#the riddler hurt/comfort

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 12

Words: 1.6K

Summary: Edward goes to find Y/N to try to make things right.

Tags: angst, guilt, hurt/comfort, chronically ill reader, anti-social Edward, obsessive thinking, CARETAKING

warnings: depictions of illness, depictions of a panic attack, a little bit of sh like a smidge

Chapter 12- To My Mistakes Of Cowardice

Edward banged on Y/N’s door, calling out her name. 

His panic grew when there was no answer. Pressing his ear to the door he heard muffled television sounds. 

Please, PLEASE just be sleeping, please just be sleeping. 

Edward’s hands felt clammy and he couldn’t get a full breath in, like his throat was closing up. He was about to kick the door down but realized that might alarm the other residents of the building. 

He ran outside, circling the building.

Windows, windows. 

He couldn’t even see inside. All the shades were drawn. Running his hands along the weathered bottom of the frames he tried to lift each one, but they were locked. Break the window? He looked around for something to break the window with, but then spotted her bathroom window, slightly ajar. He hoisted the frame up, shoving the interior screen forcefully. It popped from the frame into the apartment. Edward clambered over the windowsill, falling into the apartment with a painful thud. He picked himself up, ignoring the discomfort. The bathroom smelled like sickness and vomit. It was in complete disarray. “Y/N?” Edward shouted, still no response. Her apartment is freezing, he realized, seeing his breath. The living room had dirty clothes on the floor, and some dishes with food on the table. The TV was on, broadcasting the news. Edward glanced at it and saw The Riddler reflected back at him. There he was on the screen, talking about how he would kill again and again until changes were made in Gotham. 

He grimaced. She’s been watching this? It made his heart ache to think that Y/N had been keeping track of his exploits this whole time. Did it scare her? He turned away, disgusted with himself. He hurried down the dark hallway, calling her name, slamming the door to her bedroom open. There. Edward could breathe again. Y/N was there in her bed, wrapped up in sheets and— Oh. He felt a stab in his heart when he recognized his jacket held so tightly in her arms. He rushed to her side, “Y/N?” Edward tentatively reached out, resting his hand lightly on her arm. She was burning up, he realized as his heart dropped into his stomach.  She was covered in sweat, dark purple shadows under her eyes. Her eyes were puffy and red as well, and he could tell she had been crying. Because of me.  He gritted his teeth, remorse consuming him. Your bulllshit isn’t important right now, he reminded himself. She needed her meds. 

“Shit!” he ran back out into the hallway, remembering he had left the bag outside her front door. Unlocking the door, he opened it, very relieved to see that it was still there. He pulled it inside and ran back into her room with it, digging through it furiously. He pulled out some pain meds that would help bring her fever down and her daily medications that she needed to be taking. 

If these don’t help I will take her to the hospital—Wait she needs water too, he scrambled back into the kitchen. Most of the dishes were dirty, so he opened all the cupboards until he found a clean glass, filling it with water. Grabbing her pills in one hand, and the water in the other, he set them on the nightstand, slowly scooting into bed with her. He grimaced when he realized her blankets and sheets were soaked through with sweat. Reaching one arm under her, he lifted her body, propping her up carefully against his chest. Her eyelids fluttered open at that, and she glanced up at him, her gaze hazy with fever. He could tell that she wasn’t really seeing him, but still he felt relief flood through his body just seeing her open her eyes. “Hi..” he spoke gently, “I need you to take this okay?,” he wanted to sound calm and reassuring but his voice came out strangled. Y/N seemed to have some understanding though, and she let him place the pills in her mouth. 

“Here you go,” Edward spoke, lifting the water to her mouth. He watched her carefully as she drank, making sure she got most of it down before he removed it from her lips. After setting the glass down he realized her eyes were closed again, and she was sleeping once more.  Edward shifted out from under her cautiously, trying not to disturb her. I need to find a way to bring her fever down. She turned over on the bed, making a soft noise as she clutched his jacket to her face. Edward was filled with self-loathing. He could hardly stand to look at her.  He didn’t deserve to. He had always thought that Arkham would be hell, but no, it was here. Edward left the room. He needed to find a thermometer to keep track of her temperature. —---------------------------------------------------------------------- Y/N stirred, her mind fuzzy. She had a dream that someone had been there, helping her take medicine. Another where someone had held an ice pack to her body. Her heart was pounding, and the pain in her temples was excruciating, she flipped over on the bed trying to get comfortable again.

At some point Eddie had been there too, sitting by her bedside. She remembered that he looked terrified about something. 

It was confusing. She closed her eyes again. —----------------------------------------------------------------------- Edward had been cleaning for a long time. He had washed her sheets first, quietly picking up the dirty ones that had been kicked off the bed and onto the ground while she slept. Next was the bathroom. He organized it and then deep cleaned, scrubbing every surface. After, he picked up the living room until it was spotless.  While he was cleaning the living room he had found her sketchbook. He had flipped it open, curiosity getting the better of him. He flipped through, seeing sketches of still lifes, flowers, and doodles of strangers. Y/N was so talented. He flipped another page and was confronted with many, many drawings of him. Drawings of him in a cartoon-like style, detailed drawings of his side profile, doodles of outfits he had worn. Little drawings of the two of them together, which he loved.  Lots of drawings of his face, many with little hearts around them, he noticed, his face growing warm. On some of the pages there was “Y/N Nashton '' written several times, which made his hands shake and his heart race. She had drawn all of this so lovingly, he thought, his stomach churning. How could he have thought that she didn’t love him? He traced over the drawings of them together with his fingers, before closing the sketchbook and putting it away.  

Now he was working on cleaning the kitchen. His brows were furrowed as he focused intensely on washing a cup. He wasn’t sure what good all of this was doing, he just knew that it felt like a solution to something. Bringing order to things. It stopped him from going into the bedroom every 5 minutes to check on Y/N, at least. She is very sick. He scrubbed the cup harder, the sponge chafing his hands. He had a process. He washed each dish several times. She’s sleeping with my jacket. He would rinse it. I screamed at her. Then he would dry it and put it away. I left her for a week. Then he would start on the next dish. 

He held the cup up, inspecting it. It was spotless but he started scrubbing it again just for good measure. His mind had been a mess with a number of anxious thoughts about Y/N. About her condition, about the things he had said. It made him feel helpless that he couldn’t do anything other than let her sleep and change out her ice packs after he gave her her meds, and hope she would be okay. As he cleaned, he went over the events of Halloween night again and again. Images of Y/N flinching at his touch floated in his mind along with flashes of her crying and pleading with him. He thought about how he had found her: extremely sick and clutching his jacket, as if it was a lifeline. She had missed him, even after everything he had done. Hands shaking, he dried the cup and put it away. He rested his hands on the edge of the counter, staring down at the floor. He had told her that she was only good for a—Oh, how did he so charmingly put it? A mediocre fuck. Letting out a loud sigh, Edward paced in front of the sink before stopping and sinking to the kitchen floor, his back against the cabinets. Why did I fucking say that? He had been at odds with the rest of the world, pretty much his whole life. He had never gotten along with others, even when he tried to, and eventually he did stop trying. When people pissed him off, or hurt him, which as a child was often, it was so easy to hurt them back. His strengths weren’t physical, he knew that, but he was smart. He had carefully crafted his own way of hurting others throughout the years. It had always been so easy for him to target their insecurities with pinpoint accuracy, to lash out immediately in retaliation. But he had never meant to do it to Y/N.

Edward held his head in his hands, tugging at his hair a bit in frustration. If he could go back in time, and not say any of those things, he would do it in an instant. But that wasn’t possible, so he had to figure out how he could possibly even start to make this up to her.

He just needed to be doing something. So this is what he was doing. Cleaning every single thing in her apartment until his hands hurt, and then cleaning some more. 

Previous Next

#edward nashton fanfiction #dano!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #riddler x reader #danocel #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #danonation #the riddler #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you #riddler angst #the riddler hurt/comfort #riddler x chronically ill reader

[finzphoenix]

A mind of madness, consumed by fright, The body still alive, the soul left that night. The one that once was, can’t be anymore, Only sorrow now, and emptiness galore....

#Sigh #The more I learn about Kill the Justice League the more I despise it's existence... :'(( #SSKTJL #Arkhamverse #Arkham Knight #DC comics #Comics art #b/w art #Ink art #Inking #Scriddler #Riddlecrow #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Edward Nygma #Edward Nigma #Riddler #Hurt/no comfort? #Angst #augh #Finz art

[milkymooshi]

WHERE TF DID HE GET A GREEN SEQUIN SUIT. WHEN TF DID HE GET IT. WHY TF DID HE GET IT.

#apparently losing your mind and not being as smart as you used to makes you a glittery theater kid #obsessed with his suits bc it’s the most impractical outfit I’ve ever seen #that cannot be comfortable to wear #I’ve worn sequins before and they HURT #and are generally really annoying to put on #this cannot be for function #gotham #moo.txt #edward nygma #gotham riddler

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

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.

#riddler fanfic #platonic riddler fanfic #platonic riddler x reader #queerplatonic riddler x reader #queerplatonic riddler fanfic #the riddler #riddler & reader #the riddler fanfic #riddler #edward nygma #edward nigma #dc fanfic #aspec reader #asexual reader #queerplatonic x reader #platonic x reader #tw periods #hurt/comfort #fanfic

[sweetums0kitty]

The House Call

Summary: Jonathan has been not quite himself, which naturally worries Edward and Jervis. Who make it their mission to cheer up their beloved boogeyman

Warnings: None!

