabbed for a plate of food. Stephanie promptly smacked his hand away. “Ow,” he whined, rubbing his hand. “What was that for?”

“You have to wait until everyone’s here, Tim. Otherwise, we don’t get food,” she said simply.

“Yeah, but if I don’t get a plate, Jason will eat everything,” he said just as Jason walked up behind him. Smacking the back of his head, Jason sits down beside Stephanie.

“I do not.” Tim, Steph and Cass gave him a pointed look causing him to huff. “So maybe I do. Can’t help it if Alfred’s food is better than my own.”

“Didn’t Alfred teach you?” Dick asked, taking a seat.

“Yeah, but before him Ma started teaching me. But that was before…” he trailed off. Jason’s death was still a sore spot for her. She hated talking about it, hating thinking about it. Hating herself and what she became when Bruce came home that night and told her what happened.

When Jason came back from the dead, she wasn’t the same. Don’t get it wrong, she was glad she had her Jason back. But there was a part of her that died when Jason did and it never came back. Since then, there was an unspoken rule of never talking about it around her. She appreciated the gesture, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat, Tim repeated his question before their mother could spiral. “What about penguins?”

“Not penguins, Penguin. We’re trying to get mom to tell us stories about him,” Stephanie answered.

“Out of everyone Ummi knows, why him?” Damian asked, going to sit in front of her. She moved her legs and he sat down, leaning onto her chest. Stephanie shrugged, and grabbed a plate after getting an okay from Alfred.

“Why not? Besides, I want to know if he was always like that. Or if he changed once he became Gotham’s most wanted.” That had caused her to snort and everyone turned to her in question.

“You don’t want to wait for Bruce to come?” she asked instead of answering their question.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce is tied up at Wayne Enterprises,” Alfred said before anyone could, “but he did say he’ll be joining you later once the meeting is finished.”

So much for a perfect morning. Oh well, it can’t be helped.

“So, what exactly do you want to hear?”

---

“Come on Pumpkin,” Harley whined from her bed, stretching her arms out. “When was the last time you went out and had fun?”

She peered over her book, and raised an eyebrow at Harley. “During the summer when we didn’t have school. Harley, you should know this. You were there, and so was Selina.”

“Yeah, but we’re halfway through our second year and you need to let loose a little,” Harley retorted, “you can’t worry about school all the time.”

“Harley’s right,” someone else butted in before she could say anything. They looked towards the door and found Selina leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need to let loose once and awhile. It’ll help you relax so you’re not stressing over homework. Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky if we go.”

She flushed at the meaning and hid her face in her book. “No, I don’t want to. Besides, even if we did go out, it’s not like we can go out to bars. We’re underage.”

“I know a place that let’s minors in,” Selina supplied. Harley squealed and rolled off her bed, landing on the floor beside her roommate. She pulled the book away from her and pouted.

“Please?”

Her resolve crumbled as she sighed. “Fine, I’ll go out with you tonight. But only for tonight!” she promised. Selina rolled her eyes while Harley clapped her hands in victory.

“Yay! Now we have to find something for you to wear.” She only groaned as she watched her friends raid her closet.

“The Iceberg Lounge?” she questioned as she looked up at the building where they stood in line. “It sounds classy. Are you sure they let minors in?”

“Positive,” Selina purred, looping her arms through hers and Harley’s. “I’ve been here before; I think you’ll like it.”

She hummed but looked unconvinced. “If you don’t like it, we can always leave. Just say the word and we’ll go somewhere else,” Harley said, smiling brightly, she returned it in thanks. Her heart thumped quickly at the thought of Harley looking out for her, but she ignored it in favour of trying not to ruin the night.

Soon enough they neared the front of the line. The bouncer raised an eyebrow, but Selina did most of the talking. After a minute or two, he sighed and let them in after telling them the rules.

The lounge was quiet when she stepped in. not the quiet that libraries have when one wants to study. It wasn’t loud like the clubs she used to sneak into with Bruce. It was somewhere in between, a respectable level of quietness/loudness that she found herself relaxing. This was a place she knew she would visit again.

“Selina! Baby, it’s been awhile,” the bartender called once the three of them walked closer to the bar.

Selina smiled and brought her arms to her side before leaning on the bar. “Hey Joe,” she greeted and ordered drinks for the three of them. Harley had dragged her away when she noticed Selina started flirting.

“Wonder if she never not flirted.” Harley mused as she found an empty table. Sliding into the seat beside Harley, she laughed.

“I don’t think she knows how,” she said. Harley looked at her and she shrugged as an answer. “I’ve known her since high school, I’ve seen her with anyone she deemed interesting.”

“Has she flirted with you?”

She flushed at the thought of her best friend ever flirting with her, but merely shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“She was too busy with her nose in a book,” Selina said from behind them. She jumped while Harley giggled, and turned to look at Selina in question. “But it wouldn’t have mattered, I didn’t really like her like that so my feelings weren’t hurt.”

She flushed again and turned back to the table with a small pout. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mumbled. Selina hummed and walked around in front of them, sliding their drinks to them.

“Right. But the stories I have, tell otherwise.”

The red on her cheeks darkened and she took a sip of her drink to help cool her down. “Can we not? I don’t want to go down memory lane. It’s embarrassing.”

“Awe, but Pumpkin,” Harley whined, giving her puppy dog eyes. She looked away and shook her head firmly. Harley pouted when she refused to look at her. “Fine. I’ll leave it for now.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving Harley a smile. She didn’t notice the blush creeping on Harley’s neck, but Selina did.

“Come on Harley, let’s go dance,” Selina said, standing as Harley nodded eagerly.

“Are you coming pumpkin?”

“She doesn’t dance,” Selina answered, grabbing Harley by the hand and dragged her towards the dance floor. She floundered for a bit but didn’t try to defend herself.

“You guys have fun. I’m fun here,” she called after them instead.

“If you’re sure,” Harley called, looking unsure. She smiled at her roommate and only then did Harley feel comfortable leaving her alone.

She watched her friends dance for a bit before pulling out her phone. Opening the internet, she scrolled through hoping to find a part time job. But nothing seemed to appeal to her.

Sighing, she closed the phone and set it down. Crossing her arms on the table, she rested her chin on her arms and smiled as she watched her friends dancing.

“Shouldn’t you be over there dancing instead of sitting here by yourself?” someone asked, and she trailed her eyes over to an older man sitting beside her with a hooked nose. She shrugged and looked back at her friends.

“I can’t dance very well, and I don’t want to be the reason why we go home early,” she replied. “I might step on their toes or something. I think it’s a mood killer.”

“Still, it’d been fun to dance for a bit.”

“Maybe.”

They lapsed in silence for a while before it became too much, she introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Oswald Cobblepot.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she replied, and still thinking about finding a job, she took the plunge and asked if he knew someone looking for people.

—

“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, waving his arms in front of him as the story faded. “You worked for Penguin?”

“Yup. Stayed there until I was done with my residency,” she answered, chewing on a strawberry. “Honestly, the best job I’ve ever had.”

“But why?” Tim asked, moving his plate to the side and went to lay on his stomach. She leaned back on the tree and wrapped her arms around Damien once they were done eating.

“Med school isn’t cheap you know, plus everything else. I needed the money,” she said, tilting her head a little. “But I had some conditions while working there, don’t worry.”

“Bet Dad didn’t like that.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh you have no idea.”

—

“Seriously? Penguin?” Bruce exclaimed, following her as she walked behind the bar. She rolled her eyes and bent down to pick up a crate, only for Bruce to take it out of her hands once she stood up.

“Bruce!”

“No, Bug. You need to listen, you can’t work for someone like Penguin,” Bruce stressed out. She gave him a look and grabbed for the crate, tugging. He didn’t let go.

“No Bruce, I can listen to you but I’m not doing what you want me to do,” she answered, tugging on the crate with force, this time he let go. “And besides, I don’t even know who Penguin is.”

Bruce gaped at her and watched as she moved the crate to the storage room. When she came back, she huffed. “What?”

“Do you watch the news? It’s everywhere,” Bruce said, and she tilted her head scrunching her nose in thought. “Seriously? You don’t pay attention to the news?”

“No? That’s why I have Harley and Johnathan for,” she teased, he gave her a pointed look. “What? I’m busy with school and work. So forgive me if I don’t have time to read what’s going on in Gotham and who’s fighting who.”

“You were never too busy to pay attention to the news growing up,” he countered.

“Things change, Bruce. You of all people should know that,” she said, and let it sit in the air as she picked up the clipboard with all the things she still needed to do before opening.

“Do you even know what he does? What secret meetings he has while you work out in the front? I can tell you, his next meeting is with Zsasz about-”

“Nope!” she shouted a little too loudly, dropping the clipboard with a clang and hurriedly covered his mouth with her hands, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. “No, don’t finish whatever you’re going to say.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and stared at her, waiting for an explanation. “I am aware of what he might be doing,” she said slowly, ignoring the look of disbelief. “Shut up, Bruce. I know it sounds dumb, but if I don’t know what’s going on I can live my life.”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Bruce mumbled behind her hands. She shrugged and dropped her hands. “He’s a crook and you know that. And yet you still work for him?”

She turned around and picked up the clipboard, looking it over. “What I know and don't is fine. It works in my favour if I don't. You know, plausible deniability. Besides, I work out here serving drinks and cleaning and stuff. He knows that and won’t get me involved.”

“You’re already involved! You’re working for him. Besides, you can’t live your life like that, it’ll get you killed.”

“Oswald won’t let that happen,” she answered. It was almost comical how wide his eyes were when she said his name. “And I’m sure you won’t either.”

“You call him by his name?”

“Of course, what else would I call him? Mr. Cobblepots? That’s a mouthful and he insisted I call him Oswald. And calling him Penguin just feels weird.”

