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#the riddler fanfic
finniestoncrane · 16 hours
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Your One True Nemesis
Chapter 38: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1k they're awkward and i am indulging in my love of miscommunication 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: lil bit of angst
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Eddie could strop. It was one of his skills. The ability to maintain a cold, uncomfortable atmosphere in favour of feeling like he was punishing someone for a real or imagined sleight came naturally to him. You would almost classify it as one of his hobbies. But usually, at least by now, he would have come out of the strange mood and conceded, with a non-apology, in an effort just to get close to you once more. It hadn’t happened yet though. An entire week since your ‘date’ at the orphanage had gone by and Eddie still seemed to be avoiding you, or at least avoiding any long conversations with you. 
Was he afraid that you were going to ask him again? Question him about the future? You imagined he was rife with commitment issues, but it wasn’t as though you were asking him for anything concrete or serious right then. Just a little hint that your future wasn’t going to be empty and void of him once he decided you were worn out and beneath him. 
Perhaps you’d scared him off for real this time, or maybe, this was it. Hewas bored of you already. Complacency, the routine. The comfort and stability of a relationship was definitely out of his realm of comfort or experience. And, you could admit in private, that potentially you weren’t intellectually stimulating enough for him. Or submissive enough. Or doing your job well enough now that things were more personal between you both. 
There wasn’t any point in worrying about it needlessly, however. Not when you’d come this far in your relationship with him, to get to a point where you could converse openly, or at least somewhat openly. So you lifted yourself up from your bed and headed down the corridor towards the work room.
You had no idea what you were going to say, or how you intended to confront him. Gently, was the obvious answer. But that felt like maybe you’d give him enough room to wriggle out of giving you a concrete answer. However, a more forceful approach might only make things worse. And as stubborn as you had felt yourself become, Edward’s natural talents in that department somehow rubbing off on you, you were ready to admit that you everything in you wanted to cling to his filthy shirt and tell him you loved him and never wanted to leave him, even if it meant tossing yourself into a pit of submissive, vulnerable embarrassment in the process. 
It was brave, you thought, to feel this confident as you stomped down the hallway to speak to what you could only call your boyfriend. But as silly as you thought the bravery might be, you wished it had stayed around longer, because the moment you could make out Eddie’s slumped over posture sitting at his workbench, you lost all cognitive ability, and instead shuffled up behind him and stood awkwardly in silence. Rocking back and forth on your heels, you finally managed to say something, and immediately cursed yourself.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Eddie looked to you with the same confusion and concern that you were questioning yourself with, only shooting a quick sideways glance towards the robot shell he had in front of him, not even bothering to answer your question as he had dubbed it, rightfully, beneath him to offer you that kind of easy answer. 
“Robot. Obviously. Duh!”
He looked to you again, raising an eyebrow. You were being weird, and he recognised it, but he hadn’t quite been able to place the reason for this until you spoke again.
“About the other day, Eddie… at the orphanage.”
His pupils widened, but he flicked his gaze back towards the workbench, avoiding eye contact with you as he uttered one single word.
“Oh.”
The silence was uncomfortable, offering you little space to ease into the conversation naturally. But you had to commit, you’d already come this far. 
“It’s just that you’ve seemed very distant since then. As though maybe something made you uncomfortable. So I wanted to apologise, first of all, for springing anything on you that you weren’t expecting. We’re not really a… traditional couple, I suppose. So traditional questions and traditional steps don’t really follow in line with the rest of our-”
“Do you trust me?”
Looking to him from the floor where your gaze had settled out of fear and embarrassment, you could see an intensity in his eyes that was a little rarer these days, now that he had softened up to you.
“Of course I do.”
“Well then, I need you to keep trusting me. I can’t offer you more than that, not now. But if you can place your trust in me regardless, then the reward will outweigh whatever imagined risk there is.”
It wasn’t at all that you didn’t trust him. It was more that you were blind to what exactly you were placing your trust in. But there was a shift in his mood, a change in how he spoke to you when he said those words, that made you comfortable with taking yet another risk in order to preserve your relationship with Edward Nigma. 
“Ok. Ok Eddie, I trust you.”
There were no further words spoken. He only leaned in to hold your arms tight as he pressed a kiss, strong and deep, against your lips. The kind of kiss that lovers in movies give when they’re about to board a train to a destination far away. A goodbye kiss. And without further clarifying, he dismissed you with a quick wave of his hand, turning your body around manually and then returning his focus to his work.
You knew better than to argue. It was familiar, reminiscent of your time in the sewers all those months back, when you had barely known him save for the scraps of information you got from articles and front page news reports. Like you were going back in time. Like nothing much had changed, or worse, that it had, but it was slowly changing back.
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Bestie- u didn’t just deliver u served and I’m the greedy gremlin who’s eating this up, that was amazing, he’s so skrunkly I love him 😔Ur gonna kill me here but bestie I need them to meet I can’t 😩
This is the effect of me doing sudokus and crosswords in the ethics lecture... Was listening to Jasmine Thompson's cover of 'Rather Be' while writing this and honestly?? A whole mood
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Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 3
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5]
That day felt weirdly long as if hours were stretching out as much as the universe would allow them to. You haven't felt that tired and fed up in quite a while, dreaming about the soft comfort of your own bed during your commute back home.
Home, however, had another surprise in store for you:
"Perfect timing, Eddie," you said to yourself as you tore the envelope off your front door. "Could use a little pick-me-up."
You opened the letter and couldn't help the surprise at the front of the card you were given. For some reason, it said "Invitation" in fancy, glittery writing. Inside, on the left side was another torn-out page from a poetry collection.
Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover.
Under the piece of a poem were written only two words: "Meet me". Your gaze followed the vague message to the right side of the card where a small map was drawn. It looked like a bird's view of a restaurant or a bar with a question mark drawn over one of the, as you had assumed, tables like the little map was the continuation of the unfinished sentence. On top of the drawing was scribbled an address, a date and an hour. You were supposed to meet him in a week's time.
From that moment on, you could hardly think about anything else and, little did you know, so did he. It was going to be a fateful Wednesday evening.
"That's the place," you whispered to yourself as you checked the GPS on your phone again.
You found yourself standing before a desolate diner that looked like it was taken straight out of Quentin Tarantino's movie. But you had to admit that the Pulp Fiction feel to the locale was charming in some way as if gracefully continuing your dilemma whether you were now the main character of a rom-com or a slash horror film.
"Here goes nothing," you said with a sigh. With each step towards the front door of the diner, your restlessness was only increasing.
The bell near the door chimed cheerfully as you hesitantly entered the building. At first, you couldn't see a soul inside - even the waitress was more of a cryptid as you could only hear her quiet chatter with the cooks coming from the kitchen. They left the door slightly ajar. According to the drawing, the marked table should be the one under the vintage-style graffiti with a pin-up girl holding a tray of apple pie. Your heart stopped for a moment, seeing that the booth was occupied.
Ever since he sat down in that booth, he'd been eyeing the door, waiting for the fateful moment you enter. The muffled laughter of the waitress rung in his ears and Eddie was half-convinced that she was laughing at him. After all, who was he to ever believe that you were actually going to show up? That you would be anything but disgusted with him?
He watched as you checked his little drawing once more. You turned your head towards him and Ed could swear the time actually slowed down if not entirely stopped when your gaze met his. The moment you realized that it was him, a bright smile appeared on your face, making Eddie's palms even sweatier than they already were. He just knew he was going to mess things up - there was no way in Hell that he could impress you. That much was obvious to Eddie.
You were just so... unreal to him. There he was: the loser, the loner, the butt of the joke and there were you, the epitome of grace approaching the table he was sitting at. He couldn't believe his own senses, some anxious beast still gnawing at his thoughts, that you didn't immediately turn around and left once you saw him.
"Hey," you said softly as you sat down across from him.
"H-hi," he nervously stuttered out.
Eddie looked more or less as you expected him to: a quiet, kind of awkward and easy-to-overlook guy who had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Your friends always found it very amusing that you had a thing for underdogs. No matter how strange it might sound to anyone else, you thought there was a certain charm to his awkwardness like an adorable deer caught in headlights.
"You have great taste." You waved the "invitation" card before putting it back into your purse.
"In what?" Eddie asked sheepishly. His mind was fluctuating between blankness and intrusive thoughts, so coherence and reason weren't something he could count on at the moment.
You shrugged. That bright, showstopping smile was still on your face and Eddie felt he wouldn't be able to look away from you even if he wanted to. "Poetry. Flowers," you counted. "Girls."
His chubby cheeks turned crimson red at your words. Your confidence made him even more aware of his incapacitating insecurity. Eddie believed his intrusive thoughts: there was nothing he could delight you with.
"I loved your riddles," you confessed. "You're really good at it."
A flutter of his heart and a ray of lovesick hope.
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marvelmaniac2000 · 9 months
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heyy could you do an edward nashton fic where him and the reader are long distance for whatever reason and she decides to send him a risqué photo 👀 then he sends one back and the magic happens from there
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
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Side notes: Omg YES! of course, Eddie will always be there for his girlfriend no matter what Words:  565
SORRY FOR MISSPELLING / GRAMMAR
 “Eddie baby, why the long face? It’s only going to be for a week” you and Eddie both stood by the edge of the airport hallway right before you headed toward the gates. To be quite honest Eddie didn’t like being in the wide open in public  but if that’s what it meant to keep you by his side he would do it  for now. 
 “I know but what am I supposed to do for the time being? I really don’t want to be alone at home without you. I’m practically going to starve to death without your cooking and everything else you do for us” You looked into his eyes and noticed him beginning to beg with those big puppy dogs eyes. 
 You puffed out a big sigh and realized he was trying to beg for you to stay like always. 
You slouch your bag to the ground and trailed your fingertips down his chest. Your nose brushed against his. His cheeks heated a bit as you pressed your lips against his. He moaned a bit, pulling you closer to deepen your body against his. 
“One more” you mumble before pecking his luscious lips again. Eddie smirked and his eyes watered just a tad bit.  “You promise to text me when you make it safely?” his finger wrapped around a stray piece of your hair. 
 “How about I send you something more for you?’ you smiled. 
“Like?” he blushed a bit and pushed the rim of his glasses up. 
 “You’ll see” you spun around on your heel and gathered your things. 
“Text me right away” his words could barely come out as you seductively came out of his grip. 
 “ I will honey.. You worry about Gotham city” you blew him a kiss and walked down into the terminal toward your flight. 
 After you landed to your destination you texted Eddie right away and hurried soon to your hotel room. 
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   You smile at your phone and quickly rush to the hotel bathroom to take pic of yourself in a sexy matching bra and pantie set you had on under your clothes. You look at the pic that showed off your butt in a perfect angle with your lips pouted out. 
Eddie was stuck in his bedroom in silence with his eyes glued to his phone. He felt himself get harder looking at the picture of how perfect your butt looked. The arch of your back and the way your beautiful face looked inside the mirror. He couldn’t believe how much of a woman like you was his. 
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 You walk over to your hotel bed and lay across with just an overnight shirt on. The picture he sent of his boxers showing his hardened member, made your lips water and moist between your legs looking at how rock hard he was for you.  