Author's note: This is my first time writing character x character! Also, first time writing for Hatter and Scarecrow! Please let me know if they're off! This is a gift for my good pal @a-rose-as-sweet for our Discord server's Valentine's exchange

Jonathan Crane did not enjoy the holidays. Christmas was tiring, all the insipid joy combined with the constant barrage of jolly tunes left the Professor with a splitting headache. One that persisted through the new year and well into February. Muddling into sensory overload that was both alleviated and agitated by the professor’s colleagues in crime

In an effort to stave off what Nygma was tentatively calling “Being a depressed spooky bastard.” With all the flourish of an over caffeinated Wayne Brady combined with the twittering tuts of Tetch as the shorter man scurried around the disheveled cave that was Jonathan’s bedroom. Muttering something that flopped between “New cup, move down!” and the dangers of using test tubes as drinking glasses. Needless to say… Crane was beginning to lose his patience. In an exasperated tone he attempted to look intimidating (Which is quite hard to do when wrapped up in a blanket nest, rocking a crow’s nest of bed head) and hissed “What do you want?”

Edward balked looking dead into the steely gaze of the master of fear and scoffed. “We-“ pulling Jervis over to his side as the blonde was still scuttling about the room. “want to check on you, Johnny,” Edward said with a lopsided smile as he poked Jervis in the back to encourage the Hatter to speak up. “Oh yes! Grabbing Crane’s hand gently “you haven’t been yourself as of late.” Tugging his hand away Jonathan rolled over to the other side of the bed, back firmly turned on his companions. “I thank you for your unneeded concern but I am perfectly fine.” His grumbling was muffled by the wall. Maybe, just maybe if he lay there the two pests would grow bored and leave him be. It was a hope in vain unfortunately! The Scarecrow knew well that there was almost no one in Gotham as stubborn as Edward Nygma.

“Bullshit.” Gripping the spindly shoulder of Crane and pulling it so his gangling form was once more facing the pair. Allowing the Professor ample opportunity to glare at the Riddler. “Leave,” Jonathan growled sitting up from the bed to snatch a vial of fear toxin off his disastrous bedside table. “Or I will make you.” Tension filled the room pushing on the two men. Locked into a battle of chicken, seemingly all hell was ready to break loose until Jervis stepped between the pair and attempted to soothe the situation. “Edward really now! We came here to check in and help Jonathan! Not squabble, now apologize!” Lightly pinching the taller man’s ear. The pinching became harder as the ginger rolled his eyes like a petulant child.

“Ow! Ow! Fine-“ Whining shrilly as Tetch released the ear. “Thank you, Cheshire.” Edward groaned rubbing his ear “I’m sorry… or whatever.” Swiftly dodging the swat to the arm the hatter sent his way. Causing an uncontrollable snort to fly out of Jonathan.

Quickly realizing his mistake as Edward and Jervis plopped on the bed beside and slightly below him. “There’s my dear Jabberwocky.” Gently cradling Jonathan’s boney hand in his. Pressing a soft kiss to the back of his palm. Scoffing but not removing the tender grip Jervis had on his hand Crane tilted his thin neck back and looked up at the dingy ceiling. “Why?” The question was barely a whisper but was deafening to the pair that surrounded him.

“Because-“ Edward pulled himself over to the side of the bed facing the wall and wrapped one arm around the Professor’s middle. “We care about you dummy.” Gently flicking the beaklike nose before planting a gentle kiss on the tip. As Jervis let go of his hand Jonathan felt the urge to protest bubble up, but his worries were quickly quelled as the blonde removed his signature hat and nuzzled himself under Crane’s chin. Laying his hand over Edward’s as they gently held their partner in crime and for the briefest of moments it was as if they were gently squeezing Jonathan back together as well.

#hattercrow #jervis tetch #jonathan crane #edward nygma #riddlebird #dork squad #dc mad hatter #mlm fanfic #fluff #hurt/comfort #depression tw #the riddler #hattercrow fanfic #my writing #kitty speaks #sav speaks

[hihelloheyhowdy]

Rules to Being a First Time Lover Riddle Rosehearts x GN!Reader

Synopsis; (y/n) is a famous singer from the Scarabia who releases a love song, in hopes to help confess to a certain red headed house-warden, but there seemed to have been a misunderstanding along the way?

Themes; hurt/comfort, insecurity, jealousy-ish(?), misunderstanding, truth potion, mutual pining-ish

partly inspired by @secretanimestash

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

Riddle Rosehearts wasn't used to being a lover of anything, simply because he couldn't express it. He couldn't express how he was a lover of tarts, a lover of spending time with his friends, a lover of so many things. And now more than ever he hated how he couldn't express it, but you could.

(y/n) (l/n) released a new love song, you're first one ever. It was a big hit- as they all where- but Riddle couldn't help wonder who it was about. Of course there was the possibility that your record label wrote it, you hated singing songs you didn't actually write though. The small sliver of hope in his heart told him that maybe just maybe the song was about him- that you had reciprocated the same feelings as him; same fluttering nervousness that he did when talking to each other.

However walking into your shared home room class made him rethink everything. The small confidence and hope he held onto slowly being crushed. As he sat down he saw Kalim whisper something in your ear that seemed to make you immensely flustered, a light pink blush adorning your face. It only continued, Kalim would randomly whisper something with a bright smile on his face, and a teasing look in his eyes, you'd respond with a whisper blush getting slightly darker each time. Riddle's heart squeezing each time.

He wondered what Kalim could be saying to get such a reaction out of you. What words would Riddle need to say for you to react the same; would you even react the same? Maybe it was just the fact that Kalim was saying them to you that caused you to look like a schoolgirl confessing to her crush. Surely you'd like someone like Kalim, who wouldn't? Pearly, snow like hair that even when messy seemed so nice, he found himself suddenly frowning at his red hair. Kalim's crimson eyes shone almost like jewels, always gleaming with joy- if he's almost blinding smile didn't tell you that much. In comparison his eyes were a dull grey, ever more boring to look at, and his smile he doesn't think could ever be that bright.

He remembered a time when you were mentioning your friends, you made a passive comment about how you admired Kalim's optimism. Is that something you'd want in a lover? Did you prefer optimistic people? People who weren't strict? People who didn't constantly worry and wonder about doing the wrong things? People who didn't overblot? People who weren't like Riddle?

He later found himself stopping Kalim, like his body on autopilot mood. He didn't know why, he asked questions he wasn't even sure he wanted answers for. When he was done he even felt regretful.

"Kalim you're close to (y/n) correct?"

"Yes! Why are you asking?"

"Do you happen to know who their new song is about?"

Kalim's eyes light up at that statement as he looked at Riddle so excitedly, before he could answer he was being dragged away by Jamil. Yet Riddle was happy he didn't hear the answer, cause he felt like he already knew it. With the way you two were acting this morning, and that facial expression. Surely Kalim had been excited to tell people about the love song you'd written about him- who wouldn't been? The lyrics were so sweet it was almost sicken, to have someone speak of you such poetically, it'd obviously be touching. Riddle couldn't fathom why he'd delude himself into having any hope it was about him. Even if you didn't have Kalim- a heart like yours could never belong to someone like him.

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

You'd come up with a plan to confess your feelings once and for all. The song was out all you needed to say was that it was about Riddle. However you were nervous, so you'd recruited help. So now you were at Riddle's bedroom door tart in hand taking a deep breath. How bad could it go? While pretty bad considering a small detail you missed- Cater put a truth potion in the tart, a little something to help you both confess your feelings in his opinion. What? It was probably harmless.

Riddle was not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, he just wanted to wallow and harbor his freshly aching heart. Maybe eat a strawberry tart, but even then no amount of sweetness could snap him out of this trans. He however choice to open the door, after all it could be an emergency he has to deal with as house-warden. However he got a stab to his heart when he saw you standing at the door.

"Hey Trey baked me a tart to help celebrate the release of my new song, but i don't think i'm gonna finish it alone so I thought we could share it since I know you like tarts."

He couldn't bring himself to say no, instead opening the door to let you in grabbing the tart from your hand, starting to eat a slice fire you could even sit down- he knew he shouldn't but he felt it would hopefully help the make situation better.

Before you could even take a slice of the tart Riddle put in front of you, Riddle suddenly announced his inner thoughts.

"I think you're always so stunning."

You had to take a minute to process and make sure you're hearing him right as he just continued.

"I don't even think that's the right word for it really, or any other synonym. I could say you're so very pretty, breathtakingly beautiful, jaw dropping gorgeous, but they do no justice to how i see you. You're... you're enchanting. Everything about you. Looking at you makes me feel like I'm under a spell unable to look away, not that i even want to. I could probably watch you all day and never get bored, even if it was in my last moments I'd be content- no happy with that. Don't i sound so bizarre saying that."

You were so confused, of course there was a feeling of happiness in hearing that- but also what could make Riddle suddenly start saying this?

