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beyworld101 · 6 hours ago

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Sweet Thing (NSFW)

Gotham Victor Zsasz x Plus Size! Female Chef Reader

(Honestly is this kinda pwp that resulted from the once scene where Zsasz doesn't get a cupcake, making me feel sad and want to give him one?? Yeah...yeah maybe. Also @finniestoncrane and @riddle-me-ri have made me obsessed with Gotham rogues again so...thanks for that and for inspiring me to write again. 💙💙)

Warnings: some weight insecurities on the readers part (listen I have them so I'm writing them, shush), descriptions of reader's body, Zsasz probably being ooc, smut!!!!

It was...strange...in a way, this relationship you may or may not have with Victor Zsasz. You both work for Oswald Cobblepot, you as his private chef/patisserie and him as...well...one of the most dangerous killers in Gotham. It started when he scared you half to death the first time he snuck into your kitchen in the Cobblepot residence.

You were carefully simmering something on the stove, stirring and scraping the edges to make sure nothing burned, and you turned around to grab some salt only to see a man all in black staring at you from across the kitchen island, obviously well-armed.

You screamed and dropped the salt, of course. It's Gotham and you work for THE Penguin. You assumed the worst. But he just raised one eyebrow and smirked at you, his expression surprisingly...goofy for someone with at least 4 guns on him in plain sight. "Oh, no need to worry. I'm Victor Zsasz, we share the same boss."

You remember nodding, being immediately comforted as you did recognize the name. "Oh! Oh, I apologize for the reaction, Mr. Zsasz." You did your best to smile back shakily, which only made him grin wider. But then he looked behind you and raised his eyebrows, which reminded you where you were and what you were doing. You let out a slightly undignified squeak as you turned back to your reduction in worry, trying to see if anything had burned when you stopped stirring.

Relief flooded you when it was still perfect, and you called over your shoulder, "So what brings you to my Kitchen, Mr. Zsasz?" Waiting a few beats, you were met with silence, so you snuck a glance behind you only to see that he had left just as quietly as he came.

And that was the first time you encountered one of Gotham's finest killers.

Since then, you interacted with him at least once a week, if not every day, in almost the exact same fashion. He would quietly show up, (possibly trying to scare you again), stay for a bit to watch you cook, and then leave just as quietly. You started talking with him to pass the time, being met with vague, cryptic responses laced with occasional names for you. "Sweetheart" seemed to be his go-to, but he also loved "Honey." It was a bit awkward in the beginning...

"So Mr. Zsasz..."

"Sweetheart, call me Victor."

"Oh! Ok...Victor...any hobbies??"

"...crochet, actually."

...but you got into a rhythm eventually. Sometimes you would ask him for a prepped ingredient, a spice, or a measuring spoon if your hands were full.

You have convinced yourself that he must be trying to scare you again, because he loves quietly sliding up behind you and brushing up against your arms as he hands it to you with a softly whispered, "Whatever you say, Chef."

It DID make you let out another squeak the first time, which was met with a deep chuckle from him, but after that it started to create a different reaction. Your cheeks would flame as you would take the item you asked for--the cute names, his slight most likely accidental touches...all of them affecting you.

You do your best to tamper it down each time, not allowing yourself to even start down the path of hope. Being obviously bigger than what lots of men find attractive due to society's standards means that you have either met mainly men who were desperate or mean. It's not your fault, you sometimes really dig your body, you just can't seem to find anyone else who does.

You have no idea why he visits, but his conversations make your day better, so you don't want him to stop. And he doesn't seem to be showing up to frighten or taunt you anymore...you just don't want to let yourself believe that he would be into you. A tiny voice that you think is your conscience pipes up and says he also kills people for fun and profit, but you just remind it that you're in Gotham and honestly you could do worse.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts a bit, you glance down at the oven. It's later in the day for you, after dinner has been done, and you are prepping desserts for tomorrow. Oswald has requested cupcakes, for some reason, so you are watching them to make sure they don't burn. Easy as they are to make, it wouldn't do to have the Penguin himself angry at you for any reason.