  You pressed your phone to your chest and tried not to resist how much you missed the size of him teasing your entrance. Your cheeks flushed a bit red thinking about touching yourself. 
Your hand slowly found it's way between your panties as you rubbed your wet slick folds. You buck your hips thinking about your sweet man touching you and hover over you. 
    Eddie looked puzzled at his phone screen wondering why you haven’t responded back yet. 
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My Card
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2-guns-b1tch · 9 months
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Talk To Me
Arkham! Riddler × FemaleReader
🔞Minors DNI!!!
This is my first fanfiction about Riddler and I am very excited to be writing about him because I am obsessing about everything relating to Batman! Some dialogues will be based on Arkham Asylum and Arkham Knight tapes. Thank you for reading and enjoy!
Masterlist
CHAPTER 1/ A03
The ticking of the clock is the only sound that fills the room. You keep your eyes fixed on the pointer, anxiety consuming you inside. At any moment your patient would arrive. At any moment, Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, would be brought into his therapy session with you.
You can't help but blink with the brightness of the ceiling lights. No windows at sight, just four concrete walls around you. Everything was too cold and artificial, too distant from coziness. The therapy room felt more like an interrogation room. It was clear why no patient would open up during the sessions.
Your hand closes around your left forearm and you feel the familiar urge to scratch the skin there. Instead, you breathe deeply a few times until your mind is clear, preferring to poke the cuticle of your nails.
Your eyes turn again to your files, studying the name “Edward Nygma" written in large letters on the cover. You flip through the pages quickly, checking if you hadn't forgotten anything.
You shake your head, closing it. That was just nervousness trying to speak louder than reason. You were ready, you had studied for days, you prepared the sessions carefully. You needed to be confident, even more so in the presence of someone like Nygma. You couldn't show weaknesses.
A siren sounds as the heavy metal door opens and you move your gaze in his direction, watching as Nygma was escorted by a guard to the chair in front of you.
Despite the prisoner's clothing, the chains around his wrists, and the fact that he was accompanied by a guard, he was far less intimidating than you thought.
He didn't resemble the man you'd read about. He might tower over you with his height, but his slender silhouette wasn't particularly threatening. His brown hair was a little messy and a pair of glasses landed on his nose.
Nygma didn't look like the monster people described. No psychotic gaze or evil laughter. In fact, he had a bored expression on his face, slightly annoyed, as if he didn't want to be there.
"Thank you, sir," you say to the guard as Edward sits down. "You can go now."
"Are you sure, Doctor? He can be very difficult sometimes," you notice how Nygma rolls his eyes. "Won't you need help?"
"No, I have everything under control and I want Mr. Nygma to be comfortable during our session."
"Alright, then. You have 30 minutes." The guard warns before leaving, the door lock being triggered after it is closed.
Even though you're locked in the same room as one of Gotham's most dangerous men, you don't feel fear. You almost wanted to laugh at your foolishness. Edward was just a man. He was palpable, made of flesh, bone and blood just like you. Of course he had done bad things, but that could be solved with medical treatment, which is why you were there.
You smiled at him, your fingers entwined in front of you. "Good morning, Mr. Nygma. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," you say in a gentle tone, saying your name next. "I'll be your therapist in the next few months, so we'll see each other quite often."
He settles against the metal chair. "Of course it's a pleasure to meet me, Doctor. It's not often you can meet someone with my intellect," he huffs a laugh. "And I don't imagine we'll see each other that often, most of the therapists I've met here have lasted two weeks. Apparently their small minds can't handle a mind such as mine."
You just nod your head, writing on your clipboard the words "self-centered?", "narcissist? " and "megalomaniac?". You had started well.
"First I would like to make it clear that this is a safe space, Mr. Nygma. You have the freedom to say what you have in your mind, but if you don't feel comfortable, you have every right to remain silent. I'm here to help you."
He crosses his arms, the chains tinkling with the movement. "Oh, Doctor. You don't have the ability to help me, and besides, I don't need help from anyone. But it's still adorable that you try."
You cross out the question marks, putting an exclamation at the end of each word.
"It's a shame you think like this, Mr. Nygma. Everyone needs help sometimes."
"Why would I need help from someone below me? You're totally misguided if you think anyone will ever make it to my level.”
"Well, since you don't need my help at the moment, I'd like you to help me with something then."
Edward raises an eyebrow in his direction. "You need... my help?"
"You see," you grab his file, pretending to look for something in particular. "What I've read about you is very superficial, I'd like you to help me understand a few things."
"I'm usually the one asking the questions, but... Go on." He was still distrustful, but at least it looked like you had caught his attention.
"Here it says that you have vast knowledge about engineering and computing, and for a period of time you were a member of the Cybercrime Division of the GCPD. That's impressive."
"I'm aware of my genius, thank you. But your point is?"
"Well, what drives a brilliant man like you to throw that away?"
"Throw it away?" he tosses his head back in a laugh, as if there's a joke only he's aware of. "I didn't throw anything away, Doctor! That place limited my abilities, trapped me with fools. Gotham needed my help, so that's what I did."
"What exactly did you do, Mr. Nygma?"
"I don't expect you to understand, but Gotham has a long history of corruption, older than you and me," Edward stands up, the chair creaking behind him. You try to keep your face relaxed, showing concern would make him think he has some power over you. "The people in power are all stupid. I just wanted to improve the city’s standing, trim it of its corrupt and worthless politicians! That was my plan until the Bat showed up and ruined everything." He sits up again, his shoulders slumped.
"I plan to talk about Batman in our next sessions, for today, I just want to talk about you." You quickly jot down the name of the vigilante, circling it several times. That would be a sensitive topic, but very important to Edward's journey.
"Do you need me to clarify anything else about me, Doctor?" Nygma asks with sarcasm in his voice, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"It also says here that your last name used to be 'Nashton'. Why did you decide to change it?"
"I thought it was obvious, but I suppose not everyone thinks like me. You see, in addition to matching my new persona, it's also a wordplay. Edward Nygma abbreviated is E. Nygma."
"Very clever, but is there no reason beyond that? Don't you get upset about having to lose your father's last name? Usually people tend to have an attachment to these things."
For a second, his eyebrows furrow and he looks away. Maybe that reaction had to do with the mention of his father, or it might be nothing, but you needed to dig deeper.
Edward clears his throat. "No, those are the only reasons."
You write "Troubled childhood? Difficult relationship with parents?". If Edward wasn't ready to open up yet you wouldn't push him, preferring to save those hypotheses for the next sessions.
"Thank you for being so understandable so far, Mr. Nygma. Now, I'd like to know how your staying here in Arkham is going."
"Please, Doctor. If your questions are over you don't need to make small talk with me. I'd even appreciate it if this ended soon."
You shake your head. "I need to know if you're being treated well here. The therapy won't work if you're in a troubled environment."
"You're new here, aren't you?" And you’re very naive too, apparently," he leans in your direction, whispering like he's telling you a secret. "This is Arkham, Doctor. As long as the degenerates and crazy are out of sight of Gotham's good citizens, then that's no one's problem anymore. And the worst part," his fists clench on the table. "It's that they think I deserve to be here! A genius like me trapped among savages! Nobody cares."
"That's not true, Edward," you place your hand over his. "I care."
Edward pulls away from your touch as if it burned him. "Don't touch me!" he screams. "You think your compliments may deceive me, but you're just like the others. Don't lie to me!"
You knew that the guards were watching everything through the security camera and if the patient lost control you had to follow the protocol and press a button under the table for them to come and control him. But if someone intervened you would lose any chance of gaining Edward's trust.
"Please calm down, Edward. I understand your distrust, but I just want to help you," you raise your hands but don't move closer, keeping your voice calm. "Forgive me for touching you without your permission, I've crossed the line. That's not going to happen again."
His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes seem lost, wandering quickly around the room but never stopping at you.
"Tell me about your routine. What do you usually do during the day?" you ask, trying to regain his attention.
"I-i," he swallows dryly, moving his eyes to your face. "They bring them meals to my cell. I can only go out to take showers and during some hours for socializing."
"Do you talk to the others patients?"
"No, I don't waste my time with any of these brutes. They don't have anything interesting to say." His confident mask comes back again, an attempt to take control of the situation. At least he seemed to be calming down a bit.
"And the guards, do they treat you well? It's important that you feel safe."
"Safe? No one feels safe in here, Doctor. But at least they don't hit me, if that's what you want to know."
You check the clock on the wall, realizing that the time limit had already passed.
"All right, our session ends here, but if anything happens, I need you to tell me. Your well-being is one of my priorities."
He laughs, shaking his head. "It's stupid that you think you have any control in here. But if you insist, I'll keep you updated."
You smile sincerely at him. "Thank you, Edward. That's very important to me. Until next session."
He doesn't say goodbye when the guard comes to pick him up, but keeps his eyes on you until he leaves, as if he's searching for something. Something hidden inside you.
——
The sound of your heels echoes down the hallway as you walk toward Director Quincy Sharp's office. Since the Arkham Asylum had reopened all new staff had to make monthly updates on their progress to their superiors and you were no exception.
Luckily the session with Nygma ended on time, since you had to take the longest route to get to Sharp's office.
For some reason your access card only allowed you to circulate through some areas of the asylum, so you ended taking longer travels, but safer. Well, at least that's what the guards told you.
You stop in front of the office door, taking a deep breath before knocking on it.
Sharp's ever-solemn voice sounds behind it, telling you to come in. You push open the door, realizing that Dr. Young was already there as well.
Quincy Sharp's office didn't fail to give you goosebumps. The dim light cast shadows on the room, making it even darker. A woody, antique smell lingered on the furniture, and beyond that, the Director's portraits and statues made you feel watched, as if their eyes were following you. And people thought Nygma was self-centered.
You offer them a small smile, but both the Director and Dr. Young maintain a professional and serious expression. The air in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating.
Even though you were there a few times you couldn't help but curl up against the chair, the skin of your forearm tingling underneath your lab coat.
Quincy clears his throat before he starts speaking. "Glad you've arrived, Doctor. Dr. Young and I were talking about you. Tell me, how is your experience here at the asylum?" the smile on his face is almost gentle, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, like it was something rehearsed.
You clasp your fingers over your lap, trying to ignore the urge to dig your nails into your arm. "It's has been very educational, Mr. Sharp. I thank you immensely for the opportunity."
As much as Arkham had a reputation for dealing with Gotham's most dangerous criminals, you were lucky to have been hired, especially since you didn't have as much experience on your resume. After all, you wanted to help people, that's why you had majored in psychology, so you would do your best no matter where you were.
And even though your superiors were a little distant and cold, you had clung to Dr. Young. She was the head of research at the asylum, a genial woman who could even be kind at times. You were lucky that she decided to take you under her wing as a pupil, guiding you through her research and discoveries. You hoped to be like her one day.
You keep going. "The staff are great and my fellow therapists have been very helpful, but... I have some complaints."
Sharp's thoughtful gaze falters for a second, but the smile remains on his face. Beside him, Dr. Young settles into her chair.
"And what would it be exactly?" Quincy asks.
"Well, I haven't had a chance to get to know the rest of the asylum yet. My card is restricted to only a few spaces and I would very much like to see the patient area." You explain.