“I think you’re a weirdo.”

“Geez, thanks Bruce. You really know how to charm a lady,” she said, voice flat. “The money I earn here is clean.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” he said, moving out of the way as she shooed him. She walked behind the bar and began wiping it down as Bruce sat on one of the stools.

“Of course I do, I do the book,” she said. Bruce leaned against the bar causing her to stop. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “The books of the bar, not whatever Oswald is in.”

“You hate math.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” she countered, trying to push him off the bar. “Move.”

“Come work for me,” he said, freezing her in place. She gripped his arm where her hands stilled, as if he just asked her out on a date.

“What?” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she let go of his arms and stood back, arms crossed. “And do what? Be your secretary? Be Batman’s? No thank you.”

“Why not? The pays probably better, good benefits too. And you'll be working for your best friend.”

“Exactly why I do not want to work for you,” she said. “The commune is longer-“

“I’ll get you a driver.”

“My schooling is important and I can’t miss classes-“

“We’ll work around your class schedule.”

“No, Bruce. I don’t want to work for you and you won’t be able to convince me otherwise,” she said, stubbornly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need people saying I’m sleeping with you just to get a job, or why I got promoted,” she finally caved and Bruce stared at her in shock.

“Why would they think that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief and shook her head. “Bruce, you are and I quote ‘Bruce Wanye, Gotham’s next playboy billionaire’,” she said and snorted as he gaped like a fish. “Seriously? Don’t you look at the tabloids?”

“No! Is that what they’re saying about me?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms and waited.

“Don’t know what else they’ll say about you going on dates with different people every night,” she said, “but I’m sure that’s what you wanted right, so people can’t accuse you of being, well, you know.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize that’s what they settled on,” Bruce huffed, moving to lean his arms on the bar. “Is that really why you don’t want to work for me?”

“Yes. I want to make a name for myself, and to do that I have to distance my name with yours. I mean come on, growing up we were always together. If your name was in the paper, so was mine. What was it that they called us? Gotham’s sweethearts? They even predicted that we’d get married once we were older. So coming to work for you, would just add fuel to that burnt out fire. Besides, I like it here Bruce.”

“I never knew,” he whispered, resting to put his chin on his arms. She leaned over the bar and patted his head.

“You did, we joked about it for a bit. But then the mugging happened, and then you pushed me away.”

“Fat lot that did,” he said but couldn’t help but smile. She returned it and reached over to squeeze his hand.

“I’m just as stubborn, Bruce. Too bad you found out the hard way.”

They were silent for a moment, both lost in the past. A few seconds later, Bruce cleared his throat and dragged his gaze to her.

“So does that mean you, if I asked, that you’ll say no to being my informant?”

“Bruce!”

—

“You tried getting Mom as an informant?!” Dick asked, leaning forward as he saw Bruce make his way towards them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bruce said, coming to a stop beside Dick.

“Oh come on! Mom was telling us how she worked for Penguin. And that you tried to get her to quit,” Tim elaborated. Bruce made a face as memories from back then resurfaced.

“I still can’t believe you worked there until it shut down,” Bruce said, joining her by the tree. Cass, Stephen and Damian shifted so her and Bruce sat next to each other.

She looked up and smiled. “Like I said, plausible deniability.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” Bruce said, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, and the commissioner didn’t believe me when I said I had no idea what was happening. I’ve spent so much time in the interrogation room, I didn’t think I was ever going home.”

“It wasn’t too bad.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave Bruce a pointed look. “I was there for the rest of the night. All because we were waiting for Oswald to wake up. Harley and Selina almost came to get me by force if you hadn’t stopped them. Gordon ended up having to release me before all three of you could do something about it.”

“What did you tell them?” Dick asked, leaning over and snatching a cookie before Tim could grab one. Ignoring Tim’s hey! and took a bite.

“The truth,” she said, turning back to everyone. “That I work behind the bar. That I'm not allowed to go into the back and if I needed something, to ask someone else. Or call him for something and he’ll have someone bring it out.”

“Did you know Zsasz?” Jason questioned.

“Mm. But only as a customer. Was a huge flirt though, loved to make Harley jealous when they came out to bug me. Selina got a kick out of it too and joined in. I’ve never been so flustered in my life then on nights like those.”

“It’s still so weird that you and Harley dated,” Steph sighed, leaning her full weight on her mom. “Must have been the love of ages.”

“It was," Bruce answered for her. She turned to look at him, expecting to see jealousy, anger. But instead all she saw was love, admiration and gratitude. For what, she did not know, but had an inkling it was meant for Harley. Bruce slipped a hand in hers and squeezed, she returned the gesture.

“Wait, hold up,” Tim said, backtracking. “What do you mean Gordon kept you at the station?”

Bruce chuckled and Y/N blew out a breath. “That day wasn’t the first time I’ve spent time at the police station being questioned. But it was the last time, and it happened after Batman’s fight with Oswald. I told both of them if they wanted to fight, they were free too. Just not in the place I work. But neither listened.”

“You’ve been questioned before?” Barbara asked, knitting her brows together. “Dad never mentioned you.”

“Oh yeah. When Penguin first started up his criminal enterprise or whatever, Jim wanted to bring him down. Pulled me into the station a few times, asking what I know. Ooh I frustrated him so much because I knew nothing. And he didn’t have anything on me to book me, so he watched me walk away. Every time.”

Bruce snorted, gaining the attention of everyone. “He even came to Batman and Bruce, asking if I knew anything or had anything on her that she was in on whatever Penguin was doing. But true to her word, she stayed far away from it. It was starting to piss me off too.”

“What can I say? When I set my mind to something, it sticks.” Bruce grunted with mock annoyance.

“So what happened on your last day of working at the club?” Damian asked, interrupting whatever was going on between the two.

“Right. Well, it started with Ed.”

—

“Hello Peaches!” Edward Nigma called as he walked through the door.

“You know, I’ve never understood why you’ve nicknamed me Peaches,” she said in greeting, moving behind the bar as he walked towards it.

“You like peaches,” Ed said with a shrug.

“Just because I like peaches doesn’t mean anything,” she pointed out and smiled when he gave her a look. “What?”

“I said peaches and you answered without thinking twice about it,” Ed answered, “so it stuck.”

“Stuck indeed,” she hummed, laughing a little as she thought of all the nicknames she’s acquired. They range from types of animals to foods. She didn’t mind of course, she found it endearing.

“Oswald around?” Ed asked once there was a lull in the conversation.

“Probably,” she answered with a shrug, before going back to counting inventory. Ed paused in his walk and turned to face her, studying her.

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Ed asked, and watched as she froze in her task. She turned around and smiled guiltily.

“...no he does not,” she said, “it was suppose to be my day off, but Harley was busy and everyone else was too. So I figured I could catch up on stuff I’ve been slacking lately. Feel free to tell him when you see him though.”

Ed shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah. One day you’re going to get in trouble and I won’t be there to stop it. Probably should go home, Peaches.”

She waved away his worry before turning her head on him. “Don’t worry, it feels like I have a guardian looking after me anyways.” Ed chuckled, saying goodbye before leaving for the back room. “Oh and Ed?” she called, stopping him from walking through the door. He hummed in acknowledgement. “You know the rules.”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to know what Oswald is doing, you sure are a stickler for rules,” Ed pointed out and dropped his phone in the basket on the bar.

“What can I say? I’m a rule follower.”

Once she heard the door open and closed, she took out her headphones from her pocket and put them on. Scrolling through her music, she found her work playlist and hit play.

And that’s how she spent the next few hours, music blasting in her ears, oblivious to the world outside. Soon, the sun had set and with the lounge being closed for the night, it allowed her to finish up inventory and cleaned the place.

As she swept the floor, there was a commotion that started in the back rooms. Her music was loud enough she couldn’t hear the breaking of boxes, or shouting coming to her friends and boss. It wasn’t until someone was thrown through the back wall, and landed near her. Missing her by a few feet.

She shrieked, holding the broom close to her chest as she watched Batman groan from where he landed. “Bruce?” she whispered to herself, but loud enough that Batman could hear her. She saw his eyes widen before whipping around to find her standing there, looking frazzled.

“What are you doing here?” Batman asked, grunting as he stood up. She ripped off her headphones, mouth open to reply. But before she could, a cackling sound came from the gaping hole. They both turned to see Oswald standing there, with a machine gun pointing at Batman.

“Oswald?!” she squeaked out in surprise, clutching the broom so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She watched as Oswald turned towards her in surprise, grip slacking slightly on the gun.

“It’s suppose to be your day off?!” Oswald shouted, lowering the gun. “What are you doing here?”

“I had mentioned I was gonna come here and catch up on some work the other day!” she shouted, grip loosening on the broom handle. “I even told Ed to tell you I was here! Clearly he hadn’t.”

As if he was summoned, Ed walked up behind Oswald and stood beside him. “Why the sudden quietness?” he asked, not noticing who all was in the room.

“Edward Nygma!” she shouted, adjusting the broom in her hand, as if she was about to go and hit him with it. “What the hell?!”

“Peaches, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Ed said in mock shock. She went to take a step forward but stalled when Oswald shifted the gun in his hands. “You should have gone home when you had the chance.”

“I call bullshit, Edward.”

“Well, I did tell you would get in trouble one day,” he said with a shrug. He shuffled towards Oswald, hanging off his shoulder looking a little unhinged.

“Somethings wrong,” she whispered, once again her grip tightened on the broom as she shuffled a bit closer to Batman. From the corner of her eye, she saw Batman slowly move towards her as well. “Ed’s not usually like this. What happened?”

“What happened dear Peaches,” Ed started, leaning over to grab the gun from Oswald, “I’ve just been hit with a dose of reality,” he finished as he checked the magazine. When everything seemed alright, Ed threw her a smile. She shuddered at the look he was giving her. “Now Peaches, let’s see if that guardian angel is here now.”