Taking out the tray, you check to make sure they are fully cooked before letting them cool and prepping the frosting. Humming along to the radio and swaying a bit, your thoughts drift back to Victor. He usually would have stopped by before this time, which means you probably won't be seeing him today. It does make your heart fall a bit, but you remind yourself that it shouldn't because he is just a...friend? Coworker? "Possible cryptid??" Your tiny conscious supplies.

You giggle to yourself as you imagine Victor creeping around the woods with Mothman. Shaking your head, you finish placing the frosting in your piping bag only to turn around and feel it slip from your fingers as the form of Victor appears closer than you would have expected. He catches the bag and grins at you, his usual serious countenance turning into something softer as he says "Woah, Chef, wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

You place a hand on your forehead, catching your breath a bit as your heart slows down, "Yeah, it's almost like someone showed up out of nowhere and scared me." You grin back at him "But I know that's nowhere near what you meant to do, right?"

His eyes shine with mischief, "Oh, of course not Honey. You're so sweet it forces me to be on my best behavior around you."

He hands you back your frosting with an exaggerated bow and cheesy grin. You roll your eyes but can't disguise your blush as you take it from him, "Victor, you know you don't have to flatter me if you want a cupcake."

He stands up straight, his eyes showing shock. "Me? Get a cupcake?"

Confused by his excitement, you respond with a question in your voice, "Of course??"

He seems almost shy, a word you would never have used to describe him before, and rubs the back of his head. "Oh...it's just...you've never offered before..."

You think back through the past few months, each and every encounter...and then you slap yourself on the forehead, "Oh Victor, I've been holding out on you haven't I? I'm sorry, I should have given you something even the first time you stopped by. I've been remiss in my duties as a Chef."

His shocked face turns softer, but some other emotion that you can't place is also present. "While I can't disagree, as I was definitely hoping something was on offer that day, I can't blame you. I remember thinking what you have was too sweet for a killer like me."

Walking up to your cooled cupcakes on the kitchen island, you scoff at him even though you are secretly preening at his words. As you start to carefully create a swirl of frosting, you respond, "Victor, I'm not THAT sweet." You turn for just a second to wink at him, returning to your previous task to avoid seeing his reaction. "And I'm not sure why you kept coming down here when I wasn't even feeding you! That's usually the only way I make my friends, killers or not."

As you finish the swirl with a flick of your wrist, you see him walk into your field of view across the counter. Feeling proud of how perfect it is, you add the final touch, a perfectly prepped red rose made of icing, and align it just so. And then...after all that work...you gladly pick it up and gently offer it to Victor.

There is a hunger in his eyes, and you wonder how you had managed to not die for the past few months if a cupcake could do this to him. He should have rightly torn you to pieces to get to the apple cider macarons you made last week.

He plucks the cupcake from your hands and examines it, turning it to and fro. "Very nice, Chef, as always." He grins and unwraps the dessert, barely hesitating before taking a big bite out of it. His eyes widen and then close in what you assume is enjoyment. Your suspicions are confirmed only a second later when he actually moans at the taste, swallowing heavily and letting out a soft, "Fuck." Your traitorous eyes trace down the length of his neck almost involuntarily.

Trying to disguise your heavier blush that is most likely down to your chest at this point, you quickly look down to the rest of the cupcakes and focus on decorating them instead of the images racing through your mind. Your pride at your work won't let you keep quiet though, so you have to comment on his reaction. "I don't know if I've had a better reaction to my food before. I'll have to remember to make even better stuff for you later."

You don't see his reaction, but you see him set the rest of the cupcake on the counter after a beat of silence and begin to move slowly towards you out of the corner of your eye. "You would make me, of all people, better stuff?" He takes another step, "Not just discards from the boss's requests?"

You smile, but continue to look down at your icing work. "Your wish is my command! I love making desserts for my..."