"You know I just started learning how to be a lover of things- I guess i'm a first time lover in a sense. Others will tell you there are no rules to love, but i disagree. I find myself not being able to properly know what to say or do to let you know how much you mean to me. How I want to hold you close and never let go, feel all the affection I missed out on as a child the hugging, cuddling, hand holding, and even more intimate forms, i want to so badly pull you into a soft, sweet, loving kiss. The way a smile and a blush makes their way to my face every time I think of you, and I try to stop it; but I can't because I think of you every waking moment. The way when you walk into a room all my attention goes to you, and everyone else fades away. It almost troublesome at times how strongly I feel about you. My time, my attention, my love, my thoughts, my feelings, my... everything, it's all you, you, you."

"Riddle I-"

"No please don't say anything! Don't say it I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear the rejection, am I not so selfish for that? Selfish for not wanting to face the fact you feel awkward, maybe even disgusted, and will want to distance yourself from me. So selfish for wanting you to sacrifice even a portion of yourself like I have to you. Selfish for wanting you to feel about me all the things that I feel about you. Selfish for wanting to grow old with you, even though your heart belongs to another. Selfish for not being happy that you found someone to love- who makes you feel all the feelings I have for you, even though I know they can be lovely. Because when a person doesn't have them back it hurts, so very badly. Being in love with you gave me new happiness, then new pain. Being in love with you is so beautiful, so scary, and so so very cruel. Cruel because I can't have you, even after I given so much of myself to you. Cruel because I'll have to watch do all that I want to do with you with someone else. And I'll just have to take it."

"Riddle I love you, not anyone else."

"Please don't say that- don't do that, don't lie to me. That's beyond cruel, it's heartless. I don't want to see you with someone else. It shatters my heart, but the agony for having you lie to me, nothing will beat that. I'd rather a broke heart than fake love. So please, don't."

"Riddle I'm not lying. Who else would I love if not you?"

"Kalim. After all he's so charismatic, joyful, and funny. He can make you flustered, and laugh, his smile could shine away practically any bad day. He could bond with you about Scarabia in a way I couldn't. Everyone knows him as the lovable and nice house-warden. He's strong, handsome, and smart in his own ways. I'm just the rude strict house-warden everyone used to hate who overblotted and is getting the so called lesson he deserves. He could make your life bright, but I would just dull it."

"Riddle, I love you, I mean it. The only reason Kalim could make me flustered was because he'd tease me about you. How for the longest time I couldn't bring myself to tell you i'm head over heels for you. How I could write a whole long song about you, but couldn't confess to you. No one could ever make me feel the way you do. You make everyday better by just being there. My heart belongs to no one but you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're the most pretty person I've ever met, the way your hair shines in the sun reminds me of of orchids and roses. I could get lost in your eyes. You claim they're dull, however I find them as grey pools full of emotions. I adore every part of you. Nothing would make me more happy than growing old with you. I am so deeply in love with you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to say that it hurt you. However please believe when I say this, Riddle Rosehearts nothing would make me happier than if you excepted my love."

"Do you mean that?"

"of course I do."

In the blink of an eye you find yourself hugging Riddle as he softly sobbed into you.

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"It means a lot no one's ever shown me this kind of love."

You felt your heart squeeze at that.

"Riddle?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

He looked up at you.

"Please do."

And so you pulled him into a soft, sweet, loving kiss.

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

(please, PLEASE request more if you liked this I will happily comply but don't really have that many ideas)

#hurt/comfort #twst riddle #fanfic #twisted wonderland #x reader #riddle rosehearts #miscommunication #angst fic #fluff fic #happy ending #gender nuetral reader #riddler fanfic #first post #new user

[psalmsofpsychosis]

me sitting here rocking back and forth like a catatonic disastrous lab experiment as i open Gotham 3x07 before i even got my breakfast like "nothing happens to Nygma and Pinguin nothing happens to Nygma and Pinguin they're fine they're okay i'm fine everything is good—"

#DONT TELL ME NOTHING I LOVE DYING #but also i hurt everything hurts my back hurts my neck hurts my tummy hurts from the whole box of comfort biscuits i'm about to devour #complete with the box #long story short Gotham has miraculously achieved the canon gay ship of all time #second only to hannigram #and that is saying something #and if the show makes me watch #with my own two eyeballs #Nygma fucking over Oswald (which i know he will <3) i will kill #murder even #i'm supposed to try the first round of my newly acquired adhd meds today #and i was warned that it could possibly make me sleepy so anyway lmaoooo we're not doing that today #no sleep no food no water for me on this fine sunday of our lord i NEED to be alert #and make sure i dont miss a single second of the most surreal romance of 21th century #i think i solid short-circuited last night #i mean the whole season has been insanity and amazement on planet earth #as far as Riddler and Pinguin are concerned #but like #i'm used to subpar queer portrayals and lukewarm writers with their pastel aesthetic gays #and Gotham is out here carving out my whole intestines with an antique gold ice cream spoon #i fucking love it when i think ''they're not gonna go there'' and a tv show says ''anyway we went there''

[ihavenoideawhattotypehere]

ngl i would do unspeakable things for a s1!gotham fic where ed goes nonverbal due to trauma n shit & the gcpd has to navigate it. has great misunderstanding-based angst & impromptu hurt/comfort opportunities, just sayin

#bonus if it has jim-ed hurt/comfort or even some unlikely harvey-ed comfort #i would write it if i weren't unreasonably stressed & unmotivated #maybe one day #gotham #gotham ed #gotham edward nygma #edward nygma #gotham riddler #riddler #the riddler #weezer riff

[cinawolf]

Twiddler Week Day 1

New Beginning | End of the Road

Edward, after finishing his work at his successful riddle bartender, he saw Harvey with bandaids cover his face. He decided to give him a nice warm care that he needed.

#Harvey Dent #Two-Face #Edward Nygma #The Riddler #Riddler #Twiddler #Twiddler Week #Twiddler Week 2023 #Day One #Batman #DC #DC Comics #Cinawolf #Twiddler Week Day One #hurt/comfort #angst #comfort #Twiddler Week Day 1

[vigilvntes]

when the bruce wayne fic is at 8000 words and bruce wayne hasn't even made an appearance yet help

#everyone be quiet liz is speaking #BUT #ITS RIDDLER INSTEAD! #8000 words of riddler hurt! #writing bruce wayne comfort when i get home from work <3

[diddle-riddle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Edward Nygma, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Edward Nygma, Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Future Fic, Near Future, Reformed Edward Nygma, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Parent Edward Nygma, Eddie loves his little girl, Ed and Steph are family, Protective Edward Nygma, Hurt Stephanie Brown, Protective Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne Tries, Family Feels, Angst, Feelings Summary: Above anything else in this world, Edward Nygma doesn't tolerate someone dares to hurt his daughter.

That's the line he won't allow anyone to cross.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne is determined to prove Eddie he genuinely cares about both Stephanie and him.

#fanfiction #ao3 writer #Stephanie Brown & Edward Nygma #My Edward murdered Black Mask for what he did to his daughter #That's another long-term running headcanon in my fics #angst #hurt/comfort #stephanie brown #edward nygma #riddler #the riddler #reformed riddler #riddlebat #bruce wayne #batman #supportive bruce wayne

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 13

Words: 3.6K

Summary: Y/N wakes up from her prolonged illness to find Edward in her home. The two of them try to hash things out, but it's a lot to deal with.

Tags: angst, guilt, hurt/comfort, chronically ill reader, anti-social Edward, obsessive thinking, CARETAKING

warnings: depictions of illness

Chapter 13- And I'll Say Anything To Make Her Feel Alright

Y/N woke up to find her entire body covered in sweat. She sat up slowly, and stretched, realizing after a moment that the throbbing in her head had lessened considerably. She still had a chill but at least her head didn’t feel so bad anymore. The clock on her nightstand read 4 PM. She had slept the day away again. Wait. She looked around at her room again– it was clean. She was very confused. She pulled a blanket over her shoulders and slowly got up, groaning softly at the aches in her muscles.

There was an empty chair by her bed. Did I put that there..? She had been really out of it the last few days. She pushed open the door to her room and padded down the hall.  As she made her way to the bathroom she could feel that she was definitely still sick. Even with her meds, the cold weather was really hard on her. But after the emotional shock to the system she had gone through plus not having her meds, her body had really been thrown off. She just couldn’t seem to shake this fever. Maybe I should try to eat something again, and then call the pharmacy to try to get new prescriptions, she thought to herself half-heartedly. She didn’t really want to, she felt too sad to do much of anything. She dropped her blanket in the bathroom doorway and  walked up to the sink. She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water. It felt good on her skin. She didn’t look in the mirror, she knew she probably didn’t look good. 

She didn’t want to see herself and spiral. Blame herself some more for everything that had happened. We’re going to expose the Renewal Fund together, her promise to Edward echoed in her mind.   

She paused for a minute, sniffing the air. It smelled like lemon and bleach. Am I about to have a stroke or something? She thought, nervously. She looked behind her at the bathroom and noticed for the first time that it was very clean. None of her dirty clothes were on the floor anymore, all of the surfaces were clean. Looking around in confusion she noticed that all of her containers in the shower were organized. What the fuck? She thought about Edward for a moment, wondering if he might have come back for her, but pushed that thought from her mind, the ache in her chest igniting with pain. Besides, she was pretty sure she had locked her door so how would he have even gotten in? Did she do this? In some sort of sick haze? No. There was no way that would have been possible. Y/N was thoroughly freaked out. She shivered, another chill running through her. Picking her blanket back up she quietly stepped out of the bathroom, tiptoeing down the hall.  Who breaks in and cleans someone's apartment? Well. There were a LOT of freaks in Gotham. 

