#gotham fanfic

[teeramoonlover]

Am I the only one that everytime I read fanfic, I'll imagine the female reader to be a certain person (actress) based on my preference and pov, so here's

𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 '𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬', 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

SCREAM 1996

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Y/N: Krysten Ritter

HOUSE OF WAX

Bo Sinclair

Y/N: Alexis Bledel

HEMLOCK GROVE

Roman Godfrey

Y/N: Kristine Froseth

GOTHAM

Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska

Y/N: Anya Taylor-Joy and Taissa Farmiga

[frost-queen]

Reversed roles (Reader x Jeremiah Valeska)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Reader is Jeremiah's therapist at Arkham. When the roles are reversed it is time for Jeremiah to be in charge and do whatever he likes with you.

“Ah Y/n!” – Jeremiah called out upon seeing you enter the room. You gave him a soft glare as he lowered his enthusiasm. – “Ma’am.”  - he expressed in a deep voice trying to be half funnily. Taking a deep breath you pulled the chair back. Jeremiah came leaning his elbow on the table, resting his knuckles under his chin.

“I’ve missed you doctor.” – he said as you sat down. – “Then you are the first.” – you told him looking for a pen in your pockets. He chuckled with a wide smile. – “Normally people hate therapy.” – you continued taking out a pen. – “I like you doctor.” – he responded all cheeky.

It made you quirk your eyebrow at him. – “This isn’t a playdate Mr. Valeska.” – you reminded him. – “It could be?” – he answered. You looked around the small pale room. – “Very romantic.” – you said sarcastically. Jeremiah leaned back in his chair, moving his hands behind his head. – “We can make it very romantic.” – he suggested glancing down at his own lap.

Almost inviting you over to come over and sit on it. You flashed your eyes down unamused by his attempt. – “Auch doc.” – he outed sounding like a wounded puppy. Exhaling loud you lifted your head back up. – “Shall we begin Mr. Valeska?”

Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders. You clicked your pen with a quick quirk of your brow at his lack of co-operation. – “You keep requesting me here Mr. Valeska. Why if you are not motivated to take on my therapy.” – you said as he snorted loud. – “What you really think talking about my feelings will magically make me sane?” – he laughed it away.

“It could be a start.” – you proposed inviting him to start. Jeremiah lowered his arms, changing his posture in the chair. – “I am more of an actions first type of guy.” – he told you. You hummed intrigued scribbling down as you mumbled out loud enough to him.

“Violent.” – Jeremiah puffed loud at how you were keeping the charade of being his therapy doctor up. It bothered him that you weren’t giving him the attention he wanted from you. There was a reason he kept requesting you for therapy even though he never wanted it.

Manipulating the guards into having a change of heart when it wasn’t the case. They were just foolish enough to buy it. Jeremiah leaned over the table taking your notebook and tossing it behind him. The pages fluttered open before it hit the wall. Dropping down to the floor, some loose pages scattered around.

You leaned a bit to the side to look past him to your notebook. – “You owe me a notebook.” – you spoke. – “You owe me your attention.” – he responded mocking the dull tone in your voice. – “I’m paying you to be here so I get to decide what I do with you.” – he made clear. – “You don’t pay me at all. The asylum does.” – you stated with a sneer driving him wild.

Jeremiah started to clap, applauding you. – “You are one tough one to crack.” – he said with a silly smile on his lips. – “Finally common ground.” – you answered. Jeremiah got up, shoving his chair back. He pressed his hands firm on the steel table. You didn’t even flinch feeling his fierce eyes pierce at you.

You looked back at him with a tiny smile. – “Does my lack of attention make you angry?” – you asked him. He licked his lip brief, turning his head. Clearly bothered that you were spot on. – “I’ll take that as a yes.” – you filled in. He looked back at you with a silly grin. – “I want your attention, all of it.” – he spoke full of mischief.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me.” – he went on straightening his posture. You kept your eyes on him as he slowly moved around the table over to you. – “I want your devoted attention.” – he continued rounding your side. – “What will you have me do?” – you responded intrigued what his intentions with these sessions were.

He set his hands on the bars of your chair, letting the feet scrape over the floor as he turned you in the chair to him. It made you swallow soft, feeling your heart rate slightly pick up. Jeremiah bend down, leaning in closer. – “It’s my turn to tell you what to do doc.” – he said staring hungry at your eyes. – “Is that s…” – you couldn’t finish your sentence as he had grabbed your throat, pushing your head back. His grip caught you off guard, making you blink a few times to process his hand around your throat.

Jeremiah chuckled devious loosening his fingers around your neck. He let his hand slide down your neck to your chest. His eyes following his movement till they landed on your lap. He smiled. – “May I?” – he asked, sitting down without permission. You felt his weight on your thighs. The thumping of your heart beating through your muscles with his pressure. He exhaled loud looking up to the ceiling for a moment. His arms resting on your shoulders. – “Isn’t this nice doc?” – he asked not wanting to hear an answer.

You turned your head to the side, trying not to fall under his spell. It was so clear he was toying with you. Messing you up and manipulating you. He knew damn well how good looking he was. Knowing no woman could resist his charm. His gaze went down on you once more, seeing you were keeping your head away from him. Jeremiah clicked his tongue, grabbing you by your chin.

He swayed his finger in front of you. – “All your attention Y/n.” – he reminded you. He drew himself nearer letting his cheek brush against yours to reach your ear. – “I can do whatever I like with you.” – he whispered making you feel slightly intimidated and strangely attracted to it. – “There will be guards soon.” – you told him. You heard him breath out a chuckle by your ear. – “We still have twenty minutes, doll.” – he said out loud to send a wave of fear over you.

You swallowed nervously knowing he had his grip on you for another twenty minutes now. He moved his head back to look at you. – “Are you frightened?” – he let out. Strangely you weren’t. Shaking your head you let him know. Your gesture seemed to amuse him. – “Very well doll.” – he spoke as his thumb slid down your cheek. – “Now it is my time to give you therapy.” – he paused his thumb on your underlip, flashing his gaze down to it. – “Therapy of insanity.” – he filled in with a hushed voice.

With his thumb he forced your chin down, opening your mouth. Before you could response properly had he pressed his mouth onto yours. Slipping his tongue right in your mouth. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth. His tongue brushed up your upper teeth before he sucked it back in, closing his lips on yours. Kissing your lips roughly. Staining your lips with his sanity. A gentle pull on your hair made you join in. Unable to resist not joining the party. The hotness of his lips demanding your participation. Whatever game he was playing it seemed to affect you. Unable to stay away from it.

What’s wrong with me? You thought as you moved your hands around his neck, grabbing onto the back of his neck. Your chest pressed itself against him taking a bit of control back. Jeremiah released his lips from you with a smirk. – “Somone is eager.” – he teased. – “Shut up and kiss me.” – you demanded pushing his head closer to you. Wanting his hot lips on yours again.

You didn’t have to say that twice as Jeremiah kissed you once more. Blood began to pump harder to your legs as a warmness spread inside of you. What was he doing to you? It was clear he was manipulating you yet you couldn’t stay away from it. Eager to be bound and do his bidding. Whatever he demanded you were willing to give. Surrender fully to him like a lapdog. Lips retracted once more as he smiled touching your cheek with a quick touch.

“Look at you.” – he said noticing the flush in your cheeks. You were panting, ushering your chest closer to him yearning for more. He had you right where he wanted you and you didn’t care. He removed himself from your lap as it pulsated strong. He went back around the table to the wall. Bending down to pick up your notebook. – “Can’t have you leaving without this.” – he said casually as if he just hadn’t kissed you till you saw stars.

He placed the notebook on the table, sliding it over to you. – “Next week same time?” – he asked as you could only nod. – “Good girl.” – he said going round the table again. He went to the door, knocking loudly at it. There he waited for the guards to open up. With one hand in his pocket was he waiting.

As if he had been the therapist ending the session and you the patient. The door opened as the guards were surprised to see him. They cuffed him once more. Before they walked off with him, had he turned around to you. – “I enjoyed this session. Very progressive for my well-being.” – he teased striking you with a wink.

The guards took him with them as you were left alone. You needed at least a few more moments to recollect yourself. The smell of his insanity still lingering on you. You laughed loud trying to cope with the fact that he has you under his thumb now. Grabbing your notebook you took your leave. Anticipating the next session where you no longer cared what he would do to you. As long as it made you feel wanted by him that was enough.

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

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[penmansparadise]

Ed Nygma ~ The Set Up

Pairing: Ed Nygma x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Hello!  It's been quite some time since I've posted and written.  I have been recently watching Gotham, and I'm obsessed.  This is the first time I've ever dabbled in the DC realm, so please go easy on me.  This will hopefully be the first of several one shots for the show Gotham.  Please do not be afraid to send in a request but do know that I am only at the beginning of Season 3, so who I write for may be limited.  But if you like this one, please send in a request for another!  I hope you all enjoy

§

The sound of your shoes against the tile floor mixed with the hustle and bustle of the GCPD. You moved around officers hauling in criminals screaming for justice as you made your way to your little corner of the building. You hadn’t been working at the GCPD for long. In fact, you were happy where you were previously employed. You would have stayed there forever had a former employee, who was now caged up in Arkham, not decided to torch the place. So, when you found yourself out of a job, you did what any ordinary distraught adult would do. You called your best friend and scheduled a date for some much-needed wine therapy. Unfortunately for you, your best friend was hanging out with her close buddy, Kristen Kringle, when said call was made.