Just a moment of hesitation, an instance. You implied that Victor was your friend earlier, but would that be appropriate by his standards? Is he even your friend? And you know that even that would be a lie, coming from you. But as your thoughts race, you feel a firm hand lift up your hand and take the icing bag away, setting it gently on the counter. Then Victor grips into your soft arms and physically turns you towards him, all while you stay silent in shock.

He is staring at you again, but this time with a more guarded expression. "For...who? What am I to you?"

You are stunned and stumble over your words, not expecting his question, "I-I don't know, Victor, I like to think t-that you are at least my f-friend at this point, but I totally understand if you don't think we are there yet. I mean...I do enjoy your company..."

You feel his hands grip a bit harder at your arms, effectively cutting you off, "...And is that all you want from me, Sweetness? Are you sure?"

Your mind is screaming at you, and your heart as well. Both at war with each other. He can't like you that way, but maybe he's noticed your reactions. Why wouldn't he? He's trained to kill, he probably notices everything about you.

He's just trying to put a stop to this before it gets further, your mind screams.

"I-I..." you find yourself unable to form words, a panic rising inside you. You don't want to lose some of the only company you have during your shifts...some of your only company in general, in Gotham. It is near impossible to determine if anyone is trustworthy when working for the Penguin. You usually find yourself walking directly home from work, and having civil conversations with neighbors at most.

It is even more difficult to keep that panic at being alone again from continuing when his dark eyes keep constant contact with yours, never wavering. You can see now how people are terrified of him. All of that focus that he usually uses against his enemies, his...targets...all aimed at you. It makes your mind fuzzy, cloudy. You struggle to think of any words, let alone the ones you need.

But, you decide it would be easier to speak if you weren't looking at him. So you allow yourself to look at your shoes instead. He will be able to tell if you lie, with or without eye contact. There are better liars than you in Gotham that he has matched and ended.

Alternatively...leaving isn't wise, either. It would lead to the same outcome as lying. With a quick breath to steady yourself, you know your only course is to admit whatever you feel.

"I...I don't think I can lie to you, whether or not the both of us want me to. I have thought of...more...with you. But if that makes you uncomfortable, I entirely understand. I know I'm not what most..."

He again cuts off your rapid-fire words by putting a singular finger under your chin to raise your face until it is looking at him. His eyes are searching yours as your heart pounds in your chest with anguish over your confession, and you wait. Seeming to find what he was looking for, you hear him mutter "Fuck, finally," and then he slams his lips into yours.

Shocked, you don't react for a few beats...but then you start to move your lips against his. His hands have moved from your chin and arm, both going to your wide hips. He groans as they sink into the soft flesh you have there, pulling you closer until you are flush with his front. The feel of your soft belly connecting with his slight frame makes you pause and short-circuit, your lips hesitating. He notices and breaks from the kiss.

"I-I...Victor..." his hands release you, a more worried expression taking over his face.

"Sweetheart, is it too much?" He takes a gloved hand and gently sweeps your hair behind your ear, then cups your face to make sure you keep looking at him...gently, though. His hands are more gentle than you expected.

Damn him and his need for eye contact right now. And damn his gentle hands while you're at it. "No, that was wonderful, truly. I loved it." You do your best to show him honesty. "I-I just...oh God...I don't know how to phrase this."

His eyes don't leave yours, and one of his thumbs starts to sweep against your soft cheek.

Taking a deep breath, you muster up some strength of will. Either way this will be over soon. "I just...I'm big."

He nods as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "Yeah, Honey, I know." One hand stops cupping your face and moves down to lightly trace your hip.

Sighing at his inability to see, you continue, "So-so...most people don't like that I'm bigger, or that I have a belly, and I'm just nervous that..."

"That I'm most people?" Victor stops gently cupping your face and instead forcefully uses his hand to bring you closer, "Sweetness, I'm Gotham's finest killer, I'm not most people."