You hated how ungrateful you felt. After everything Dr. Young had done, you looked like a child having a tantrum.
Deep down, you know this guilt is ridiculous. In addition to decreasing your walking time, you needed to check for yourself the rooms and the living areas. Even though many there had committed horrific crimes they still deserved to be treated as people, the patients needed a stable environment to improve.
Dr. Young shakes her head, placing a hand on your shoulder. "At the moment it's not possible. The asylum is overloaded with patients and it would be dangerous to walk through some areas."
"I understand, but if only I could make a quick visit. It can be in the living areas or-”
Quincy interrupts you with a wave of his hand. "Please, Doctor," his voice sounds more serious and firm, his gaze fixed on you "don't insist on it. This would be reckless and would likely cause turmoil among the inmates. And we don't want that, do we?"
You swallow dryly, shaking your head. "No sir, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get to know the asylum better." A warmth spreads across your face and you stare at your own hands like a child who has been scolded.
"Don't worry, you'll have that chance," Dr. Young says. "Why don't you tell us about your first session with Mr. Nygma?"
"Oh, of course," you take a deep breath, "Well, let's see. He definitely has a megalomaniac complex, like you said, and despite having some violent tendencies, I think he has a great chance of recovering."
"I think the best decision would be to end his obsession with riddles." Dr. Young suggests.
"That's the right thing to do," Sharp says. "He's been leaving some threatening riddles on the walls of the asylum. We don't know exactly where he gets the materials to do that."
"Maybe we could try to redirect his interest. Puzzles and riddles are a very important part of Nygma, to take that away from him would be cruel." You argue.
"These riddles of his have brought nothing but trouble to people. We should nip this evil in the bud as soon as possible." Sharp punctuates his argument by tapping his finger against the hard surface of the table.
As much as you have several arguments going through your mind, the oppressive environment of the room doesn’t allow you to say anything at the moment. You decide to save your ideas for another time, when you could talk to Dr. Young alone.
"That's all I have to say for now. I'll have other sessions with Nygma soon and will bring new updates." You explain, wishing you could finally escape.
"Alright then, you are dismissed," Sharp says. "Have a nice day, Doctor."
You let out a heavy sigh as the door closes behind you.
You stare into your own hands, noticing a slight tremor in them. You need to clench your fists, breathing deeply to try to contain the nervousness in your chest.
It's almost comical how a simple meeting with your bosses has this effect on you, while talking to a criminal makes you less anxious.
——
You finally get home, sighing in relief after spending hours stuck in traffic.
Before you can turn on the lights, excited meows greet you with joy as Meg rubs herself against your legs.
"Hello, love," you take her in your arms, letting her nestle her head against your cheek. "Sorry for leaving you alone for so long, today was a long day."
Your keys clink with each turn you make on the three locks of your door, passing the bolt last. Even if you had enough money to live in a safe neighborhood, Gotham was still a dangerous city and it was better to be safe than sorry.
You finish taking off your lab coat, leaving it in the hanger next to the entrance.
"Are you hungry?" You ask, walking Meg to the kitchen and putting her on the countertop.
She meows insistently, excited at the idea of food. "I know, baby. Mommy is a monster for starving her baby." You tease, filling her bowl.
It was nice to have someone to take care of, who looked forward to your return home. Ever since Meg came into your life your anxiety had improved and she always made the lonely moments less heavy. You needed her as much as she needed you, maybe even more.
Your fingers scratch her lower back while the other hand pulls the recorder from your pocket, keeping it close to your mouth.
"First session with the patient, Edward Nygma, also known as Riddler. It is already obvious that the patient presents a narcissistic and megalomaniacal complex, needing at all times to demean me as well as others to show his superiority. It still takes more time to determine if this complex comes from a place of low self-esteem. Also, Edward has sudden mood swings and is mildly paranoid," you clear your throat before continuing. "Although Dr. Young thinks Nygma's obsession with puzzles is bad, I think we can redirect it to something healthier. Reminder to buy him a puzzle book," you stare at Meg's cans of food inside the cupboard, counting them quickly. "Reminder to buy more cat food too."
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unrestrainedbalderdash · 10 months
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Riddler comforts you while you have period pain (platonically (or queerplatonically?))
Disclaimers:
I'm quite new to writing fanfiction, and I wrote this while dying of period pain, so it might not be the best writing, especially near the end
He's uncharacteristically nice I need comfort okay? (also there's only one riddle)
Allo people are free to interact but please be mindful that I am aroace and this isn't made for you
It's non-romantic and non-sexual but there is touching for comfort in the last third so if you're touch-averse when it comes to fanfiction then you might not like it
I am English, so there might be language differences if you're American (eg: pants is referring to underpants, not trousers)
NO TERFS.
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Swearing (F**k and B*tch), period pain, hurt/comfort, house break-in
Reader insert info: Vigilante, explicitly asexual (romanticism isn't addressed at all so they're implicitly aromantic but they don't have to be), AFAB (no gender revealed)
Word count: 938
The monthly sinking feeling hits you as you look down at your pants and finally see blood. You knew it was coming; you pre-emptively put a pad in there, but it still send a wave of misery through you as you let out a “fuck!” You stand up, wincing in pain, and pull them up along with your pyjama bottoms. You flush the toilet, watching it go just like your hopes and dreams for the next week. You leave the bathroom and trudge through your house, finally reaching the bedroom. You open the door, turn the light on, and freeze.
There is a man on your bed. He is looking at you, a smug smile on his face, posing with one leg outstretched and the other bent, forming a triangular hole between the two. He’s wearing his bright green spandex, covered in question marks. “Hello, vigilante,” the Riddler says. “Oh fuck off!” you say, the pain making you slightly hunched over. The smile turns into a little look of shock before he regains his composure. “…well, aren’t you foul-mouthed today? What’s wrong? Scared, knowing that I, the Riddler, Prince of Puzzles knows your secret identity?” he says, beaming. He looks into your eyes, and sees the tears. “Are you okay, vigilante?” You are now hunched over a lot more. “Move,” you reply. He is taken aback. “Well, you’re being a bit rude to such an esteemed guest, aren’t you?” he retorts, but still shuffling over and bringing his legs in. You lurch toward the bed, practically collapsing on it. “Get the fuck off my bed. Now.” “…you’re being uncharacteristically rude. Is it something I said? Is it the fact I deduced your identity with my genius mind and broke into your house?” he responds, staring at you. “I’m fucking dying right now, get out.” “Huh? D… dying? Whatever makes you say that?! You’re not doing your vigilante things this week! Did… could someone else possibly have-” “Werewolf moment.” He pauses. “Oh. You mean, uh… I am a river of red, containing unused life, if you wanted to be bred, then seeing this causes strife?” “How the fuck should I know what that means? Bitch I am fucking bleeding right now please shut up just for one second,” you say, curled up on your bed, crying. There is silence, then you can feel him stand up and get off the bed. You drag yourself toward the pillow, and curl up on it. You can feel his weight on the other end of the bed, sitting a respectful distance away from you. “Is this why you always disappear for two weeks?” “Yeah.” There is a pause. You glance up, and see him on his phone, with his green phone case covered in dorky purple question marks. “You better not be taking any bloody pictures,” you say, grimacing. “I already have the ultimate blackmail. I’m not that cruel. No, I’m simply searching for the methods of reducing period pain. Alright. Um… have you stopped smoking?” “Never even started it.” “Alright then. Uh… do you have a, um, a hot water bottle or something?” he asks, rocking backwards and forwards slightly. You point to the fluffy hot water bottle on your shelf. He walks over and picks it up. “I’ll go and fill this up, then,” he says, walking through your door. A couple of minutes pass in agony, and he returns, placing it on your tummy. It’s nice and warm. He also brought a bottle of water for drinking, and places it on your bedside cabinet. He sits on the edge of your bed again, scrolling for more suggestions. His eyes widen a little. He glances around, and sees your ace pride flag on the wall. “I’m definitely not doing… that…” he mumbles. He keeps scrolling, and glances at you, seeing you clutch the hot water bottle, your teeth gritted, curled up on the bed. He slowly shuffles closer to you as you make pained noises. He gently lays his hand on your shoulder. You let out a little whimper, in too much pain to show your gratitude. Right now, you can’t focus on the fact that he is your enemy, all you can think of is the intense pain, and the fact that he is helping you. “Why…” you murmur, trying to focus on his hand. “You’re the sweetest vigilante ever. Seeing you like this, in so much pain that you’ve been telling me to fuck off, is a little heartbreaking. I wish Batman was going through this. Not you,” he says, the mocking tone gone from his voice. He sounds sincere. He wipes the tears from your eyes, and you make little noises as his soft glove touches your face. He gives a little smile, and continues wiping the tears, letting you cry onto his purple glove. You’re making little screaming noises, and he wraps his arms around you, gently rocking you like a baby. “It’s okay… you’ve got the greatest genius ever with you…” he says, holding you close.
“I’m dying… I’m dying… fuck… I’m dying…” He puts one of his hands on your tummy, and gently rubs circles around it. You keep whimpering, but his hands are comforting. “Thank you… thank you…” you say weakly. He continues for a few more minutes, and the pain starts to die down. You make soft little noises, and he gently lays you on the bed again. He tucks you in, and you can feel tiredness fill you. He gives you a gentle pat on the head. “Sleep tight,” he says, as you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.
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imagine--if · 1 year
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Your work is still so amazing. I jump and am on the edge of my seat every time I see that you posted.
I bought a new square pan and now I'm excited to make something, I love feeding people.
I was wondering, how would Eddie react if you could bake?
Homemade cinnamon rolls, cakes, cookies, especially pumpkin pie, etc. I'd like to feel like he'd be comforted by the smell of it. Maybe he'd try to help out?
It'd be fun to have a partner to talk with when you're waiting on the oven 😂
Aaaa omd thank you 🥺️ that means so much you don't understannnd
Again, housewife vibes?? Stability?! Coming home from another tiresome day at the accounting office to the smell of pumpkin pie in the oven?!? Edward would cry 🥲
I can see him trying to help out but copying you and needing guidance because the man only eats canned soups and takeout 😂 And if you spend most of your time in the kitchen, chances are he'll drag in some small table and work there too just so he can be around you because... it's Eddie 💚
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wishfullyeternal · 2 years
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Riddler x Reader- Kidnapped
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Riddler x Reader- Kidnapped
Words- 1,198
Warnings- Heavy violence, dubcon elements, literal kidnapping (see title) language
A/N- Sorry for the big space randomly, formatting shit lol. I've been obsessed with The Riddler for a while now, and finally got around to writing something about him. Hopefully he sounds correct. Thinking about making this a dubcon smut kinda thing, but I wanna see how y'all like it first. Please comment if you'd like more! As always, requests are open and love you lovelies! <3
“I can smell the fear on you,” The Riddler started, drumming his fingers on the edge of his coat. “God, it’s so intoxicating…” He took a deep breath, chest swelling. The sound of his breathing was muffled by the mask, but you could tell he was coming closer to where you were. Wedged between an old washer and dryer in the abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham city. It wasn’t your first choice of hiding, but it was the closest. You breathed silently and tried to even it out as best as possible in order not to draw attention.