And before she could process what he meant by that, Ed pulled the trigger. Everything happened in slow motion as she watched in horror as he pointed the gun at her. She felt a stinging feeling in her shoulder before having her breath knocked out of her as Batman tackled her to the ground.

She groaned as they rolled across the floor, and Batman threw down a table as coverage as he pressed her close to his chest. “What are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!” she whispered-yelled, looking up to glare at him. “I thought you normally don’t fight at the lounge.”

“Only when I know you’re not here.”

—

Bruce cleared his throat, interrupting her story. She turned towards him with a raised brow and dared him to continue. He had the decency to look sheepish and ignored the glares that were sent his way.

“To be fair, I didn’t know you were working that night either,” he said and raised his hands in surrender when she leaned over and punched him. “It was your day off!”

“Doesn't mean I have to tell you every time I’m working.”

“She has you there, B,” Dick said. Y/N gestured to him and smiled.

“I mean it would be nice. I wouldn’t have to worry about you at night.” She scoffed.

“Back then maybe. But you're not my keeper, Bruce. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed out, eyes softening as he stared at her. There were a few oh gross and get a room and there are children here! thrown around. The two laughed and turned back to the group.

“Okay, where was I?”

“You were being shot at,” Damian supplied.

“Right. Well…”

—

“Seriously?! Is that why I come to work sometimes to see the lounge all trashed up and having to spend hours cleaning before opening?” she questioned and her eyes only narrowed when he shot him a look that screamed, not now. “Oh I’m sorry. It’s not like I go to your work and tell you how to run things,” she said bitterly.

“You could have if you accepted my offer,” Batman pointed out. She huffed, pushing out his arms only to cross them. She faintly heard Oswald and Ed arguing over the gunfire, but she paid them no mind. She was angry, with whom, it was anyone’s guess. But it seemed she was taking it out on Batman.

“Doesn’t matter now,” she sighed out, “so what now?”

“Now, you stay out of the way so I can stop them from hurting anyone,” Batman said, ignoring that look she was giving him. “And then I’m taking you home.”

“No shit,” she said, and peeked her head over the table when the gunfire had stopped. But she was quickly pushed down and she shot Batman a look. “What?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Like you would let that happen,” she quipped back. “And even if you did, Alfred would have your head. He likes me more than you.”

“First of all, no he doesn’t,” he grunted trying to mask his annoyance, it wasn’t working. “Secondly, you need to shut up or I’ll let it happen.”

She gasped mockingly and covered her heart with her hands. Instead of saying what she wanted too, a wince left her mouth, drawing Batman’s attention to her.

“You're hurt,” he said, his annoyance with her was replaced by worry. Grabbing her arm to look at her shoulder better. She winced and tried to pull her arm back, he didn’t let go.

“I’m fine,” she countered, tugging her arm with more force. She stopped when a sharp pain shot through her arm and hissed.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he grunted.

“It’s just a scratch,” she tried to argue but knew it was a losing battle when Batman shot her a glare. “It missed anything important.”

“You’re shot and I’m pretty sure the bullet’s still in there,” he pointed out. When silence settled into the room, Batman looked over the table and cursed. “Great, now I have to go find them.”

“Sorry for getting in the way,” she mumbled, cradling her injured out. Guilt seeped its way in her stomach, and she hunched into herself.

“It’s fine, they’re probably out back,” he said, standing up, he bent down and picked her up with ease. She made a noise in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck without thinking.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere safe while I finish up,” he said, walking towards the bathroom. He shouldered the door open and moved to place her on the counter. He leaned over and grabbed a wad of paper towels and pressed it against her shoulder. “Keep the pressure on it.”

“I think I know what to do, Bruce,” she said, groaning as she pressed the towels onto her shoulder. “I am a doctor.”

“Not yet you aren’t.”

“Oh Batman!” They heard Ed yell from the other side of the door. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

“What’s gotten into him?” she asked, watching Bruce move towards the door.

“Stay here until I come get you,” he said, ignoring her question.

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Are you always this annoying?” he shot back.

“Yes,” she said in a heartbeat. Batman shook his head but she didn’t miss the small smile dancing on his lips.

“I mean it, stay here,” he said, staring her down until she nodded.

“Yes boss,” she said. With that, Bruce turned into Batman as he slipped through the door.

As she sat there, the adrenaline from the night wore off and the pain from her shoulder started trickling in. She tried to ignore the pain and let her mind drift to the events that happened that night. Ed was all about riddles and quizzes about trivial stuff. Not whatever happened tonight. And it scared her.

She groaned and slumped against the wall, trying her best to ignore the yelling and fighting that was happening in the other room. “I quit,” she mumbled to no one in particular.

She closed her eyes and tiredness of the day seeped into her body. Thinking it would be fine if she rested a little bit without falling asleep.

She didn’t know how long she'd been sitting there, it could have been seconds, minutes, days, and if she was feeling dramatic, years. But soon enough, the door to the bathroom opened. Someone said her name but she didn’t have enough energy to acknowledge them.

A hand gently slapped her cheeks and she blinked open her eyes only to see a blurry Batman standing in front of her. She blinked a few times until he wasn’t so blurry.

“Bruce?” she questioned, “what are you doing at my house dressed up as Batman?”

“Where not at your house, Bug. We’re still at the lounge,” he said, taking the bloodied towels away from her shoulder. He applied fresh ones and the sharp pain that scattered throughout her arm was enough to wake her up.

“Is the fight over?” she asked, moving to sit forward. “Are they okay?”

“You’re still worried about them even after what happened tonight?” She only shrugged in response, feeling like if she explained it, he wouldn’t understand. “Yeah they’re okay. Nygma was hit with something, but he should be fine in a few hours. The police and EMT’s are on the way, so I should be leaving soon.”

“Leaving me so soon?” she asked. He shook his head and helped her down off the counter.

“I’ll still be around, you just won’t be able to see me.”

She nodded and the two of them made their way out of the bathroom. She looked around the lounge and grimaced at the thought of cleaning it up. Tables and chairs were thrown around, bullet holes littered the walls and everything.

“You know what? I quit,” she said again, leaning onto Batman’s arms. “I think I’ll make due without a job for a while. Besides, I’m almost done with school.”

“Thought you liked working here.” Not a question, but she answered all the same.

“I do, but cleaning this place up after one of your fights gets exhausting after a while. I’ve had my run at running a club, it’s time for my next adventure. Hopefully one where I’m not in the middle of one of your fights.”

Bruce huffed a laugh and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I wonder how we became friends and stayed friends.”

She looked up and squinted. “We fought over crayons in the second grade and I couldn’t get you to leave me alone since.”

“Mm, I remember it being the other way around.”

She stuck her nose in the air and huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” he said with a laugh. Once they made it outside, she widened her eyes as she took notice of Ed and Oswald tied up together and unconscious. Though if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought they were dead.

“You didn’t kill them, did you?” she whispered as if that would get him to admit that he did. She couldn’t help a small smile when he shot her a look.

“You know me better than that,” he grunted, and she could feel him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn’t see it. “But they’ll be fine. I have to leave for now, but I’ll come find you later.”

“What? Why?” she said, turning to him in alarm. With the adrenaline finally leaving her body, she felt her body crashing, and she was worried and scared of being alone.

“The police are on their way along with the EMT’s,” he elaborated, squeezing her uninjured shoulder in reassurance. “You need to get your shoulder checked and I’m pretty sure Gordon has some questions for you.”

She groaned and moved to sit on the steps of the lounge. “You called the commissioner?”

“Only because he’s the only one I trust to keep you out of harm's way.”

“Very reassuring,” she said dryly. Bruce patted her head before taking out his grappling hook, he shot it at a building after reassuring her that he’ll be back. Just not in the bat suit.

She sat there, and watched as police cars and an ambulance came speeding towards them. They stopped just before the lounge, and got straight to work. She watched as one of the police officers made a beeline towards her, and she scooted back at the look he sent her. But before he had the chance to question her, or arrest her from the looks he shot her, Commissioner Gordon stopped him.

Gordon sent him to do something else, and turned and made his way towards her. “Good evening Commissioner,” she greeted, attempting to wave but stopped when pain shot through her.

“Evening,” he greeted, looking over her form. “Anyone taken a look at your shoulder yet?”

“Not yet.” At her answer, Gordon waved over the paramedics. They looked it over, and she was relieved that Bruce was wrong. It ended up being a through and through so all she needed were stitches. Which they did, and bandaged her up, telling her to go to the hospital if it was getting worse. A little confused, she nodded and watched as they packed up and left. “Shouldn’t I get a ride to the hospital with them?”

Gordon shrugged, not having a clue. “You up for answering a few questions or would you rather get those stitches?”

She thought about it before answering. “I’ll answer some questions, the thought of going to the hospital right now sounds tiring.”

Smiling, Gordon helped her up and escorted her to his car. “We’ll do it at the station, more privacy.”

The ride to the station was quiet and so was the walk towards the interrogation room. Though she could make due without the stares or glares.

“Sorry about them,” Gordon said, letting her in the trim before closing the door behind him. “They’re not the biggest fan of your boss.”

“Can’t understand why,” she said, and sat down. Gordon hummed and went straight to questioning her. They were standard questions, if she was aware what was happening, if she was working for Oswald in his side business.

A couple of hours had passed, and Gordon looked as tired as she felt. “And you had no idea what Cobblepot’s was doing while you worked at the front?” he asked again.

“Yup. I was in charge of everything that was pertaining to the Lounge. I was one of the bartenders, I managed the front, made sure everything was okay. I did inventory, did the books for Oswald, and made sure everyone was paid. Cleaned the front of the Lounge, decorated accordingly to the seasons and holidays. I did everything. The only rule was that I wasn’t allowed to go in the back rooms. The only room I was allowed to go into was the storage room and the cooler where we kept the decorations and where we stored the drinks.”

