#riddler x f!reader

“How do you tie a knot with no hands?”

“Easy. With your back; lots of knots wind up in there”, you say as you crack your neck.

“Correct! But since you thought that was easy, let’s raise the stakes, shall we?”

You mentally kick yourself for saying the easy part out loud.

The Riddler pulled on a lever behind him, and a platform raised from the floor.

On top of the raised platform were two boxes: one had a mechanical silver scorpion inside, while the other had a mechanical golden scarab.

“Been re-reading Phantom of the Opera as of late?” you ask as you look at each box, and then the speaker above, which no-doubt, probably had a camera attached to it as well.

“What gives you the implication that it’s not my first time reading it? What if I’ve never read the book at all, and you're just making assumptions over a mere coincidence? I’m rather hurt.” You could visualize him wearing a shit-eating grin while wiping at a mock tear right about now.

“Just vibes,” you say nonchalantly. You knew he was trying to distract you by psyching you out. “Also, I think this is way too detailed to not be a POTO reference.

“Very well, then, Batwoman, I’ll admit: the Phantom is a character I can relate to, and I certainly respect his style when it comes to intricate puzzles.”

“You mean traps.”

“Same difference. Now, before we go on a further tangent, I’d like to refocus on the two contraptions before you. The scorpion represents someone you can save now, and the scarab represents someone you can save later. You can only pick one; which will you choose?”

Shoot, you thought. What if he’s bluffing? What if he doesn’t have anyone in captivity right now? But if I choose the scarab, what if there was someone who needed to be saved and it was too late!

You turn your attention to the scorpion.

However, if I choose the scorpion, the someone who needs to be saved now could be ME for all I know. There will ALWAYS be somebody who needs to be saved later, and right now, there’s NO sure way to know if anybody needs to be saved right this instant, so perhaps the Riddler is counting on me to pick the scorpion.

And wasn’t the scarab supposed to be a grasshopper if this was based on the book? That’s an oddly specific deviation for a reference.

You walk over to the box with the scarab, and after tinkering with its gears and locks, it opens. You twisted the wings clockwise on the golden beetle-shaped figure as you recalled the book it was referenced after. You were grateful nothing exploded, or heard any commotion outside, but also grew hesitant when nothing happened.

There was a brief silence before you heard the Riddler say: “I knew you would figure it out. So- explain why you picked the correct box.”

You looked down at the intricate designs of the scarab and the scorpion boxes. There was a lot of artistic detail put into these puzzles, and it was a shame that only you would be able to interact with and appreciate them.

“I picked the scarab, because not only does it deviate away from the grasshopper in Leroux’s novel, but also because it stands as a symbol of the rebirth in Ancient Egyptian culture, wheras the scorpion symbolizes the protection of the already- dead body in its journey to the afterlife. Even if I picked the scorpion, it would have already been ‘later’ and not the very instant you said ‘now’.”

“So you noticed my historical hint and took the literal approach! I like the way you think, Dark Knight. You know, it’s really a shame you’re wasting all that intellectual talent as a vigilante in Gotham’s never-ending masquerade of crime. You have the makings of a genius. Not as great as myself-mind you- but definitely one I wouldn’t mind talking to over some romantic tragedy novels.” There was a slight lilt to his tone that didn’t go unnoticed.

Is he seriously trying to coax you into becoming some sort of villain’s colleague, right now?, you thought. Ugh- for being such a smart guy, he really can be delusional, at the end of the day. Shame.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your puzzle insinuates a clue for an upcoming scheme you’re planning, Riddler. I will find out what it is and stop you once and for all”, you said in a more serious tone.

“And I’ll be counting on you to find out. In fact, I want you to, and see if you can try to stop a genius such as myself! Au revoir, Madame Bat~.”

And with that, the door you came through automatically swung open and you didn’t waste any time dashing out of the room for that coffee you desperately needed now.

You tapped at the comm in your left earring.

“Frida. Status update on the Riddler: I was trapped in another of his trap rooms tonight, and it ended up being a clue for a more intricate crime he’s been plotting. Kidnapping will definitely be involved, but I’ve yet to find out any potential suspects. Over.”

“I read you loud and clear, Madame (Y/n). I’ve updated the Bat Computer to scan the room you just left for any prints or leads. So-.”

“Yes, Frida?”

“What was the theme this time? Horror? Shakespeare?"

“It was Phantom of the Opera.”

“How rather romantic.”

“More like tragic. Erik was a gifted but lonely man who tried to lure Christine into his fabricated reality. If he truly loved her, he would have never resorted to utilizing his talents to manipulate her into being with him,” you responded.

“Reminds me of the Mad Hatter, now that you mention it. Do forgive my bluntness on the matter, Madame, but from what I gather, I’d say that the Riddler’s flirting with you, at any rate.”

“What makes you say that?”

“In your words, Madame: vibes.”

…….

The next day you were walking up to your office at WayneTech. You were dressed in a comfortable wool pastel-pink turtleneck, a burgundy longskirt, and rose gold accessories.

You tapped the comm in your left pearl stud. “Frida, I’ll be passing the security check, now. Deactivate my tech ‘til I reach my office. I need to stop by and talk to Lucius first."

“Already done. Be careful, (Y/n).”

“Talk to you later.”

You passed security and headed to Lucius Fox’s office. On the elevator going down, you were greeted and complimented by some of your staff before reaching the Labs and Tech Testing floor.

Another average afternoon as always, you sigh to yourself, sipping on a can of iced coffee from a vending machine.

Once you reached your destination, you took out your ID, but before you could swipe it, you noticed the door was already opened, and it looked like the scanner was deactivated.

Oh no!

You tapped your right comm- your emergency comm- to alert Frida.

“Frida! Someone has infiltrated the security lock to Lucius’ office. I’m going in.”

There was no feedback.

Shoot.

You rush inside and see a struggling Lucius gagged and tied to his chair, and taped to his chest was a green stationary with a purple question mark on it.

“Lucius!”

You rush over to him and take off the note.

It read:

What’s a Wayne to do when the real brains behind the operation is tied up? It’s lights out for the uptown girl.

You blink at the question in confusion before the lights in the room were switched off, and you felt a sharpness hit the back of your nape.