You had only met Kristen a handful of times and were not a fan. She always struck you as shallow. Every time you spent time with her, she would only ever talk about how much she hated her job but enjoyed all the male attention from the officers. So, naturally, when your best friend told you that Kristen could get you a job as her assistant at the GCPD, you were a little skeptical. But, since your options were limited, you reluctantly accepted and eventually found yourself being Kristen’s own personal servant.

You hurried through the building until you came upon the Record’s Room door. Just as you were about to enter, the trill of Kristen’s giggle filled your ears, causing you to pause. You peeked around the corner to find Officer Dougherty trailing his fingers up and down Kristen’s arm. His head was angled down as he whispered something into her ear, earning another laugh. You rolled your eyes before turning on your heel with a huff and headed toward the M.E.’s office. When you entered the room, it was empty. Lee always ran a bit late, but you knew she wouldn’t mind if you hid in her office. She was used to it by now.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and began aimlessly walking around the room. Vials of odd-colored liquids were chilling in a refrigerator, and several medical tools were lined on the table in the middle of the room. You meandered over to the lone skeleton in the corner and began lifting up its limp arms. You gave them a light shake causing the whole thing to rattle when the door opened.

“Making friends over there?” Lee asked.

You dropped the arms and let out a little chuckle.

“I couldn’t help myself. He looked a little bonely.”

“Not a pun this early in the morning, Y/N” Lee groaned.

You just smiled as you moved to plop down into her roller chair. As you watched Lee set up for the day, you began slowly spinning the chair. She sent you a glance over her shoulder.

“Kristen has company again?”

You scoffed and said, “Officer Dougherty, now.”

“She sure moved on quickly from Flass.”

With every spin, you briefly looked at Lee and said, “Don’t even get me started.”

Lee let out a breathy laugh and then continued to move around the room. You were spinning in silence when the door opened again, and none other than Ed Nygma entered. You slammed your feet down in an attempt to stop the spinning and nearly sent yourself flying from the chair. A bright smile spread across Ed’s face the second your eyes locked with his.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi, Ed,” you said, his name coming out like a secret you didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I thought I might find you here.”

You and Ed hit it off immediately, which inevitably meant that your crush for him blossomed rather quickly. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was your first day on the job, and Kristen had delegated sorting to you. So, you were crouched behind the filing cabinets going through shelves of folders, when Ed walked into the Record’s Room. You didn’t see him right away. You could only hear was his chipper and smooth voice as he greeted Kristen.

“Though my beauty is becoming,” he said, his smile seeping into every word, “I can hurt you just the same; I come in many colors; I am what I am by any other name. What am I?”

Kristen groaned.

“Mr. Nygma, I’m really not in the mood for one of your little riddles.”

“Do you give up?” Ed had asked, not even caring about Kristen’s hostile tone.

You could hear her huff before she said, “Yeah, I give up.”

You didn’t even know him yet, but for some reason, the way Kristen was treating him was pissing you off. Maybe that’s what possessed you to answer his riddle when he began to give the answer.

“I’m a–”

“Rose,” you said as you stood up, revealing yourself.

His eyes snapped to you, and you took a sharp breath. He was cuter than he sounded. Tall with hair combed almost systematically and eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. And when he directed his smile toward you, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He pulled a rose you didn’t see him holding from behind his back and handed it to you.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

You took the rose from him, your fingers just barely grazing his velvety skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of your face, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, extending his hand to you. “I’m Ed Nygma.”

You placed your hand in his large palm and couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

The corners of his lips curled upward as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

He held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary before finally taking his exit. You were frozen in time as your body reacted to him even though he was no longer in the room. You could barely hear when Kristen began to whine about how Ed was the guy she told your best friend about who wouldn’t leave her alone. Her voice became a hum as you stared at the rose Ed gave you, and all you could think was that you were glad Kristen didn’t like him because you did. A lot.

That was six months ago. And ever since that first meeting, Ed would visit you every morning and give you a riddle. His daily ritual only furthered your feelings for him. As the months rolled on, you did your best to conceal your emotions, but it seemed that everyone knew of your ever-growing crush. Of course, that was everyone but Ed.

You sat up a little straighter in your chair as you waited for Ed to deliver his daily riddle.

“When you stop to look, you can always see me. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?”

You began nibbling on your lower lip as you tried to work through the riddle, whispering to yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as you brought your hand to your chin.

“Do you give up?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You waved your hands at him as you let out a string of “no’s,” but after a few more minutes of nothing, you finally let out a defeated huff.

“I give up. What is it?”

Ed’s grin grew, then he said, “The horizon.”

You threw your head back and groaned earning a laugh from Ed.

“I should’ve gotten that one!” You shouted. “That was a good riddle. Right, Lee?”

Lee hummed in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Ed gave her a nod and said, “Good morning, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Ed,” Lee began with a gentle smile, “please just call me Lee.”

“Right. My apologies, Lee.”

He turned back to you, and your heart jumped in your chest. Even after all these months, you were still unable to figure out how he had such an effect on you. Ed just existing made you melt. You couldn’t help but think what would happen if he ever got his hands on you. Your bottom lip slid between your teeth at the thought.

“Well,” Ed said, pulling you back to reality, “I better head out. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, Miss Y/L/N.”

You nodded and let out a weak “Okay,” before Ed turned and began walking toward the door. As he went to leave, you looked at Lee, who mouthed, “Say something,” to which you quickly shook your head. Lee rolled her eyes, and just before the door shut behind Ed, she called out to him. At first, the door remained shut, but when it slowly opened again, your heart sank. You tried to control the way your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you watched Lee, but you knew how you were feeling was written all over your face. Ed reentered the room and looked between the two of you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his innocence doing something to your insides.

“No, of course not!” Lee said, moving toward him. “No, um, I was just thinking about our conversation we had a while back about cooking. Do you remember that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you sent Lee a look, but she ignored you. Ed nodded.

“Y-yes, I do.”

Lee smiled, and to the normal eye, it may have looked endearing. But to you, a close friend, you knew she was scheming.

“I remember you mentioned how you loved to cook and would like to have a double date with Jim and me.”

Your spine straightened, and you began to stand from your chair.

“Lee…”

“I was just wondering if you were free tonight?” Lee asked, ignoring your protest.

Ed’s eyes flitted from Lee’s to yours and back. His cheeks began to redden as he dropped his head and absentmindedly fixed his glasses.

“Oh,” he began, “um, I-I am free, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold up my end of the whole double date thing. I, uh, I don’t have a date.”

Lee’s gaze snapped to yours briefly before saying, “Just bring Y/N!”

Your whole body was tense, and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Lee,” you said, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room.

“I’m sure she has no plans.”

“Lee!” You barked, finally gaining her attention.

You gave her a look, but when Ed turned to face you, you did your best to look as if you weren’t about to pass out or commit murder. He began to fidget with his glasses again and avoided your stare as he said, “I, uh, if you’re free, um, would you like to maybe join us for dinner, Miss Y/L/N?”

When his stare finally met yours, you could see the vulnerability deep in his eyes. You looked at Lee briefly before nodding.

“I’d love to, Ed,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You could almost see the tension leave his body as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Fantastic. How does seven sound?”

Lee clapped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and said, “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you later.”

A grin spread across Ed’s face before he gave a curt nod and exited once more. And as soon as the door shut behind him, you turned to Lee, who looked smug.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, but Lee didn’t care. She just looked at you and crossed her arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said, causing your jaw to drop, but before you could argue, she held her hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear why you think what I did was wrong. Now, you better head to records before someone starts looking for you.”

You stood frozen with your mouth agape for another moment before finally letting out a groan and grabbing your bag from the floor.

“This isn’t over!” You shouted as you showed yourself out, and just as the door was shutting, you could hear Lee’s chuckle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your mind was elsewhere. A thousand scenarios were running through your head. What if Ed called you and told you that he actually found a date and didn’t want you to show up? What if he didn’t call and you got to his place only to see some other woman? Your stomach rolled at the thought. Even though you were excited to finally have an unofficial date with Ed, you couldn’t help the way your heart was trying to run away from you.

By the time your shift ended, it felt like you had aged fifteen years. You had been stressing for eight hours, and the evening hadn’t even begun yet. Kristen had already left by the time you gathered your things and began to make your way to the exit. You were digging through your bag when you ran into someone. When you looked up to apologize, you saw Lee and Jim.

“Oh! I’m so glad I ran into you,” Lee said with that same sneaky smile from earlier.

The hairs on the back of your neck stuck up as you asked, “Why?”

Lee let out a sigh.

“We won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” She placed a hand on Jim’s back and gave a small pout. “Poor Jim here has come down with a stomach bug.”

You looked at Jim, who was avoiding your stare, and your eyes narrowed.

“He looks fine.”

Lee elbowed him in the side, and Jim slowly brought his closed fist up to his mouth before giving a cough. You furrowed your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh.

“Did you just fake cough?”

Jim shuffled his feet a bit then, in the most monotonous tone, said, “I have been instructed to get bed rest…doctor’s orders.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at Lee.

“Is he being serious?”

Lee just gave a bashful grin and a shrug before turning to usher Jim out of the precinct.