Gordon sighed and rubbed his face before nodding. “Okay,” he said slowly, standing up.

“So I can go?” she asked, watching as he made his way to the door.

“Not yet,” he said and her shoulders slumped into disappointment. “I need to collaborate your story with Cobblepot. And that all depends on if he’s awake or not.”

With that, he left, leaving her in the room with her thoughts. She was really regretting not going to the hospital when he offered.

She sat there and tapped her fingers on the table, puffing out her cheeks as she thought about Harley. “Oh man, she’s gonna kill me,” she groaned, sinking into her seat. “Selina too, I just hope they don’t hear anything about this until I’m out.”

But the commotion that she could hear coming down the hall, proved her wrong. Straining her ears, she could hear Harley muffled yelling and Selina’s worried tone. She was afraid they’d get in trouble if they continued. Soon, she heard Bruce’s voice rumble through the room.

“Good, with Bruce here they’ll be fine,” she sighed, crossing her arms, waiting.

An hour or so later, the door finally opened revealing a sheepish Gordon. “Sorry about that.”

“I’d say no worries, but I’d be lying,” she said, sitting up straight. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yeah, you friends sure know how to make an entrance,” he answered. He opened the door for her and gestured with his head. “Go, with how many times I’ve questioned you, I have no reason to doubt you.”

She smiled and stood, making her way out the door. As she passed Gordon, she patted his arm. “I’m sorry for the headaches I’ve caused you. I hope to not cause you more in the future.”

“Trust me, you’re one headache I don’t mind having. You’re better than the bat and the criminals we have to deal with,” he said, with a smile. She laughed and shook head.

“Good luck,” she said as a goodbye. As she walked towards the front of the building, she could hear Harley.

“You can’t keep her here,” Harley whined, “you either have to charge her or let her go. She didn’t do anything.”

“She’s only here to answer a few questions, Ms, Quinzel. She’s free to leave once the Commissioner gives the all clear,” the officer at the front desk explained.

“It’s been hours though,” Selina pointed out. “You have nothing to hold her on. So either release her or charge her.”

From where she stood, she couldn’t see the expression on the officer's face, but the slumped shoulders told her they were tired.

“I’m sure your friend is finished any moment now. Please have a seat until then.”

“If you don’t, I’m going to riot and nothing can stop me,” Harley stated, moving to jump on the front desk. Bruce wrapped his arms around Harley and picked her up, holding her to his chest.

It was quite the sight to watch Harley being carried like a baby, thrashing around demanding to be let go.

“I don’t think she wants to stay here any longer if you're thrown in lockup,” Bruce commented, moving back a little so Harley couldn’t hit the desk. Selina looked on in amusement while Harley pouted.

“Do I weigh nothing to you?” Harley asked, turning her head to look up at him. Bruce shrugged and sent her a smirk.

“It’s like holding a couple of grapes,” he answered, causing Selina to laugh.

“Don’t quote Brooklyn 99 to me,” Harley squawked, wiggling until she was free. Before anyone could do anything else, she walked through the door.

“Can we go home?” she asked, interrupting whatever else they were planning. “I’m really tired.”

The three of them whipped their heads towards her, and she could see the officer physically relax.

“Pumpkin!” Harley shouted, darting towards her, almost tackling her to the ground in a hug. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

She winced when Harley pressed onto her shoulder and hoped no one noticed. But luck was not on her side tonight and Harley immediately let go, looking at her in concern.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Harley asked, she shook her head and gestured to her shoulder.

“Nygma was shooting up the place and I got a bullet to my shoulder,” she answered, “it was a through and through though, so the paramedics gave me a few stitches,” she said, giving Bruce a pointed look. Which he ignored completely.

“You should still go to the hospital,” Harley said, leaning over to study her shoulder. “At least to get it checked out.”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving it away like it was nothing. “I just want to go home.”

“No, Harley’s right,” Selina said, and stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and she leaned into her touch. “It needs to be looked at properly.”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Bruce said and ushering the three of them out of the building and into the car.

“More like Alfred will drive. I’ve never seen you behind the wheel once in our entire life,” she said as she climbed in, saying hello to Alfred.

“That is because he's a terrible driver,” Alfred answered for Bruce. She laughed, and leaned her weight on Harley, feeling sleep pull at her.

“I have no doubt about that,” she said, closing her eyes.

“To the hospital, Alfred.”

“Thanks again,” Harley said, snuggling closer. “Come on Pumpkin. Sleep, I’ll wake you when we’re at the hospital.”

She mumbled something incoherent and let sleep claim her.

———

“It was the shortest drive in my life but I had it looked at properly,” she finished. “Took forever though, I almost fell asleep while waiting.”

“You did fall asleep,” Bruce pointed out, “and you fell asleep while they redid your stitches, and while we were leaving. I ended up having to carry you so you didn't fall. Alfred insisted we bring you here, it was closer. Alfred was worried and he made sure Selina and Harley could stay too.”

“Oh that makes sense now,” she mumbled. “And you can’t blame me, it had been a long night and I was exhausted by the time Jim was done questioning me.”

“No one blames you,” Bruce said, “if anything, I blame myself.”

“Don’t even go there. No one could have known what was going to happen,” she said.

“So, do you have a scar?” Dick asked before the two of them could go into the blaming game.

She made a face and nodded. “Yeah, it’s small though but it’s there. No you cannot see it.”

“Awe.”

“At least now you're in the scar club,” Jason joked, she snorted.

“Boy, I joined that club long before any of you showed up,” she said and they all turned to look at you.

“You mean that’s not the last time you’ve been in the middle of a Batman fight?” Damian asked the question they were all thinking.

“It was my first yeah, but not my last.”

“Tell me more,” Steph pressed, resting her chin on her moms shoulder.

“Another time, my dear. I’m all storied out,” she said, patting Stephanie’s cheek gently.

There was a collective awe mans, but they all moved to get up, restarting their game of football.

“The amount of heart attacks I’ve gotten because you somehow ended up in the middle of those fights is astonishing,” Bruce said, moving to sit beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him.

“Yeah, I’d say sorry but-”

“But you're not,” Bruce finished, leaning down to kiss her head with a smile.

“Not my fault fate has issues with me,” she hummed, watching her children run around. Jason had the ball and both Duke and Dick were trying to tackle him for it.

“No, but it is when you keep tempting it.”

“What can I say? I live for the adventure.”

[multifanatics]

The Biggest Blow to One's Ego // General!Edward Nygma x F!Riddler

A/N: I wrote this ages ago and was not originally going to post it.

Warnings: OOC Edward Nygma(?), SMUT, PURE SMUT. First person POV, Probably more.

Word Count: 2179

“Oh fuck — you naughty.. naughty girl.” Riddler groans as he watches my body, my breasts and bra slowly being exposed. Sending the Riddler nudes while he was working was my first mistake. Telling him he had to finish his project before he could touch me was my second. Currently he had me undressing, watching me reveal myself. He wasn’t watching for his pleasure, oh no, he has too big an ego for that. Riddler was watching for any reason to punish me, I’ve learned this. 

“My intellect outmatches my body, meaning I do not require these physical ministrations. Yet here you are desperate to fuck me, while I make you wait.” Eddie kept his clothes on, not concerning himself with the noticeable bulge that tented his pants and the way I clouded his thoughts. Riddler was a tease, he needed me to know I am inferior. Having sex with Edward Nygma was the lowest blow to someone’s ego, nearly everyone’s except his. I watched as he meticulously shifted his weight on his feet, he was growing impatient. 

“I understand.” 

“No, you don’t. You send these images expecting no consequences. My dear, this world does not revolve around you, nor does it bend to your command much less does Gotham. If I were any other man you sent yourself too I would have fucked you hard and been done. Luckily for you I am the Riddler, and I will force you to scream out my name. I will make you beg for me.” I kept undressing while listening to his words, if there was a lesson I missed it. Eddie had no idea how distracting he was which was surprising. I threw my shirt to the floor after it came off my head, then worked on my pants before I felt a warm breath on my neck, hands resting on my hips from behind. 

“P-please?” I turned around to face him before I was about to get on my knees. Riddler simply said nothing and rather his actions speak for him, he pushed me to a wall. 

“Please? Please what?” There was an edge to his voice, something he did not want to be discovered. Maybe a desperation of his own body betraying his overly intelligent mind. 

“Please! Please fuck me, make me your pretty little slut.” Riddler breaks out in laughter before pulling away from his closeness, his hands removing themselves from my shoulders. 

“Such a desperate attempt.” Riddler found how needy I could be humorous, it was a major ego boost he would drag out as long as possible. 

“You haven’t even attempted to touch me and assume I would fuck you. My dear, this.. this is not how it works.” Eddie leans in close, his body mere centimeters from mine. His lips ghosting mine an attempt to show who has the higher ground. I thought over his words and leaned forward, closing the gap and connecting our lips. 

“You're too predictable, try again.” Eddie pulls back from the desperate attempt of a kiss. Riddler placed his hands on my shoulders redoing the scene before I kissed him. I thought about possible outcomes willing to try once again until I got it right, just for him to do something about the unbearable heat in my core. My hands went from my sides and hooked into his trousers waistband, I tried to pull him as close as humanly possible before noticing he wasn’t moving.

“Weak. Must you be so unoriginal?” He set up the scenario once more. I did the one thing I thought he would have predicted, I temporarily stripped his control away from him. I hooked myself to him in a way that forced our positions to change, he was the one with his back to the wall while I kissed him. He kissed back his hands undoing my pants while I worked on his. I finally got to the reaction he was looking for, something that threw him through a very quick loop. Eddie worked off the rest of my clothes while I helped him out of his, he had been a tease all night. Ever since those damned photos I sent. 