“What has twenty-one eyes… But cannot see.” The Riddler's voice is even closer and you can tell he is faced in your direction. His boots clack across the floor, his pace never changing. From where you were, you couldn’t tell how close he was, but there wasn’t any way he could find you. You were completely silent. “Come out come out wherever you are!” He laughed, high pitched voice reverberating throughout the warehouse. It’s becoming harder and harder to decipher where he is due to the amount of cortisol and adrenaline rushing through your veins. “You still have yet to solve my riddle dearest…” He trails off, and his footsteps begin to disappear. You move your head as quietly as you can, wanting to look above you and gain a sense of some of your surroundings. In a horrible twist of events, you accidentally let your foot slip, and the sound of rubber on metal echoes loudly throughout the entire space. The Riddler chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems you’ve made a grave mistake.” His footsteps come forward and pause before beginning to grunt and move the washer, revealing your coiled-up body in between. After scrambling to get up you try and escape from him, but his hand catches your jacket hood and slams you back into him, all of the wind knocked out of your lungs. “Right where you belong sweetie,” He says, quickly restraining your arms by placing a lanky hand over them. The other hand lands on your throat, tilting your head unnaturally up. Your back is pressed against him even though you are struggling so hard to get away. You kick at him, and he loses his grip for just a second. You take the opportunity to bite his arm hard and feel the flesh give way to your teeth. Blood pours into your mouth, warm and thick. He curses, yet digs his other hand underneath your collarbone, making you yelp in pain. He pulls his arm from your mouth, and pushed you roughly to the ground, again knocking the wind out of you. At this point, your breathing was never going to steady. Your chest was burning, and the thought of running away was fruitless.
“Oh yes,” The Riddler drew out his words, finding a perverse pleasure in your suffering. He pushes his boot onto your back, pinning you to the ground. You heard him rustle for something in his pocket, and when you try to get away from him, he only puts more weight on you. “A die!” You yell, The Riddler pauses and again laughs through his muffled mask. “I’m impressed, you are correct. A die has twenty-one faces, yet cannot see.” He seems almost disappointed, and further explains while loudly ripping large pieces of duct tape. He attaches one right above his wound, blood soaking through the army green fabric. At the same time, he roughly pins your wrists behind you, attaching an obscene amount of tape to keep them together. “Thank goodness you got the riddle, I really didn’t want to kill you.” Your breath hitched in your throat. If he didn’t want to kill you, why was he still restraining you? Why was he still so infatuated with you? “Now, let’s get you somewhere else, wouldn’t want to ruin a pretty face on a concrete floor…” You felt him smile, and lift you up by your wrists with little effort. The strain on your shoulders made you wince and take in a sharp breath. “I’m gonna do things to you, I wouldn’t do to a farm animal…” The Riddler's humble abode was most definitely humble. Sparse furniture, paired with little to no decorations. It seemed like a place where he would do nothing but sleep, and maybe plan out his devious plans. There was no sense of personality or uniqueness to the space, it simply existed. “Why am I here?” You asked, The Riddler ripped another piece of duct tape and slapped it onto your mouth, making sure that he could do it in the most painful way possible. He made sure to wipe his hands all over your face. The lingering smell of salty sweat on your face making you gag. You struggled again and your eyes were wide in fear. Sweat beaded at your forehead, slowly dripping down your face, loosening the tape. “Alright, let’s get down to business. I’ve been watching you for quite some time now, and you fascinate me.” He pointed his finger at you, gently tracing the edge of your jawline. You were forced to sit down on the cold floor, legs and wrists bound tightly by duct tape. “First of all,” He clapped his hands together softly and you could hear him smile through the mask. “I think you are one of the most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting” He sighed, almost sounding like a groan. “You are just, amazing!” He sounds like a kid on his birthday and seems very excited to get on with whatever he had in store. His voice cracked a little with how much excitement he had hidden behind it. You felt the sweat begin to loosen the tape on your face more, before finally moving around your lips to take it off. “What the fuck are you going to do to me?” It wasn’t loud, you didn’t want to make him angry. “You women are so easy, you always ask the same questions.” He turned away from you, rustling in a dark green bag and fumbling for something metal. “They say a woman threatened by a knife is less likely to try and escape than a woman threatened by a gun…” You shuddered, The Riddler pulling out a large hunting knife and aiming it at your throat. You pushed you head back against the wall, the Riddler making sure to keep his distance as close as physically possible. "You looked so confident before, what happened?" He asked, thrusting the edge of the knife to your neck. "Please don't kill me…" The whites of your eyes were showing and you tried to look around the find something, anything to defend yourself. "Oh god," He rolled his eyes, "Not this again-" He suddenly turned around and in one fluid motion hurled the knife at the drywall. The knife stuck perfectly straight. "I'll do anything… Just please let me live." The Riddler paused, putting a long finger to his chin. "Anything?" You nodded quickly. "Oh boy, will I have fun with you!" He clapped his hands together and jumped up, giddy like a school-kid.
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pegsontheregs · 1 year
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Riddler x reader - Minors DNI
uhhhhh giving oral while the blorbo's driving :)
cw: oral, while driving, orgasm delay i guess, not beta read and written in like 30 minutes dont expect quality
~600 words, its short
“Babe whoa what’re doing!” The Riddler, or as you called him, Eddie, exclaimed. And that was a good question, what were you doing? Acting on inspiration is what it was. Unbuckling your seat belt and leaning over the console to suck him off sounded fun so that's exactly what you were going to do. If he wanted you to.
“I’m driving!” He hissed at you, both hands white knuckling the wheel. Despite his objections he opened his thighs a little wider for you, letting you settle on his lap.
“Do you actually want me to stop?”
“No, this is hot as fuck, but if I cum while driving I will crash the car.”
“Then I’ll make sure you don’t.” You patted his thigh reassuringly. A whine erupted from him in response.
You got to work, unzipping his fly and fishing out his half hard dick, leaving sloppy kisses up the shaft. Kitten licking at the tip, you swallowed any precum leaking out then slid half of him down your throat.
He groaned and jerked forward. His hand grabbed the back of your head to steady himself. When you started to move, the car filled with the sound of Eddie’s heavy breathing and whining.
“Fuck, fuck.” He breathed. You felt the car slow to a stop. He pushes you head down slightly when you try to raise it to look at him.
“Stoplight. Keep going.” You try not to grin as you continue your ministrations. Reaching your hand into his pants, you massage his balls. A few more seconds and the light was green, and he reluctantly started driving again. You were sure the other people in cars at the light probably saw you. The thrill sent a shiver down your spine.
“Fuck babe, I-“ You pinch at the base of his dick, and pause. Keeping him in your mouth as you hold off his orgasm. Just sitting, waiting, listening to him whine and beg.
“Please! Come on!” He’s pushing at your head again. But you pull off, sliding your fist up his dick agonizingly slow as you talk.
“You said if you cum we crash. So no.”
“Fuck this shit. I’m pulling over.”
“If you pull over, I’m stopping. If you want to finish you better get us home safely.” He stared at you, flicking his eyes to the road occasionally. His brain debating whether it’s worth sitting through this torture or better to pull over and just jerk himself off.
“Fine.” He said decisively, gripping the wheel tightly again. He’s not one to back down from a challenge, he tells himself, only a couple blocks to go this will be easy.
His resolve though was quick to crumble when you took him in your mouth again. He tried hard not to buck into you or let his eyes wander, fearful that he might cum on the spot if he looked. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stare out the window and drive without incident. A few more minutes and another botched orgasm later, he finally pulled into the parking for his safe house.
And no sooner did he grab your hair and fuck into you, moaning all the while. You tried to relax your throat for him and it didn’t take too much of his rutting before he was cumming down your throat with a loud groan. He let you up and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Here I thought I was going to have to hold you off at least one more time before we got here. Good job Eddie!” You grinned, kissing his cheek then turning his head to kiss warmly at his lips.
“Fuck you.” He breathed heavily, still trying to catch his breath.
“If you want. You deserve it.”
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spockiguess · 2 years
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Come and See Pt. 2 || Riddlebat
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Rating: Explicit 18+
Warnings: Smut
Pairing: Edward Nashton x Bruce Wayne
Notes: I’m gonna be straight honest with y’all, by the time I was finishing this fic, I wanted to rip my hair out because of how long it was taking. I have like four more parts in store, but holy shit, I am not going to be writing any riddlebat for like the next couple of weeks. 
Also, this was my first time writing aftercare and sort of fluff? Like, it’s fluff at the end if you really squint and tilt your head to the side. Anyway, I’m going to be writing a Louis Ives (Louisa) fic that’s gonna be super fluffy and shit because I crave it fr. Oh, also, I’ll probably be making an Eli Sunday or Joby fic soon, but idk yet. 
P.S. If this isn’t as good of quality as my previous fic, it’s because I only edited it once and couldn’t find the will to read over ten pages, so if there are any mistakes, message me. Thanks, much love, xxoo
Perched upon a menacing gargoyle was The Bat, the Dark Knight, Vengeance, a force of justice that took many names but stood unwavering in its convictions, until tonight, however. 
Rain battered against the hard metal of Bruce’s suit, echoing in the caves of his ears, almost drowning out the never-ending noise of Gotham. People walked below him, entirely unaware of his presence as they left the Iceberg Lounge. 
Usually, that would be Bruce’s reason for stalking this part of town so late at night, to catch criminals in the act, protect people caught up in the Iceberg Lounge's messy politics, and enact vengeance. 
Tonight, though, Bruce had a different mission, and he was staring at it through a musty window caked with mold and mildew. Bruce’s heart hammered, threatening to rise in his throat and cause these confusing emotions to spill out of him onto the pot-hole-filled street below. 
Deep down, Bruce knew this was wrong. Bruce knew that if he were to open that window and cross that threshold, act on what he set out to do tonight, he’d never recover. He would’ve permanently shifted his morals and turned a cheek to violence and chaos because of his own perverted desires, but, oddly enough, this excited Bruce. 
For some reason, ever since he was a kid, he always loved to do wrong, in a reasonable capacity, of course. Bruce could never imagine murdering someone or selling drugs, nothing illegal either, but something scandalous. 
Bruce remembers the first time he did something like that; he went to some shady club on the outskirts of Gotham clad in ragged jeans and a black hoodie, ready for action. All Bruce wanted that night was someone to play with, and he got exactly that in the then Gotham Treasurer’s son, Adam Banks. 
Adam Banks was a notorious ladies' man, having slept with almost every young debutante in the grimy city of Gotham. Still, Bruce had heard rumors of Adam Banks’s closeted sexuality and how he paraded around with these girls to appease his staunchly conservative father, Al Banks. 
When they had hooked up later that night and Bruce watched as Adam hastily threw his clothes on and wagged a warning finger at Bruce, he felt satisfied for the first time in his life. Bruce had always followed the rules to a T, and who would it hurt if he broke them just this once, right?
Bruce Wayne, the face of everything Gotham stood for, and Adam Banks, Gotham’s go-to bachelor hooking up in some seedy nightclub, high on God knows what? Oh, the horror. 