“Hey!” You shouted after them, but they didn’t turn around, and soon you were standing alone in the bullpen.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered through gritted teeth as you exited the building and made your way to your vehicle.

It was as if you were on autopilot as you drove home. And when you finally arrived at your apartment, you could barely focus on getting ready for the evening. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. You and Ed had never been alone together before. In fact, you never spent any time together outside of work. Here and there, you would talk on the phone, sometimes even late into the evening, but you had never been on a date. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially now that Lee and Jim wouldn’t be there as a buffer. But even though Lee had set you up and you were nervous, maybe even scared, you still drove to Ed’s apartment at seven. You hiked up the stairs until you were staring at his cold metal front door. Your hands were shaking, and you turned to look at the steps that would lead you right back to the comfort of your car. You could have easily just gone back home and blamed your absence on a headache or your nonexistent sick goldfish. But you didn’t. Instead, you raised your shaky hand and knocked on Ed’s door.

It took him a moment to get to the door, but when it slid open, and you saw him, your heart fluttered in your chest. His normally well-manicured hair was a little disheveled, only making him even more attractive. A bright smile split across his face.

“You came,” he said as he opened the door even further to allow you to enter.

You walked in and were immediately blanketed with a decadent smell emanating from the kitchen, and something that reminded you of clean linen. Your eyes shut for a minute as you took a deep breath. You only opened them again when you heard Ed shut the door and ask, “Do you know when Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon will be joining us?”

You let out a sigh and made a mental note to maim Lee when you saw her at work again.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and turned to face Ed,” they’re actually not coming.”

“Oh?”

With that simple sentence, you could see the anxiety seep into Ed’s demeanor.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “Jim wasn’t feeling well.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a moment as Ed stared and processed what you said. His stare was glued to the floor, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea until he lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet yours and gave you his award-winning smile.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be the two of us then.”

Before you could say anything in return, he hustled past you and entered the kitchen, resuming his work on setting the plates.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

You took in the apartment as you leisurely made your way toward the table. It was rather small, but everything about it screamed “Ed.” His decor was modern and simple, and there wasn’t one thing out of place. From the books sitting on his bookshelf to the vinyl he had stacked next to his record player, everything had its own spot.

When you finally made it to the table, Ed had just placed two perfectly crafted plates of food down. He pulled your chair out for you, and when you were seated, he took his place across from you. The food looked just as good as it smelt. You honestly weren’t expecting anything special but were pleasantly surprised when you took your first bite. Several flavors danced on your tongue, and you had to hold back a moan.

“Ed,” you said a little too breathy, “this tastes amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A pleased grin pulled at Ed’s lips, and he shrugged.

“Cooking is like a science, is it not?”

You gave a small chuckle before diving back into your plate. The rest of the meal went by in silence. You were too immersed in your food to even bother starting a conversation. But the way Ed’s foot tapped incessantly under the table did not go unnoticed. And when you both finished, Ed nearly jumped from his seat to gather all the dishes and begin cleaning. You followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Neither of you spoke as you worked. But you could see a slight shake in Ed’s typically steady hands as he washed the plates. You noticed how every few seconds, he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, despite them not needing to be adjusted. You saw how his shoulders were just slightly more tense than usual. How could you not notice? For six months, you had cataloged everything about Ed and stowed it away in your mind. You knew everything about him, even if you tried to deny it. And as badly as you wanted to convince yourself that the evening was going well, you knew that Ed had been acting different since you had arrived.

When the kitchen was cleaned, you hung the dish towel to dry and leaned against the counter opposite Ed. His eyes never met yours, but your gaze was trained on his fidgeting figure. His hair was even more tousled than before, showcasing the beginnings of a few curls. Your fingers itched to brush them back off his forehead, but you didn’t dare move. And you knew the easy thing to do would be to just grab your things and say goodnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “Ed, is everything alright?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours, and his forehead creased at your question.

“W-what do you mean?”

You threw your hands in the air and let out a small grunt.

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all night.”

You watched as Ed swallowed as you continued.

“Usually, things aren’t so…tense between us,” you said to your shoes. Then you raised your eyes to meet his again. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ed’s face immediately softened at your question, and he closed the distance between the two of you. He took your hands in his as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s, uh,” he dropped his hold on you and began to pace.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered more to himself than you.

You furrowed your brow at him and tried to place your hand on his arm, but he was moving too erratically for you to touch him.

“Do what?” You asked, causing him to stop in front of you.

Ed took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, focusing his stare on you.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ed,” you said, “just call me Y/N.”

He shook his head and readjusted his glasses once more.

“Right. Y/N.”

He looked at you again.

“I, uh, for a long time, um, oh geez.”

You watched as his mouth opened and closed several times before he balled up his fists, pressed them to his eyes, and let out a high-pitched whine.

“Ed,” you began, taking a step closer to him, “are you o–”

Suddenly, Ed’s hands dropped, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express but the easiest to ignore.”

He took a deep breath and slowly inched toward you as he continued.

“I can be given to many or just one.”

His shaky and slender fingers traced down your arm sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

“What am I?” He asked, voice so low it was barely above a whisper.

Your mind was a muddle. There was no way you could think of an answer with his fingers brushing against yours and his heart clearly exposed. You shook your head, and Ed asked, “Do you give up?”

You gave a weak nod. Ed dropped your gaze for a brief moment before looking back at you and saying, “Love.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his answer, and your heart pounded against your chest. Ed laced his fingers together with yours.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the first time I met you.”

Every part of you was buzzing from his admission. You had been waiting months for him to show you any sign that he felt the same way you did. When he didn’t, you began to think your feelings were one-sided. But here he was, standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding your hand, professing his love for you. Your knees felt like they were about to give out, and all the oxygen escaped your lungs. When you didn’t say anything right away, Ed started fidgeting again. He released your hand and began tapping his glasses.

“Oh, great,” he said to the floor, “Now you’re uncomfortable, and I just ruined the only real friendship I have. Way to go, Ed. You–“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, you took his face between your hands and slammed your lips to his. He was stiff at first, but it only took a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His large hands gripped the fabric against your back, and you didn’t waste any time letting your hands thread through his hair. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The way Ed’s lips moved in sync with yours felt unhurried. The way the heat bubbling in your gut slowly seeped throughout the rest of your body felt like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after being out in a winter storm all day. It was everything you had imagined and more.

When you finally pulled back for air, you brought your eyes up to meet Ed’s and whispered, “I’m in love with you too, Ed.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

You just nodded, earning a small laugh from Ed before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the evening, you and Ed sat cuddled up on his couch, listening to his array of records while you made a mental note to not maim Lee but rather figure out how you could ever thank her for setting you and Ed up.  

*I do not own gif* *Credit to gif owner*

[fangirl--writes]

Jerome Valeska x Reader Drabble

Authors' Note: Little drabble based on this video: here.

It made me cackle.

________________________

You tiptoed down the hall the padding of your fuzzy socks absorbed your step as you snuck to the bathroom.

A sing song sort whistle  floated in your ears your grip on the pitcher tightened.  You almost felt bad…He was singing now at the top of his lungs, off key… your boyfriend was lost in his own world in the shower.

Too Perfect.

You could barely contain  the shit eating   smirk that started to overtake your face he was so in for it.

He, being Jerome Valeska, your boyfriend who had just  “returned” from a very brief stay in Arkham Asylum just last night bragging about his new record for shortest visit yet.

His ginger locks were a mess face full of grime and sweat and he smelled like a dumpster fire by the docks. Yet his ever present grin was there as he slung his arms around your shoulder nuzzling  in to kiss your cheek feverishly.

His hands sneakily drifted lower and lower stopping to squeeze your sides eliciting a squeak of surprise  before going to play with the zipper on your pants.

You shivered dropping your dish in the sink as his rough lips went down to work your neck starting to suck the tender spots in your nape.

“J..jer..ome~” you whined with a flushed face trying to wriggle free from his iron grasp. “you were only gone a few days..“

With a twist you slipped under his arm grabbing the counter corner for support.

“Ah but honey I just missed ya’ so much.” He stalked forward with his arms outstretched intent to wrap you up in his chest again. You recognized the haughty glint in his dark eyes swirling as he approached in your small kitchen.

Then it hit you again; the smell of low tide, wet dog and trash that REALLY needed to go out.

Your shoulders shook as you gagged.

“Sir. …No. No sir when was the last time you showered?” You retched holding a spoon out in defense.

At this the red head froze you could see  the hamster wheel working overtime  behind his eyes.

“Listen. You take a shower or a bath I’m not picky. Then we’ll talk.”

Needless to say he slept on the couch that night much to your dismay, you were going to have to deep clean the next afternoon .

The scream was abysmal, high pitched squeal of surprise that if you didn’t know any better was from a young child and not your manic red head who laughed in the face of death.

Your low snicker erupted into a fit of laughter your shoulders shaking  as you pulled the pitcher back stepping down from the stool you’d carefully hidden away earlier just for the occasion.

Your face flushed  rich crimson hues as you held your aching side hearing Jerome curse and squirm at the temperature change.

Payback

“AH Ah you little shit-“  Jerome growled acknowledging you directly his hand ripping back the shower curtain enough to peak out to reveal you red faced and howling.

With a quick breathe you poked your tongue out flashing a grin to match before  quickly turning to run  fully expectant to get away in victory until you felt the sudden pull of his soaking strong arms on the back of your damp shirt.