She should know, the person she loved the most in the world had turned out to be a serial killer. She winced, the ache in her chest flaring at that thought. What if they were still here? She cautiously turned the corner into her living room and froze. Eddie. 

He was sitting on the couch, staring blankly forward. He startled when he saw her, quickly standing up. Y/N just stared. Edward was there. In her living room. He wasn’t wearing his Riddler outfit, just a normal button up with a thick flannel over the top. She took in every feature, checking him for injuries. He seemed to be okay, he didn’t have that faraway look in his eyes. She could tell he was present. He looked a bit….unrested. His usually bright and boyish features were shadowed over by fatigue, but he seemed otherwise unharmed, she noted with relief. “Y/N I…” he started, looking up at her before pausing, “Are… Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes flitting over her appearance with worry. Now she wished that she had checked her appearance in the mirror earlier. As for his question, she didn’t know how to even begin to answer that. “Why are you here?” she countered, still not sure if this was real or not. She felt awake but Edward suddenly being in her apartment asking her questions just felt so unreal. The last time she had seen him he had been screaming at her. The ache in her chest flared at that thought, and she pulled the blanket tighter to herself. Edward nodded his head, as if agreeing with her. “I saw you left your bag at my house and I knew I needed to bring it to you..” his voice sounded pained. He was just here to bring her things, then. Y/N hated how much that destroyed her. She looked away from him, his presence picking mercilessly at unhealed wounds. “Thanks.” she mumbled in response, trying her hardest to not fall apart in front of him. Please just leave, then. “That’s not the only reason,” Edward continued anxiously. Y/N looked up at him, surprised. “I should have never talked to you like that,” he started, wringing his hands. “The way I talked to you that night, the things I said…” He paused for a long time, his brows furrowed, “That was horrible.” He looked up from inspecting the ground, and met her eyes,  “I am so so sorry Y/N.”  Y/N felt warmth blossom in her chest but tried to ignore it. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, this was all so unexpected. 

“I need to sit down.” she responded, her mind reeling. Edward said nothing, just watched her closely as she moved to the couch. 

“I thought I was never gonna see you again.” she whispered. Then, a new painful thought came to her, “I mean… are you?” she swallowed thickly, “Are you leaving again… after this?” She twisted her hands in her lap waiting for an answer. “No!” Edward blurted out, “No– God no.” He quickly moved to the front of the couch where she sat and got down on his knees in front of her, “Never.” Then, his green eyes darkened, and he looked away from her, “Unless you want me to.” “No.” The quickness of her answer surprised her, but it was the truth. Edward looked up at her over the top of his glasses, his green eyes wide, “Can I… Is it okay for me to touch you?” he asked cautiously. Y/N nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. Edward reached up and gently took her hands in his. His hands were so warm.

“Y/N, I will never ever treat you like that again.” he urged, squeezing her hands, “I am so sorry.” his voice came out choked with emotion. “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” He reached up and wiped a tear from her face. Oh. She hadn’t realized she was crying again. Shame was heavy on his features. “I have questions.” Y/N stammered out, her mind grappling with all of her conflicting emotions. He was here and that meant that he was safe, but for how long? Was he still working on his plans? She felt the overwhelming urge to climb into his arms, but was that wrong? After everything he had done? “Of course,” Edward nodded emphatically, “I’ll answer anything you ask me, anything.”

“Are you still going to flood Gotham?” She needed to know if that was really what he desired. Was Edward really okay with killing people on such a massive scale? ”No.” he answered directly, “That was stupid..” His face turned pink and he looked away from her, studying their hands instead,  “So fucking stupid and I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you tried to talk me out of it.” 

He ran his thumbs over the back of her hands, “You were right about everything, I…” he paused, presumably thinking hard about what to say. 

“Do you still love me?” she asked him point-blank. She had agonized over Halloween night in her mind for days. It had been the worst night of her life. Edward looked anguished. He reached up and cupped her face gently, “Yes. More than anything.” he whispered. 

She didn't know if she believed that. He had been gone for so long and the whole time he had been carrying out his…plan. That clearly had been more important than her. “I don’t think that’s true.” she replied, feeling tense. Edward flinched at her words, his face falling. He opened his mouth to speak, to try again but Y/N cut him off.

“You had a group of people…” she felt like she wasn’t articulating well, her head was hazy, “I saw on TV that you had lots of followers.. You told them and not me.” “There are so many reasons I didn’t tell you but I swear none of them had to do with me not loving you.” Edward insisted, looking pained. “I knew that I was putting you in danger if I told you, I agonized over it.” Edward said, his distress written all over his face. “And I know how much you worry,” he continued, “I didn’t want to make you worry about me.” Didn’t want to make her worry? It was almost funny. She had worried more this past week than she had in a lifetime. The room was spinning and Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was impossible to under the weight of everything. Her body ached, she felt feverish and she was so tired. “I didn’t see you for a week. I only saw you on the TV.” She spat.  “You told me that I–” she winced, the memory like a knife in her chest, “You told me that I was mediocre.” she whispered, not wanting to say his actual insult out loud. 

She looked up at Edward and the depths of pain she saw in his eyes shocked her.  

“I should have never said that to you.” She felt his grip on her hands tighten as his brow knitted.  His voice sounded tortured. 

“It’s not true at all, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he pleaded. “You only came back because of my things,” she argued. “You wouldn’t have come back on your own.” She could feel herself being difficult but couldn’t stop, she was hurt and felt out of control. 

“Y/N,” he spoke her name softly, his voice full of regret,  “I– I was not thinking clearly.” 

She could believe that at least. “I was so upset after you left—After I made you leave.” He corrected himself, looking at her apologetically. He opened his mouth to continue but stopped, his eyes darkening. He seemed to be having trouble talking about it, like he could barely get the words out. He leaned down and rested his forehead on their entwined hands. Messy brown hair falling forward as his head rested warm and heavy in her lap. She could feel his glasses pressing against her fingers as he took long shaky breaths. 

After a minute or so he collected himself enough to continue, “I threw myself into my plan to not have to think about you and how much I missed you. I just thought that if I kept busy enough, I wouldn’t miss you so much.” he confessed. Y/N felt the dam inside of her beginning to break, “Is that true?” she asked, her voice wavering with tears. She was so tired. “Yes.” Edward insisted. “I wish I would have come sooner but I wasn’t thinking rationally, and when I calmed down, I didn’t know how to face you.”  He was squeezing her hands so tightly, the words spilling out in a rush.  “I know I don’t deserve to see you. I know I said some truly awful things. I know I really scared you and I just didn’t know what to do. I’m still not sure what to do other than tell you how much I love you.” His voice was cracking, choked with emotion,  “Please forgive me,” he begged, searching her face, “I will do anything for your forgiveness.” he insisted, his green eyes filling with tears.

“Eddie?”

“Yes?” Edward answered, looking at Y/N breathlessly.

“You know that I love you right?” Her voice came out all wobbly and she felt fresh tears fall down her face. “That night, you said that I didn’t love you and that’s not true, I do love you,” her voice broke, “I love you so much it hurts Eddie, you have to believe me, you have to.” her emotions overwhelmed her as she started to sob. 

She hadn’t meant to be so emotional but her exhaustion was crashing down on her, all of the turbulent feelings of the past week coming to a head. Y/N let go of his hands and pitched forward. She held her face in her hands, trying to quiet her sobs. 

She felt the couch dip by her side before she felt Edward’s arms wrap around her. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms. She sobbed into his chest and he just let her, gently rubbing her back. “Shhh…shh” he murmured into her hair, “I know, it's okay…It’s okay.” He continued muttering softly until she was breathing normally again. 

When her sobs had finally stopped he stood and gently guided her off the couch. Edward reached down and picked her up, and this time she didn’t protest. She just leaned into his chest as he carried her. In the bedroom, he gently let her down near the chair. “I’m going to switch out these sheets for fresh ones first, okay?” He talked to her so softly, as if she was going to break. Y/N supposed that that was reasonable. She didn’t feel very steadfast at the moment. She watched as Edward put new sheets on the bed. So he had been the one to clean her apartment. She wondered how he had gotten in, and how long he had been there. “We can talk about this more after you get some rest, okay?” Edward spoke, bringing her back to the present moment. He reached his hand out to help lead her back to the bed. “Don’t leave. Please.” Y/N felt desperate, still not sure that he was actually going to stay.  “I’m not leaving.” Edward reassured her, watching her from the chair. Y/N reached out to him, not wanting him to be where she couldn’t reach. Edward frowned, getting up. He hesitated by the bedside, his face showing emotions that she was too tired to read. After a moment he climbed in, and Y/N snuggled up to him. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of having him next to her again. For right now she didn’t want to think about everything he had done, everything they still needed to discuss. Right now, she just wanted to be comforted. She listened to his heartbeat and felt his chest move up and down with his breathing. Even after all of this, he still smelled the same, like fresh warm laundry. She focused on the warmth emanating from his body and the way his hands felt rubbing her back. She found herself thinking that he was still comforting to her,  as she fell asleep. —---------------------------------------------------------------- Y/N awoke abruptly, her heart pounding, and her mouth dry. Ugh, my body just does not want to cooperate with me. She needed water and some pain medication.  The room was dark, the only light was Gotham’s streetlights  filtering in through her windows. It must be the middle of the night. Then she remembered. Eddie. 