Tonight was different from some ultimately harmless fling, though. Bruce was considering sleeping with one of Gotham’s most dangerous terrorists that no one knew the true identity of, sharing a bed with someone who had killed countless elites, although Bruce could care less about the well-being of most of The Riddler’s victims. If he were to do this and have the Gotham PD question him on the Riddler’s identity in the future, he could lie about not knowing it and feel that familiar guilt in his gut, or he could reveal it and lead to a whole shitstorm of possibilities. 
This line of thinking was killing his boner, so Bruce steeled himself before grabbing his grappling hook and sinking its claws into the bricks of Nashton’s complex. 
Edward Nashton laid on his rumpled bed, pumping his cock and moaning the Batman’s name into his yellowed pillow, rocking his hips in time with his hand. Precum leaked from the head of Edward’s cock, coating his hand and dick in a slick that made the glide that much smoother. 
Something clatters from outside Edward’s bedroom, leaving him frozen and waiting on the bed, straining his ears and listening for any more noise.
A deep rumble sounds out through the small apartment, “Nashton.” Edward perks up, knowing that gruff cadence anywhere. He can’t help the gush of pre that spills out of him before he clambers up and out of bed, tugging a pair of pants and sliding his glasses on. 
This meeting was the moment Edward had been waiting for, ever since he first laid his eyes on the Bat. He remembers the day so vividly. 
Batman was fresh, and people were almost sure he wasn’t to be trusted, but Edward knew better. He watched news broadcasts with a feverish intensity, jerking off to the videos and pictures of the Dark Knight in action, watching this almost biblical force wipe out waves of common filth that polluted the city.
Edward knew that Batman could help him–would help him. He wouldn’t toss Edward aside as everyone else has. The Bat would hear Edward’s plight, and they would join forces to help rid the city of the toxicity it seemed to be drowning in. 
The night Edward saw him in person, he was walking home, groceries in hand, and as he turned the corner, there he was, The Batman. Batman was pummeling a group of poor thugs with animalistic grunts and near-deadly punches when Edward caught sight. Everything changed. Edward wasn’t alone anymore; he had Batman; he had someone fighting his fight, too. 
When Edward opens the door, all he’s met with is his usual messy surroundings. Sloppy white question marks, countless papers littering the floor, and the dim green light emanating from his kitchen, to say Edward was disappointed is an understatement. 
“And to think I got all excited.” Edward met one of his peeling walls with a crushing thud, feeling a solid brace against his neck and a large hand already trapping both of his own. 
Arousal flooded Edward’s body, and a healthy dose of surprise as he concluded the Bat had really come to see him. Of course, Batman wouldn’t just leave himself exposed in the middle of his apartment, out in the open and for everyone to see; Edward was stupid to think that. 
“Oh, there you are.” Edward giggled before the brace against the back of his neck pushed harder, barely allowing any air to pass through his throat. 
Edward breathlessly asked, “I’m assuming you saw my tape?” Batman grunted out an affirmation, leaning in closer, nuzzling into Nashton’s soft hair. 
Edward’s erection pressed painfully hard against the wall and strained further at the knowledge that Batman had watched his tape, something he put so much love and consideration into, a proper love letter. 
Silence eerily drifted in the stale air, “Are you gonna arrest me–” 
“You are an exception. This is an exception.” Batman pulled off Edward, leaving him to drop to the floor and suck in a breath to ward away the lightheaded feeling that had begun to consume him. 
Nashton smiled, looking up at the Bat, “You don’t know how special that makes me feel.” He giggled again, abruptly stopping as Batman turned around with a swing of his cape, masking himself in darkness as he stalked the small living space.
Edward’s body was tense and alight with an emotion he hadn’t felt in ages, and he loved it. He loved the rush Batman provided– the unease he instilled with a solemn stare that penetrated the deepest parts of your soul and the force he exerted in every step, punch, and kick. 
“So, did you like it? Did you like seeing me all spread out for you? I’ll admit, it was exhilarating knowing you’d watch it, even if you hated every second of it. You have to make sure, don’t you?” The Bat looked at the mousy man from over his shoulder, with no emotion on his face. 
Edward was determined to get a rise out of Batman through any means necessary, so he got on all fours and crawled over to the looming figure, arching his back the entire way. 
Once he approached the Bat, he looked up at him through long lashes, trying his best to look as innocent as possible while he traced his hand up the rough fabric of Batman’s pants. 
“What’s with the silent treatment, Bats? Having second thoughts?” Batman flung Edward’s bedroom door open, a cocky look on his face as he sauntered into the mess of dirty clothes and unintelligible scrawling. 
Batman’s utter silence put Edward on edge, if he were being honest. He couldn’t tell what his next move was or get a read on what might be going through his head. Usually, Edward could read a person like an open book, having learned to do so after years of abuse and mistreatment. Eventually, you see the little, almost imperceptible signs. 
Batman’s heavy steps echoed in the mostly empty room as Edward rushed to get up, embarrassed at his ignored advance. 
“God, you’re fucking filthy, Nashton.” The harsh words sent a tingle down Edward’s spine, and finally, the Bat spoke. 
Edward tried to sneak up on him, but Batman caught him before he even stepped into the man’s bubble. Batman’s hand closed around his throat, squeezing just enough to make the edges of his vision go dark. 
“But you love it.” Edward giggled again as Batman threw him onto the unmade bed. Batman stepped in front of the large window at the end of it, silhouetted by the neon lights of Gotham. 
“Maybe.” Batman inched closer, “That little homemade video was fucking disgusting.” Another inch, “Where’d you learn to be such a whore?” 
Edward answered honestly, “Cam Girls. They’re really helpful if you tip enough.” Batman rolled his eyes, his guard dropping by the minute. 
“Did they teach you how to shut up?” Batman grabbed Edward’s ankles, yanking him down the length of the bed until his crotch perfectly aligned with Batman’s. Nashton lolled his head back, loving the friction against his cock. 
“The opposite, really. They told me to be as loud as possible.” Edward grinned menacingly, leaning up and snaking his arm around Batman’s neck. 
“You’re lucky you aren’t butt-fucking ugly, Nashton.” Nashton’s heart fluttered. 
“So you think I’m cute?” Batman gave a noncommittal shrug as he pulled Edward’s shirt off, running his hands across the plush skin, tweaking Edward’s nipples. 
Nashton moaned, he had always been sensitive, and by the looks of it, Batman had just figured that out, pinching his pink nipples harder, twisting and tugging. 
The coarse fabric of Batman’s gloves gave an intoxicating feeling of pain that mixed with his pleasure, and Edward rutted his hips into Batman’s in hopes to relieve some of the tension, causing Batman to press his arm into Edward’s soft hips and ground him to the bed. 
Batman gave a wicked smile, “Jesus, you really want this, don’t you, Ed?” Edward squirmed at the nickname, feeling his plump cheeks redden and the tips of his ears heat up. Edward nodded, biting his lip and whining as Batman continued to toy with his nipples, using the other hand to keep him firmly in place. 
Batman leaned in close to Edward’s ear, mere centimeters away, “I wanna hear you beg for it, Eddy.” 
Nashton’s brain almost exploded as he struggled to keep his composure, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Edward continued to ramble, just to get back at the Bat, “You think just because, hah, just because I sent you that tape, that I’d get down on my knees and beg?” 
“Weren’t you just on all fours, basically rutting like a bitch in heat against my leg?” Edward could hear the snarky grin in his voice and that hot shame he felt earlier came rushing back. 
“Nothing to say to that? Shocked.” Batman took him by the neck again, shoving him against the bed, and palmed Edward’s aching cock a little too hard, leaving him to whine high in his throat and arch off of the bed. 
Finally, Edward was able to form a complete thought and shove the words past his lips, “You act like this isn’t affecting you, Batman, but I know it is. I know you jerked off to my tape, watching me fuck that dildo, wishing it was you.” 
He leaned up, staring into the Bat’s eyes, challenging him to take it further when he said, “You’re disgusting, Bats, just like me.” Edward laughed before Batman practically ripped his pants off and exposed him to the chilly air of his bedroom. 
In a flash, Batman’s dick was out, long and thick as it rested against Edward’s belly, smearing precum against his sparse pubes. Edward couldn’t help but drool; it was so much better than he imagined. 
Nashton could feel the heat radiating off it in intense waves, sinking into his skin. He recalled all those nights, including this one, where he pleasured himself to the thought of Batman’s cock and all the possible ways he’d take it. He’d do anything for it, for the Bat. 
His thoughts were interrupted when a sharp coldness spread across his asshole, and finally, being pulled from his haze, he saw that Batman had pushed his legs back until they nearly touched his stomach and was coating Edward’s entrance in lube. He also noticed that Batman had taken his glove off, and knowing that the man under the cowl was touching him, skin to skin, made Edward fill with euphoric joy. 
Edward keened at the frosty feeling, but the cold quickly washed away with their combined heat. Edward melted into the touch, relishing in the Bat’s uncharacteristic tenderness, feeling the way his long finger sunk into him, prodding at him tentatively.
Under his breath, the Bat muttered, “Fuck, you’re tight.” These little phrases he’d catch the Bat say assured Edward that the attraction was mutual. Batman didn’t want to admit it, but he thought the Riddler was cute. No one had ever felt that way about Edward before, and Edward’s obsessed devotion deepened. Batman and Edward were supposed to be together; he knew it, the Bat knew it, it was hard to ignore, honestly. 
All of those lonely nights, clutching bedsheets and weeping a pillow, longing for the touch of another person, were now put to rest. Edward’s wish was granted. Consciously, Edward knew this line of thinking was dangerous because this was an exception. The Bat was only here for one night to quell those pesky urges before they got out of hand.
Even then, Edward thought, he ought to enjoy this night for what it is and backlog every frame for those lonely nights that were sure to come again. The nuns always told Edward to never to look a gift horse in the mouth, and this was one of those times. 
So, he sunk into the soft material of his blankets and sheets, basking in Batman’s attention, feeling like a cat sprawled under the sun's warmth shining through a window. Edward watched Batman, watched Batman study the way his finger plunged into Edward and the slight struggle it was to pull it back out. 
Suddenly, another finger entered Edward, and the two digits honed in on his prostate, massaging hard circles into the bundle of nerves. Edward yelled, shocked mainly by the stimulation, and Batman clasped Edward’s mouth shut. 
“You are loud.” Batman quietly huffed a laugh, and Edward wasn’t sure if he could fall any more in love with the man currently fingering his ass. 
Edward pulled the hand away, “You love it, though. Knowing you’re the one causing it.” Batman blushed and averted his eyes, and Edward cheered inwardly at finally catching the Bat off guard. 
Batman wouldn’t let this victory last long, however, as he shoved a third finger in, pounding into Edward’s hole, stretching him so thoroughly that Edward reveled in the slight burn. 
High whines and pathetic moans were the only noises that came out of Edward, alongside utterances of please and more. Batman was happy to oblige, pushing Edward’s legs even farther and getting the perfect angle for hitting Edward’s prostate every time he thrust his fingers in.
Bruce quickly decided that Edward was relaxed enough, slicking his cock in the lube and hissing at the low temperature before sliding it in, watching how Edward’s mouth formed an O shape while his eyes rolled in the back of his head. 