The pitcher fumbled from your hands hitting the floor as you shrieked “nA-NYOOOOOOOO” you grasped weakly at the counter top in attempt to save yourself from a watery grave.  

The edge slipped out from your fingers as a soaking wet hand wrapped around your middle further drenching you as he pulled you back into the shower still laughing like a maniac.

A wicked grin lined his lips his brows arched as he cackled at your poor misfortune-

“C’mere you..”  You heard him tease as your whole body fell back into his waiting arms.  Between abrupt giggles you squeaked feeling a tickle on your ribs. “NyOOO- No NO JEROWME.”

Escape was futile.

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[engayging-in-fandom]

made them too horny???

"Edward used the eyeliner as precisely as he used a knife when carving into someone’s skin, the only difference was this was paint, not blood. Dear God, was there a difference?"

[ficklefics]

It would be fun for you to write a long lists of what you love vs what you hate when it comes to Jerome Valeska fanfictions and why you feel that way 🤪

is this ask from last summer? yes. am i only answering it now? also yes. hopefully the asker still follows me.

please remember that these are all just my opinions and it’s totally fine to disagree. a lot of it comes down to the characterisation of Jerome, which I feel a lot of writers oversimplify

let’s start with what I don’t like (cause that’s easier):

one of my biggest frustrations are fics where it’s like “reader is a high school student/nurse at arkham/police officer who is actually super insane except shows no sign of that at all ever”. can they be done well? sure. but I rarely see it. one fic that I read years ago had the reader as one of the cheerleaders on the bus in s2ep2 and she hands Jerome a lighter because… why? never really clear. in general, the ordinary person who is actually the perfect type of insane for Jerome to be interested in as opposed to just killing is rarely done right for me

I hate when Jerome in a fic is poorly characterised. by that, I mean just behaving sporadically in a “the writer doesn’t know what they’re doing way” as opposed to “he’s insane”. it’s a difficult line to walk

now, don’t get me wrong. i like a lil smut. well written smut. but it’s difficult to write Jerome smut well. a very core element of his character, established very early, is the fact that his mother’s sexual activity defos traumatised him and was key in pushing him over the edge. a Jerome who’s just banging left right and centre isn’t a Jerome that’s in character for me

now onto the likes (a lot of which are just the inverses of the dislikes):

the best thing a writer can do (for me) is have a clear idea of who Jerome is in their mind and in their fic. like I said above, there are lots of different ways to portray Jerome, and it’s not my place to tell people what’s right or wrong. I’d much rather read a consistent Jerome that isn’t how I imagine him than a wibbly wobbly noncommittal Jerome

in a similar vein, fics where Jerome is actually a bad person who does bad things. commit crime! relish in people’s suffering! but do them in interesting ways.

I love a fic where we get of vulnerable Jerome. not every fic needs this, but depending on the context i really enjoy getting to see writers interpretations of what that looks like, especially given that we don’t get any of it in the show really

again, these are all just my own thoughts. there’s a lot of nuance and a lot of fics out there. stuff I used to love I hate now, and stuff I once hated… I usually still hate tbh. read the fics you love and write the fics that make you happy

[horrorlove14]

The Cat's Out of The Bag - Gotham

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/ Scarecrow x Female! Reader

Warning(s): Just Gerald being a jerk, brief mention of death and hospitalisation

Thank you for your request, @poppunkandchill , and I do apologise for taking so long due to my busy work schedule and life

Poor Jonathan is forced to keep his relationship with you, his beloved girlfriend of over a year, a secret from his father because he fears that he would use you for his experiments to test out his fear serums and observe you like a wild animal.

You understand his concerns and agreed to keep the relationship a secret from his father after hearing stories about him, which weren't pretty ever since his mother's untimely passing from a fire.

Luckily, your family approves of your relationship with Jonathan because they can see that he's a sweet boy with good manners and knows that he doesn't act like his father.

One day, you and Jonathan were just hanging in his living room, cuddled up together on the sofa, watching TV and basking in the moment. After the movie, you received a text from one of your parents telling you to return home for dinner.

Before you leave, Jonathan gives her a sweet kiss on your lips before you leave his home, completely unaware that his father had watched the whole thing like a silent hawk, seething with rage in his eyes.

Needless to say, the two ended up in a nasty conflict where Gerald is upset that his only son went behind his back to get himself a girlfriend and insults you and said that you don't deserve him in a cruel tone of voice.

Jonathan defends you by screaming at him that you're the best that happened to him and wishes that he would rather be with you and your family instead where he is now.

Needless to say, Gerald tackled his poor son to the ground in a fit of rage before pulling out a syringe containing the fear serum and injecting it into him. He watches Jonathan experience the side effects where he is dealing with his worst fears, and Gerald has him hospitalised as a result.

A week later

You haven't heard back from Jonathan and are growing concerned until you suddenly get a phone call from the local hospital and hear his voice begging you to come visit him.

You rushed yourself to the hospital with all sorts of thoughts running through your head, wondering what happened to him and what led to his hospitalisation. Once you've made it to his hospital room, you had to catch your breath after all that running before settling down onto a chair next to his bedside.

Poor Jonathan held onto your hand so tightly that you thought he might have crushed it by accident. You do your best to calm him down by gently drawing shapes with your fingers from your other hand which has managed to calm him down for a bit.

Eventually, he tells you what happened with his father, and the reason led up to where he is now. You can't help but feel guilty that your sweet boyfriend is in the hospital because of you, which has enraged his father to harm him with his sick experiments.

Jonathan reassures you that it's not your fault and that it is bound to happen at some time during the relationship. It feels like ages since you've arrived until a nurse comes in to tell you that visiting hours is over.

You reassure him that you'll visit him again soon and you give him a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room to make your way back home as you must have worried your family when you ran out of your house after getting the phone call.

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

End of story. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated. Thank you, @poppunkandchill , again for requesting me.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

give me your thoughts x the gif isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

warning - angst

You watch as Alfred is distracted by Selina’s mum, you don’t know her name, nor do you care. You sip your wine, and your gaze moves over to your brother Bruce, and you see he’s already staring at you with sad eyes, Selina as well. You give them a small smile, feeling as though you’ll break if you try and widen them even more. You clear your throat before getting up, looking at everyone with a fake smile. “Well, I’m off to bed. I hope everyone has a good night.” You grab your glass and bid everyone goodnight before walking off to your bedroom, and you turn the light on. You blink the tears away before heading to your bathroom. You set your glass down and turn the taps on for the bath, and begin to undress.

You strip from your tight clothes, grab your glass of wine and slide down into the boiling water. You sigh and lean your head back, closing your eyes and relaxing. You sip the liquid and rub your forehead with the other hand. Your thoughts were racing. All you could think about was Alfred, causing a headache to form. Your hand moves down, and you run it through the bubbles. You try and let everything go.

You hear footsteps heading toward the bathroom, followed by a knock. You hum a ‘yeah’, and Alfred steps through, his eyes cast somewhere other than the bathtub. “Is there anything you need, miss?”

Your eyes drift up and down his figure, “No, I’m fine, Alfred. Thank you, you may take some time off for the night.” You give him a soft smile as his eyes meet yours before you cast your eyes to face the wall before you, feeling it hurt too much to look at him.

“Very well, and thank you, miss. Goodnight.” He nods, giving you a smile before heading out of the bathroom. He hears you whisper a soft, “Goodnight, Alfred.” Before he closes the door and waits there for a second, he hears a small sob escape your lips, and he desperately wants to open the door and scoop you up into his arms, but he finds that thought and action inappropriate. You’re younger than him, and you’re also his boss. Alfred walks away with so much restraint.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[nygmcbblepot]

First Day 

Edward Nygma x FEM!Reader

Warnings: Nothing! Just fluff :)

It was your first day working for the GCPD. You were working as a record keeper because you were in need of a job and the woman that you were filling in for mysteriously disappeared. When you arrived, you walked into Captain Nathaniel Barnes’ office; He was supposed to show you around and have you meet some of your new coworkers. Your first stop was meeting James Gordon and Harvey Bullock. 

“You must be the girl filling in for Kristen. Harvey, Harvey Bullock,” The man said sticking out his hand. You took his hand and gave him a firm shake.

“I’m Y/N L/N. Im assuming that you’re Jim then,” you ask turning to Jim,” I’ve heard many good things about you.” You shook his hand before Barnes interrupted.

“We should go. We still have to show her where she’ll be working.”

You smiled at the two men in front of you. “It was nice to meet you both!”

 Barnes cut in front of you so you were able to follow behind him. He decided to skip over some of the other cops because he figured you’d meet them at some point while working. He was able give you a tour of the entire building other than the forensics lab. You figured that it was because maybe the forensic tech was busy or that they weren’t there but you got to meet Leslie Thompkins,the M.E, and saw a shadow of a man walking across the forensic lab. 

The final stop was in the annex with all of the files where you will be working. Barnes gave you a list of tasks to do and left you be. You figured that because it was your first day, they would take it easy on you. The first task on the written list wrote,”Reorganize the files. Do NOT let the forensics guy reorganize the files.” It was confusing about why to not let the said man reorganize the files. You started with the filing cabinet closest to you. The files were completely out of alphabetical order. It was going to take a lot longer than you thought. You took each of the files out from that cabinet and set them on the floor, carefully putting each in alphabetical order. To keep everything organized, you wrote each of the letters that the last names begun with on a post it note and set them on top of the files; The “A” last names with the “A” post it. Once you finished sorting out the files on the floor from the first cabinet, you started putting the “A” last names in the first cabinet in alphabetical order. You were so focused that you didn’t even hear the door opening and closing behind you. 