She panicked as she sat up and reached out for him, not expecting him to be there. She was flooded with relief when her fingertips brushed against him. He was just curled up into himself on the opposite side of the bed. She layed back down, for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She stared up at the cracks in her ceiling while thinking. He was still here, and that meant he was safe. At least for now. Her mind went back to their talk earlier. Well, it hadn’t so much been a talk, more just her listening to him try to explain himself. He had said that he was sorry and that he did love her, but she still had lingering doubts. She hadn’t seen him for a week. He had continued on with his life uninterrupted, while she had barely been able to function. That stung a lot. 

He had kept so much from her. And, how did she even feel about all of it? The killing? She still wasn’t sure. Now that her eyes had properly adjusted, she sat back up again, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Y/N?” Edward’s voice came from the opposite side of the bed, “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was clear and awake. “Yeah, I just need some water and something for my head.” Y/N explained, wondering how long he had been awake for. “Let me get it, you lay back down. Please.” Edward responded, already climbing out of the bed. “Oh, um, okay..?” Y/N climbed back to her space on the bed. She watched as Edward left the room, flipping on the hallway lights. He hadn’t changed out of his daytime clothes or anything. She heard the sound of the kitchen faucet running. It was strange how the sounds of his footsteps in her home sounded so familiar still, even after everything had changed so much. After a minute or so, Edward came back into the room with a glass of water and some pills. “Here,” he said softly as he handed them off to her. He settled back onto his side of the bed, turning away from her. 

Y/N was confused, it seemed like he cared about her, he had said he did but his actions made it seem like he didn’t want to be near her. What if he was just here until she got better? She wondered, taking her meds. Y/N sat the glass back down on her night stand. She flipped on her side, facing Edward’s back. “Hey Eddie?” she whispered. Edward flipped back over to face her, she could just barely make out his features in the dark room. “Yes?” he asked. “Are we… Are we still together?” she asked, timidly. Her mouth felt dry even though she had just drank water. She fiddled with the sheet, twisting it between her hands. She felt Edward shift on the bed, and then felt his hands wrap around hers, “Yes.” he whispered. He reached his hand up and pushed her hair back from her face, tracing his finger along her cheek. “If you want to be.” He pulled his hand away from her face, and brought it back to her hands. “I… I can completely understand if you don’t want to be,” He murmured sadly. Y/N was silent for a long time. Edward was a serial killer. He had killed people. Violently. High profile officials, the goddamn Mayor of Gotham. She was pretty sure that made him an enemy of the state. However, It wasn’t like she completely disagreed with what he was doing. If it hadn’t been her Eddie doing the killing, she doubted that she would have been so opposed. She probably would have even been a fan of the Riddler, had the circumstances been different. She did agree with Edward’s morals, they agreed on so many things, it was just the way he had chosen to act on it that was hard to understand. But still, it’s not like he did all of that for no reason. 

The corruption in Gotham was terrible. She had been fucked over her entire life by the system and she felt angry about it every day. And Edward, even more so. His life had been so deeply traumatic. It wasn’t like she could truly understand the depths of that rage. And he was her Eddie. Her Eddie who had suffered so much. Her Eddie who had been cast aside just like her. But they had found each other, right? That had to mean something. 

Clearly, Edward had issues. Issues that were, obviously, much worse than she had thought. But he had helped her with hers. He always listened to her, soothed her, and taken care of her. Who would she be to just abandon him? She felt Edward let go of her hands. “It’s okay Y/N. I promise I understand, I’ll just stay here until you’re all better, okay?” she heard his voice tremble, “And then I promise I’ll leave and you won’t ha—” “Eddie,” Y/N cut him off. “There’s a lot we need to talk about but —Please… Please stay with me,” she reached for him in the dark, “I love you.” She brought her hand up to his face and ran it through his hair. “I missed you so much.” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t wanna be without you.” She felt Edward shaking, and then tears on her hand. Edward wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Thank you..” he cried as he held her, “Thank you for allowing me to still be with you. I love you so much too.” They held each other tightly, both crying with relief. All of the corruption, all of the terrible events that had been put into place were waiting outside of the apartment. But right now, they were walled off from all of it, protected behind the closed door of Y/N’s room, in the shelter of the bed they shared. 

Next

#the riddler x y/n #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler fanfiction #riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #riddler x you #edward nashton #danonation #edward nashton x you #danocel #riddler #edward nigma #the riddler x you #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton fanfiction #the riddler hurt/comfort #edward nashton hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #caretaking #angst #riddler angst #edward nashton fluff #edward nashton angst

[hxney-lemcn]

Affections + First Kiss — General! Scarecrow, Riddler, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Catwoman x gn! reader

summery: affection and first kiss headcanons.

tw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), mentions of toxic dynamics

a/n: I've never wrote headcanons for multiple characters in one thing before, so enjoy! I love them all.

wc: 2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Scarecrow

❥Jonathan wasn’t used to a kind touch. Being bullied growing up, being beaten by the bat. No, all he knew was the harsh touch of a fist. The relentless shoves. The purpling of bruises that always showed after. The red blood that would drip from his nose. The burning hatred that steadily grew towards those who wronged him.

❥So when you came into his life, he would flinch if you raised a hand. He would unconsciously back away. The warmth in his heart that you stirred was unusual to him, a feeling he’s never felt towards anyone. He was used to the bitterness after an interaction, not longing. 

❥You eased him into it. Only when you two started dating did he ever think twice about your touch. He knew you held back your affections. He watched you lift a hand up, only to bring it back down to your side. And to Jon, that meant the world. He felt relief when you didn’t push him into uncomfortable territory, and he respected you all the more for it.

❥Although a part of him wished you would hold him. Touch him. He wondered if your skin felt as soft as it looked. Though he also feared that your touch would sting, and the comfort you brought would be no more. No, he would never reach out first.

❥Starting out slow, he let you hold his shoulder. No matter how careful you’ve been for however long, you slipped slightly. It was a gesture not many think twice about. Holding onto someone's shoulder as you look over them, holding onto them for balance. It was only when you felt him tense under you, his ramblings pausing, that you realized your mistake. Yet, Jon had only reassured you that you did nothing wrong. 

❥Having realized that Jon seemed to open your touch, you continued. Lightly brushing your hands, shoulder touches, even just sitting closer. It was like you were single handedly rewiring Jon’s brain, teaching him that not all touch hurts. That he too deserves a kind hand. The flinching had dulled, and he would even look forward to you being near him. 

❥So when you finally got to kiss him? He was a dead man. You got him hook line and sinker. I hope you weren’t expecting to leave him any time soon, because after you opened him into a world of warm affection, he doesn’t want to let go. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Riddler

❥Touch is a big no no. Similar to Jonathan, Edward had been bullied from a young age. Teased and ridiculed, shoved and hit. If not from his peers, then from his own father. His world was cruel for as long as he could remember. In fact, his brain started to warp, perceiving the hits as a form of love, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

❥Edward Nygma is a touch starved man. He longs for the comforts others seem to get so seamlessly. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want anyone touching him. Tap his shoulder if you dare.

❥You were no different, at first. You quickly caught on to his distaste of touch when he reprimanded someone for getting a little too friendly with him. But you managed to weasel your way into his estranged heart. With how respectful and kind you were, he quickly found himself ensnared with your affection. Even hands free you managed to boost his ego and make him feel, should he dare say, loved for. You gave him praise that he had longed for, which earned you a seat right by his side.

❥It was also partly to keep a closer eye on you. Part of him preened at your praise, and another was weary. Why were you so kind? He was a well known criminal, he knew better than to just believe you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart. Y’know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

❥I honestly don’t know how you deal with it. He always tries to catch you off guard with a riddle or puzzle. He pushes you away by ridiculing you and belittling you. Yet you won’t stop. You keep spilling his praises, and it’s so baffling to him. Yes, he is the smartest man in the world, but you managed to become a riddle. Good luck now.

❥When you first touched him, it was an innocent hug. He had managed to pull off a heist and got away from Batman without a scratch! Of course he had no doubts about his success, you didn’t either. When he got back to the hideout, you were clapping while singing his praises. Edward felt on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his veins. When your arms wrapped around him, your scent clouding his thoughts, your warmth leaching into him, he found himself reciprocating.

❥Now, whether your dating or you’re just friends, it matters little to the green clad man. You had given him a taste of a touch he’s always longed for. And he realized that he’s more comfortable around you than he’d like to admit. He never reaches out first, but he’ll never turn you down if you want to hold his arm. 

❥His teasing towards you turns lighter, just as his heart feels. So when you finally seal the deal with a kiss, he’ll make sure you never slip through his fingers. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Harley Quinn

❥She will smother you with affection right out the bat. Hugs, hand holding, kisses, you name it. You don’t even have to date her for her to leave a smooch on your lips. Harley Quinn easily trusts people, and you’re no exception. She finds comfort in touch, so why should she deny herself it? She also finds it expresses her genuine affection for you in ways she couldn’t verbalize. 

❥If you don’t like PDA, please tell her right away. She doesn’t understand it, I mean why wouldn’t you want to show your love to the world? But she also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you wanna keep it behind closed doors, she’ll try her best. But don’t be too surprised if she sneaks in a little smooch or hug if no one’s looking.