And then he slams his lips into yours again, and you find that you don't care to think anymore. His hand drifts from your chin to your throat, gently gripping there for now as he starts to walk you back until your ass is pressed right against the island. He tears his lips from yours, both of you catching your breath, and his other hand moves from your hip to your ass.

His hand traces the excess flesh that spills over the counter and he groans, squeezing it and leaning forward to whisper in your ear, "I've been thinking about getting to dig my hands into this perfect ass ever since I saw you in the kitchen that first day." His thumb on your throat starts to stroke up and down, feeling you swallow and moan at his words.

His grin is back, "That's right, sweetness, let me hear you." His hand moves away from your throat so he can start to trace down your neck with his teeth, but in between bites he continues to talk. "Been wanting to hear the noises you might make for me since then too." He pulls back to give you a dangerous smile, "Do you really think I kept sneaking up on you to scare you?"

Your voice is a bit strained, but sure, as you reply plainly, "Yes." But then a smirk stretches over your lips and your eyes light up with mirth at your tease.

His dangerous smile softens just slightly, and he chuckles, "You DO know me well, then." He hides his face in your neck once more, his hands gripping your ass harder as he presses himself into your front. You feel how hard he is against you just as he bites down on the juncture at your shoulder, and it makes you let out an involuntary whimper, your smirk disappearing.

"Just like I've heard in my fucking dreams for the past few months." He pants against your skin, grinding against your center and licking at the bite he just made. Surprisingly, instead of continuing his trail like you expected, he stops, sniffing at the part he just attended to, and almost lets out a choked sound.

"So fucking sweet." He pulls back, and you see some of the desperation in his eyes. "Your scent, your fucking baking." His eyes close, "Sweetness seems to follow you around, seeping into everything you touch."

He turns you around gently and places your back to his front, settling his chin on your shoulder and speaking softly. "You know, I was planning on just sneaking down that first day, annoying the boss's baker like all the others that came before." He nuzzles his nose against your skin, "...stealing something that wasn't mine."

His hands begin to wander, the first one moves lightly across your collarbone, making you shiver, while the other weaves across your front, hugging you to him and digging into your soft side. The hand that traced your collarbone slowly starts to trail down, arriving at your breasts. His touch stays light. "Maybe I would find some of that excess that others are loath to give me." He breathes in sharply along with you as he squeezes your breast, almost unable to keep himself from doing so. "I can't even fit all you have to give me in my hand, pretty Chef."

Shaking his head, resolving himself, he continues his previous train of thought. "Imagine my surprise when I encountered what I already told you was the perfect ass, still able to be seen through these awful chef clothes you wear." A hint of disdain makes its way into his voice as he pinches your loose work shirt.

Releasing the fabric and smoothing it over, his hand joins the other around your front, almost sweetly hugging you to him with a light grip. He breathes in as he forces himself to slow down so he can speak. "The way you spoke...so unsure, but still trying to be polite even to me."

He pushes himself against you again, as if to remind yourself where you are even with his shockingly sweet words. "And your sweet voice calling me Mr. Zsasz..." His hands dig into your plush stomach, pushing you back but also making you wince again.

He doesn't allow your doubts to get to you, his blunt words stopping them in their tracks, "I had to run out of the room to fuck my own hand as it echoed in my mind."

A bolt of heat goes straight to your core and you moan, grinding your ass against him. A hitch in his breath, and then he whispers into your neck "Yes, I knew you had it in you, good girl. So desperate, hmm?"

You nod, holding back a whine at his praise and trying not to get too heated at work. At work! Suddenly you remember where you are. Slowing yourself down, you reach for his hands and gently pry at them. To his credit, they loosen instantly. Turning around to look at him again, you catch his own blush, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark...but also saddened by the loss of you against him.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry if I went too far. You don't owe me anything..." His voice is breathy as he now desperately spits out words, "...not cupcakes or yourself or..."

You now hold up a finger to his lips, shushing him. His eyes widen, darken even more, and then look almost dangerous again. Filing his reaction away for later, you saunter over to where he left his cupcake from before, making sure to sway your hips for him. "I know I don't owe you."