“Hello,” a soft male voice said from behind you, startling you a tad bit. “Whoopsies, didn’t mean to startle you!”You looked at the tall man standing by the door. He wasn’t one of the men that you had seen when taking the tour. He was tall and slender with dark brown hair. “What belongs to you but others use it more than you?” 

“Your name,” you answered proud that you knew the answer. You enjoyed riddles though you weren’t the best at solving them. 

“Correct,” he said pushing up his glasses with his finger, “Im Edward Nygma! I’m the forensic scientist. You are?”

“Y/N L/N! It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Nygma,” you shook his hand. 

“I see that you’re organizing the files! Ms.Kringle didn’t like the way I had them organized either. if you tell me how you’re doing them I can help you,” he offered smiling at you and tilting his head a bit. 

You smiled back at him while opening the second cabinet, sitting the new files on the floor. “I would absolutely love the help and the socialization. Are you sure? If you are busy please don’t feel obligated to help the new girl organize files,” you answer clearly ignoring the orders written on the paper. 

“No problem at all! It was a slower day for me anyways,” he peaked down at the files on the floor,”so alphabetical order? Basic but okay. Let’s get to work!”

…

“What can fly but doesn’t have wings,” Ed asked. 

You peaked up at the clock on the wall: 8:30 PM. You and Ed had been organizing files and giving each other riddles since 11:00 that morning. 

“Time. Oh crap! Ed, we should probably finish this tomorrow morning it’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you here with me. I apologize for keeping you this late in the first place.”

“I’ll go just as long as you won’t stay up all night working on these,” He stood up from sitting down and put a hand out for you to help you off the ground. You fixed your green pencil skirt and white top as you stood up. “Green is my favorite color,” he says pointing to your skirt. “Your skirt is pretty.”

His compliment made your cheeks go rosy and you could feel it. “Thank you! Green is a very pretty color.” You smiled at him as he held the door open for you as you both walked out of the annex.

“I am a type of bean, but not magic. I am something you can drink. What am I?”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee, correct! Ms. L/N, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning before work?”

“I would absolutely love to.”

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Deadhead ||

Victor Zsasz (Gotham) x female reader

Tags/warnings: established relationship, bit of fingering and unprotected sex. Sort of angsty but sexy.

A/n: wrote this in 2019, it's on Ao3 already but thought I'd post here too. I love Gotham.

On nights when you had finished a job, you had a little ritual of cleaning your weapons in the kitchen just before bed. Your freshly oiled set of knives were set to the right, finished and gleaming. The parts of your gun were already laid out neatly to the left on the granite topped island on your cleaning cloth, the one with little skulls printed all over it, and you were just about to start cleaning out the barrel.

You didn't hear him coming in, you never did. It was the warmth of him pressing against your back, the smell of his leather coat, gunsmoke... and the metallic tang of fresh blood that crowded your senses all at once. His hands reached through under your arms, placing his twin pistols right on top of everything you had carefully laid out. As he drew back the lightest touch of his fingers dragged over and left a filthy black smudge on the formerly mirror-like surface of your favourite blade.

"Shit, Victor! I literally just cleaned-"

The rest of your words were lost in a moan as he slipped his hand as quick as anything past your silk robe and into your panties. You leaned back against him groaning and panting as his other hand pushed up your body to grasp and cup your breast, marking your skin and underwear with gunshot residue and whatever else. All the while he remained silent, he had got you so turned on and wet so fast, relentlessly pushing you to a shuddering climax in a couple of minutes.

You braced yourself against the countertop trying to recover and steady your shaking legs, the warmth of Victor's body faded as he moved away. He grabbed your wrist and you span round nearly loosing your balance as he pulled you along with him. Backing up to the couch he let go of you and threw himself down, quickly unbuckling his belt and pants, never taking his eyes from yours. You pushed down your ruined panties, stepping out of them and climbing on to his lap still dressed in your robe and bra as he bunched his own pants down and the thick length of his cock sprang up. Taking it in your hand you guided him inside and sank down, even though you were practically dripping wet with arousal you gasped at the sensation. Still he was silent, his dark eyes watching as you began to ride him. It must have been a Bad Day.

Victor was a showman through and through, he loved the theatrics of being an assassin, lived for the chase, the stalk, the cornering. He just didn't enjoy killing.

Incapacitating? Sure.

Torture? Fine.

But actually taking a life?

Sometimes the simple jobs went wrong. Marks would do stupid things, wouldn't listen to your instructions (threats), would ruin the game – get people killed that didn't have to be killed. Sometimes things went Really Bad.

Victor wouldn't talk about it directly, but sometimes when you were in bed and he thought you were asleep, he'd whisper it to the darkness. Most people thought he was emotionless, hard, uncomplicated, uncaring... sure he had a wicked sense of humour and a perchant for disco of course, but he only let you under his skin.

I love you. You'd breathe close to his ear.

It's not your fault. Was what he'd hear.

Afterwards, you led him to the shower, washing off all the grime, cleaning his wounds and smoothing your hands over the hundreds of scars. He sighed as you kissed the newest mark on his chest, a score across four that were already well healed.

In the morning you woke up alone. When you got up in search of coffee you found it sitting ready on the stove, your gun reassembled and knives clean.

[finniestoncrane]

number 6 with gotham riddler? i love your writing congratulations u deserve all the praise and followers

🎀 No.6: Atomic 🎀

give me a character and i'll write some headcanons on what the first time you have sex is like a/n: thank you you're so sweet ;-; 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

it's so romantic, almost like it's scripted

which is because it kind of is, at least his parts are thought out and planned in his head, with several options for alternative dialogue and actions if you stray from what he imagined you would do or say

but that's fine, his big brain can handle that, and he can think on his feet

or at least he would be able to if he wasn't so nervous

but you're kissing him, and he's kissing you back without too much worry

without letting the fact that he's dreamt of this moment for so long cloud his mind and render him completely useless

but actually, it turns out letting yourself go blank for a moment might be useful, because his hands are suddenly all over you and he didn't realise he was even moving them

but you're responding well, so he'll take this opportunity to lay you down gently on the bed

making sure he can see all of you, but most importantly, look into your eyes

so that he can stare into them lovingly the whole time he's inside of you

which by the way he gets at pretty quick, you might need to remind him next time that foreplay is usually considered a good opening

but for this time, the first time, you're pretty keen to get right to the business also so it can be forgiven

he's 100% the kind of guy who says "wowee" as he lays down on the bed panting once he's finished

and don't think for a moment you are escaping this without being spooned within an inch of your life

and being woken up to loveheart shaped pancakes in the morning while you stay in bed

[gothamslostboy]

A Small Push

Zsasz x Male Reader

This was meant to be a small paragraph or two on my gotham blog, but I got so carried away

This is the first thing I’ve enjoyed writing so much in a while, so it’s going on the main blog

I didn’t proofread so lmk any typos

WORDS: 2107

YOU ZSASZ

Very little information is known about Victor Zsasz. Sure, everyone in Gotham knows to avoid him. They know he’s a sadistic assassin, loyal to his boss, and that he’s never been serious. The few who’ve survived him only bc the boss called him off report their pleas for life to be met with indifference, which always turns to a unrelated comment about what he’s doing later or asking about what his victim originally planned to do that day.

You see, the terrifying thing about Zsasz isn’t how great he is at his job. What sends chills down Gothamites spines at the mention of his name is how unbothered he is with human life. Where the rest of us see cold blooded murder, Victor sees Tuesday morning’s work. Nothing more important than an office worker doing paper work. Yet, no matter how perplexed a person gets, none of them have tried asking him why.

Until you came along.

It was a new day at work, having started at this diner earlier this week after police officers told you one of Gotham’s several psychos burnt down your last job. Lucky for you it was your day off, not so lucky for your coworker Lucas, but you hadn’t liked him much anyway. Despite it being a Friday, the diner was almost completely empty tonight. You had only had one customer, an older man who had been in a rush to eat. He tipped well, though his rambling about leaving before “Satan’s Strawberry Milkshake Meal” left an odd impression.

Confusion only grew in your mind when your supervisor asked if you could handle being alone for a couple hours, eyes quickly shifting between you and the clock. Before you could even finish nodding your head she pushed past you, almost knocking over the coat hanger by the door as she ran. Now you were a little pissed, not only for her abruptness, but at the fact she had been whispering to herself about “milkshake psychos”.

What was everyone’s deal tonight? Maybe you were missing some information about this side of town, you had only just moved over here for the job, starting your first shift immediately after putting the moving boxes inside your apartment. You’d have to ask the supervisor when she got back.

The bell above the door rang, and suddenly all the pieces clicked together. Victor Zsasz, cruelest killer in Gotham, had walked through your doors and was striding over to the counter. It was too late to pretend you weren’t here, his eyes had registered your paralyzed form quickly and he gave a short wave before sitting down.

Taking a deep breath, your feet moved before your mind and pulled you all the way to the backside of the counter. Now you were less then 5 feet from the man, his stare unnerving, only amplified by his almost innocently placed hands: fingers interlocked in an almost “prayer” position.