❥Harley Quinn is one of the most affectionate rogues out there. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows with her. She had been in a seriously abusive relationship, and you have to help her remember that she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around you. That no matter the argument, you won’t raise your hand to strike her. It takes her a long time to come out of that headspace, if ever. It’s a good thing you’re by her side to help coax her into healthier practices. 

❥If we want to get a little darker, Harley may try to treat you like the Joker treated her. It’s scary to see her go from bubbly to dark. Her features twisted into a wicked sneer as she asks that you’ll never leave her. That no matter what, you’ll always love her. During these moments, you gotta stand up for yourself. She’s trying to gain a sense of control she never felt in her previous relationship, and you have to make her snap out of it. When she comes to and realizes what she just did, the look of utter terror in her eyes is the most heart wrenching thing. She’ll sob, pleading that she didn’t mean to, that she never wanted you to go through that, that she’s terrified of becoming him.

❥Please hug her, kiss her, squeeze her gently. She loves it. All Harley wants is to be loved and to love, and getting affection shows her how genuine you are and is the biggest comfort for her. Feeling your warmth, feeling the softness of your skin, it brings her peace. 

❥The first time you made the first move to kiss Harley, she nearly did a backflip. Her little sugar plum made the first move! I hope you didn’t have anything planned, because Harley won’t let you go for the rest of the day.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Poison Ivy

❥I’m not sure how you weren’t just killed or turned into one of her goons. She’s not one for humanity. She keeps a sharp eye on those who dare tread into her territory. There’s no way to beat around it. She drugs you, finding out what your true intentions are. It has to be something she deems worthy enough to keep you around. She barely puts up with Harley as it is. 

❥Once you gain your free will again, you have to continuously prove your loyalty. Of course she can guarantee it herself if she has to, but you’ve managed to catch her eye. So prove your worth to her, prove that her interest in you isn’t just a mistake. It will take a long time. She’s been wronged one too many times, and she won’t make that mistake again.

❥Even if you manage to gain her trust, she won’t drop her walls around you. Though she’s a bit nicer. Ivy knows that a person works better with praise, but she also means it deep down. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean, so don’t take her words for granted. Not that you really can when her perfume scent always seems to cloud your senses. 

❥You let Ivy make the first move when it comes to touch. For a seductress, she won’t touch you if she doesn’t have to. Not to mention the toxins that fill her blood. Who knew if one tap on her shoulder meant your certain doom…but maybe that was a bit of the thrill you loved when being by her side. Though you’ve seemed to find a small soft spot in her heart, right next to Harley Quinn. She wouldn’t tell you that though, best to leave you on your toes lest you get too comfortable. 

❥After going so long without a single touch from the green goddess, when she started playing with your hair, you found yourself seizing up. Ivy brushed her fingers through it so gently, yet all you could wonder is if it was finally over. If she grew bored of you, or if she started to find you bothersome. But her gentle reassurances lulled you. Her warm voice and gentle hands relaxed you. It was then that you realized her affections for you ran deeper than she led on.

❥You’re first kiss was electrifying. That underlying thrill that your life was held in her hands. That she killed men with the very action she committed tenderly with you. Yet deep down you knew she wouldn’t hurt you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Catwoman 

❥It's not easy catching her attention. She won’t settle for less than perfection. She is catwoman after all, she has a reputation to uphold. So when she looked at you, and I mean really looked at you, she decided why not have a little fun? Whether you’re a villain, anti-hero, vigilante, or civilian, she’ll take time out of her busy schedule to drop by.

❥She likes to give mixed signals. It keeps you far enough for her to feel in control, yet it also satiates her hunger. She’ll lean in real close, only to grab something from behind you type of beat. She loves to watch you become a stuttering mess, but she doesn’t mind if you banter back. It’s all a part of the fun.

❥No matter how close you seem to get, you’re somehow still a mile away from Selina. She slips away from your affection without you even realizing it. She always turns the moment into a suggestive one. If she left it tender, then it would be too real. It takes time for her to warm up to you and really trust you.

❥If anything, the first kiss happens before anything truly tender. The kiss catches you both off guard, neither sure who started it. Selina tries to wrap it into something that doesn’t make her heart stutter. Tries to turn it suggestively like she always does, but with the way you tenderly hold her cheeks, she feels herself melt. Finally, she succumbs to these feelings you managed to stir within her, and she isn’t sure if she wants to thank you or curse you out. Maybe she’ll settle for a dinner, tab on you of course.

#scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #harley quinn x reader #poison ivy x reader #catwoman x reader #selina kyle x reader #pamela isley x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #scarecrow #jonathan crane #riddler #the riddler #edward nygma #edward nashton #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #catwoman #selina kyle #cat woman #x reader #dc x reader #gotham rogues x reader #imagine #headcanon

[angelcqre]

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

The car accident least of all. His gaze is on you, intense and scathing, watching you as you struggle to not break down in tears. He knows you can’t afford the damage to your own car, much less his, and for a moment, he simply.. watches, lips twisted in wry amusement as he approaches you.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, I’m so sorry I’m-;”

He cuts you off before you can blubber any further onto him, his voice soft and low and amused.

“Sweetheart, relax,” His lips quirk up, and it’s then that you realize that this is Bruce *fucking* Wayne, billionaire recluse who’s hand in philanthropy is beginning to show in the recovering ashes of the riddler’s attack on Gotham. “I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

His hands are steady as they tilt your chin upwards, his eyes searching and intense and dark even now, but the smile that he offers you is comforting enough, thumb shifting to brush a stray tear off your cheek.

Your skin is soft.

It’s the first thing he notices - sure, it had looked soft enough from afar, but under his calloused fingertips, your hands are like silk, sheer heaven and for a moment, he considers keeping you, considers taking you home right here and now, but instead, he sets his gaze on the car behind you, already battered and the accident hasn’t helped. It was your fault, he knows this, and just as much, he knows you won’t be able to fix it.

“What’s your name?”

You babble out your name, trembling hands moving to cup his wrists, the stability that he exudes enough to be infectious, and when he hears it, it’s like music to his ears, his heart lurching in a sensation of simple

Ah

There you are.

“It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Bruce,”

You know. Of course you know, however reclusive he is, his face is plastered over the news constantly, especially now that he’s got his finger in the pie that is Gotham’s premier charities, bankrolled almost entirely by the Wayne foundation.

He decides, then and there, that you’ll do nicely as a pet project. Still wiping at your tears, he leans in, tall frame curling in to meet yours, shifting his expression to be as reassuring as possible. He’s not.. socially adept, not as much as he should be, but he knows this one, awkward as it is.

“I’ll get this taken care of. Don’t worry. Why don’t you get lunch with me in the meantime?,”

Already, he’s got Alfred sending tow trucks, scheduling mechanics, ordering parts. It’s not difficult for him to recognize the make of your car, the model, the year, and that’s sent off too, a flick of his wrist and a murmur into his earpiece.

You nod - of course you do, it’s not like you have any choice in the matter, and you’re whisked off to The Ocelot, corner table, assured that the ratty jeans and top he’s sure was ordered off of Amazon or SHEIN or whatever the fuck else are fine for the restaurant, love, you’re with him and it’s not like The Ocelot serves lunch anyways.

They do. Any reservations have been rescheduled, so it’s just you and him in there anyways, and it’s hardly like you’d know the difference either way.

So he sits, and he listens, watches the way your lips part to form each lovely syllable, growing more animated and less despondent when you realize that no, this isn’t a trick, that he really is going to take care of it and not sue you.

All in all, he really seems like a nice guy. Quiet, but he’s got a good sense of humor, and you like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. At least, you tell him so, a little tipsy on the most expensive bottle of wine you’ve ever had the privilege to drink, full of food that he insisted on ordering for you if only to let you try the best things on the menu.

So when he offers to drop you off at your apartment, you enthusiastically agree to it, not realizing that he’s taking note of the building, the door number, the sound your lock makes as the key slots into the mechanism.

~

From then, you.. begin to date Billionaire Philanthropist Bruce Wayne. He’s perfectly nice, respectful and polite and honestly more than a little old fashioned, and maybe you like that, the way he insists on opening car doors for you, the way that he sends you clothing and jewelry and purses to bring along any time he invites you out.

Every invitation to a gala or charity ball is extended to you, if only for the opportunity to dress you up like a little doll, put you in expensive clothing and jewelry and coo at you, murmuring praise against the curve of your neck every time he ducks from the view of the cameras that always seem to follow him.

Nothing is too expensive for him, and though you do attempt to protest, he seems gleeful in his gifts to you, the urge to shower you with presents to endear himself to you only hampered by Alfred’s firm guidance on ‘proper courting’.

He.. rarely calls you by your name.

Always pet names, with him, always terms of endearment and suggestions of possession that you end up finding yourself flushing at, the nigh reverence in his tone enough to leave you leaning into him and pressing sweet, loving kisses to his cheek and jawline.

You’re untouched by the corruption that seems to seep into every crevice that Gotham’s foundations. Pure, in a way, so sweet and kind and good that he can’t help but want to protect you, finds himself going out of his way as the bat to ensure you get home safely from work.

Fuck, and maybe he breaks into your apartment once or twice, purely investigative, nothing perverse, he tells himself, inspecting a pair of panties that he really has no business touching. The sense of growing discomfort in his nether regions are enough of an excuse that he strips then and there, pumps his cock on your bed surrounded by the scent of you, imagining you on top of him, under him, gasping his name and begging to be filled and looking at him with dewy, glazed over, lust filled eyes.