When you come to, you’re tied up in a wooden chair, and your wrists were tied with rope that crossed between your thumbs behind your back. Your ankles were also bound together.

You also noticed your pearl comms were missing. You took in your surroundings and noticed a nearby window that looked out over the west side of Gotham. The WayneTech tower was across the distance, and it was already sunset based on the cast of lighting from the surrounding buildings’ shadows.

Just. great.

You shift in your place to feel if your rings were on your fingers.

They’re gone, too. I can’t call my Batcycle.

You tried stomping on your boot heels, but forgot your ankles were tied separately, and it was then you realized your heeled boots were taken off, so you were left in your happyface flower print socks.

They took my spare batarangs, smokebombs, and taser, as well.

As you squirmed around in your seat, you failed to notice the figure sitting in a swivel chair across from you. Grinning in amusement as you struggled.

“Comfortable?”

You looked up, and glared.

“Riddler. What did you do to Lucius!?”

“I only told my men to use him as bait to get your attention. And-”.

He pulled out a drawer full of your jewelry and boots.

“-to force him to tell them about your clever little trinkets you managed to hide as pretty little fashion accessories. Riddle me this, material girl: what time is best to eat the rich?”

“I don’t know. When?”

“Ah-hahaha! When you rob them blind, you moron! You see, Miss Wayne, when I decided to expose Batwoman for the criminal she actually is, I needed to backtrack as to how she could make her acts of villainy look like selfless heroic deeds.”

“What makes you think she’s a villain?”

“I know she’s a villain, and I ask the questions around here. Now, riddle me this: just how did the Batwoman acquire her Batcycle and gadgets? Hmmm?”

You stayed silent.

“No guesses from the guest, huh? I don’t blame you; your mind is inferior to mine, after all. But I’ll spare you some pity and tell you what I know is the answer.

“I believe that she steals the money from the criminals she apprehends, and then uses that money to pay you at WayneTech to fund and create her customized gear and gadgets, while she bribes Jim over at GCPD to keep it quiet.”

He picks up a batarang that was on his desk and holds it in the now-dimmed light. The city lights of Gotham illuminating the pitch black night outside shone into the poorly-lit room with a green digital glow coming from your captor’s monitors. He turned back to face you once more.

“And they’re the same gadgets as the ones that my men just so happened to find on your person, earlier. So, I already have solid evidence to back my theory. Clearly, you and Commissioner Gordon have been turning a blind eye to the crimes you’ve been enabling the Batwoman to ensue, making you no better than a super villain such as myself."

You sat there shocked after hearing all of that. The Riddler was so smart, he almost discovered your secret identity. He still believes your supersona and civilian cover are two separate entities, but that might change the more he talks. The more he thinks.

“Shocked speechless by my genius? I know. I would be, too, if I was as ignorant and gullible as you.”

You heavily roll your eyes.

“You know, it’s a shame, though. I’m finally going to corner Batwoman once and for all, and this might be the last time I ever get to challenge her intellect.”

“Why’s that a shame? Hate having no competition?”

“Not in the slightest! No one can compete with the Riddler when it comes to matters of the mind! But Batwoman has proven her worth when it comes to showing appreciation in my temporary diversions. She’ll never confess it, but I can see it in her expressions whenever she participates in them, solving them flawlessly, proving to me time and again that only she can be my true equal in this cesspit of a city. If it were any other way, I’d marry such a woman. And that’s why it’s such a shame.”

You almost dropped your jaw upon hearing this sudden confession. At first, you were really annoyed, but now your eyes widen in surprise as you bite your tongue to keep you from giving your reaction away. You were glad the Riddler wasn’t facing you; the room was cold, and you could feel a blush blooming on your face.

I guess I can agree with him; it really is a shame we’re on opposing sides of justice. It’s a shame he has such an obsession with needing to outwit others to prove he's the smartest man in the room. Otherwise, he’d be my type, you thought to yourself.

The Riddler just stood in front of the window with his arms crossed. Fingers thrumming against his arm impatiently. Then, he was pacing steadily around the room before he turned to you with a smirk.

“Why, Miss Wayne! It seems Batwoman doesn’t care to save you from my evil clutches. Which is strange.”

“Strange how, Riddler? Maybe she’s busy saving some other poor unfortunate soul, right now.”

His pacing comes to a halt, and pivots to face you.

“It’s strange, because-” he took slow steps toward you, “-she has never once failed to answer my challenges, until tonight, and-”.

He pauses to look up at a nearby window, “-the Bat Signal is still up”.

He stopped a foot in front of you, and leaned towards the side of your face.

“Riddle me this: just who is under the Batwoman’s mask?”

You closed your eyes and drew a deep breath in before saying in your slightly- deepened Batwoman voice: “It’s me”.

The Riddler whipped his face in front of yours. You’ve never seen such a surprised expression on him before.

“W-what.” He blinks at your tired face that showed no signs of sarcasm nor deceit.

“What!?”

For a few moments of silence, you look at Riddler who’s standing there, still gobsmacked by the revelation, until he finally breaks it.

“Even if you- (Y/n) Wayne- were in fact, Batwoman, please illuminate me on something.”

“Like what?”

“Like WHY you would just tell me your secret identity!? ME of all people! Just like that!” The man said, his hands flying out frantically as he spoke. Like he was trying to debate the concept of rocket science to a pet goldfish.

“Okay, first of all, YOU asked me via a riddle! And I have no choice but to give you an answer, or else God knows what’ll happen to my useless tied-up self if I hadn’t!” you quip in exasperation.

“And either way, since when did THE Riddler get mad at me for answering correctly to his own riddles? Okay, actually- forget I asked that.”

“It was a RHETORICAL question!!” the man said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That you literally asked by saying ‘Riddle me this’! I’m literally in your captivity! Did you seriously think I’d be able to lie my way out of this situation, nonetheless to you!?”

The Riddler stood against the windowpane with his arms crossed in contemplation. Behind him, the Bat Signal still shone across the backdrop of the air-polluted city.

He could tell you definitely weren’t lying; you really were the Dark Knight, herself, weren’t you?