Hello welcome to Margret’s Diner, what can- what would you like this evening Sir- er, um, Mr. Vic- Mr. Zsasz? Your hand were shaking as you held your notepad, small damp marks at the end of your desperate fingers. You didn’t dare to make eye contact, not even as you heard his sudden chuckle.

Why are you so stressed? If anyone should be stressed it’s me, just had to flee a scene. And you don’t have to be so formal, it’s Zsasz.

A scene? Did he mean a crime scene- of the murder variety? Your grip tightens on the yellow paper below you, clearing your throat as if it would bring back the air squeezed out from your lungs. He lowers his head to try and enter your eyeline, obviously enjoying the effect his presence has.

I guess you- aha, you have a fair point there Zsasz. You let some pathetic chuckles fill the space in between your words, only continuing on when Victor motions his hand, amused but feeling a smidge of annoyance at your inability to speak. The adrenaline of being so close to a killer kicks in, forcing a wave of dangerous confidence to enter your system. So, Zsasz, your stance straightens and you grin a bit at his surprise when you look him in the eyes. What can I get you? From what others have said today I’m assuming a milkshake is on your menu? You can’t even believe your own words, and it seems neither can the assassin in front of you. He leans back in his chair, arms crossing as he shakes his head and smiles.

Bravo, his hands make the motion of clapping with out any sound before he leans closer, head resting in his hands. You take a tiny step back. When you picture Victor Zsasz: Gotham’s Greatest Assassin, you saw a serious man. One who would have already shot you just for making any sort of assumption about him. The casual man with a sort of relaxed beauty about him seemed almost unable to kill, but you knew better than to trust your unstable taste in men.

I had you pegged for a coward diner man, where did those words come from? What a surprise that is. His eyes are wide, too full of life for a man who just admitted to committing a crime, or at the very least running from one. You relax knowing that the annoyance he carried earlier seems gone, maybe even replaced with the same fascination for you that you had for him.

Don’t know, maybe I’m losing it. So was I right about that milkshake or what? Have my sources lied? If the pounding of your heart hadn’t been reminding you of your awakeness, you wouldn’t believe this was a real moment. Not a coward, but you’ve certainly never been a brave, confident conversationalist, and definitely not with someone so infamous as Victor.

Huh, guess I was wrong. Strawberry milkshake please, no cherry. Aren’t you a tiny bit scared I’ll kill you? He focused on you now, trying to discern any fearful tells you could have. Itching to see if you truly were insane. It’s rare he finds someone who can speak to him, even rarer that person seems to relax and enjoy the conversation. You speak over the rising sound of your heart, and scare yourself a bit by resting a hand on the counter and leaning towards the man dressed in black.

If you killed me, who would make the milkshake? You don’t know where the ingredients are and then you’d have a body in your way! Doesn’t seem ideal for a relaxing milkshake. You let a big grin cover your face when it’s apparent Victor enjoyed your answer, laughing and moving just a bit closer. He lets his head flop to the side, catching in in his right hand while pointing at you with his left.

Oh you are fun. Also new here. I come here every week, surprised no one told you. Kinda well known around here. He jokingly rolls his eyes as he finishes his sentence.

He meant it. You are fun, he’s gonna have to keep you around. No matter the cost. It’s obvious to him this is at least partially a front, your hand is more relaxed, but still shaking. But even still, he doesn’t meet people who joke with him on the day to day. Only other assassins, even then it’s typically not good natured, and they usually end up dead. But you. He doesn’t even know your name but he’s on the edge of his seat waiting for you to reply. You’re cute. You’re funny. And you’re blushing everytime he gets closer, Victor doesn’t think you even noticed that you were.

Zsasz made a promise to himself the day he realized he was different from those around him. The day he realized no one else enjoyed watching the pain of others, no one enjoyed causing it, when he observed quick movements in the opposite direction as he walked towards ppl, the day he pieced together it wasn’t normal to relish in that. Victor Zsasz promised himself that when he found someone he didn’t want to hurt, even a little bit, he wouldn’t let them escape. Lucky day, he found you. Even with his favorite torture methods & his favorite weapons, no scenario in his mind felt right, at least not the unconsentually violent ones. You’re voice fades into his mind. He hadn’t even realized he zoned out.

Zsasz? You ok there? What did you get shot fleeing? are you gonna die on me? Your real concern, hidden behind sarcasm didn’t escape him. How cute. Looking you in the eyes Victor answers.

Nah I’m to good for that. Thinking about you. Wanna make yourself a milkshake too? My treat! He slams his hand on the table, expectingly waiting for you to comply.

Well, it is a slow day, why not! Walking over to the blender, a question nags at you. Hey Zsasz? You take a deep breath again before deciding to commit. Ask ya’ a question?

Sure diner man, if you can do two things. He holds up two fingers, and opens up the jar of maraschino cherries you were struggling with. Numero uno: you can call me Victor now, you’re fun. Numer dos: let me know your name! Diner man is fun an’ all, but it’s unfair you know mine.

Victor pops a cherry in his mouth as he waits for the blender to stop. Never taking his gaze away from his new prize.

Oh shit, sorry. Totally forgot. Um, Y/N, Y/N L/N! And well, I guess I was wondering- I just wanna know- I’m curious how you do it? For the first time since the beginning of Victor’s visit, you’re too nervous to look at him. What if he thought that was too personal? You place a straw in his milkshake and slide it over to him, gasping when his hand wraps around your wrist.

Don’t get all shy on me L/N, we are having so much fun. I do a lot of things, you’re gonna have to be specific. He notices your hesitancy to continue and pulls you into him, almost spilling his milkshake as he whispers in your ear. I don’t bite, well, unless you want me to handsome. He lets you pull back and winks, sipping at his cool drink.

You do the same, hoping it will combat the heat flooding your body, hoping it’s not, but knowing it is very visible on your cheeks. Alrighty Victor, he loves how you say his name, intently locking his eyes on your fidgeting hands. How do you kill? How come the cops never catch you off guard? Why don’t you have to take it seriously?

Huh. No one’s ever asked him that. His new favorite possession is braver than most.

Because I’m good at what I do Y/N. It’s easy, just pull the trigger, push the button, stab, I could do it in my sleep. I don’t take it seriously because how’s that fun? He leans back and smiles a bit, intrigued at how much more terrified you were to ask the question than you are hearing the answer. Infact, it seems you’ve forgotten that people are supposed to be disturbed when they hear this. Y/N L/N seems almost, jealous, that Victor Zsasz can do this.

I could teach you, friend. Makes good money. Definitely more fun then a diner job. He cuts off your protest quickly. You don’t have to do the whole “I’m a good person” act, I can see it in your eyes. I don’t think you were joking when you said your losing it Y/N. You just need some one to push you along, Victor stand up, slowly walking all the way to the other side of the counter until he’s face to face with you. His lips hovering barely over yours. Let me push

You get lost in his dark eyes for a second contemplating. Maybe he’s not so crazy. Life is the crazy thing. People like Lucas were crazy. He always bugged you at your last job, constantly asking you to work overtime. Why should you have to do extra because he had a bad life? Maybe what you had done made sense. I mean the police had believed that the building burning was Jerome Valeska, they hadn’t even noticed the gun shot wound. It wouldn’t be so easy if it was wrong, right? Okay, you connect your lips, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. You pull back for air, reestablishing eye contact.

Teach me, push me over the edge

[frost-queen]

No need for questions (Reader!Wayne x Jeremiah Valeska)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex–awesome–22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,   @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07

Summary: Reader is a psychiatrist meeting Jeremiah in Arkham. For some reason she is the first to stick around despite being startled much during your first session. You find out you have lot's of things in common with him where you eventually kiss once during a session. Unable to stop thinking about the kiss, it keeps happening till your brother Bruce sees it and infuriates him.

The loud buzzing alarm startled you for a second. A gentle nudge in your back, pushing you forwards. One of the guards moving from behind you, heading for the door. The keys jiggling against one another as he revealed them. – “Don’t feel discouraged Misses Wayne if things turn out differently.” – he spoke, looking briefly your way. You straightened your back, pressing your folder closer to your chest.

“You are not the first psychiatrists to have a go at the mad man.” – he turned back, setting the key in the hole, giving it a hard twist. He pulled a bar aside, thumping loud against the metallic door. With a loud creak, he opened the door giving you a faint view of inside the room. The guard stepped aside, offering you to go. You stepped up to him, waiting hesitantly in the door opening. – “No shame in running away, Wayne. Just say the word and I’ll shut the door once more.” – he suggested while you took a deep breath.

“No!” – you said clearly, startling him. Staring fiercely in front of you. – “I do not back away.” – picking up all your courage you entered the appointed room in Arkham. The door shutting heavily behind you. A clear sense of entrapment in your head. You heard the jingle of cuffs with the creaking of a chair. – “Well, well.” – he spoke leaning closer as his face came into the light. It made you swallow nervously trying to hide it. – “A new puppy I see.” – he continued, curling up a devious smile.

He barked in your direction, making you jump out of your skin. Your reaction only giving him more pleasure. Chuckling loud, he leaned back in his chair, face casted with a shadow. You recollected your courage, setting your expression neutral. – “May I sit?” – you asked gesturing at the chair. Valeska opening his hands for you to do as you please. The chair scraped back as you came sitting down. Jeremiah leaning forwards again. – “Afraid I’ll bite?” – he questioned seeing how far you sat from the table.