He swears it’s not perverse.

Swears to *god* as he cums into another pair of panties, a pair he knows for sure he’s bought for you, and tucks them neatly back into your underwear drawer, shoving the first pair into a pouch in his belt.

Absolutely justifiable losses.

~

You’re so oblivious to it.

That’s what gets him more than anything else - how oblivious you are, how clueless you are to how many robberies he stops in their tracks, each interception before you’re targeted enough that you genuinely think that the city is getting safer, better.

You tell him about it over lunch, pointing at him with your fork, mouth half full of salad, and your manners are atrocious but he can’t help the way it makes him chuckle, dark eyes crinkling with warmth.

“I’m serious! I don’t - okay, look, vigilantes are bad, but like..,” A pause, for you to actually swallow, outrage flashing in your eyes as he delves into straight up laughter. “I don’t know! Maybe this guy - Batman, or whatever - maybe he’s doing something good for the city,”

He can only shrug in response - keeping his fantasies of you private and locked down.

~

And, really, the stalking keeping an eye on you comes in handy, inevitably, especially with how you tend to prefer walking home to anything actually sensical. He’d offered you a car to borrow while yours is being repaired, but you’d seemed hesitant with the expensive make, had smiled and said that your job wasn’t that far away, really, and it’s not as if you aren’t familiar with gotham - you’ve lived here for years, and you’ve been just fine.

It’s just a joyboy - nobody especially powerful, but his heart still wrenches all the same when he sees the gun aimed at your head, and he can’t stop himself from dropping on top of the aggressor, beating him to a bloody pulp and then some, his vision white with with rage and a level of possessiveness that he can’t quite comprehend.

All that’s running through his head is a pervasive sense of drive, a need to keep himself from losing anybody else, so when the man under him finally collapses, and he leans back to look at you, it takes a moment for his senses to settle back in, for the blood rushing through his ears to lower from the roar.

He realizes you’re speaking, babbling in the same way you did when he first met you, and the memory is enough to bring a wry twist of his lips, amusement flashing in those dark, masked eyes.

“And I was just walking - I’m sorry, are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Oh my god, are you bleeding?,”

There isn’t any fear in your eyes, but your eyes are glued to the gun in the perp’s hand, the smoke rising off of it, and he idly realizes that he must have fired it in the fall.

The bat rises, that twist of his lips compelling and familiar, and strides towards you, assessing you with a familiar sort of scrutiny.

You’re bleeding.

“Relax, I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

He sees the recognition in your eyes the second it lights up and knows he’s made a mistake. Sure, you’re not as smart as he is, very few people are, but you’re not stupid, and that mistake causes his breath to catch in his throat as your lips part, a strangled sort of bark of laughter coming from you.

“That’s funny - you sounded just like my boyfriend just then. Isn’t that.. funny..?,”

You look like you’re about to bolt. The bat sees the tensing of your muscles and takes a step forward before you can, his hand stabbing out to grasp at your arm. He’s erred, he’s erred *bad*, and the little gasp of pain that you make is just another tally in the ever increasing lineup.

“Bruce?,”

And now you’ve gone and done it, and the fear you’re experiencing is genuine, the wobble in your voice and the suddenly glassy eyes evidence enough that there’s no going back from this.

The strike to the side of your throat is an instinctual one, the edge of his hand snapping out quick enough that you don’t even flinch, falling unconscious and right into his awaiting arms. It’s reverent, how he carries you, though he doubts you’ll ever notice with how hard you’re out.

~

That deep, deep sleep is a gift for Bruce. He hasn’t - he won’t - take you, but that refusal doesn’t extend to certain other courtesies. You’re ignorant of the way his hands slide up the skin of your torso, ignorant of the cold sensation of his fingertips against your warm body, ignorant of how he pulls off the worn tee first.

It’s reverence, the way his tongue laves over the hollow of your throat, the way each kiss is pressed onto the edge of your jaw, his eyes half lidded and his gaze glued to you. Careful, so careful - you’re delicate, after all - but still, his fingers press into your hips, savoring the plush yield of your curves.

Already, he’s fantasizing it, breeding you and filling you with heirs,

~

You wake up slowly, at first, and then all at once, unaware of your surroundings and clearly more than a little out of it. Bruce has deigned to leave you alone, for this part, and he watches you through one of the cameras he’s embedded in the room you’re in, studies the way your eyes seem glued shut, the way you almost turn over and fall back asleep.

And then you realize that you’re not in your own bed, and you’re a bit more dedicate to getting up.

It’s a lot more luxurious than you’re used to, and it’s also definitely *not* your bedroom. The sheets aren’t yours, don’t smell familiar, the walls and the curtains are a different color, and the room in and of itself is too damn big - you could probably fit your entire apartment in the square footage, to say nothing of the en-suite that you’re already peering at.

No, focus.

You strip off the comforters, realizing with horror that you’re not even wearing your own clothing, some designer loungewear and nothing underneath. You fight the urge to scream, running your hand through your hair, and stride towards the closed door, heavy oak and thick.

Locked. Doesn’t budge no matter how you wiggle it, not even under the entirety of your weight. No matter what you do, pounding, shouting, slamming, it doesn’t open. You even try running at it, like they do on TV, and that mostly just gives you a sore shoulder and knocks the wind out of you.

So… you investigate the room. Maybe you should’ve done that first, but the panic rushing through your veins has subsided, led to a sort of clarity that has you checking the windows, realizing they’re reinforced - definitely not glass, you realize after you’ve attempted to shatter it. Not like it’d matter, there’s wrought iron bars over each of them, way too thinly placed for you to even think of slipping out.

The room is.. nice, even if there’s a genuine discomfort in being locked in them. Plush carpet under your bare feet, a television, an en-suite bathroom.. you can almost imagine that you’re in some swanky hotel with Bruce, almost fool yourself into the perception that you’re definitely not on the verge of, like, death or disembowelment or whatever the plans for you are. There’s even a bookshelf, stacked high with classics and.. quite a few raunchy romance novels, all almost thirty years old and scrawled with the name ‘Martha’.

You end up settling on a book of old myths, curling up in the bed, and by the time that you’ve read a good couple, you’ve suitably calmed down, and that’s when he makes his entrance.

~

“Sweetheart,”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice isn’t quite comforting enough that you don’t throw the book in your hand at his head, and when he catches it, you wince, shrinking back into the pile of pillows as he carefully, carefully moves towards you.

“Bruce? I don’t - where *am* I? What’s going on?,”

He hushes you, draws you into those deceptively strong arms and holds you, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and instinctively, you relax into his grasp, muscle memory powerful enough to override the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. You huff, and lean into him, soothed for a moment. He speaks, then, always so patient, so tender, his hand reaching up to pet at your hair.

“It was always a risk, letting you run around gotham like I did, but I thought I could protect you.”

You stiffen.

He continues to pet you, his voice soft against the crown of your head, low and worn in the way it always is.

“This city is corrupt, sweetheart, and I need to know you’ll be safe,”

You try to draw back, but the cage of his arms is steel, and he holds you close to him, chest to chest, his hands cold.

“So I’ll keep you here. With me.”

#Bruce Wayne x reader #yandere bruce Wayne #yandere Batman #yandere Batman x reader

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

I love love love the platonic relationships and friendships in Batman '66. When Commisioner Gordon is taken to the Batcave, he's in so much awe, and you can tell he admires Batman

#this is PLATONIC do not derail or you're going in the riddler deathtrap #rewatched my comfort episode pair teehee #guess whose throat hurts from doing the frank gorshin riddler giggle :) #he's instant joy i tell ye

[writing-blog-iguess]

Long Lost Friend

Summery: He was suppose to be dead. You watched as the building was burning, you watched as they lowered his coffin in the ground. He's dead, has been for years. So then why is he standing in your living room in a Red Hood cosplay, smiling at you like you saw each other the other day?

Warning: death, hurt/comfort

A/N: Mm, it's not exactly how I wanted this to go, but I like it. Enjoy! Feedback is always welcome.

Words: 2.3k

-----

You were tired.

After a full day of classes plus working at a coffee shop, you were done for the day. And on your way back from home all you can think about was a nice warm bath and sleep.

What you hadn’t anticipated when you opened your apartment door, was your dead best friend standing in your living room. Dressed as Red Hood, holding his signature red helmet in his hands.

“Hiya sweetheart,” he greeted with a small smile. Your arms dropped to your side, making everything fall to the ground.

“Jason?” you whispered and locked memories came rushing to the forefront of your mind without your permission.

You're eight again, racing through the streets of Gotham just trying to survive. 

“Come on Y/N! If you want to stick with me, you have to keep up!”

“But I’m tired Jason!” you shouted back, almost tripping on your own feet. “And hungry! Mom said she’s making dinner for us soon.”

“We’ll go in a minute,” he called back, skidding to a halt when he finally reached his destination. You didn’t stop in time, and ran into his back almost making the two of you fall forward.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you stepped back and stood beside him. “What are we doing here?”

“I heard Batman was fighting the Riddler here, I wanted to see them fight.”

You made a noise, turning to glare at him. And before you could say anything, the doors to the bank busted open, and you watched Batman and Riddler fight their way outside.

“One day that’s going to be me.”

“What? Be someone fighting Batman?”