Many of his victims and even his fellow rogues would underestimate him because he didn’t seem like he could pull off much. But Batwoman never doubted him when she herself was also an intellect. Almost his equal. Of all the people who dared to challenge him, she actually showed him respect and would answer all of his riddles without hesitation or ire. He noticed that whenever Batwoman would talk to him, her usual blunt tone he’d hear you utilize on other rogues via recordings on the news would lighten into a more calmer, cordial one whenever she faced him. Hell if he knew why, but in a way, maybe she too saw him in a similar light of great minds.

Riddler looked into (Y/n)’s eyes. The moonlight caught their (e/c) irises in a soft glow, and your (h/c) hair was put up in a messy bun with some flyaways framing your face. He realized this is the first time he can truly appreciate how simplistically beautiful you are without your supersona. He felt a brief wave of guilt for the insults he threw at you earlier, but at the end of the day, you were the same sharp-minded woman he grew a surprising respect for.

He took a deep breath to recenter his thoughts on what you said before walking over to his monitor set and pressed a button.

“Boys? Disassemble the bombs you planted just now. Do not return to base until further notice. Have yourselves an early holiday for the time-being~.”

Several men on the receiving comm sighed before saying “on it, Boss”, or the like, before he switched off the screens. Not a moment after, the Bat Signal turned off.

When you saw that, you felt a funny mix of feelings. You felt guilty for not being the Batwoman the city needed anymore, but your captor was also being oddly accommodating for your predicament at the moment. You were grateful for the Riddler’s rare act of compassion (or maybe it was just straight-up pity, if anything).

“My apologies for having my men kidnap you; I sincerely didn’t expect to learn my greatest nemesis’ secret so soon.”

“Thank you; you didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what? Call off my schemes? More like postponement. You know, there’s really no point in them without a certain someone to engage in them to my standards”, he said smugly.

“Now about said certain someone-” he spun on his chair to face you from his monitor set, “you mentioned that you couldn’t lie to me out of your current predicament. Are you insinuating the possibility that had it been anyone else, you would have?”

“If it had been anyone else, I doubt I would still be alive. You are the only rogue who wouldn’t give me zero chances if it meant there wasn’t something in it for you, and I have valuable intel no money can ever buy. If it’s any villain I know who sees waste in my impromptu death, it’s you”, you said. The Riddler raised an eyebrow at that.

“You really are a great detective to figure that out and take a gamble on it, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

The man took a deep sigh, and looked down.

“But unfortunately, Miss Wayne- Batwoman, you’ve misjudged my character.”

Your body stills. “What?”

He shot his head up and grins amusedly at your reaction.

“That’s right! See, you’re wrong to underestimate the Riddler; I don’t need to spare your life for some ‘priceless intel’, my dear. I can pursue any knowledge I want on my own terms!”

He walked over to you, cane in hand, and you felt cold sweat on the back of your neck.

“But you are correct in that I would see your death as impromptu-” he walks behind you out of sight. You're officially panicking, now.

He wouldn’t kill me, but he still could, and maybe this was a really stupid idea to trust-

“-and, unnecessary,” the binds and rope fell off of you with a couple of quick swipes of his cane.

Now it was your turn to sit there speechless.

“Cat caught your tongue?” the Riddler sidesteps to glance at your baffled expression.

“I don’t understand. You’re letting me go? Just like that? And you won’t have me bargain anything for my freedom?”

“Not so fast, Batwoman. We need a re-introduction.”

As the Riddler walked up to you, he took off his green bowler hat and removed his purple mask with one hand, and put them behind his back. He walked up to you and took your hand and slightly bowed.

“From now on, when we’re not wearing masks, please call me Edward, (Y/n).”

He raised your hand and planted a chaste kiss on the back of your palm.

“And I only ask this in exchange for your freedom,” he took the hand out from behind his back. His hat and mask was mysteriously replaced by a lavender envelope attached to a rose.

You took both hesitantly from him, but when you looked up, he was already across the room near the exit. His hat was already on and he had just finished adjusting his mask back onto his face.

“Until next time, my little bat~.”

And he disappeared into the night.

Hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter!

I took inspiration from Totally Spies! for the jewelry comms and gadgets, as well as that one scene from Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro towards the end.

Stay cool🤙🏼

BTAS

His flower shop is immaculate. Neat, plants organized by category and then sub-organized by color. Has a small greenhouse focused on more delicate or rare flowers that need special care. Due to his technological prowess, everything is automated to an exact science, down to moisture readers in the soil of the potted plants. Has an eye for arranging bouquets.

He has a criminal past and managed to elude law enforcement on his path to revenge. Instead of going right back to games and puzzles, he opted to lay low. He's successful, but how successful is a flower shop that it gains renown? It's perfect for his intentions.

You catch his eye when you come in and look around. You'd noticed the flowers from the outside and felt yourself being pulled in. After a lovely conversation that made his heart flutter, he just assumed he wouldn't see you again. Such a delightful woman never seems to accept all of him. And yet... you do. You ask questions. You appreciate him and what he is. When the time is right, he'll tell you the truth.

Flowers has been the thing to bring you together. What he plans to do to show his affections will take time- He works. He plots and designs and creates numerous genetic charts. And once the time he right he reveals the symbol of his love for you- A brand new rose variety. It's color and petals are soft. He names it after you.

2022

Hyperfixation career. In this au, there had to be a special moment in which plants became just as much of a comfort area as numbers. Perhaps something about raising them and nurturing them to bloom when he was in the orphanage? Creating something beautiful from nothing. Maybe if he keeps growing these plants, something can grow inside the void in his chest... It's not his shop, but the owner likes how dedicated he is- down to Edward's complex understanding of accounting and statistical numbers that's increased profit exponentially.

He really watches you from afar in the shop at first. The pretty woman who just moved into Gotham, looking to buy a bouquet for herself. He listens in on his boss talking to you, asking general chatty questions. His biggest takeaway is that you're alone... just like him. So when you keep coming in for new flowers, he's enamored.

Very much crushing from afar and if you asked him any questions, he'd make a bouquet that's basically a love confession in flower form- Aster, gardenias, white roses, red chrysanthemum... The actual presentation is a little messy. But it's made with such feeling it's difficult to not find it beautiful; Even if you're not sure of the meaning just yet.