It was hard for Bruce to keep upright, shocked by the all-consuming heat and constriction of Edward’s hole and how it wrapped around him perfectly. It was wet, sloppy, and disgusting to any sane person, but Bruce loved it. He loved the erotic noises of his balls slapping against Edward’s ass and the gushy noises as it pushed further in with every thrust. 
Bruce leaned his masked head against Edward’s, their eyes locking as Bruce began to set a brutal pace, ramming into Edward that left the man under him screaming for more. Edward’s enthusiasm made Bruce hornier, the desperation in his eyes and the slobber dripping from his mouth. Bruce made a mental note to put that mouth to good use later. 
“Please, please, don’t stop, hah. I can feel you so–” Edward moaned, grappling for purchase against Bruce’s suit, but his fingers slipped against the smooth armor, “I can feel you so deep.” 
Edward trailed one of his hands down his stomach, just above his pubic bone, feeling the slight movement that shuddered through his body every time Bruce moved. It was sick, Bruce’s cock pushing so far into him that he could feel it in his stomach, but Edward loved being so full. 
Seeing this almost made Bruce break, and Bruce wouldn’t let himself cum first, so he took Edward’s red cock in his ungloved hand, spreading the precum over the head and base.
The only thing Edward could do now was babble incoherent gibberish, physically shaking from the stimulation and feeling himself get closer to that peak. 
His orgasm tore through him rapidly, causing Edward to unconsciously tighten around Bruce, making the larger man double over as he shoved his face into the crook of Edward’s neck.
The two men came together, with Edward’s cum landing on his and Bruce’s stomach while Bruce came deep in Edward’s ass, some of it leaking past his cock and dripping onto the mattress below. 
Edward moaned as Bruce growled like a feral animal, bucking his hips to get the last bits of cum out, causing shocks of overstimulation to ripple through Edward’s body, nearing the precipice of pain. 
After a couple of moments, Bruce collected himself, his breathing still heavy, when he separated and pulled out of Edward, hissing as he did so. 
Edward was satiated, completely dazed as his eyes drifted off into space, looking thoroughly fucked. Edward giggled as he adjusted his glasses, but his glee was cut short when he saw the Bat already put away and heading for the door. 
Nashton scrambled to his knees, leaning to grab Bruce’s arm, “Hey, where’re you going?” Edward looked like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide and already started to glaze over. 
Bruce couldn’t help the rush of guilt that quickly settled like a hard lump in his stomach. Even though Edward Nashton, the Riddler, was one of the most dangerous men in Gotham right now, his face was uncannily innocent, with round cheeks and big eyes that ate at Bruce’s resolve. 
It was quiet; the only thing leaving Bruce’s mouth was a mixture of uhms and uhs. Still, Edward tried pulling Bruce back, and Bruce was too distracted to notice his feet moving in that direction. 
Bruce was about to pull back when Edward murmured, “You don’t have to leave this minute, right?” 
When Bruce didn’t answer, still having that dumbfounded look on his face, Edward started to ramble, “I know you said this was an exception, but, y’know,” Edward pulled Bruce closer until he hit the edge of the bed, “It’d be nice if you stayed a little longer. That’s all I ask.” 
Readily, Bruce’s willpower diminished, especially after hearing how soft and fragile Edward sounded. 
With a grunt and rolling of the eyes, Bruce reasoned, “I’ll stay the night, but you have to tell me everything you know about Gotham’s undercity.” 
Edward’s face lit up as he wrapped his skinny arms around Bruce’s neck, “You make me sound like a petulant child.” 
Bruce gave Edward a look, so Edward caved with a defeated sigh, “Fine. Yes. I’ll tell you everything I know about Gotham’s undercity.” 
“Thank you.” Bruce parted from Edward, heading for the door again. 
“Wait, I thought we had a deal?” 
Bruce snickered, “Can I go to the bathroom at least?” Edward deflated, humiliated once again at his clingy tendencies. His head hung as he nodded sheepishly, turning bright red at Bruce’s teasing laughter. 
Edward had settled into bed, too lazy to get up and clean himself off but smart enough to not get under the sheets and completely dirty the sheets. He watched the buzzing neon sign that hung right outside his window and coated his room in an almost ethereal glow. 
His bedroom door lurched open, and from behind it came Bruce, de-suited and human-looking. He wore a makeshift face cover that resembled a ski mask with a black hoodie and jeans. 
Bruce was still big, but now that Edward could see him outside the suit, he noticed the barely-there change in height. Now, Edward had at least a couple of inches on the man. It was not enough to ever ensure Edward won in a hand-to-hand fight with the Bat, but it still made a sick joy flow through his veins as he eyed the dark man. 
“You don’t have to stare.” Bruce threw a water bottle at Edward as he approached the bed, carrying a damp cloth in his other hand. 
Edward picked the bottle up, waving it at Bruce, “For me? You’re too sweet, Batsy.” 
“Blugh, don’t call me that.” Bruce sat on the bed, already starting to swipe at Edward’s stomach and clean off the half-dried residue. 
Although Edward tried his best to come off aloof, he couldn’t help but avert his gaze, too overwhelmed by the subtle show of care. He had never envisioned this side of Batman, a kinder side that would have to be there since he never killed any of his victims. Sure, he brutalized them, but they’d be up and walking again after a couple of weeks. 
Bruce was an ever-confounding puzzle that intrigued Edward the more he tried to sort the pieces out, and if there was one thing about Edward, he loved puzzles. 
Soon, Bruce had finished cleaning Edward off and pulled the sheets over his body, snatching some away. Edward watched the rise and fall of Bruce’s chest intently as he flung his arm over his eyes and shifted to get more comfortable. 
The urge to snatch Bruce’s disguise off was great, but Edward decided to enact some self-control he had forgone recently, deciding the consequences would be too great if he were to do that now. And, a small part of Edward didn’t want to break the fragile trust Bruce had just bestowed upon him. Many people hadn’t afforded Edward that same level of faith, and this was the man he was supposed to be enemies with, or at least, that’s what the media thinks. 
Secretly, Edward was grateful for the trust Bruce had given him tonight and the vulnerability he exposed. This was the first time in his life anyone had ever treated him with some semblance of decency, and Edward would be downright selfish to take advantage. 
If Edward were smart, maybe he’d be able to get Bruce to do this again, get Bruce to reveal his identity to him, without the cat and mouse chase. No matter how much Edward found the hunt exciting, a part of him longed for human connection, the same as everyone else. 
So, Edward snuggled closer to Bruce, wrapping his arm around him and shoving his head into the crevice between his shoulder blades. Bruce smiled to himself, already coming to terms with his sudden attraction to the lunatic cuddling into him. 
Bruce thought he might be able to change Edward, too. It was his mother who instilled the idea of second chances into his head from an early age, saying that even some of the worst people you meet could change if given a chance. 
As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he’d be willing to give Edward that second chance, even if it meant it might bite him in the ass later on. 
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priceofblindeye · 2 years
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TW: the following content will feature animal mistreatment, traumatic experiences such as starvation, drug usage, self harm, and injuries by animals. Reader discretion is advised.
This is my official request that you all stop trying to erase edwards trauma.
They were always better together than apart.
That was what Edward Nashton had taken note of when glaring through those heavy prescription lenses at the screaming vermin that stuck their noses through the bars of that cheap, old cage. The rodents, feeder rats that weren’t meant to last long in this world, had been looking at him in distress. There’s always a bigger fish, right? That’s how the saying went?
Edward was the fish.
He still had the markings. Keloid scarring littering his fingers, his knuckles. Mostly, near his fingernails. He’d still wake up with reeling screams, mind spinning because he still remembered the pain of those creatures eating into him. What could possibly be starving rats? Well, the orphanage had massive ceilings to serve as ideal nesting space, but it even have enough food to leave crumbs for the rats. Not anymore.
If the children were starving, what could there possibly be for a starving critter like rats? Nothing, except the idle bodies of warmth, covered sweat, so deep into sleep because their bodies were shutting down. Nothing.
Edward wasn’t the only one to suffer, and he was sure that if he’d not made the decision to burn down that orphanage, he wouldn’t have been the last.
He hated rats. 
Sometimes, he’d see one skittering its little claws and bolting across the ground of the alley just outside his work. It always sent him into a panic. He'd scratch at his skin, so lost in traumatic recallings that he's scratch his skin till he drew blood.
He’d see rats chewing at the dropheads that were so high they were nodding out. Edward once had been burdened by the aftermath of a bite. Weighed down by a fever, body aches, chills, and horrible swelling. He had nearly died from the infection because he hadn’t treated it well enough. No, he was too focused on the younger kids who were left with bleeding bites all over their tiny fingers to care about properly cleaning his own. Whenever he witnessed a senseless husk of a drophead with bloody fingers, he would know.
He was sure the dropheads would endure the same fate.
How something so small, and inconvenient can leave such an affect on humanity, it was only fitting that Edward made the connection between these rodents, and the men, and women who’d ruined his life. Greedy, no good scumbags who’d sabotaged all chances he’d have to have a decent life.
Yet, just like the fever, it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. He wouldn’t let it. This was his revenge.
“Two birds, one stone.” He hummed to himself, exhaling a laugh through his nose with tight lips lifting into a smile. His fingers fiddled with a syringe. His key to the golden gates. An important instrument for his master plan.
Edward couldn’t blame every rat. He’d never have been able to handle the Feeders without his girls. He'd taken to exposing himself to the creatures only a year ago, using a practice he had learned from the brief therapy sessions he'd had when he was younger. What was it again?
"Take it a step at a time." He'd done his own studies on the method. The more you intentionally trigger your traumas, the weaker its influence becomes. A book had further shared its secrets with Edward once he'd been yanked from his sessions by his insurance, or lack of.
He had remembered reading about how the brain mistakes the past mental wound as an ongoing struggle, and therefore continues to inflict pain over specific ties to a traumatic moment and put the body in fight or flight. It doesnt register that it's happened in the past and no longer is affecting the person. So exposing yourself, while it is mentally draining, does process it and eventually it is registered as a past issue.
Some things couldn't be processed. Else, Edward would have dealt with many other issues which seem to get a rise out of him. The only thing he could do was conquer this fear, and he was motivated by the devious plans he'd made.
Eds attention was drawn over to a better, more well done cage. This one, well..
“Echo..” he whispered, “Query.”
Two snouts popped out of one of his old shirts, which had been stuffed and adjusted to cater to two rats. One, albino, the other, gray hooded and curious. They were much older, well fed, and the wiggling noses showed they were familiar with the man. 
He’d very hesitantly undo the latch of their cage, and the two would stretch, yawn, and approach together. The sniff of his hand would earn some gentle scratches behind their ears. Then, he’d retract. The feeling of nausea was only subsided by the bruxing of their teeth. The display of joy had helped his fearful fight or flight response that he'd tried to suppress. He still had the tremors in his hands when he'd been in close contact with rats. The unconscious paranoia of these two turning on him suddenly had been flickering in and out. Some days, it was intense, others, it was dead.
Thanks to his girls, he can enact his perfectly poetic and morbid plans on the ones that deserve it. He didn't fall into a hyperventilating fit. He didn't scratch at his skin, or even see the memories of his time in the orphanage flashing across his eyes like a subways windows. Did that mean he wouldn't have flashbacks? Feel dread? No, they still very much burdened him. 