You turn around with the cupcake held right in the palm of your hand. "I would be happy to give you whatever you want." He seems almost dazed as he approaches you, leaning down to your hand. With a nod from you, he leans forward and licks through the icing, holding eye contact the whole time.

Your heartbeat stutters and you almost forget where you were again. Damn him and his tongue now, too. Taking a shuddering breath, you finish your thought. "But we are both at work, unfortunately." His eyes fall and he pouts. It's almost adorable to see the serious, dangerous man so...cute??

"Luckily for you..." His eyes perk up instantly. You roll your eyes and your free hand points to the ground. "Down, boy."

He licks his lips in response.

"L-luckily for you, I was just thinking about leaving the rest of the icing for tomorrow." He relaxes his pose and plucks the cupcake from your hand, happily moving to sit at a chair and gesturing for you to do your cleanup.

You begin, only to stop when you hear his voice again. "Sweetness...how long would it take you to make another batch of icing?" Connecting what he means when you notice his eyes staring at the current bag of icing resting on the counter, you pick up the pace even more.

He giggles, actually giggles, at your haste before he bites into the cupcake. "You know I have an appetite for sweet things."

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Idk if this was great or not lol. No beta, no proof readers, barely any hint of a story line, just vibes. Also this is very "he would not say that" but let me live within my delusions. Victor Zsasz could like a sweet, plus size girl in MY French vanilla fantasy.

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beyworld101 · 6 hours ago

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Dropping in a last minute Valentine's request bc l can't get this idea out of my head:

Gotham Zsasz with the same s/o from my last ask. Instead of an adrenaline-filled high-stakes back and forth kinda deal they have going on, they're sitting alone on a secluded rooftop. They finally have the chance to talk and just enjoy each other’s company in a softer context, especially since neither of them are really soft or emotional people

"Rooftop Musings" Gotham Zsasz X Reader Valentine's Day Date (Valentine's Day Event 2025)

Aw, but no one is immune to soft emotional moments. Not even Zsasz. This is for the (Now over) Valentine's Day Event!

TW: none

The night had been shockingly quiet. Work for the two of you had thinned the last few days- Even as you thrived in the violence of Gotham, it was a welcome break. You'd asked him to meet you on the rooftop of your apartment complex. It was empty on a night like this. The only noise was the hum of the city below. A breeze licked at your cheeks as you leaned your body against the fence-like barrier surrounding the top. Your eyes closed to take in the sensation.

The smell of his cologne, mixed with gunpowder and god-knows-what-else, told you he was there before you opened your eyes again. He leaned next to you, looking down at the lights. He smiled as he looked you over.

Victor stretched, "Here I thought when you invited me over, it was for the sheets tango."

"As tempting as that is... I was looking for a change of pace." You gave him a look, then thought on it, "...Is that alright?"

"I get to just talk and spend time with my favorite person?" Victor seemed to think on it for a moment, "Yeah, I guess."

"I'm your favorite?" You asked incredulously.

He snorted, "What, you thought it was Oswald? You're... You know the guns I like. The foods I like to eat. We watch movies on my couch, even when you hate them. I've held your hair back when you puked that one time-"

"I got food poisoning-" You interrupted.

"Yeah. And I did it." He pointed out. Now he was the one giving you a look. As if it was just so obvious.

There was a compulsive grin that crept on your face despite trying to keep your poker face, "You did."

You'd been sick as a dog, cancelling your date late minute when you couldn't leave the bathroom. Victor had come by anyways. He practically pushed himself in despite your pleas of the house being dirty and you feeling disgusting. For hours, he sat by you, telling you about himself, his scars, his latest job as you shuddered under a blanket. None of it seemed to phase him.

It was the first time he'd seen you vulnerable.

"I think you've always been my favorite." He said softly. If you asked him to delve further, you were certain you'd just get a vague answer. Better to let it sit.