In this au, he'd likely only make a move if someone else was moving in on you or if you expressed interest first. Otherwise, he'd keep a lot of his feelings to the flowers... and his totally not creepy online blog he runs where he talks about injustice and numbers and now you :)

Dumb side thought, if any of these guys was a Seymour from Little Shop, it'd be 2022. Except he was probably killing people already, this is just easier body disposal.

Arkham

He's so gruff but his flowers and plants are so lovely. Really, it's the only reason people keep going in to get them from him. His shop is dimly lit other than UV lamps and the scarce sunlight that filters through the front window for the flowers that need it. It's clean but... cluttered. There's never an instance where he doesn't have dirt and mud on his clothing. Overall, it's pretty unwelcoming for a store. Even the nursery outside is well taken care of but reminiscent of a garden to get lost in.

When you bring him a dying plant that you're desperately trying to keep alive, he looks... annoyed. Hand it over. Obviously you don't know what you're doing. Why even bother buying it if you're not going to learn to take care of it? When you tell him it was a sentimental gift, he pauses. Come back later, he'll have written instructions on how to take care of it.

If someone were to snoop, they'd find that this version of the Riddler was once something of a prodigy. Brilliant with technology and numbers. Yet he was obsessive. Couldn't stand to lose. So when he did, he couldn't accept it. Some... bad things happened and he left the game. He's vague about it. Says the other person cheated. Better to leave it alone.

When you come back in with photos showing you followed every instruction he gave you and the plant flourishing... That's when he starts getting feelings. Hey, young lady, do you- Do you perhaps need a job? He has an opening and you seem competent. He can pay you competitive rates for... whatever it is you're wasting your time on now. Then you'll be close.

Zero Year

Similar to BTAS, Zero Years shop is meticulous and filled with devices he created himself to take care of the plants automatically. He hardly needs staff- yet found himself hiring in case there are clients he doesn't want to deal with. A lot of this is a cover for the hacking and other illegal shit he pulls for giggles and his own ego. It's not nearly the same grandiose level of his crimes in the comics, but it's not nothing.

He can rattle off the taxonomy of anything inside or outside the shop. Tell you the historical and cultural significance if it has any. His flower language game is insane. This results in both flirty messages that no one seems to understand in this bouquets or scathing insults the morons will never figure out.

When you show up, he's shoving away the morons working for him to see to you himself. In his mind, it was very smooth and you probably didn't even notice. In reality, it was very obvious that he was barreling his employee over to talk to you. What were you looking for, sweetheart, hm? Tulips for your mother? Congratulatory bouquet for a coworker? ...He looks slightly annoyed- Roses for a lover? When he finds out it's just for your home. Yellow daffodils, summer savory, coral roses- He picks everything out himself, complimentary colors. He gives it to you for free with a wink.

Chapter II : Who Is She

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye-yes…thank you…”

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

She left with a confused expression.

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

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

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

And the most difficult part was still to come.

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddieboy! Hi!”

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

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

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh, ok! Have fun in the shower!” 

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

“Oh… um… thanks man…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ne-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

“Riddler! Fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You steered clear of any trees and greenery that was in the vicinity, so you were booking it to lure Ivy inside of a building (that was already evacuated, thankfully). Once inside, you used your grappling hook to weave in-and-out, eventually tying Ivy’s vines into a massive knot.

You threw a smokebomb to throw off your position and carefully crouched under the massive vines with poisonous thorns. Even with gloves, touching them for leverage would have blown your cover, too.

You finally located Ivy who looked like she was on the point of a mental breakdown before you threw a batarang at her and it penetrated the side of her exposed stomach.

“Ugh! Stupid girl! You honestly think your little toy would-!”

You immediately press a button, and the batarang launched into Poison Ivy sent a powerful electric charge throughout her body.

“WAh-ah-Ah-ah-Ahhh!!!!”

The electrical current didn’t just affect Ivy, but all of the vines and plants that were under her influence.

Ivy fell to the floor, as the massive plants surrounding her withered and receded to the size of sidewalk weeds. The room smelled like overcooked spinach, and there were holes in the walls and ceilings.

At least none of the civilians were harmed, you thought to yourself.

As GCPD cars flooded the area, your work was finally finished.

You were about to take off on your Batcycle after adjusting your helmet, however, Jim Gordon walked up to you before you could ditch the scene.

“Batwoman! We need to talk about what happened last night! We had the Bat Signal up for hours and you stood us up! What were you-?”

“- I'm sorry to cut this short, Commissioner, but I assure you, I've already submitted the incident from WayneTech to your records; Lucius Fox and (Y/n) Wayne were unharmed. You'll have to excuse me, but I have urgent business to tend to. Take care, Jim.”

And without further adieu, you revved your Batcycle and took off before the commissioner could get another word in.

Jim sighed to himself as he rubbed his temples. “She reminds me of my Barabara; always rushing ahead.”

You press on your silver earring stud on the side of your shoulder to turn on your comm link.

“Frida. I’m finished with the flower business. I’m headed back to the manor now.”

But before you could hear a response from said butler, you heard a dissonant static that cut through your receiver.

“I saw the whole thing on the news! You looked great. Does anyone aside from your butler ever give you the credit you truly deserve, Miss Wayne?”

“Mister E. Nygma.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be meeting with you later to uphold my end of the bargain. So why did you hack into my comms?”

“You didn’t give me your phone number.”

“You never asked. I thought that was your thing, y’know; asking all the questions?”

“Alright, alright, you got me there. I just took some initiative, is all. Besides, it’ll be more convenient to directly contact you over making a scene to get your attention. You can’t always be Batwoman, after all.”

“So how am I supposed to contact you, then? Or are you pulling one of your classic ‘only I can, but you can’t’ moments?”

“Is Batwoman really asking for the Riddler’s number, right now?”

“I guess she is.”

“It’s funny you mention it, because you already have it; I installed it into your phone’s contacts when my men confiscated your items last night.”

“So if you already put your contact in my phone, why are you hacking my comm link?”

“I assume you’re still in your Bat get-up, yes?”