“My dear, you have no idea what I could do to you and your self-esteem.” That was the closest to an I love you Eddie ever got. He said it once before as a slip up, his emotions were well under his control. What would make him lose grasp of such simple words? To this day one of the greatest riddles he ever gave me. Once he finished undressing he quickly switched positions again, not saying another word. I placed my lips to his and tried to wrap my legs around his waist, the soft groan that escaped his lips forced me to hide a smile. Eddie’s hands quickly found their way to keep me stable, while he found his way inside of me. I let out a long moan as he pushed all the way in too slow, making me want to beg for him. Tell him I need him to pleasure me, my plan all along. 

“I ne-“ 

“Shut up.” Eddie demanded as he pulled himself all the way out only to bottom out yet again. He found a pace that would have me begging for him, the slow drag of his hard cock against my walls. 

“I only want to hear how I make you feel. Such a dirty slut to have me like this, aren’t you?” 

“Riddler, you feel so good.” I unintentionally moan and clamp down around him. Feeling the pleasure crash over him like a wave he slows his movements to the point he is barely moving at all. 

“Please! I want.. No, I need you to annihilate me. I beg of you.” I pleaded as if my life depended on it, he was horrible with how far he would go to tease me. I would have been used to this by now if it weren’t for my desperate need for him. I knew he would give into his own primal needs some time soon.  He kept me around him for a reason, I was dating him for a reason. 

“So desperate.” Riddler gave into his needs and mine. His slow dragging became quick snaps of his hips, he switched his speed mid thrust causing me to moan out. He changed his pace so quickly I felt my head spinning, dizzy, incapable of focusing on his thrusts. The way he hit all my spots and could have me cumming in seconds. 

“Riddler! Fuck!” 

“Such a dirty mouth on you, my slut.. maybe I’ll allow you to suck me dry.” If I could tell him, if he would give me a moment to catch up with reality.. my head grows lighter as Riddler adds his lips to mine while his hand comes to choke me. His hand clamped down hard enough to add pain to the pleasure and enough to make the kiss the reason I had difficulty breathing. Riddler didn’t stop, he was incapable of it, this fed his ego and control too much. It made him feel good, not just physically but mentally too. Eddie knew I was under him, his every last movement was in his control he could stop randomly just to see how I reacted. He fed on every last moan, mewl, cry, etc that fell from my lips. 

“EDDIE!” I yell out as he stops his movements. Pulling back from the kiss and stopping his thrusts midway into me. 

“This lesson you never learn. This memory you cannot keep. Yet, I am the reason for your happiness. What am I?” Riddler was naked, deep within me, his lover. His lips brushed against my neck as he spoke his riddle, I didn’t have time to assess the consequences of not getting the riddle right. 

“It’s either death or birth.” I answer. I try my hardest to understand his words, to get my bearings about me. Clearly he found the answer he was looking for as he continued his quick thrusts almost immediately after I answered his riddle. His forearm rested against the wall for his support and his other was wrapped around my lower half to keep me up. His lips found my neck suckling and biting my sensitive skin, trailing down my neck to my collarbone bone before dragging his teeth over the wet line he created. He drove me out of my mind, absolutely insane. Riddler had me crying out for him to let me cum. 

“Not yet, my darling. I have not had my fun.” It looked and sounded like he was having fun or maybe it was my fuzzy brain unable to focus. By the sound of it he was going to fuck my brains out, make me a babbling mess that is unable to answer a riddle for his own meanings. 

“P…please!!” I yell trying not to mumble, begging him to let me cum. I let him edge me.. No, he let me edge myself. That was the lesson, I was in his complete and utter control. His power and dominance was a gift, his body was a gift. He could see it in my face, he pulled out, releasing me from the wall forcing me into the bedroom so he could have his ‘fun.’ I followed him even though I felt my legs would give out while I walked. He threw me onto the bed without a care in the world for anyone’s well being other than his. The change in scenery seemed to lift his mood, this was where he was going to enjoy himself. 

“You do not deserve me. Do you understand?” Eddie asked climbing over my weak form. I knew consciously that it was an act, something to arouse me as it had worked. Though it felt so personal as if he meant it genuinely. Maybe I didn’t deserve him. 

“I am waiting for your answer…” he said, growing impatient. 

“I think I do.” My voice gave away my emotions about his previous words. Riddler disregarded my words and kissed my lips before positioning my leg over his hip. Eddie dragged himself back into me, finding a comfortably quick place. Riddler’s hips snapped back and forth. 

“You do not deserve my cock.” He groans, feeling my walls clench hard around his cock. 

“Agh…” Riddler groans deep within his chest knowing he was nearing his own edge. He wasn’t proud nor impressed of how long I had been holding out for him, but he was glad I did even if he wouldn’t admit it. Eddie kisses under my ear before whispering a demand. 

“Now, cum now.” I fall into my ecstasy while Riddler cums as well. The combination nearly knocked me off center, Riddler rode through our orgasms. When he pulled out I detached my lips from his body as I admired my work, his deep purple markings that nearly matched the ones on my own. 

“I’m not done with you.” He announces taking a second to catch his breath. He got off the bed while I followed him to position myself. 

“Suck.” I promptly got to work. My tongue tracing the underside of his cock I tasted our mixed juices, the salty and bitter tastes.

“I want you to make me feel as good as I made you feel, although I doubt you could. I am far too skillful for you to ever be able to make me feel satisfied.” I pulled every knowledge I kept of how to suck his dick. Riddler groaned before tangling his hand in my hair, allowing him the control he needed to have. I let my tongue lick his slit very quickly before he pushed me down his length, I looked up at him through my eyelids. This was the best head by far he had ever gotten, although he would not admit it nor did he want to. 

“Is this really a-all you’ve got?” I hummed with his cock in my mouth sending a shockwave of unexpected pleasure through his body. Eddie could have cum by that pleasure alone, he was so close but purposefully held back. He was not capable of allowing me to win. I took him deeper and my nails dug at his lower back in a desperate attempt at keeping my ground. 

“Co-come on. Do better!” He demands loudly. His control and ego failed him for once, he was going to win even if his self-control was straining and becoming a grain of sand. I mumbled the permission for him to cum through vibrations. Riddled tried to hold off a little more before disrupting his rhythm, and pushed himself down my throat. He came with a groan that stayed within his chest. Riddler growled as he kept me sucking him off until he grew soft in my mouth. Eddie’s hand removed itself from my head before he moved away from the situation to go find his clothes and do whatever he had been before. While I laid on the bed, unable to think straight.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 3 | Dr. Crane x reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: more sexual tension but not quite smut yet, violence, mention of a gun, sexual violence.

Tocka - Molchat Doma 🎵

The Masochism Tango - Tom Lehrer 🎶

A/N I know it's frustrating that we're building up to the smut so slowly but I promise that it'll be worth it. I'm trying to replicate the sexual frustration and tension (plus you know how much I love world-building)!!

“This…”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you press your lips against Crane’s. You exchange breath quickly as he realizes what’s happening. You pull back only slightly to see Crane’s reaction, your eyes turned down at the corners. Crane sees the look in your eyes and his body begins to thrum. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrow as a primal surge of energy explodes within him. His hands release the counter behind him and grab your face, pulling you roughly to his mouth. The moment your mouth crushes against his, he feels the last bit of his restraint snap. His body feels like it’s on fire, and he lets out a soft, barely audible moan against your lips. 

You kiss Crane harder, not caring if it hurts either of you. Crane groans again, his fingers tightening around your jaw. You reach your hand between your two bodies and grab his lapels, pulling him even closer. When his chest hits yours, Crane moves his hands up to your hair, tangling his fingers around strands of hair and tugging harshly until you whimper. His tongue parts your lips and tangles with yours. Now it’s your turn to moan and stumble back into one of the other lab tables. You grunt when your back hits it but you never break your rhythm. 

The sound of your moaning against his mouth makes him grow completely desperate for you. His hand that was gripping your chin releases your face and grips the side of the lab table that you’ve stumbled back against, pushing his body even closer against yours. His tongue is tracing over your bottom lip, his teeth just barely nipping at your lip. You wrap your hands around his neck and rise up on the balls of your feet to keep your balance. Crane moans lowly and clenches his hands on either side of you on the table. His tongue moves deeper inside your mouth and his hips move against yours. You feel how hard he is and moan softly into his mouth again. 

You move his tousled dark hair out of his face with one of your hands and take off his glasses, setting them to the side. Then pulling him closer by his throat, you start to lean back on the table. Crane groans in response and helps you back onto the lab table, spreading your legs so that he can stand between them. His hands run up and down your thighs caging his hips between them. You move his hair from his face again, pulling the dark hair back with your hands. 

Crane pulls back suddenly, looking down at you and panting, his eyes wild. You stare back, your lips parted and wet from his tongue. You realize suddenly, that he almost looks afraid. You’re not naive enough to assume that he’s a virgin but perhaps its hard for him to trust women enough to fuck them like this. 

“What is it?” You ask, your brow furrowed. 

Crane seems to finally snap out of it and leans down, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. “I don’t want another man to ever see you like this.” 

You laugh and sit up, still hugging him with your thighs. When you sit up, you only come up to his chin so you trail short kisses along his jaw, your other hand stroking his chest beneath his lab coat. 

“Oh, Crane… you haven’t even seen what’s under these clothes.” You whisper as you kiss his jaw. Crane groans and closes his eyes. His hands move to your hips and start to slip up beneath your shirt.

“Then let me see you…” he nearly whines, his deep voice tapering off as he asks. 

You run your nose up and down his throat and kiss his Adam's apple with a smile. 

“Are you sure, Crane?” You whisper. 

“I’ve never been so sure about anything, Miss Vale.” 