However, his girls taught him that rats were truly just stupid creatures, dependent on the citizens to survive. It played into his poetic, and overdramatic view of his role in the city.
To him, it told him that he was on the right path. That maybe things were going the right direction. Maybe, he was meant to do this. Maybe, he was meant to execute his plan. After all, the process of it was healing his wounds. He did not feel fear like he used to. He did not feel like a fish swimming upstream. He was making real, genuine progress.
The screams had pulled him from his thoughts, and he'd turned away from the girls to look over the cage again. Departing from Echo, and Query, he'd approached the Feeders once more.
They were starving.
It was time.
Edward slammed his hand into the cage and a few of the feeder rats fell off the bars from the impact. They scrambled away, and he couldn't help his cackling as he paced over to his desk. 
"Let's go and get you guys your last meal." He whispered, most directly to himself. 
It was kind of funny how he'd call them feeder rats. Feeder rats feeding on a rat. Poison tainting their tummies till they keel over and die. He'd thought over it as he left his apartment with his mask, and coat tucked into a bag which he'd sling over his shoulder.
Wounds were healed, that was certain, scars are forever. 
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greenglowinspooks · 5 months
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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)
Tw: N/A
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.
And Danny hated it.
He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.
In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.
After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.
He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.
Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.
Right. Scarecrow.
His escape.
The chase.
His mom.
“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”
“Oh.”
After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.
“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”
Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!
“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”
“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”
“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”
“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”
Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.
Danny sat down.
“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”
Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.
“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”
“Oh,” Danny said.
He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.
Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.
Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.
It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.
Tucker.
Amity park.
Home.
Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.
He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.
Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.
“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”
Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.
He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.
At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.
Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.
Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.
It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.
Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.
He was not about to cry.
“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”
He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.
Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.
He read the report again.
And again.
And again.
Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.
“What?”
“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”
Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.
“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.
“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”
“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”
“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”
Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.
“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”
“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”
But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”
“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”
“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”
Dr. Crane sighed.
“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”
“…Why?”
“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”
Danny paused.
“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”
“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”
Danny snorted.
“You care about laws now?”
“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”
Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.
“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”
“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”
Danny nodded. He could live with that.
“Alright, then let’s get to work.”
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finniestoncrane · 1 month
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Can you do a oneshot of Arkham Knight Riddler eating reader out? He needs to eat. And I need a dirty, greasy, disgusting man to violate me with his tongue. I want his to have to wipe the cum and drool as it dribbles down his chin. Absolutely NASTY!
Snack
Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 450 just a lil oneshot, just a lil snack u-u listen i've done it before and i'll do it again lmao if there's one thin i won't get tired of it's eddie eating pussy!! also it's fem!reader but there's no gendered language, so anyone with a vagina who doesn't mind the word pussy should be all good request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, a bit of fingering, mentions of overstim
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Eddie rolled his tongue, almost wave like, making the muscle pulse and curve from the back to the tip against your dripping cunt. Each lap made you wail, your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the root as you pushed him to you and pulled him away when you could feel yourself getting too close to your inevitable orgasm.
From the moment he'd fallen to his knees in front of you, you had been close. Desperate. Wet. You could feel your clit twitching as he pulled off your pants, then your underwear. Feel your inside aching as he lifted your legs up and placed them on his deceptively strong shoulders. Let your jaw drop, a howling wail coming out of your open mouth as he used his thumbs to spread your lips apart.
Now, you were soaking, your entire body throbbing, muscles tensing as they waited for your release. Eddie worked at it, his thin lips circling your clit as he inserted a finger inside of you, another joining it quickly after. The way he spread you open, devouring you as though he were actually starving made your heart pound, your stomach flip, your vision going blurry as you got closer to the edge of the intense climax that felt as though it choked you.
You were clouded by your orgasm, brain fogged with only the notion of seeking pleasure coming into focus, but you still stole a look down towards Eddie. As though he sensed you watching him, he looked up towards you, steely blue eyes glinting with his malicious glee. He removed his fingers from you, using the back of the same hand to wipe his chin which was slick with your cum, dripping with his own drool.
Every second he spent away from you was agonising, threatening to dull the release that had been building up. But you felt his sharp nose come into contact with your once again, his stubbled cheeks between your thighs, dark brown hair tickling your skin as he dove back in, pressing his tongue in and out of you, moaning as he fucked you with his mouth.
With a sharp squeal you came, quivering under his continued touch, overstimulated almost immediately after your body settled back down. But Eddie kept going, chuckling to himself, not quite satisfied and certain you had more to give him. He pulled away briefly, only long enough to reassure you in a cruel, teasing tone that felt like he was purposefully mocking your pathetic desperation.
"If you want me to stop, you only have to ask. 'Please, Mister Nigma, Sir. I've had enough.' Say it loud and clear."
He only offered you the out as he was confident you wouldn't take it, smiling smugly to himself as you grabbed him by his hair and pushed him back into you.
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No need to be sorry, I'm glad I can put a smile on someone's face. I wasn't planning on it originally (I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of person) but where there's demand, there's supply!🌺
🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Batman-inspired playlist
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Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 5
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
Life with Eddie was simple but not easy. On the one hand, it was utterly comfortable, yet you still kept on your toes because peace as it turns out is a fickle thing.
You quickly realized that the space surrounding him quite well represented his inside: 'vital mess'. Which meant chaos that only he could navigate. Trying to bring any kind of order to it would upset him in many cases as if there was some enigmatic, state-of-the-art feng shui that only he was privy to; every single object, even if seemingly misplaced, was placed in a position essential to the arrangement. So with time you grew used to the constant lack of undisputable cleanliness.
He wasn't as predictable as partners want to perceive each other. Sometimes all it took was a word or a single look to make him spiral into anguish and anger. The good thing was that Eddie wasn't inconsolable - just a little easier to start panicking than most people.
Eddie's been busy with some detailed, mechanical work for a few hours at that point. He wasn't exceptionally expansive, so he only murmured something about getting parts to finish his little project. You didn't think much about it and simply left him to do whatever it was that occupied him.
But he won't need the empty shipping box anymore, will he?
"No, don't!" Eddie's sudden exclamation caught you off guard and you instinctively flinch. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologised. "Just... please, don't move the box."
You let out a quiet sigh and moved your hand away from the cardboard. Turning to look at Eddie, you noticed him staring at you with a curiously worried expression like he was expecting you to be upset with him for some reason. He wore that look quite often.
"I love you," you said in a reassuring tone.
Eddie's eyes opened slightly wider and his eyebrows lifted. "You... don't think I'm a weirdo?"
"No, I do," you said as you shook your head slightly. Eddie's expression momentarily fell. "You're the weirdest and best person I've ever met."
For the first time in his life, being called 'weird' didn't feel like an insult.
_________ A/N: Dialogue is taken from @dinosandcomics on Instagram
@bluefairyangel
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marvelmaniac2000 · 11 months
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💚💚Eddie Nashton Fluff 💚
Summary: Eddie doesn’t like seeing his gf all dirty and worn out. Here’s some pure fluff of what he would do. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
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Subject: Fluff, Daddy kink, pet names, infantilism, obsession, headcanons, imagines, codependent, 
        Words: 505
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
  You were a few minutes away from passing out from work. Your feet almost formed knots in each of your toes. But it would all be worth it once you come home to the person who truly mattered the most. Warmth swept across your cheeks thinking about him. He was your everything through thick and thin. If there was anything you wanted and needed, He never seemed to disappoint. 
  Edward opened the apartment door before you could even turn the knob. 
“Finally it’s about time” he breathed out his mouth. The place you guys shared was so cozy and warm that no one would want to leave. Every piece of furniture matched with the color scheme to contrast the hardwood floor. The room smelled like lavender and smoked foods all around.
You clung your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on his lips. Eddie hummed into the kiss while his hands ravished your sides. 
‘Did you have a good day at work?” He gave your waist a light squeeze before brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. 
 “I always do babe” you rested your chin on his chest wanting all of his attention. 
“Why don’t we take a bath together before you eat?” He pecked your forehead and led you to the bedroom.  
   You plop your bag down and slowly begin to strip while Eddie bun goes to run the bath water. 
You giggle a little realizing how tall he was. “I don’t think our tub can handle both of us Ed” you watch over him with just your bra and panties on while he feels the water. “Trust me baby I’ll make us fit” he gave you a once over with his eyes and turned the knob. 
Of course Eds going to have plenty of bubbles fill to the top and make sure the water is nice warm enough for you to stand 
He gently runs his fingers across your body and hooks his finger under your straps. Then he’ll unclip your bra while giving you the most sloppiest kiss ever
You fondle your fingers to eagerly get him naked too while he almost strip you bare
Endless moans escape your mouth while he leaves mini hickies near the crook of your neck and collar bone. 
He slowly helps you into the tub first before joining in with you. 
You lay your back up against him while he rubs your sweet clit in circular motions
He tells you about his day while he plays with your nipples and lather you up with more soap
You both just relax into each other and talk about random stuff 
Eventually you both wash up and step out of the water while he gives you a towel first before drying himself off. You notice how sexy he looks with his hair damp around his ears.
likes/comments/requests/asks are always welcomed!
much love <3
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2-guns-b1tch · 8 months
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Talk to Me Masterlist
Rating: Explicit +18
Pairing: Arkham! Riddler x (F) Reader
Synopsis: The ticking of the clock is the only sound that fills the room. You keep your eyes fixed on the pointer, anxiety consuming you inside. At any moment your patient would arrive. At any moment, Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, would be brought into his therapy session with you.
You are the new therapist of Edward Nygma, aka the Riddler. You believe everybody deserves a second chance and your mission is to help Edward to become a better man. But there are some dark things happening at Arkham Asylum that will be brought out into the light and will change everything.
(Trigger warnings are listed in the beginning of each chapter)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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unrestrainedbalderdash · 10 months
Text
I have another Riddler & Reader fanfic! It will have multiple chapters, you can read it on AO3 or read it below the cut :)
Disclaimers:
I'm very inexperienced when it comes to writing, I'm just an oriented aroace who's fuelled by desperation, spite and Riddler brainrot
Allos can interact but please be mindful that it isn't for you
I'm English so there may be language differences if you're American
Rating: This chapter is teen but in future the fic will probably be mature for some violence and trauma
Warnings: Swearing, near-death experience, kidnapping kind of (it's a little complicated, but it's not as scary or anything)
Reader insert info: Vigilante, Batfam member, not good at riddles, a bit of an idiot
Word count: 2571
You hold the cape tighter around you as you glance over the case files. You glare at the jigsaw pieces, your hands shaking too much to put them together well. Alfred comes down the service elevator, his tray carrying two mugs. “Thank you!” you say, taking the hot chocolate, as Batman gives a little grunt of appreciation and starts sipping the coffee. Alfred gives a little shiver. “Sir, might I suggest we have a check in with our old friend Victor?” “Hmh. Batcomputer, which inmates are in Arkham?” Batman asks. You manage to put two of the pieces of the sprawling jigsaw together as the computer lists off people registered as currently in Arkham. You let out a sigh of frustration, hoping that soon the Riddler will be on that list. Batman scowls at the screen. “That’s odd. Energy readings in his cell are lower than usual. It’s night time, the inmates should be sleeping,” he says. “He’s escaped?” you say, taking a sip of the hot chocolate and letting the marshmallows flow onto your tongue. “Well, I do believe we know who our culprit is,” Alfred says. “Freeze willingly admitted himself into Arkham. He seemed regretful of everything and wanting the help. Why would he now escape?” Batman asks. You take a long sip of the hot chocolate and look at Batman – any excuse to take your eyes off of that damned puzzle with its garish colours. He looks at you. “I’ll investigate. Get some rest,” Batman says. You and Alfred start to go upstairs. You can hear the roar of the Batmobile below you, but as soon as you cross the threshold into Wayne Manor, you can’t hear it anymore.