“...yes, and?”

“So then I can successfully contact you, whether you’re playing superhero or civilian, my dear bat~.”

“It’s quite rude to intrude on a lady’s personal items, Nygma. Especially her cellphone.”

“And it was extremely rude of you to spoil my whole plan to expose the Batwoman, only for you to rob me of my satisfaction! You know, I personally hate it when people spoil things for me. Movies, books, videogames, secret identities.”

“And you already know that it was never my intention to spoil your questionable sense of entertainment, so I don’t have anything to apologize for. You know, you could have figured it out sooner if you were smarter… you had the truth right in front of you and you still thought Batwoman and Wayne were two separate people. I literally had to spell it out for you."

“Well then! I guess if I weren’t smarter I would’ve thought twice about capitalizing on your ‘priceless intel’, or perhaps…selling your little secret to the highest bidder on the Rogues’ list. Don’t bite the hand that feeds, Bat. Remember our arrangement?”

“.....fine. I stepped too far. But I’m still not apologizing, because I know I’m right. I’m not expecting you to agree with me, whatsoever.”

“And you’re very fortunate that I like that about you. See you tonight, Miss Wayne~” and the feedback cut out from his end.

There was no need to switch back to Frida’s comm, because you had just arrived at the Batcave. Frida was already waiting beside the blue-white screen of the Batcomputer.

“Were you able to record all of that, Frida?”

“That I did, Madame (Y/n).”

“....”

“....”

“You sound…. disappointed yet smug at the same time, Frida.”

“I'm not surprised that you’re able to observe that about me, Madame. What I am surprised at is how you've managed to tangle yourself into an outing with one of the city's most migraine- inducing villains. Also- I was right on the money about the Riddler having a fancy for you. As the cityfolk say: you really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Is it really me doing the picking, though?”

“Will you still be seeing the strange bloke tonight?”

“If I don't, he'll definitely compromise my positions as both (y/n) Wayne AND Batwoman. I'm not in a position to deny him, but I'm not going to let him think he'll be manipulating me into any of his underhanded tactics, either. He's still a villain at the end of the day.”

“Tread carefully, Madame. I would hate to see your parents’ legacy be squandered over something so trivial, and I will not stand idly by and say nothing if it means I could sleep at night. Not as your butler nor colleague, but as someone who has looked over your parents and their affairs for the past 30 years. I will first see that the manor burns to the ground- again- if it means you remain alive and well, young master.”

You pull Frida into a hug after hearing her say that. Out in the field, you were content working alone as Batwoman, but former agent Frida Pennyworth overlooked (y/n) Wayne and her well-being after everything was said and done. Even though she could never replace her parents, her love and dedication stood as the cornerstone of the Wayne Manor. She was more than a loyal servant, she was family, and all the chaos of hell wouldn’t compare to what would be unleashed had anything put her in harm’s way.

“Thank you, Frida. I needed to hear that,” you say as you tighten the hug.

“I know, Madame. All will be well,” Frida said, gently patting your back in return. After you both release each other, Frida made sure to dust off any lint or wrinkles on your attire before doing the same for her own. “Just see that it ends as such.”

You then walked up to your elevator that was disguised as a part of the cave’s wall, and the doors opened automatically as you stepped toward them.

You turn to face Frida, and before the doors close on you, you respond: “I will.”

The elevator opened up to your bedroom that lit up automatically; it was very spacious, but aside from the king-sized bed, you filled it with many bookshelves and plants that you maintained by setting up automatic diffusers. You didn’t let Frida do all the work, but sometimes, you’d notice that she would occasionally trim and prune the small collection you had, and it was her subtle way of saying: “you have other matters to prioritize, for now.”

Poor Ivy, you thought, she’d probably like me for my greenthumb, but would’ve killed me for owning shelves of dead, dried-up, pressed plants with ink all over their thinly-sliced and bound corpses.

You unpin your hair from your cowl as you step into your bathroom to wash off the day. You place your bat suite into the laundry chute and finally step into your hot shower.

If only the day could end here, you thought to yourself.

You sigh in defeat as you finish rinsing off and turn off the tap. You wrap yourself into a fuzzy pink robe before you step into your walk-in closet to find a suitable outfit for the evening.

If it were any other occasion, Frida would have insisted on finding the perfect outfit for you, what with her history of going undercover as a model back in her heyday.

But because tonight was an occasion involving the indulgence of a certain villain, well, it was best that you didn’t want to push the “dress to impress” notion to the max for the likes of him. So you insisted on selecting your own dress for the evening.

You ended up picking a modest lavender dress with a dark plum shawl that thankfully didn’t swallow the dress, but added a balanced flair that complimented the overall style: formal, classy, down-to-business.

To go with the envelope, you thought.

You walked up to your vanity where you left said envelope from last night. Inside was an invitation to an evening art gallery.

Frida took the liberty of placing the rose in a small crystal vase with water. It was a longer night than usual last night, so you were thankful to her for doing that for you. Despite how common they were, you loved roses. You decided to pin the already-trimmed, thornless rose into your loosened hair.

After applying light makeup and piecing the last of your jewelry together, you grab your handbag and go down to your garage and select your Chevrolet ‘60 to drive to the gallery.

Once you arrived, your phone buzzed with a notification, but there was somehow no number on the screen. The text read:

????: I am the hand that painted both the potter and the clay. Find my display, and tap on my frame.

I know exactly which piece he’s referring to, you thought.

You presented your event invitation- which was also a ticket- before stepping into the entrance of the art gallery. You wound in-and-out through the crowds of patrons and critics, alike. You politely decline the visitors who noticed your attendance at an event unrelated to WayneTech, but managed to pacify any conversationalists with ease.

Finally, you found the painting you were looking for; it was a mixed-media take on Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam painting, however, it was revised so that only the hand of God and the hand of Adam were the only things visible, and the coloration was a series of carefully-arranged multi-colored dots, so if you walked too close to it, it would no longer display the intended image. You were rather impressed by the optical illusion, if anything.

If this isn't it, then I don't know what is.

You walk up to the painting, and make sure there was no one in the vicinity before lightly tapping its frame.