You stroke his face, one of the rare acts of kindness that you’ve offered him so far. Because you can’t reach his lips, you lean your head back and give him permission with your eyes. Crane groans and drops his head to his chest, shaking his head. 

“This is a trick, isn’t it?” He mutters, chuckling, “Business partners, not fuck buddies, isn’t that what you told me?” He groans again. 

“Mmm that’s right, Crane. Good boy.” You smile and kiss his neck once. 

“You’re making it incredibly hard for me to compose myself right now, Miss Vale.” 

You smile softly and gently push him away. Hopping off the desk and fixing your clothes, you grin at Crane over your shoulder. “Then try harder, Dr. Crane.” You walk to the door of his lab while he remains by the lab table, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re playing a dangerous game…” he grunts darkly, his lip twisting into a scowl. 

“Then let's play another one, shall we?” You respond calmly, fixing your clothes to fall normally. 

“Oh? What kind of game did you have in mind?” Crane smooths down his lab coat and the tented front of his pants. His fingers itch to grab you, to hit you, to hurt you, but mainly to kiss you, fuck you, take you. 

“Hide and Seek. I've proven my skill for finding people, watching them, following them... now it's your turn, Crane. I know you like to 'stalk' the women who rub you the wrong way. So, here's your invitation. Come and find me. If you can, and I'll warn you it won't be easy, then your lack of 'composure' will be of no issue.” You propose, your back close to Crane’s lab door. 

Crane smirks and looks down at his feet, impressed that you’ve learned so much about his tendencies, especially when it comes to other women. He feels a shiver run down his spine at the idea of chasing you down, hunting you. Something about that thought is so thrilling. His chest rises and falls with every deep, shaky breath he takes. He keeps his head down as he speaks again. 

“And if I find you, what then?”

“Whatever you want. Victor gets the spoils.” 

Crane looks up, his eyes dark like a predator’s. A smile forms on his lips and he nods slowly. 

“Alright, Miss Vale, I accept your challenge.” 

“Good. You leave your lab at 10pm every night. I have until then to get home. You have 42 hours to find me... or the deal's off. We're back to being just business partners.” 

You open the door of the lab, looking back to get one last glance at Crane. He looks flustered and dark, like an escaped maniac. You want him to stalk you. You want him to watch you sleep. You want him to be a freak. 

When the door finally closes, Crane pinches the bridge of his nose and groans aloud. In his entire life, he’s never felt this sort of excitement before. He can already feel himself growing frantic, desperate for your scent, his mind completely fixated on you. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down, but the faintest hint of your perfume still in the air only causes his thoughts to go more wild.

“I’m going to find you, Miss Vale. You’ve really started something now, and you may regret it.” Crane says under his breath and turns back to his work, finishing what he can before he can start the clock, the countdown. 

…

You’re already home when Crane can leave his lab and start the game. The streets of Gotham are dark and uncomfortably warm but he keeps his suit jacket on, who would he be without it? 

He stops outside the university building and sniffs the air like an animal, seeing if he can still smell your perfume in the air. But the air around him smells like a college campus stuck in the middle of a large city: stale beer, gasoline, and cigarettes. Crane looks around at the cityscape in front of him. He could go to the nice part of town, the area where he lives, an area that a woman working for the police department would live too (assuming their paychecks were similar). He started walking towards his part of town when he stopped. 

Victoria Vale was the child of the Arkham family, you’d told him that the first night you met. You would probably want to stay close to the asylum, the last thing that reminded you of your parents. Plus, you were just as dangerous as any of the criminals in the Narrows, so the neighborhood wouldn’t scare you away. So, Crane decided, you lived in the Narrows, but where?

He knows he’d have to be absolutely crazy to go through every single apartment in the Narrows looking for you, so that's out. No, he’s going to have do this by thinking like you. Which place would make you feel the most comfortable, safe, and at home? You’re just a lowly detective, at least that’s what you want everyone to think. You don’t play by the rules, you don’t respect the players, so neither would he.

Crane headed home to his own apartment, planning out his moves for the next day. He wouldn’t need the full 42 hours, especially if he broke the rules. No, he’d only need a few. 

…

The next evening Crane leaves his lab at the university early, rebuffing his usual routine. He waits outside the precinct, hidden in the shadow of a city bus. A drunk man approaches him, babbling about Wall Street. Crane ignores the stranger as he watches for you but he doesn’t leave Crane alone, trying to pick a fight. Crane grits his teeth and grabs the man’s collar and pulls him close. 

“Fuck off,” he growls. The drunk investor’s eyes widen and he babbles again. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“What are you doing?” The man slurs and Crane smirks suddenly. 

“I’m waiting for a woman to leave that building,” he points to the precinct’s front doors, “then I’m going to follow her home and watch her sleep, and then I’m going to break into her home and win the little game she’s playing with me.” Crane answers in a clear, dark voice, his eyes taking on a frightening glow. When the drunk man says nothing, Crane shoves him away. “Oh don’t look at me like you haven’t done something worse, wannabe Wayne.” 

Crane focuses his attention back on the building and the man scrambles away. Crane chuckles as the man trips over his own trousers and shouts in terror. As he does though, Crane sees a woman standing on the opposite side of the street, her head turned towards the source of the shout. His eyes narrow and he notices that it's you, the bane of his existence and fuel to his sadistic fire. 

You keep walking, shaking your head as you see what looks like one of those rich finance bros scurrying away from a city bus. Your eyes watch him as you make your way home towards your apartment. The precinct is in the heart of downtown Gotham, a few blocks away from Arkham and the Narrows. The sky is dark but has a sickly-yellow tinge to it from the smokestacks standing tall in the clouds of smog. You pull your hair up into a clip to keep it off of your neck. Sweat drips down your spine as you cross intersections and get closer to your apartment in the Narrows. 

Crane follows you like a shadow, only the reflection from his glasses would be visible if you looked over your shoulder. His heart beats faster as he watches you walk, completely oblivious to how close you are to him without even knowing it. He watches behind a dumpster as you climb a set of slotted iron steps up to your door. You remove your keys smoothly from the pocket of your trousers, the only pants you like to wear he notes to himself. There’s no fear or urgency in the way you look for the right key and slip it into the lock. You live in a dangerous part of town, break-ins happen while the residents are still inside. A young woman standing in the dark at her door, distracted, well she was just asking for trouble now. 

You open your door and close it behind you. The apartment lights up as you turn on lamps and kick off your pumps. Crane watches from the alley, a window providing him with a clear view of your living room. He watches as you take down your hair again and open the freezer to get the tray of ice cubes. You take an ice cube from the tray and let it melt on the back of your neck, its trail of water wetting your t-shirt. 

You have a box unit in the window of your bedroom and Crane finds it easily. It takes him a few tries to pull the wire poking out from the corner of the window. Naturally, he has a pocket knife stuffed into one of the pockets in his suit jacket. He takes the wire and holds it taut as he cuts, killing the air conditioning in your apartment. The result is almost instantaneous. You get hotter, so you slip a second ice cube down your shirt into your bra. When that still doesn’t help, you tug off your t-shirt and drop it on the couch. Crane watches from the alley with an amused smile. He feels himself getting hard, excited. 

You move into your bedroom and find the broken air conditioner in the window and groan aloud. You curse below your breath and undo your trousers, letting them slip to the ground. When the warm air hits your bare legs, you sigh, finding some relief. Holding the air conditioner with one hand, your other hand gropes the side panels holding it inside the window. You free it from the window pane and set it roughly on the floor. Fresh air rushes in and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. The severed cord connected to the A/C unit doesn’t even catch your eye, you’re so distracted by the heat. 

Crane watches as you close the sheer curtains over the window and step away. He steps closer, invisible in the dark. He can see through the gauze-like material that you’ve stepped into your bathroom and turn on the shower. Through the medicine cabinet, he watches your reflection unclip your bra and drop it onto the tiled floor before you close the bathroom door and he can see no more. Crane waits for a moment, imagining you stepping out of your frilly little underwear you were wearing when you removed the A/C unit from the window, and tossing it into a laundry hamper beside the sink. He imagines you turning on the shower and stepping below the freezing stream of Gotham city water. His cock gets harder and his pupils dilate. He catches himself salivating… literally salivating at the thought of you. Unable to stand it any longer, Crane opens the window a little more and pushes himself over the lip of the windowsill. His long lean body slips easily inside and he closes the window behind him, hoping that you will notice. 

He takes the opportunity while alone in your bedroom to take a very quick look around. He finds the gun in your bedside table (looks legit), he admires your underwear drawer (why so many frilly things, Victoria?), and smirks at the stacks of his research papers on your floor around your bed (so sweet, really). When he hears the shower cut off, Crane slips quietly into the living room, unlocks the front door and leaves. 

This is when he waits. 

Back under the protection of the alleyways in the Narrows, he waits for you to notice the window, then to search the house for an intruder, and then finally to check the front door where you realize the front door is unlocked. Being the level-headed woman that you are, you will lock the door, get your gun and search the house again until you are convinced that the window must have slid shut while you were in the shower and you must have also forgotten to lock the door when you came home. Minor mistakes. 

But you never make mistakes, Miss Vale. 

Like clockwork, Crane muses, now in a big t-shirt and underwear, you roam around the small apartment with your gun cocked. Multiple thorough searches leave you perplexed. You allow yourself to consider Crane as the suspect. You’d told him to stalk you, but why would he risk running down the clock like this and not stray to claim his prize? You make sure the door is locked again before you go to bed, leaving the lamp on as you skim an article Crane had written on the intersectionality of pleasure and fear (riveting stuff). 

You’re starting to fall asleep. Your eyes are getting heavy. The words on the page are bleeding together. 

Someone knocks on the door. You jump. 