"Maybe after then- I think that was when I started to really like you." You were honest. Who wouldn't like a person who did that for them?

"...You're cute." Victor said in a teasing tone.

You couldn't help how your eyes rolled. There was something about the way he spoke to you. It was completely genuine, there was no doubt about it. Lines you may have heard from others trying to get on your good side dozens of times- He meant them. Just as the scars on his body spoke of who he was, he laid himself bare for you to see.

A car honking below broke your focus. The lights of nearby Wayne Tower glittered in the night sky like the stars themselves.

"It's nice up here." He murmurs, "You see everything."

"I always liked the view from rooftops for that reason." Your voice was monotone, relaxed and not masking, "It's like the whole world is at your feet. All their lives, not knowing what's coming next."

There was a pause between the two of you. You bundled your coat closer to your skin as your eyes flicked to him. He stared, taking in your features.

"What?" A heat climbed up your neck.

He scooted his body closer to yours, "...I love you, you know that?"

It caught you off guard. You made an utterance, but it wasn't a word that actually came out. Your mouth closed. There were feelings of love and affection between the two of you in the time you'd been dating. And yet, this was the first time either of you had verbalized it out loud.

It made you feel... something.

"You know what that means, right?" You asked. That familiar sense of wariness and paranoia dug into your stomach. It didn't show on your face.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around you, "That I want you to love me." He said it quietly, as if it was a secret just between the two of you.

Even as the words he wanted burned on your tongue, you spoke on, "People will try to use us against one another. If they trap one of us, will the other crumble? We become an even bigger target for the up and coming in this city." No one is immune from getting caught. Even as good as they are.

His expression is difficult to read, "Then we kill anyone who tries. Everyone down there... if it meant all of them had to be gone just for you and me..." He shrugs.

It was strange sometimes, how he could say something so intense in such a matter of fact tone. Victor wrapped an arm around you as he sensed your hesitation.

You felt your shoulders relax, "...I love you, too."

Softly, you curved into his touch and kissed his cheek. A smile played on your face, small but genuine. People on the outside could see everything else. The fashion, the blood, the sexual tension- These moments were yours. In some ways it made your coupling stronger. It kept everyone else guessing and on the edge.

Victor knew you were right. You typically were about these sort of things. But the two of you were going to take it head on. Mercy on anyone who tried to get between.

Conversations lingered and lasted until the sun began to peak over the horizon. You offered to make Victor breakfast before collapsing into your bed to sleep.

His response was swift, "I'd follow you anywhere."

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beyworld101 · 6 hours ago

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hello! may i please request a hurt to comfort oneshot of Victor meeting the reader for the first time? he's just out on the town post-job, getting a milkshake or smth and sees reader in a really nice, pretty outfit crying quietly alone on a bench. for whatever reason, he goes up to them and asks why they're crying and they explain that it's their first birthday party ever and all their friends cancelled/ghosted on them.

i'm in a similar situation where i'm about to have my first birthday party ever and i'm really nervous that something is gonna happen. every other time i've tried, something comes up and people either cancel on me or just ghost me complately :,)

Birthday Wishes

Victor Zsasz x Reader

Summary: Victor finds Reader alone on their birthday.

Warnings: Reader being called "pretty," mentions of bad friends

Word Count: 1,018

A/N: Happy, happy birthday <3 I wish you the best day and hope that things were different this time. P.S. I wrote this in a sleep deprived stupor, so I hope this all came out to your liking still :)

Victor literally never catches a break. And honestly, he liked it that way.

He's spent so much of his life "working" that he doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not assigned a hit. And this is clearly why he found himself walking the busy streets of Gotham with a half melted vanilla shake in his hand.

Isn't this what the normal people do when they're off work? Not that Victor has ever been normal, but he is currently trying to find any way to keep his mind off of the fact that he isn't working.

Honestly, not having someone to kill was more stressful than the opposite. If he's not killing, then what's his purpose?