The frame opened inward, and you stepped through the concealed doorway.

The frame shut automatically and you heard the click of a locking device behind you.

The new room you were in was more of a narrow passageway, but the only light in the place was from an array of holes and rectangular gaps that were no-doubt utilized by your host as a means to spy and sneak around the rest of the building.

He really wasn't kidding when he said he admired the Phantom, you recalled to yourself.

You heard another notification from your cell. You opened the unread text:

???: Welcome.

Upon reading the message, lights overhead illuminated the passageway you were currently standing in. To your left was a dead end, so you walked alongside the curved wall on your right. The hallway seemed to go on and on, until a hidden doorway opened into the ceiling. You realized it was a mirror creating an optical illusion of a seemingly-endless hallway that was actually concealing a set of stairs.

When you reached the top of the oddly long climb of stairs that curved upwards, you reached what looked like a residential door with a mail slot, a peephole, and a doorbell in the middle. You ring it, and when the door opens, you are finally met by the devil of the man, himself.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Wayne! Please do come in~!”

For the first time, you are met with a side of the Riddler you've never seen before. Just like you, he wasn't in his usual attire on a typical crime-fighting night. Instead of his green suit and dark-purple mask, he was wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck with grey slacks. You also noticed that he had a slight widow's peak, but it suited his facial structure rather nicely as it balanced out the sideburns that also complimented his angular jawline.

As you stepped through the door that was held open for you, you could feel his olive-green eyes drinking you in.

“Dare I say you look ravishing tonight?”

“I suppose you look rather nice, as well.”

“You suppose, huh?”

As he closes the door, you didn't ignore the various locks, alarm clocks, and bombs that were fastened on the inside of the door.

“I’ve only seen you in green tailored suits with question marks involved, so it’s definitely new for me.”

“Is ‘new’ good?”

“It depends, but in your case, I wouldn’t worry.”

“So you can give compliments!”

“Just don’t let it get to your head.”

“Already too late for that, my dear,” he says, as he leads you down the hallway you were in, opens another metallic, bomb-covered door, and into a spacious foyer. There was light jazz playing on a phonograph in one corner of the room, while a small table was set up near a window that overlooked an illuminated side of Gotham’s bay area. Some sort of food wafted in the air, and it made your mouth water.

He pulled out one of the chairs for you, and gently pushed you in as you sat down with your dress and ankles tucked classily to the side of your chair, facing the fire escape opposite the bomb-infested entrance.

As your host settled himself in front of you, he flicked his fingers that suddenly held a lit match, and lit the candlestick in the center of the table that illuminated the meal in front of you.

“Hope you’re not allergic to shellfish; I’ve always been fond of the pescatore here. It’s very fresh considering we’re in the heart of Gotham’s fishing district.”

He poured you a glass of a white wine and began digging in while you were still blinking at the scene before you.

There HAS to be some sort of catch in a setup like this, you thought.

You gave the Riddler the most transparent look of suspicion as he continued eating. Finally, he paused upon noticing your brooding.

“You haven’t touched your food. Is something the matter, (Y/n)? Should I get you an alfredo, instead?”

“There definitely is something, Edward. There’s always something,” you say as you swirl the shimmering wine in its flute.

“I love that you remembered to call me by my first name now that we’re no longer playing as our prior aliases,” he said, drifting off topic.

“It’s too bad you say it with such disdain; I really wanted this to be a pleasant first date for the both of us.”

“This isn’t a date,” you say flatly.

“But I’d like it to be~”, the man said in turn.

“Okay- look, I appreciate the aesthetics, and the food, and the jazz, and the overall romantic atmosphere…. but there’s one problem.”

“Is it the bombs? Those are just intensive pest control measures; nothing too major.”

“No, it's the phonograph; it’s extremely outdated. OF COURSE IT’S THE BOMBS!” you shout in exasperation.

“But my dear, look at the view we have! Everywhere else was booked!”

“The problem is that I’m not the Riddler’s ‘dear’. And I am NOT dating a man of his reputation anytime soon, considering I have my own to uphold,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. “More to the point- what’s the real reason you brought me here?”

“I’m glad you asked! In exchange for (Y/n) Wayne’s freedom, I simply wanted to enjoy her company, one-on-one.”

“There has to be a catch.”

“No catch to this exchange, whatsoever. Also, did you know that when you walked through that second metal door, you walked through a large magnetic frame that nullified all of your recording devices?”

“What!?”

“That way, we have no pesky little third parties interrupting our splendid time together.”

You gave him an incredulous look, and since the more he talked, the more irritated you became, you slump back into your chair with a defeated noise and stress ate the lukewarm pescatore sitting in front of you. Edward Nygma watched on with a cheshire grin.

“You have this adorable pout when you’re upset. Has anyone ever told you?”

You ignored him.

After you downed your wine, you stood up.

“Thank you for the meal; it was delicious. Can I go home now?”

“One last thing, my lovely guest.”

He stood up and walked over to you, and picked up the wine bottle that he placed near the phonograph. He refilled both of your wine flutes and held out your own towards you.

“In exchange to keep Batwoman’s secret, well, secret, what do you- (Y/n) Wayne- say to officially dating me?”

“I KNEW there was a catch, you lying piece of-!!”

“Ah-ah-ah, Miss Wayne. You’ve been around me long enough to know that I never lie. I gave you your freedom last night for your company tonight. Exchange complete. And now, I’m proposing an entirely new offer; I recall you saying you would never date the Riddler, not Edward Nygma. So- .”

He stepped toward you, offering the flute of wine.

“-will you accept my proposal, Miss (Y/n) Wayne?”

Thank you for reading! Please share your thoughts in the comments/ dms :)

I'm currently reading Batman: Zero Year, and I'm enjoying it so far! I especially love the character design and iteration of the Riddler in that series, specifically, so I may incorporate more of his version in future chapters. My most challenging character to write for this fic so far is Frida, considering she's the major supporting-character who's an OC.

In the meantime, stay cool!🍧

Gotham

He figures it out within a few times of meeting her and is very actively not saying anything about it. She's pretty, she listens to his instructions, and she's nice to him! What else could he ask for besides her staying out of his plans?