Taking your gun again from the nightstand, you walk slowly to the front door. The person knocks again, harder this time. Crane wouldn’t knock, he’d find a way in, you tell yourself. You open the door, but the door chain keeps it from opening all the way. Before you even have a moment to breathe, Crane kicks in your door, breaking the chain in the process. 

 The moment Crane steps into your apartment, his predatory instincts immediately start to kick in. Before you even have the chance to step back, he grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against the wall, pinning you in place. You gasp, dropping the gun, but before you can scream, Crane clamps a hand over your mouth. He shushes you sweetly, his eyes wild. You try to knee him in the groin but his free hand stops you, slamming your thigh back against the wall. 

He pulls you completely flush against his body, pressing you into the wall as he leans his head even closer to yours. His voice is low and rough as he speaks, his words are almost like a hiss as he speaks directly into your ear, “You’re completely trapped. There’s no way out of this, Miss Vale.”

You roll your eyes, your attempt at words are too muffled to be heard behind his hand. He tilts his head to the side slightly and looks down at you, taking in the way you look completely trapped between his body and the wall. Having your eyes look up at him defiantly as he feels you struggle against his body, it’s so incredibly arousing, and it’s making his skin burn. 

But is it just pleasure, or is it an actual fire? 

You strike a flame with the Thomas Wayne lighter you’d slipped from the breast pocket of his jacket just 42 hours before. The one you’d originally given to him the first night you met. It was still in your other hand, clamped in your sweaty palm. With the flame lit, you angled it close to Crane’s hip and waited for him to react. Crane pauses for a moment and looks down. 

“You fucking bitch-” he cusses and he releases you from his grip and bats the flame away with his hand. “You just ruined one of my favorite suits…”

Crane drops his hold on you momentarily and you try to catch your breath as he examines the edge of his suit jacket and the inflamed spot of flesh below the fabric, flashing you a deadly look. His dark hair has fallen into his icy blue eyes, making him look reptilian. 

“I can’t make this too easy for you, I’m sure you understand.” You scowl, your chest heaving. 

“That was a nice try, Miss Vale. However, I’m afraid that I’m not deterred just yet,” his low voice sounds manic, unpredictable. 

“I assume as much,” You snap the lighter closed and puff a strand of hair out of your flushed face. You may want this as much as Crane, but fighting is equally as fun.

“So what? You think you can get away from me?” Crane steps in again, looking down at you with a challenging smile. You shrug and scowl up at him, your thighs shaking as you notice the smell of his cologne. Crane laughs at your shrug and cocks his head to the side, his jaw clenching for a moment. 

“Ok then,” he continues, “Go ahead, pet. Let’s see what you can do. Try to get away from me.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you give a false smile and toss the lighter up and down. Suddenly striking a flame, you throw the lighter at Crane and dive for your gun all the way across the room near the door to your bedroom. Crane ducks his head to avoid the lighter, his reflexes quicker than you anticipate. He watches as you dive for the gun and laughs, taking his time, unconcerned with your attempt to reach the gun in the dark. 

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s cheating, darling,” he clucks his tongue and steps slowly towards you. 

“I made the fucking rules,” you manage to say as you scramble in the dark for the gun. 

Crane frowns and rolls his eyes. He steps over you quickly, grabbing a fistfull of hair on the back of your head and pulling you back. 

“Perhaps but I’m the one who started this game. And I’m the one who’s going to win it,” his voice is low and nearly inaudible as he turns you over. You grab the gun just in time and turn it on him, both hands angling the gun at his pale face above you. 

Crane stops mid-step and smirks slowly, his hands rising in surrender. His head turns partly to the side and he regards you with a cocky and unconcerned sidelong glance. 

“Are you going to shoot me with that, Miss Vale?” Something flickers in his eyes and you shrug, unable to decide whether you’re pissed off or turned on. 

“I don’t know yet.” 

Crane scoffs and looks you up and down as you lie on the floor beneath him. Your shirt has ridden up to your ribs, exposing your plain cotton underwear. He clenches his jaw and turns out his lip in a show of restraint. His eyes are glued to your thighs. 

“God, look at you. You’re such a damn tease,” he jerks his head at your underwear, his arms still raised. 

“Funny, that’s what all of my ex-boyfriends said before I dumped them. Maybe they just couldn’t handle temptation,” you sneer back, the gun still trained on Crane’s sour expression. 

Crane chuckles at your response and braves a step closer. When you don’t shoot him immediately, he decides to push you further. 

“They couldn’t handle you at all… but I can.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you sass back with a smile. You keep smiling until Crane jumps on top of you, knocking the gun out of your hand again. You try to struggle away immediately but he yanks you back into place on the floor beneath him. Crane holds your wrists down and grits his teeth, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to try my hardest, Miss Vale.” 

As the words leave his mouth he lowers his head to your neck, dragging his tongue along your throat. Then he begins to suck gently, his teeth nipping at the thin skin above bands of muscles. His lips pause just below your earlobe and he smiles, exhaling against the skin. 

“You taste so good, darling…” 

You whimper softly, trying your best to hold it in. The last thing you want at the moment is for Crane to know how turned on you actually are. You can feel Crane smirk again against your throat. He moves one of his hands to your hip, the other now holding both of your wrists above your head. The hand on your hip slides over the soft pouch of flesh above your navel. His warm fingers follow the natural dip between your ribs and then back down to your stomach. You bite your lip, muffling the dirty sounds slipping from your mouth at his experienced touch. 

“Do you like that, darling? Look at you… finally starting to submit,” he whispers and changes the direction of his hand. His fingers move back up your stomach, slipping below the bunched up hem of your shirt to find one of your breasts. His middle finger circles the hardened breast before slowly making the circle smaller until the pad of his finger teases your nipple. 

In his moment of distraction, you use your knee to force him off of you, spinning him around and landing on top. Crane looks up at you, surprised to find you straddling him now. Before he can open his mouth to speak, you slap him hard against his cheek. His smile changes immediately to a sneer as he grabs your wrists and flips you over again, slamming you down against the floor. Finding strength in your adrenaline, you push him back and you both end up rolling around on the floor, knocking furniture and lamps down as you move. Finally, you shove him away long enough to launch yourself from the floor. You scramble into your bedroom and make it a few steps before you feel Crane’s hand grab your shoulder and spin you around. He pulls you flush against him and time seems to stand still as you look at one another. 

And then you’re kissing, kissing as if you’ll never kiss another person again. Crane hands hold your face, pulling your mouth against his. You moan against his mouth, stumbling back and forth, grappling at his suit jacket for balance. Crane forces you backwards until you fall back on your bed. Temporarily apart, Crane swipes your papers from the comforter, knocking over the lamp on your nightstand. As the lamp crashes onto the floor, the room is thrust into semi-darkness with only the city lights of Gotham to illuminate your bodies.

Crane kisses you again, finding your body on the bed. You push his suit jacket off his shoulders and immediately start to unbutton his starched shirt. Crane moves his mouth over your body, kissing whatever exposed skin he can find. When his shirt is off, he grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it off, throwing it across the room where it knocks a picture from the wall. There are no words of praise or desire, no speaking, just heavy breathing and desperate moans. 

Only when you are completely disrobed does Crane pause, looking down at you. His eyes trail over the peaks of your nipples and the valley between your breasts, glistening with sweet sweat. His hand passes over one of your breasts, his palm flat. Your nipple rubs against his rough skin and you moan, your thighs twitching. Crane wets his lips and does it again, watching for your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he handles your breast roughly, squeezing it and lowering his mouth once again to your neck, biting you gently. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and by far the most dangerous.”

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

@m0thh3ad @sl-newsie @strangeobsessed @cillamity

[make-your-own-evil]

Hi I'm new to ur blog and I was wondering if I could have btas dork squad (aka Scarecrow, Riddler, and mad Hatter) with a s/o who has a special pocket watch that allows them to travel to different dimensions at different time periods? And the funny part of that every time they come back home their wearing new clothes from said time period and holding a gift basket full of their dorks favorite items or things s/o thinks they would like? Fem or gender neutral ❤❤

❤ anon

this is such a cool ask??? i have never written anything like this before so i am excited to challenge myself, but im also nervous to see how it turns out! i think ill do a fem reader since ive done gn for the past few asks (im assuming you want headcanons btw)

note: feel free to reblog! just give credit when necessary :)

(ps i ADORE reading tags, comments, reblogs 🥰)

BTAS! Dork Squad x TimeTraveler!Fem!Reader

Mad Hatter:

he is your number one fan! he thinks you and your fancy, time-traveling pocket watch are truly the bees knees. you constantly keep him in awe

begs you to take him with you :( if youre only able to travel by yourself then he waits patiently for you to get back

travel to the mid to late 1800's England! in the times of lewis carroll, victorian tea parties, fancy attire 😍

you reappear in his hideout, not wearing the clothes you left in, but a beautiful blue day dress with silky fabrics! his face is beet-red and surely there would be smoke coming from under his hat if it were possible!

not only are you dressed head to toe as a noble lady for a tea party for two, but you also brought him gifts?

oh be still his beating heart! when you thought it would be impossible for him to smile any wider, he did! bring him old books, (technically) new clothes, trinkets, hats and new tea sets!

no matter which time period you travel to, he sits you down and asks you a million questions and begs you to tell him everything!

stares at you in awe and wonder while holding your gloved hands as he hangs onto your every word

looks like this the whole time :O

Scarecrow:

BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH >:)

do you really want to tickle the spooky mans fancy? travel anywhere from 1347-1351 in Europe.

he is fascinated by your pocket watch and demands to know how it works

as a demonstration, you disappear from his lab and suddenly reappear later wearing a red stitched gown that looks more like a long tunic. a white cloth veil covers your hair

he has his clipboard in hand

if he wasnt fully convinced of your time traveling device, you decide to bring him some gifts!