Jeremiah bit your way, finding himself amusing. Swallowing nervously, you tried for it to not affect you. You shoved your chair closer to the table. – “Better?” – you asked him with a quirked up eyebrow. Jeremiah inhaled loud through his nose, moving back on his chair. He patted his thigh with a smirk. – “If you wish it has the best seat in the house.” – he pointed out, asking you bluntly to come sit on his lap. You smiled politely back at him.

“Let us settle like this first.” – you told him. Jeremiah didn’t comment on it. Taking a deep breath, you set your folder down on your lap. – “Mister Valeska. My name is Y/n Wayne, and I shall be your psychiatrist for today…” – you informed him. Jeremiah shot awake, grabbing the bar where his hands were cuffed onto tight. – “Did you say Wayne? As In Brucey Wayne? Gotham’s richest orphan kid?” – he called out with such delight; it frightened you a bit.

“Does it matter?” – you asked him barely giving him any attention. He chuckled humorously. – “Oh it sure does doll.” – he answered happy beyond himself. You quirked your eyebrow up when he slid his cuffed hand closer to your side of the table. – “You see.” – he started sitting casually in the chair. – “Brucey and I are somewhat best of friends.” – he informed you. – “I doubt that.” – you responded plainly. Jeremiah tilted his head to the side. Eyeing you hungerly. – “Don’t be saddened I’m sure we can become best friends too.” – he set his elbow on the table, holding a finger up.

“But do know Brucey will always be number one. You mustn’t be sad about it” – he spoke out with pouty lips. It made you roll your eyes with a loud scoff. – “Shall we begin our session?” – you suggested, cutting off the approaching conversation before it could begin. Jeremiah furrowed his brows. – “Cousin?” – he said out loud, pointing at you. It made you frown figuring out what he was trying to do till it suddenly became clear. He was trying to guess what relation you might have to Bruce.

“Aunt? No, not aunt you’d be too young and hot for that.” – he said to himself, letting his finger brush over his lips. – “Mister Valeska may I please.” – you asked. He shushed you loud with a wave of his hand, startling you. – “What is it?” – he annoyingly asked himself, tapping his fist against his forehead. You sighed deep knowing you weren’t going to make any progress like that. – “Sister, can we continue now?” – you let him know.

Jeremiah clapped his hands loudly together. – “Sister!” – he exclaimed. Clearing you throat, you hoped to bring him back to the subject. – “Mister Valeska?” – you addressed him. – “If you are done being as happy as a five year old given candy, can we continue?” – he quirked his eyebrow up at you and your reference. He turned jumpy towards you, setting his hand under his chin. – “I’m all ears Wayne or should I call you Dr. Wayne?” – he snickered, shoulders shuddering along.

Exhaling loud you knew you were going to get no where with him today. – “Alright Mister Valeska.” – you told him, closing your folder on your lap. – “Jeremiah.” – he insisted, staring your way. – “Mister Valeska.” – you pressured on wanting to keep it professional. – “Jeremiah! Dr. Wayne, Jeremiah!” – he slammed his hands loud on the table, startling you once again. You had lost count at how many times you had been startled by him now.

Hating yourself for breaking professionalism with him, you had no choice. Jeremiah Valeska was unlike any other psychiatric patient. – “Jeremiah!” – you said clearly bothered. – “We don’t have to talk.” – you informed him. Jeremiah furrowing his brows. – “We can simply sit here in silence if you do not wish to co-operate.”

He puffed loud. – “I don’t mind. I’m getting paid anyways so if I talk or remain silent it doesn’t change anything.” – you twitched your eyebrow up with a sarcastic smile. Jeremiah chuckling all of the sudden. – “You wouldn’t be able to resist my charm.” – he said to you. – “We’ll see about that.” – you answered.

The familiar buzzing alarm went off again. Watching the guard open the doors once more for you. He gave you a respected nod before you entered. He was very much surprised when you left the first session in one piece and when the demand of Valeska got send in to see you again. It surprised them as you were the first psychiatrist Valeska demanded to see again. They had no idea how you did it, but whatever worked for them.

It was getting exhausted to stay on the look-out for new psychiatrist to send his way. As usual sat Jeremiah already down, handcuffed to the table. – “Dr. Wayne.” – he exclaimed happily, moving his hands up to you. You waiting for the door to close behind you before approaching him. Jeremiah furrowing his brows as you didn’t come sitting down as usual. – “I thought we could start our session with something new.” – you explained coming to stand near him at his side of the table.

You started taking out photo’s from your folder, placing them in front of him. Jeremiah looked briefly at the photo’s before his gaze went towards you. Your eyes widened suddenly he came sniffing you. Groaning in pleasure as his eyes almost rolled back. – “Done specially for me?” – he questioned looking all innocent. – “If you say so Jeremiah.” – you answered, placing another photo down. Jeremiah smirked moving his left cuffed hand closer to the bar, giving his right cuffed hand more reach.

You gasped when you felt his hand on your thigh. Rubbing swiftly up your waist to your back. Grunting loud he pulled at you. You fell down on his lap, feet flopping up. – “Much better.” – he mumbled, keeping his hand on your inner thigh. – “Jeremiah!” – you called out, struggling to get back up. The friction your bottom was giving on his lap only making him smile more. – “Let me go! What are you doing?” – you called out as he kept pressing his hand down on your thigh to keep you in place.

“Enjoying the show.” – he responded. Tensing your jaw, you started using your hands to push yourself off him. Jeremiah removing his hand from your thigh to come and grab at your hands. – “Jeremiah!” – you called out. – “Y/n!” – he answered amusingly to mock your pleads. He moved his legs apart making you shift down in your position. Jeremiah holding your hand, your back caught by his arm. Him smiling cunningly down at you.

It made you swallow nervously at how close he was to you. So close you could see the color changes in his eyes. – “We both know you want this.” – he whispered to you, letting go of your hand to slide his hand up your cheek. Suddenly flustered, you shuddered at his touch. Heart beating loud against your chest. Did you want this? Jeremiah didn’t gave you much time to think, tilting your chin up by his finger.

Pressing his lips gently onto yours. Heart beating even faster as a sensation in your brain was released. You straightened yourself, coming to sit better on his lap. Moving your hand to his neck, kissing him roughly back. Hearing him hum loud against your lips made you grab for him rougher. Maybe this was what you wanted. Suddenly aware of what you were doing, you pulled away.

Getting off his lap. Staring in shock at him, finger gently touching kissed lips. – “Why’d you pull away Y/n? I’m up for a round two.” – Jeremiah said as you couldn’t tell if he was playing around with you or sincere. The last few sessions you had noticed how much you had in common with him. Except for the insanity of murdering people.

The cuffs jingled against the bar when he pleadingly moved his hands to you. – “Please… I want more…” – he begged. – “I want you Dr. Wayne.” – clearing your throat, you moved around the table to sit down. – “I have placed some photo’s for you Jeremiah.” – you spoke making him roll his eyes at how formal you were acting.

Jeremiah smirked, wiping his hands over the table, sending the photo’s flying. – “Oops.” – he said innocently with a chuckle. You exhaled deep, leaning back in your chair. – “Shall… shall we pick up where we left off.” – you suggested. Jeremiah came setting his elbows on the table, hands under his chin. – “The kiss.” – he spoke. – “Your past.” – you cut through. He puffed loud not interested in speaking about that.

Licking your lips you couldn’t deny how his lips have contaminated yours. His alluring eyes making it harder for you to concentrate on anything but the kiss that had happened. – “Let’s continue to talk about your past.” – you told him. Jeremiah crossed his arms. – “I’ll maybe do so if you kiss me Y/n.” – he made clear. Despite wanting to just keep the conversation going you got up anyways. Coming to sit at the edge of his side of the table. – “Good girl.” – Jeremiah mumbled setting his hand on your thigh.

“I won’t speak till you kiss me Dr. Wayne.” – he pushed on making you lean down. He smiled, touching your chin relieved to feel your lips on his once more. You pulled away flustered. – “Now…” – you started, Jeremiah swaying his finger. – “No, no.” – he responded bringing you closer for another kiss. – “You are my favorite Wayne.” – he whispered lips released briefly from yours. – “No longer Bruce?” – you answered smiling against his lips. He commented on your answer by kissing you forcefully.

You barely heard the voice on the intercom that announced your brother was visiting. The door opened as Bruce entered. – “Y/n!” – he called out loud, startling the both of you. – “Bruce!” – you responded jumping up. Jeremiah chuckling as he waved amusingly at Bruce. – “Hello Brucey.” – he said. Bruce ignored Jeremiah looking with disgust and anger at you. – “What were you doing?” – he shouted. – “I…I…I…was…” – you blurted out unable to find the right words. – “Kissing Brucey.” – Jeremiah answered making you shoot a glare at him.

He was most definitely not helping. Bruce clenched his hand, glaring at Jeremiah. He grabbed you roughly by the arm, pulling you behind him. – “You stay the hell away from her!” – he made clear. Jeremiah pouting his lips. – “Are you sad you are no longer my favorite?” – Jeremiah teased getting under his skin. Bruce tensed his jaw, tightening his grip around your wrist. – “What game are you playing?” – he wanted to know. Looking then over his shoulder to you.