He might get a little frustrated that she doesn't know the correct answers to his riddles but if she actually tries, that's already a step above others pre-criminal career. Even Oswald was kind of a jerk to him at first! But if people are mean to her... kill bill sirens.

The truth is, he knows his genius plus neurodivergency makes him a bit of an odd figure to others. Awkward and gangly. He tries to fit in, well, the TRIED to fit in. Seeing someone he cares about struggle to do the same thing because they don't feel enough hurts his heart. He'll help her fix it...

60s

He honestly didn't notice at first because, obviously, the reason she's so quiet is a silent reverence for his brilliance. Lots of people don't get his riddles anyways! Except the boy blunder and that thorn in his side.

Anyways, he likely only notices when another henchperson is giving her guff about being dumb. Cornering her when they think he's not around to bully. Edward is quickly behind them, chastising, "Oh, and you think you're so clever?" Rattling off riddles and quiz questions until they shirk away in shame.

"Pretty thing, is that why you haven't been speaking up? Such a shame to miss the sound of your voice simply because others are jealous you have my eye." That's what it is. Of course. That's how he'll phrase it. It's okay she doesn't need to be a genius for him, he'll do the thinking for both of them <3.

Zero Year/Capullo

He notices rather quickly. Her cute, puzzled looks but the way she keeps silent. The way he rambles on about certain topics and she gives a nervous smile and a nod.

of course he's going to fuck with her. Privately.

Tells her some long, theatrical version of Perseus and Medusa- Asks her how it relates to his current crime and what she knows about it. Come on, no need to be shy. He's waiting...

Aw, she doesn't know? It's alright, let him tell you all about it. Funny, he was willing to wipe out a whole city because they couldn't best him. Yet, he can't bear to lose her. She'll just have to be his prized caged bird, favored by the Gods.

BTAS

Genuinely, he's used to it? Most if not all of his henchpeople are pretty... eh, in terms of intelligence. They're there for MUSCLE and BRAWN. Surely, if Edward is there, they don't need anyone else thinking for them, anyways. Even Query and Echo weren't the brightest at moments!

It's more that she's choosing to not even ask questions. Everyone asks questions! Tim, the dumbest rock of them all, asks all his questions and Riddler is amazed the man knows how to breath and talk at the same time! Just... ask.

Also it's totally fine that she needs to ask him things and croon about how intelligent he is, that revs his engine. In fact, it's kind of ideal, in a way. Gain a little more confidence, stay devoted, sweetheart, and the world is your oyster! He'll make sure of it!

Telltale

There was some friction at first. Silent and stupid doesn't suit him. Condescending questions, "Did you actually understand all that or are you trying to save face, girl?" It's a good thing she's patient or she'd be scared off.

Anyone else laughs at her, though, and it's on. There's blood in the water and he's the shark. Only HE gets to be a shit to her, thank you very much.

"Ask your questions. Now. If you mess up my carefully articulated plans because you didn't bother to ask, I'll be much more cross than if you looked a certain way."

The affection develops from her genuine kindness and passions. Maybe she's not bright, but he sees her value as a person in other ways.

Arkham

In fairness, he already thinks everyone besides him is an idiot so it's not exactly disproving that theory. She's just more quiet about it. In some ways, it's pleasant. It means he doesn't have to listen to moronic whining all the time.

Yet, and he's not sure why, he feels this sort of longing in the pit of his stomach for her to not die while helping set up his traps. If he sees her on camera about to trigger something, he's shouting at her to stop! Stop, What Are You Doing-

It's quite distracting. She's going to have to stop being that kind of henchwoman immediately. Perhaps a position in the "office" with him, where he can keep an eye on her. Yes, surely this will have no consequences whatsoever and he can stop worrying about her safety or person.

2022

Probably the most "forgiving" of any of them. He's quiet himself so he just assumed his new henchwoman was matching his energy. Yet it's when she gets one of his direct orders wrong and he loses his temper... She's in tears and babbling about not understanding and the lightbulb goes on.

The mask is coming off and he's comforting her, "Shh, shhh, it's alright, it... People make mistakes." It doesn't hurt he's still been crushing on her for ages now so getting her to lean on him is a good feeling. He tells her it's alright, that if anyone makes fun of her, he'll take care of it personally.

Chapter I : It'll go away

The weather today is particularly shitty. Which is saying something, because the weather in Gotham is always awful. Usually, you don’t mind it. You like – no – love the rain. You’ve always found beauty in the tiniest things; things that others find ugly and disturbing. But you think that there is beauty in everything. 

The ambiance Gotham has when it rains is substantial. Everything seems to be a blur. All your senses are affected.  The smell of the street changes, humidity suffocates you, the usual noisy sirens and vehicles are muffled by the falling water. Some days, you take off your jacket to feel the drops on your skin. 

But today is not that kind of day. You sprint from the subway station to the main entrance of Gotham University, taking no time to appreciate it’s beautiful gothic architecture. You don’t even notice  the fact that at this time of the morning the lights are still on, making the building even more imposing, rising in the dark and foggy sky. 

Once again you’re late to class, you couldn’t get off the bed after working all night at the college cafeteria. You fucking hate that. Having to rush to find where the room is, not being able to choose your seat or take a coffee. All of that stresses you out even more than you are already. And you rapidly start to fall into a cycle of feeling not good enough. You’re late, you feel like your grades will never be high enough, and that you’ll never be able to pay your student loan. You’ll be in debt all your life in a city that couldn’t care less about the ones who need it the most. 

When you arrive in front of the closed door, you wait a second to take a deep breath. You will not let your mood impact your grades. You need to make a good impression in this new class. Feeling ready, you knock on the door and open it. 

“Good morning, sorry for being late…” you say, first thing, while looking at the professor.

“It’s okay! The storm really had made it difficult for everyone. You can take a seat.”

You scan the room, searching where to sit, when you see him. A big smile grows immediately on your face, fixing him. He dives his head in his paper immediately when he notices you too. You could see his face becoming red even from his seat at the bottom of the class. A light chuckle passes through your lips as you sit a few rows before him. You saw him rapidly looking from his paper to you while you crossed the room and can feel him looking at you now that you are in your chair. 