PLAGUE DOCTOR TOOLS!

in your little medieval basket you have a mask, blades, gloves and even a jar of leeches!

proposes that you join forces! he doesnt know how you could help him exactly but your little pocket watch is pretty nifty

he asks you to go to more time periods and bring him back things for his "experiements"

YES theyre for his experiments and totally not for self indulgent purposes >:(

Riddler:

future babeyyy

do you want to truly impress him? bring him back some pieces of tech that he can tinker with!

he doesnt believe you at first when you try to tell him about the pocket watch

once you disappear and reappear with goodies, now hes invested!

you show up wearing a green and black body suit in fabrics he has never seen before!

you bring back a phone that uses a 7G network system, newspapers with major events, a laptop with a 2 petabytes of storage that is no thicker than a half inch, books and movies that havent even been released yet and more!

he asks you VERY technical questions that you probaly dont have the answers to

have you met your past/future self? how does your watch work?isnt this going to destroy the space-time continuum? what if you die while traveling?

like scarecrow, he is probably going to make you go off and scavenge for things he would find useful

i am 100% confident that this riddler could reverse engineer just about anything. with your powers combined, nothing stands in your way

[julebirdie]

surprises

ft. gotham ver. edward nygma/the riddler

reader is gn

not requested

disc. use of (y/n) and (l/n), edward doubts himself a lot

edward’s head snapped up so fast his glasses near fell off his face the moment he heard your voice float through the air. Looking up from his post, you had just entered the precinct and were making small talk with a few officers that stood by the doors.

looking away from the officers, your gaze met his and you waved, smiling. he returned the gesture, sitting down in his chair as he twirled a pen in his hand. edward was so enraptured that he didn’t hear the footsteps that approached his desk.

“morning eddie,” this was the second time surprise had caught him, edward’s pen nearly slipping out his hand and onto the floor.

“oh, good-good morning mx. (l/n).”

“c’mon, if you let me call you eddie it’s only fair that you call me by my name too,” you informed, leaning against his desk.

“if you insist, mx (y/n),” you laughed, making a smile grow on edward’s face. oh, how he adored you. you weren’t like everyone else here, you listened to his riddles and ramblings and often responded with your own mini-speeches, you two bounced off each other without fail.

“hilarious eddie,” you tried to add a sarcastic edge to your voice (and failing spectacularly,) “drop the mx., just call me (y/n).”

“very well, m- (y/n).” your name rolled off his tongue in a saccharine melody, who knew that someone’s name could make edward so joyful.

“you got any riddles for me today? i got some time before i have to do my job, so come at me,” you asked, sipping from your paper coffee cup.

“yes, i do! okay, here’s one, what has many teeth but cannot bite?” edward said, observing your face as it conformed to suit an expression of thought. he knew it was an easy riddle, but he wanted to see your smile when you realized you had gotten it right.

“a comb?” you guessed, smiling (predictably) as he revealed that you did give the correct answer.

“okay, now i got one for you eddie.” you said, catching edward semi-off guard.

“let’s hear it.”

“what did the guy with a broken leg say to his nurse?”

you knew edward was smart, scarily smart. you also knew about his crush, and you were pleased to admit you felt the same about the man, riddles and rambles and all.

“easy, he says-“ edward’s eyes widened as he thought about the answer, realizing just what you were implying.

“he says i have a ‘crutch’ on you!” you finish, scribbling your phone number onto a sticky note and pressing it against his desk. “call me, okay?” you stand from his desk and walk away, discarding the paper cup as you went to your post.

edward picked up the note and stared at the mixture of numbers, heart beating a mile a minute. not only did you know about his crush, you felt the same. he was on cloud nine, his mind floating amongst stars.

he folded the note and tucked it in his coat, making a mental note to call you the moment he reached his apartment.

————

edward closed the door to his apartment behind him and almost immediately his phone was out, and he punched in the numbers and dialed.

as he heard the buzzing, his situation finally set in. he was calling you, the person he adored and crushed on since you responded to one of his riddles with one of your own. edward suddenly felt very, very scared and went to hang up the call.

“hello?”

edward has now been surprised three times today. his thumb lifted from the ‘end call’ button, your voice didn’t sound the same through the dingy flip-phone speakers.

“ah, h-hello m- (y/n), did i reach you at a bad time?” he stuttered, mentally kicking himself as he tripped over his words.

“not at all eddie! i was waiting for you, actually, sitting by my phone waiting for a ring. to be completely honest, i totally jumped when it actually did start to ring,” you laughed, and edward’s heart soared. you waited for him? he was smitten.

“i- wow. guess we’re both full of surprises today,” he responded, doing his best to melt into the conversation.

“looks like it! how was work?” you asked, he could hear shuffling on your end of the line, as if you were rolling around on your bed.

“good! good, no one teased me today, or maybe the giddiness from getting your number blocked it out.” edward’s hand slapped over his mouth the moment he realized what he said, and he sat, waiting for you to become disgusted and end the call.

but you didn’t, you laughed, you laughed in the way you always did.

“the edward nygma, flirting with me? i’m honored!” you continued laughing, and edward started to join in with quiet chuckles of his own.

“the honor is all mine, who wouldn’t flirt with you?” he said, pushing away the quiet fears and moving into the conversation.

“you charm me eddie, really.” you said, and the line fell silent, both of you smiling like fools on each end.

“eddie, would you be interested in coming with me to the bookstore i shop at? like a date?” you broke the silence in a way he didn’t expect.

fourth surprise today.

“a date? really?” his anxiety returned fully fledged, his phone now very hot in his hands.

“yeah, but only if you want to!” you added on, waiting anxiously for his response.

“i’d-i’d love to.” edward said, small smile gracing his features.

“yes! i mean- great! is 3 pm thursday good?” it was now edward’s turn to laugh at your antics, finding it absurdly endearing the excitement you felt.

“it’s perfect.”

“great! i’ll give you the details tomorrow at work. i gotta go, bye eddie!”

“goodbye, (y/n).”

the call ended and edward shut his phone, a giddy smile crossing his face. edward was never one for surprises, he despised not knowing. But, if they were coming from you, then maybe he’d be inclined to change his opinion.

[yandere-writer-momo]

I know I promised Jervis, but Ed Nygma enraptured me. God I love that weird man. It’s short and sweet (to my standards).

Yandere DC Shorts: The Missing Piece

Yandere Riddler x Nurse Fem Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic, stalking, obsession, DELUSIONAL man, exploring Ed’s OCD a bit, and Edward Nygma is obsessive

Edward Nygma knew he was the smartest man in the world. He’s proven it countless times with his elaborate attacks on Gotham city.

He was simply kind enough to leave clues because he enjoyed the game he played with Batman! The attention thrilled him for years… at least until he got a taste of genuine affection from the new nurse in Arkham.

Never had Edward felt his heart flutter and his stomach twist when (your full name), his sweet nurse in Arkham, gently disinfected the wounds on his pale skin that were inflicted by guards. Never had has his breath shuttered when she’d ask in her soft, velvety voice if he was okay… never had he experienced someone show care for him.

By the heavens it was simply addictive. The chemicals that released in his brain when he saw (your name)’s sweet, smiling face were better than any drug known to man. Edward never wanted anyone more in his life.

Look at him, (your name)! Love him! Let him worship you as you equally worship him! Praise him! Be his! His! His! His!

If only the poor, little nurse realized just how detrimental of a decision she had made just by the simple act of kindness… maybe then, it would have saved her from the obsession of a lonely madman.

.

.

.

“I never noticed your eyes were such pretty shade of green, Ed.” (Your name) smiled warmly at her patient whose ears turned pink. “They remind me of sea glass.”

Edward held his hands that began to sweat profusely in nervousness. She thought his eyes were pretty? He found every inch of (your name) pretty! From the tips of her toes to the strand of each hair on the top of her head. How could someone be so perfect?

“T-thank you.” Edward felt so nervous… he wasn’t used to someone’s utmost attention. To compliments and praise he had always desired since he was young. He was thrilled to finally be perceived.

“I’m glad you’re healing up nicely.” (Your name) smiled at him as his green eyes studied her expectantly like a lovesick puppy. “I’ve been so worried about you. I’m sorry the guards are so nasty to you.”

She had no idea he purposely riled those British guards up just to be able to be here with her. That he needed his fix.

“I have a riddle for you…” Edward gave (your name) a sickly sweet smile as his heart fluttered and the blood rushed to his cheeks. Would she be able to solve it? He hoped so! He would try to make it easy so she could figure it out…

“A riddle? For me?” (Your name) smiled at him. “I’d love to hear one.”

Here it goes… Edward mentally told himself before the usual cocky persona he presented to the world came back to the forefront.

"What grows stronger the more you share it, and makes your heart beat faster when you're near someone special?"

(Your name) thought for a moment before she smiled. “Is it feelings for someone?”

“Correct.” Edward smiled as he took her hands in his. “Do you… have feelings for anyone?”

“Not currently.” She told Ed as his grip tightened on her hands. His breath shaky and his eyes glazed over.

Was he not on her radar? Did she… not see him as a man? Was he not handsome enough? Did he not have enough brawn?

“Ed? Are you alright-“ Ed suddenly pulled her close with a strength she didn’t know he possessed. His body trembled as all of his frustrated emotions bubbled to the surface.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “Am I… not attractive?”

(Your name blinked. Once. Then twice. Her brows scrunched together in confusion.

“What do you mean, Ed?” She softly asked.

Ed scoffed and looked away. Why had he shown such vulnerability to her? (Your name) should feel blessed to be in his general vicinity! She was ungrateful to have the attention of the ingenious Riddler! She should be the one who begged for his attention, not the other way around-

(Your name) gently placed a palm on his forehead. “You’re hot to the touch, Ed… why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

Ed completely melted under the touch. His eyes closed and his breathing calmed. Her touch always felt so right… like his missing piece.

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.