“And for you to fall into his trap. I thought you were smarter sister.” – his words made you look shameful away. Jeremiah punched his hands loudly in the table, getting his attention. – “The game Brucey is that I am deeply affected by your sister.” – he let him know. – “Liar!” – Bruce yelled as you had to hold him back. – “Don’t be so rude… brother-in-law.” – he laughed out, upsetting Bruce more.

“Bruce, Bruce please!” – you called out, keeping him away from Jeremiah. He puffed out of breath, pointing sternly at Jeremiah. – “This is the last time you’ll see her. I’ll make sure of it!” – he said in anger. Jeremiah laughing maniacally when Bruce started dragging you with him. – “These bars won’t hold me. I’ll see you soon my dearest love!” – he called out as Bruce dragged you through the hallway, having left the door open.  

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[twofacedharveydent]

Every once in a while something changes And she's changing me

We Were Born Sick Series   ↳ Jim x Bird

• We Were Born Sick • Wasteland • Devil’s Playground

Everything tag list: @missecharlotte , @darknightfrombeyond , @arrthurpendragon , @ocappreciationtag

Message me if you’d like to added or removed from the list.

[fangirl--writes]

So Does anyone have any ✨steamy✨ asks for

The Gotham bois or girls? They might be headcanons or little blurbs. If you have a character in mind I haven’t written for just ask!

[ficklefics]

Watching You - Jerome Valeska x Reader

Arkham as a watcher. A ghost in the walls, pulling at the strings, working the Asylum into a controlled frenzy. But Jerome Valeska is a rogue element, and you won’t let him disrupt your plans. But he has his own goals, his own desires. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

MASTERLIST

Warnings: none

(A/N: it has been quite a while since I wrote. so hi, welcome back, nice to see ya)

Arkham’s director was old and tired. He went to the events, he shook the hands, attended the meetings and performed his role like a good little actor.

But he knew nothing of what went on in his Asylum. Not truly. 

Nobody knew. The performance was strong enough, the strings pulled so perfectly, that there were no cracks in the facade. Even he assumed that the Asylum just ran itself.

You were a shadow. Working away amongst the endless rows of filing cabinets, hidden away in the archives and dark corners of the building. Barely anyone even knew your name. Your face was forgettable. Unassuming. Unimportant.

But you were everywhere. The letters left on desks, the notes on the cork boards, the phone calls the director was “too busy to make”. Nothing happened in this building without your go-ahead. 

You had incidentally found yourself in the surveillance room right around the time that Mark, who was on shift, would get a hankering for a burger from the van a half-hour walk away. You were harmlessly checking the incident sheet when he stretched, groaned, and looked over at you. 

“Hey, (Y/N)? Mind helping me out with something?”

“Of course.” You smile, turning to him.

“I have a… meeting,” He pulls at his collar, “That I really need to go to. Would you mind watching the cameras, just for an hour? Nothing will happen, I’m sure.”

“Sure thing, Mark.” He stands and you take his spot, resisting the urge to wince at the warmth of the seat. “See you later.”

He grabs his jacket and nods, hurrying out of the room. You follow him on the cameras as he leaves through an emergency exit. He thinks it doesn’t work. He doesn’t realise you deactivate it so he can exit from the far side of the building, the feeling of being unnoticed compensating for the longer journey. All to plan.

With him gone, your attention turned to the cameras. And to one distinct figure, a man who stood out from everybody else.

Jerome Valeska. The self-proclaimed ‘King of Arkham’. The man who could make even the Penguin dance.

It amused you to watch him holding court in the cafeteria. The swagger, the confidence, so self-consumed. Of course, if he ever went against your authority, he would be dealt with. But he was another cog in the system, one that drew attention away from you with his chaos and fire.

As you watched him, you considered what problems he might pose. Even as you observed, you saw other inmates whispering to him, passing notes, receiving and spreading instructions.

If he was planning something, you had to know about it. You wouldn’t allow any disruption to your mechanism - at least not any that was unplanned.

Over the hour, you began to formulate a plan. The pieces would have to fall into place perfectly if it was going to work, but the risk was worth it. It was time for you to meet the King of Arkham and put him in his place.

~~~ 

It didn’t take much to get Jerome alone in an interview room. A couple of radio calls, a mix-up of guard schedules, and looped security footage. Simple, really, when every part of the building moved under your instruction like a symphony.

He was cuffed to the table when you entered. The lock turned with a satisfying clink. Trapping him in here with you.

“Well, well, well,” He drawls, eyeing you suspiciously, “That’s not a face I recognise.” He leans forward, smirking. “And I’d never forget a face like yours.”

There was a subtle threat in the words. A threat to follow his rules or you would be dead before the next dawn. 

Cute.

“Jerome Valeska. Arrested originally at 18 for the murder of your mother. Escaped a year later with the assistance of one Theo Galavan, who later killed you.” His eyes follow you as you pace the room, reciting his file from memory. Resurrected 2 years later by Dwight Pollard and his cult. You killed him and recovered your face, which he had taken. Then you were re-arrested after a so-called ‘Carnival of Terror’, and have resided in Arkham since.” You stopped directly in front of him, not quite within reach. “Have I missed anything?”

“Well-“

“No, I haven’t.” The interruption threw him off. “I know everything about you Jerome, and I thought it was past time that we had a conversation about how things work here.”

He chuckled darkly. “Somebody thinks very highly of themselves.” His head cocked, drinking you in, trying to understand the picture before him. “And who are you, to tell me how things work?”

“My name is (Y/N). I’m not that important. Just an administrator.” You smiled at the lie. “At least that’s how I look to everyone. If they even see me.” You pulled out the chair and sat in front of him. Jerome sat, thoughts whirring behind those eyes, the smile never failing. He’s intrigued. Good. “In reality? I run Arkham. I am every camera, every locked door, every flickering light. I own this place. Which means I own you.”

That makes him laugh. Not a chuckle, or a smirk, but a cackle, a howl, a burst of vicious laughter that tears through the room and would have shaken you to your bones if you hadn’t watched him for hours, preparing for this moment. If he’s irritated at your lack of reaction, he hides the frustration behind a dark grin and leans forward. 

“No one owns me, sweet cheeks.”

“You can believe that all you like but it doesn’t change the fact that your stay here, whether you live or die, is all dependent on me.”

At this, he leans back. “And why, oh Queen of Arkham, am I being given this information? This secret?”

You smirked inwardly at the phrasing, knowing his own title. “You could cause a lot of problems for me, Valeska. And I’d hate to strike you down in your prime.” At this you placed a smile on your face, knowing that every move right now is critical. “So I have a proposal for you.”

He laughed again, this time a chuckle, but still so full of venom. “Are we getting married?” His eyebrows twitched suggestively. 

“Not quite. I know that you are planning something, likely an escape. I want to be in the loop. Arkham and I are at our best when the destruction is precise and controlled.”

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t care if I do escape?”

“My life, without you here, will be significantly less difficult.” And far less interesting, but that’s hardly the issue. “So what do you say? Do you need time to think? I can leave you here for as long as you need.” 

“You’d really leave me here, all alone, all locked up?” He rolled the words in his mouth, savouring them, letting them pour free. The only catch was the rasp that sat deep in his throat, marring everything he said. 

“Is there a difference from being anywhere else in Arkham? It’s all just cells and cages. At least this one has privacy.”

“Well, I don’t need to think.” His smile widened, almost tearing at his skin. “I like games, and you seem fun to play with.”

“This isn’t a game-“

“Everything!” He slammed his cuffed hands against the table, lurching towards you like a shark. You don’t flinch. “ Everything is a game, (Y/N). This whole world is a back and forth and people play or they’re pieces. You just need to decide what you want to be.”

You thought over it. Of course, it’s already clear to you that you are a player. Nobody controls you or dictates your actions. I’ll bite. “Okay. I’ll play your game, you play mine, and when you leave we’ll both be happy on our own paths.”

His eyes still had a hungry light shining in them. “I just want one thing. A starting move, you could say.”

“And what is that one thing?” You had all the power here. You held the keys to everything. There wasn’t anything he could do that you wouldn’t allow, not really. 

“Close your eyes.”

Of course, your instinct screamed at you not to. But if this was the price of cooperation, if this was what playing the game meant, you would do it.

Your eyes closed.

A brief moment of silence. Jerome’s breathing creaked around you. You felt warm air on your face.

And then his lips pressed against yours, grinning and warped and altogether horrific.

But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t know what it was; the tug in your gut, the shock, the freedom of something beyond your control - but you kept kissing him.

It was only a moment, but it felt like forever. When he pulled back, your eyes opened, and you tilted your head to ask the silent question. Why?

“I don’t get a lot of action in here. Between you and me,” He leaned in, as if sharing a secret, despite the complete privacy of the room. “Very few of these inmates meet my standards.” And I do?

“And you wanted to test just how in control I am?” Whether or not it was true, you needed the safety net of your web, of your authority, to calm the pounding of your heart. 

“You could say that.”

“Not bad.”

With a sudden movement, you stood, the chair scraping on the floor.

“Thank you for your time, Jerome.” His name feels good in your mouth. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” 

You left the room, immediately assuming the role of the innocent admin assistant, hurrying away from Jerome’s farewell. An unending laugh that rattled through the hallways behind you.

This should be interesting.

MASTERLIST