“What? No, I’m going to fight beside Batman.”

You were eleven, trying to get Jason to stop, but he won’t listen.

“Jason! What are you doing?” you hissed, looking around to make sure no one saw you.

“Because everyone thinks I’m a delinquent, might as well show them they’re right,” he grunted out as he pulled down the ratchet.

“Okay, but why care about what people think?” you questioned, “why give them proof that they were right?”

“Because they are,” Jason said with a shrug.

“Okay but why feel the need to prove them?”

“Because it’s fun,” Jason said and laughed when he succeeded in taking one tire off.

Y/N made a noise of frustration and threw her arms in the air. “But, out of everything you could have done, why Batman’s car?”

“Go big or go home, right?”

“You're impossible.”

“No one said you needed to be here,” Jason pointed out, setting the tire down with a grunt.

“Someone needs to make sure you don’t get into too much trouble,” you retorted. 

“I won’t, just go home Y/N. I know you have that test tomorrow you’ve been studying for.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t hear from Jason the next day, or the next. You started to get worried and began searching for him after school and well into the night. But you weren’t having any luck.

It wasn’t until six months later when the new Robin appeared, did you finally get to talk to Jason.

You stared at the newest Robin blankly before promptly turning and heading towards the rooftop door. “Go away.”

“Awe come on!” Jason called, running to catch up to you. “Talk to me.”

“No, I have nothing to say.”

“Don’t you miss me?”

“No,” you said bluntly, and reached for the door handle when you stopped in front of the door. But before you could turn it and open it, Jason slid between you and the door, stopping you from leaving the roof. “Move.”

“I bet you did,” he said, ignoring the glare you sent him. “I missed you.”

“Good for you.”

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Great detective skills you got there. Learn them from Batman?” you asked flatly, shooing him away from the door. He didn’t budge. 

“Is that what you're mad about? That Batman was training me?”

“I’m mad because you left. I’m mad because I thought you were dead. And you didn’t say anything, or called to say you were okay. I’m mad because you're here thinking everything’s going back to normal.  But you're wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

You’re fifteen, watching as the Joker is on TV laughing with a bruised-up Jason in the background.

“What do you think, Gotham? Should Robin live to see another day?” Joker asked, and laughed. “What am I saying? Of course not!”

You didn’t stay to finish the broadcast. You ran out of your house, ignoring your mom’s worried call, and ran through Gotham. You didn’t stop running until you reached the abandoned warehouse district.

Stopping in front of the fence, you huffed trying to catch your breath as you tried to figure out which one Joker was in with Jason.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, but enough time passed that before you could move, one of the buildings blew up.

“No!” you could hear yourself scream. And that’s all it took for you to rush towards the building. But it was too late, the building was engulfed in flames and Batman stopped you from going into the building.

“Why didn’t you stop him? Where were you?!”

After that night, you don’t remember much of what happened. You faintly remember Bruce Wayne coming to your house and explaining to your parents about Jason’s death. You knew it was a lie, and you spent the entire time glaring at Bruce, hatred burning in your eyes.

You remember going after Bruce when he left your apartment. Remember seeing him tense up when you had said that Jason had looked up to him, had loved him with everything he had.

“He loved you Mr. Wayne, and you let him down,” you remember saying through the tears that streamed down your cheeks. “It’s all your fault.”

“I know,” he had whispered before climbing into his car.

You barely remembered the funeral service for Jason, but you remember the rain pouring down as you stood in front of the tombstone. Anger had swirled within you, who you were mad at you weren’t entirely sure.  

“Why’d you have to do it?” you whispered, “why’d you have to leave? Fuck, Jason. I want to hate you, but I can’t. I can never stay mad at you for long. You’re not even here, yet I can still see your stupid smile when I’m trying to be mad.

“Come back? Please? I need you back.”

But there was no Jason popping out from behind the tombstone, laughing. There was no answer, only the rain that softly hit your umbrella.

“Sweetheart?” a voice called out to you, slowly bringing you out of your thoughts. You blinked a couple of times and focused your eyes on Jason. “Where’d you go?”

“Jason?” you choked out again, pinching yourself to see if you were dreaming or not. “You’re here?”

“I’m here,” he confirmed, taking a step forward. You took a step back without thought, and felt guilty when you saw hurt flash in his eyes. “It’s me, Y/N. I’m really here,” he said as he opened his arms out.

Instead of going for a hug, your eyes roamed around him. When you narrowed in on the blood that was on his jacket, you went into action. “You’re hurt,” you noted, moving around him towards the bathroom.

“Not my blood,” he said, but he followed you all the same. You shook your head, and bent down to retrieve the first aid kit you keep fully stocked.

“Don’t care,” you said, putting the kit on the counter and opening it. “Take off your jacket and sit on the toilet.”

“At least take me to dinner first before you take off my clothes,” he joked. You sent him a pointed look and gestured to the toilet before going back to the kit. “Okay, tough crowd,” he muttered before doing as he was told.

He set his jacket down on the edge of the tub before sitting down on the closed toilet seat. “So, how have you been?”

You didn’t answer, instead you turned to him with cleaning supplies. “You cut your arm,” you said bluntly and watched as he looked down.

“Well, would you look at that.”

“It might need stitches,” you noted, “may I?”

“You know how?” Jason asked, surprised at the question.

“I’m in med school, I would think I know how to stitch up a cut,” you said and waited for an answer. Stunned to silence, Jason could only nod and you set to work.

You set forward, turning him around slightly so you could get to his arm better. Satisfied that you could reach, you set to work. As you cleaned the cut, Jason turned his head slightly and watched as you worked. “It’s deeper than I thought. It’s gonna need stitches.”

After cleaning it, you set everything aside and turned to grab the needle and thread. “It’s fine if it scars,” Jason said, watching as you threaded the needle. “What’s one more scar?”

“Maybe you don’t care, but I,” you said and set to work closing the cut. “Its my work after all.”

“I suppose.”

Silence settled between the two of you, and you tried your best to ignore Jason’s stare. You could feel his eyes on your face, and you kept the questions at bay. At least until you were done.

Once you finished, you stepped back and started cleaning everything up before leaving the bathroom. “Hey!” Jason called. You rolled your eyes as you heard him scattering to leave the bathroom.

You were in the kitchen when he finally joined, and he stood in the doorway as you heated up leftovers.

“You died,” you stated, sitting by the table with a plate in front of you.

“I did,” he agreed, joining you. You watched as he ate and wondered if he had anything to eat lately. “And now I’m not.”

“How?” Jason remained quiet, making you raise an eyebrow. “Don't be shy on me now Jason. Were you really in that building? Or did you escape without me noticing?”

That got his attention. He shot his head up to look at you in thought. “You were there?”

“I wasn’t close enough for the blast to hit me, but I watched it burn,” you said looking down at your plate. “Batman had to stop me from going in to try to get to you.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you said with a shrug. Yet a spike of anger coursed through you as you thought about that night. You were angry, at Batman, at Joker, and maybe a little at yourself. But you stamped down the feeling, you were tired of being angry. “So, what happened?”

Jason was silent for a moment before he launched into what had happened to him. He explained that Ra al Ghul, the leader of a league of assassins, had brought him back to life with something called a Lazarus pit. And that was a whole bunch of questions you had.

He explained that it had made him into a different person, so he stayed with them and trained for the last five years. He only came back to confront Bruce about it. That made him decide to do something about it, and he became Red Hood. Which would explain a lot about how low the criminal rate has gone down.

Silence settled again as you digested everything.

“I tried, you know,” you whispered. Jason looked up at you but you kept your attention on your uneaten plate.

“Tried what?”

“To kill the Joker,” you clarified. You didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the shock nor the disappointment in Jason’s eyes. “I have notebooks of plans I came up with over the years. They’re very detailed but I could never figure out where to get the things I need.

“And when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. Not because Batman stopped me, because I thought of you and I knew you wouldn’t want me to become that person.”

You hear a scrape of a chair before Jason was in your field of vision. He crouched down beside you, and gently grasped your chin with his forefinger and thumb. You looked down at him when he moved your head towards him.

“You’re right,” he said, wiping a few tears that escaped your notice. “I don’t want you to become that person. I still don’t. I liked who you were as kids.”

“I don’t, she was a coward,” you said, causing him to laugh.

“Yeah, but she always had my back,” he pointed out.

“She died that night you did,” you sniffled trying to stop from crying.

“But I’m here now, maybe she’s something in there too,” Jason said softly. You nodded though you didn’t have much hope that that part of you was still there. Moving his hands so he held yours, he stood up pulling you with him.

He wrapped his arms around you and you snaked your arms around his waist, burying your face in his shirt. And that’s all it took for you to break down and cry.

Jason rocked you from side to side gently as he murmured comforting words as you cried. Going as far as to say that he’s staying, that he’s not going anywhere.

After a moment, your tears turned into sniffles but the two of you didn’t move from your hug.

“Why’d you come here, Jason?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he answered and that broke your heart a little.

“Well, my door’s always open for you.”

You felt his smile through your hair, and you turned slightly so you could look at him. “What?”

“There’s my girl.” Your face turned red, and you turned away as he laughed. “She’s in there somewhere.”

“Yeah, maybe. Just don’t die again.”

“I can try not to.”

And maybe you could hope that nothing that bad could happen again. You dared to hope anyway.

#jason todd x reader #batman imagine #my writing #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd x f!reader