He looked down at the sad shake in his hand and let out a sigh, feeling conflicted on what to do.

His mind raced with thoughts on tomorrow when he would finally be back to his calling, stalking along the roofs of the tallest buildings with the prettiest views.

He tossed his shake into a nearby trashcan and continued to walk, ignoring the odd glances from those he passed along the street.

Victor kept up his pace and barely noticed how the crowd was beginning to thin out.

The quieter environment was welcomed, but this moment of peace was quickly shaken to the sound of pitiful cries coming from around the corner.

He would have normally relished in this sound, but something about the sobs and sniffles triggered an unfamiliar feeling in Victor's chest: worry.

He poked his head around the corner and saw you curled up on a bench, your face shoved in your hands.

He was quick to notice your elaborate outfit, immediately wondering if this was some type of date gone wrong. But he was quick to shake that thought away. You were much too pretty to have been stood up. At least, that's what he thought. Hell knows he wouldn't have stood someone like you up, hitman or not.

He hesitated for a moment, debating whether talking to you would be a good idea. He wasn't exactly a warm and welcoming sort of person to most, and the last thing he wanted to do was worsen the state you were already in. But at the same time, who cared? He was likely never going to see you again anyways unless your gorgeous self showed up on tomorrow's hit list.

He approached you, his heavy footsteps enough to quiet your crying, your head carefully rising to see who was near.

And the moment his eyes saw yours, he knew he had been right; you were very pretty, and he could almost immediately feel his usual confidence waver ever so slightly at the confirmation.

"What seems to be the matter?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

And to his surprise, you casually rolled your eyes, not even slightly uncomfortable by his looks or presence.

"It's stupid," your voice broke.

You grimaced at how hoarse you sounded, looking away from his gaze quickly.

"I wouldn't consider this stupid," he quickly responded.

He nodded his head to the empty space beside you. You scooted over a bit and allowed him to sit despite still being a stranger to you.

Victor just sat there and watched you for a bit. He was silently hoping you would eventually open up to what was going on. But of course, he wasn't one to pry. In fact, he wasn't one to even engage in a situation like this to begin with.

In a city like Gotham, you were obviously not the first person he came across crying by themselves. But you were certainly the first person to catch his attention.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you spoke up.

"My friends..." you scoffed at yourself. "I can't even call them that anymore. What kind of friends aren't there for your own birthday?" you sniffled.

The realization dawned on him as he took in your words. Well this was even more upsetting of a situation than he had originally planned.

"They canceled?" he asked.

You let out a dry laugh. "Some did. Others weren't even kind enough to send me a text saying they couldn't make it."

You shook your head as you stared into your lap.

"You know, I spent every year of my life not celebrating my birthday because I was scared of this exact thing happening. And of course, the one time I felt confident enough to do it, my nightmare became real. Is there something wrong with me?"

The moment the words left your mouth, your eyes widened, shifting up immediately to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn’t be spewing my trauma on a stranger."

You could already feel your eyes burning with tears again, the sensation making you angry. It was one thing to be pathetically crying on a random bench out in the open, but it was an entirely different thing to be doing this in front of some handsome man.

"Victor," his voice broke you from your thoughts.

You looked back up at him.

"What?"

You were surprised to see him smile softly at you.

"My name is Victor. So now we're not strangers, hmm?"

His smile was contagious as you found your body relaxing at his friendliness.

"(Y/N)," you finally responded after a moment.

"Well, happy birthday, (Y/N)."

Victor began to stand at this, a feeling of disappointment weighing in your chest.

You assumed he was leaving until he paused and looked down at you, his hand reaching out.

"Shall we?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "What-"

"It's your birthday. About time you finally got to celebrate it, hmm?"

A smile broke out on your face as you took his hand, following him away from that lonely bench.

This may not have been how you planned the day going originally, but there was no way you were going to argue with it. If you would have known some handsome man was going to show up and sweep you off your feet, you would have happily cut your "friends" off a lot sooner.

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