That night, you dream of the Riddler. He’s laughing, and you run after him, but he’s always out of reach. You leap at him desperately, and shatter on the ground into tiny little jigsaw pieces. He starts putting them together, forming the word idiot – stupid – fool – it is constantly changing. When you wake up, you are shivering. You realise this is not from the dream, but is from the cold.
The next days are a blur. Crime is soaring, and you spend most of the time alone in the Batcave, with Alfred frequently coming down with warm drinks, snacks, and encouragement. Sometimes Batman comes back, hot on the trail of Mr Freeze. Occasionally, Robin comes in after going on patrol. You wish Oracle was available to help. She’s a genius. But there are serious threats with danger to life, while all the Riddler has been doing is draining bank accounts every day, something which can easily be reversed once he is stopped. With every bank account, the owner logs into the website only to find that instead of their balance, they see a riddle. You’re pondering the answers as you glare at the geometric shapes on the jigsaw.
Wait… they look like… a map…
On the largest segment you’ve assembled, you recognise it as your favourite park you used to go to. Before.
You think about the answers to the riddles. You have a hunch. And you’re going to act on it. That night, after Alfred sees the dark circles under your eyes and sends you to bed, you sneak back into the Batcave. This is your chance to prove yourself. This is your chance to finally meet an A-list Rogue. You’re walking out of the Batcave, running, tightly holding your cape around you. The air is chillier as you get deeper into the city. You hear the crunching of snow beneath your feet. Teeth chattering, you glance back, and see the footprints are gone, already filled in with more snow. You have to persist. You can’t tell if you’re on the grass yet. The snow is too deep and you can’t feel the texture of the ground. Now you can’t feel your feet. The crunch of the snow is slowing. You can barely see through all of the snow. Snowflakes are falling all around, and your cape is covered in white, as you can finally see something through the white of the blizzard. You will your arm to move, and it creeps forward, getting closer to the door, closer… closer… closer…
Stop.
Stripes of warmth streak across your face. You will yourself to make your brain fire signals that cause your eyelids to slowly, slowly creep open, painstakingly slow, too slow, it’s like there’s no energy left in your body. You see… him. His gloveless hands are stroking both sides of your face, filling it with warmth. You want to yell at him, insult him for tormenting you with that hellish jigsaw puzzle, but your mouth sluggishly opens then hangs there as no sound comes out. The Riddler’s face is so close to yours, his breath warm on your skin. Your eyes start twitching as he continues gently rubbing your cheeks. You want to move away from this villain who has you at his mercy, but you can’t even feel the rest of your body. It is evident that some colour has returned to your face, as he takes his hands away, and takes your gloves off, beginning to hold your hands. Warmth floods through them. You try to tell him to go away, but instead you make a pathetic little whimper. He strokes your hands. “Shh. You have the honour, the privilege of having your life saved by the Prince of Puzzles. I haven’t taken your mask off, it would be too easy to reveal the identity of an idiot like you when I can easily deduce your identity by myself,” he says, the warmth of his hands filling your hands, and the condescension of his words filling your mind with the urge to smack him. “Come on, how foolish, little Bat! We’re in a one digit temperature! You seriously expected you could waltz into my lair wearing nothing but that silly outfit?” He gives a condescending laugh. Your face heats up, a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Good, that’ll thaw you out.” He smirks. You can’t take how insufferable he is, and you start to move your arm, willing your blood to try and flow through the arteries and make the muscles start moving, rising – he tightly grips your wrist, and uses his fingers to unclench your fist. You glare at him as you can’t stop your fingers from sinking into his. “Ah, ah, ah, vigilante! You wouldn’t be planning to hit me, would you?” he says, a cheeky smile on his incredibly punchable face. His purple mask is creasing at the eyes. “Jig… saw… fuck… you…” you say, the words finally coming out of your mouth. It doesn’t even feel like you’re talking. He gives a little chuckle. “Oh my, you’ve taken a long time, haven’t you? I would have assembled it all a week ago! Anyway, little Bat, I can’t have you trying to hit me, even if I am irresistible,” he says, a smug smile on his face. He gets up for a bit and goes to a drawer, as you try desperately to wiggle your fingers and get the blood rushing back to your arm. You need to hit this smug man. He strides back over to you, and catches your sluggish fist with ease, enveloping it with his warmth. He hooks a handcuff around your fist, and closes it, before cuffing the other hand. Your arms droop down as soon as he lets go of the bulky cuffs. “The little Bat isn’t strong enough for some measly handcuffs? My, my, they let anyone be a vigilante these days,” he says, with a little chuckle. You grimace, and his expression softens a little. He pats you on the head with his warm hand. In his other hand is a remote control. “There’s a reason why it’s so heavy. I wouldn’t put you through meaningless suffering, little Bat,” he says, pressing the button. Instantly, you feel warmth flowing into your wrists. You can feel your glare melt away as the warmth spreads through your arms. “There we are. That’ll warm you up!” he says, clapping his hands together and giving a little smile, “Isn’t it ingenious?” His mask widens. He’s giving puppy eyes. “What do you… want…” “For one of the Bat-Kids not to die on the doorstep of my secret hideout? How old even are you, anyway?” “Not… a kid!” “It doesn’t matter, you’re a mere child compared to me. What are you doing up so late on a school night?” “Man… child!”
He feigns an offended look. At least, you hope he’s feigning it. What if he isn’t? “S-sorry,” you say, the thoughts getting the better of you. He gives a little laugh. “It was a joke, child child,” he says, giving you another headpat. Now that you’ve given up on the idea of punching him in the face, you have to appreciate the warmth and softness of his hands. You can feel your body again as the warmth spreads. He gives a little smile and ruffles your hair. “You’re the most adorable person I’ve ever kidnapped.” You tense up, cold dread rushing through you, but it makes a lot of sense. Why would he just let you go? His eyes scan your expression. “Hey. I’m not as lowly as such cretins as the Joker. I won’t be hurting you. I don’t need to, I could easily defeat you in a battle of wits.” You pause. “Kid, you were unconscious an hour. Frozen. In that time, I invented these heated handcuffs especially for you with my genius wit, all the while trying to keep your body warm enough for you to not die. Would I go through all of that trouble just to kill you?” he says, a sincere look on his face.
“That bloody jigsaw was killing me,” you say. He lets out a laugh. “How long did it take for you to put it together and solve it?” “I didn’t put it all together. I had a section of around 30 pieces done, and realised it was a map. I was thinking about the riddles in the bank account hackings, and I had a hunch.” “A hunch?! You came out here in a blizzard on a hunch?!” he says, incredulous, “I don’t know if I should laugh or be concerned!” You look away, embarrassed. He puts his warm hand on your shoulder. “Well… it was the right hunch. Even though you were incredibly foolish. I haven’t heard of you, so I’m assuming you’re new. Don’t take risks like that until you’ve got some experience under your belt.” You glance down, and see that he has removed your utility belt. You glance around the room. The walls are made of the building’s original stone, but filled with electrical gizmos and lights, and covered in writing and little doodles in green. There are drawings of Batman in increasingly comical deathtraps.
“What… will you do to me?” you ask. “Well, I’ll be keeping you hostage. As soon as it’s warm enough to leave the building, I’ll be using you as bait to lure Batman into my clutches,” he says. “I’ll be keeping you alive and well while we bide our time.” You have a sinking feeling. You’re his hostage now. You didn’t even get chance to say goodbye. “My… they’re gonna be worried about me…” you say, voice cracking a little. You wince; it hurts your throat. “I w-went here without telling anyone…” He gives a little chuckle, then sees the look on your face. He instantly softens. “I’ll send Batman a riddle, okay? If he can wrap his head around it then he’ll know you’re alive and… as well as can be, considering you almost froze to death.” He gently pats your shoulder, giving a smile that seems to have gentleness behind it. The moment lasts for a few seconds, then he speaks again. “Kid, you look exhausted. I’ll get sleeping arrangements sorted.”
He walks off, and you wait, basking in the warmth of the handcuffs. You can feel the faint chill around you, and eventually, he returns. He’s changed outfit now, wearing a green flannel robe, with purple question marks inside each square in the pattern, and matching pyjama bottoms. You can see a matching buttoned top peeking through the robe. It feels weird, seeing him without the hat on, or the mask, instead wearing rectangular glasses. He’s holding more clothes in his arms, and takes you to a little bathroom, with no windows. He undoes your handcuffs, and gives you the clothes. “I’ll leave you a little privacy now. Don’t you dare escape,” he says, smirking at the end. He leaves you to do your business and get changed.
You leave the bathroom in the soft, warm flannel. He immediately grabs your wrist and handcuffs you again. He lets out a little chuckle at how baggy the pyjamas are on you, and ruffles your hair. You glare at him, but can’t deny that his hands are warm. You’re still wearing your mask, and you have to admit that you probably look very silly. He leads you to the bedroom, and takes you to a little mattress at the side of a large bed, with question mark carvings. He puts his hand on your head and pushes you down onto the mattress, a little smile on his face. “Did you want the proper bed?” he asks, a smug smile on his face, and the hints of a laugh coming through his voice. “Honestly, I’d sleep on the floor if it meant you’d have to sleep on the floor,” you reply, some of your irritation returning. He may be warm, but he is still insufferable, and you think you might dream about punching him in the face tonight. He lets out a little chuckle. “Too bad! Because it doesn’t! Tell you what, how about I ask you a riddle, and if you get it right, you can choose the sleeping arrangement. There are twenty people at a party who will only shake hands with someone bigger than them. How many handshakes occur?” he asks. You think for a while. “190?” He laughs like a man with Joker Gas. “190?! 190?! Ha! The answer is 0! Once again, I win!” You snarl at him. He giggles, and ruffles your hair again. “Calm down, angry dog! You should have known you wouldn’t win!” The Riddler walks over to the door, and starts placing lines of string everywhere. “I could just leave you to whatever escape attempt you’ve been concocting in that mind of yours, but I’m starting to doubt you have one. I’m not so heartless as to let you die in the cold. If you’re so intent on going out to die, you’ll have to sneak past these. I look forward to waking up in the middle of the night to the alarm.”
Eventually, the room is surrounded by string. He gives a smug smile, and turns his attention back to you. He wraps you in a fluffy blanket, and puts thick bedcovers on top of you, tucking you in. You feel so snug, and you have to admit it’s so toasty and warm. He gets onto his own bed, covering himself in several blankets. He looks down at you, a smile on his face, and turns off the light. Unable to escape, you decide to let sleep come, and drift off.
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