You think you noticed him for the first time in your very first year at Gotham University. He had made you turn your head all the way back to follow his figure as he walked through the same corridor as you. He looked down almost immediately after noticing your stare. Your college friend, Sarah, was looking at you questionably before chuckling at how cartoonish the action was. The next few times you walked that corridor the same week, you completely ignored Sarah talking to you to spy every corner to see him. But hey, you were just curious. His looks and attitude made you want to know more. He didn’t look like any other student you had met in the cathedral-like building. You could tell by watching him walk that he was shy and reserved. The other times you met him going from one class to another had confirmed that. He kept excusing himself in a worried, soft tone every time he even brushed against someone. He was also always alone. Which only made you want to learn more about him. And be his friend; his only friend.  He reminded you of your younger self, always too scared to stand out, trying to make yourself as tiny as possible, hoping that nobody would notice you, and not having friends because nobody wanted to hear you talk about your favorite cartoons. His look also instantly drew you to him. You’d never seen someone who looked like him. You found him very beautiful, but in an unusually boyish way. He didn’t have the playboy physique that you usually saw on magazine covers. His face was round and soft, and he had high and visible cheekbones that made him so appealing. His eyes seemed to always sparkle despite his loneliness. His lips were so delicate, you could only imagine what he looked like when he smiled, changing the shape of his eyes and accentuating his cheekbones. You surprised yourself wondering how you could make him smile when you’re alone with your thoughts. You also loved his fashion sense, distinguishing himself further from all the other students. You could tell right away that all his clothes are thrifted. Some were ridiculously large on him; like his mother had given him his brother's hand-me-downs. And some were a bit too small; so tight that it made you wonder what he looked like underneath all that fabric. He also seemed to wear an infinite amount of layers, which made you question how he didn't suffocate over the summer.

Strangely, his outfits were always coherent with some recurring garments and an earthy color palette, greens being the most prevalent. His wardrobe consisted of old knitted sweaters, vintage trousers, washed out white or beige shirts (sometimes paired with a tie). And he always wore the same shoes; old, deep brown, low rise docs which allowed you to see his often mismatched funky patterned socks. It ended up making him look more academic and in theme compared to the other students, almost like he'd been born and lived in the walls of the university. His look and features are amplified by his silver wired and oval glasses, accentuating the boyish, academic look. The glasses immediately caught your attention, and you used them as a pitiful excuse for why you were looking at him in the first place.

“Oh, I just really love his glasses! I need new ones!” you told Sarah, who responded by rolling her eyes at the fact that you held your gaze even when his back was to you.

Sarah is a really good friend, always there for you. But she was immediately done with your bullshit. She wasn’t dumb or blind, and sighed every time you denied your attraction to the mysterious boy as you forced her to take the seat in front of you so you could get a good view of him or when you completely tuned out her voice every time you crossed paths with him. You told yourself that you were being totally normal about him. You’re just intrigued, you reasoned, only looking at him occasionally, where you are, in fact, borderline stalking him. You had started following him when you were alone and had memorized his schedule just two months after seeing him for the first time. You hoped he wasn’t questioning the fact that he’s seen you so often. 

And still, you haven’t spoken to him. Neither has he approached you. But you know he noticed you. He probably noticed you the first time you looked at each other in the hallway. He noticed you multiple times after that. One time, while studying at the library after carefully choosing your spot, you smiled at him. He froze, blushed, and then looked down at his paper with extreme intensity for the rest of the time you were there. He didn’t even look up once, you got time to take a coffee and go to the bathroom, he hadn’t moved, his face bright red. You thought it was the cutest thing ever. So, you gave him your prettiest smile every time your eyes met and soon became addicted to all his reactions. Blushing, sometimes glasses fogging, other times bumping into someone and babbling mindless excuses while his books fell, fixing the ground while picking them, avoiding your gaze. On rare occasions he maintained eye contact. Intense, burning eye contact, before picking all his things and running away. Soon you wanted more, more reactions, more babbling. You were hoping to become the only thing on his mind. It seems to work, you caught him more than once looking at you thinking you wouldn’t notice, sometimes, you’ll let him do, other times, you caught him, he almost spit all his coffee once. He does drink a lot of coffee, to a point where you're pretty sure his smell has a hint of it, probably mix with cheap detergent and deodorant, you’re imagining a warm, floral tint to it, combined with the smell of old books. You’re totally normal about him, though. The little hearts you draw on his coffee cup when you serve him at the cafeteria is just a nice touch. Because he can’t look you in the eye when he orders with the most shy and soft voice that resonates in your head every night before you fall asleep. Especially not when you see him choose the same spot to sit in everyday, where you can smile and wave to him, making him choke on his coffee. 

At first he was certain you must be some form of idiot to try tangling with him. Too many arrogant hunters came out of the woodwork once he came back to town- He ripped their throats out. Your first meeting was him practically picking flesh from his teeth. You once saw him crudely raise the dead to do his bidding, a sight that sent most packing!

Yes, you must have been stupid... so he thought. If you were truly an incompetent like he thought, you wouldn't have lasted this long. Your little spats had ended at a constant draw, one or both of you escaping to continue the fight another time.

It was obvious you had come to respect him in some sense. Perhaps even admire him? He told himself it was the only thing keeping you alive. Certainly it wasn't that mouth. You always had some smart ass comeback. Some witty retort that showed your cockiness and youth.

You were, in fact, the last person he wanted to run into when conducting the business he was tonight. A meeting with other vampires to discuss their attack on The Agency. As he stood on the rooftop awaiting them, he could hear a distant whistling... When he stepped aside, a silver arrow whizzed past his head to land into a nearby wall.

There you stood, crossbow in hand, grinning at him.

"Ah. It's you. I apologize, but I simply can't play with you today," He attempts to wave you off, "Find some other vampire to tolerate you tonight, little girl."

Your response was quick, "Oho? Scared I'll kick your ass, 'old man'?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. Looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes. Perhaps he could get you to back away in that time. Easily, he pulled the arrow out of the wall... before sending it back towards you.

You should have been prepared- Yet it cut into your arm just so, causing you to drop the crossbow. The vampire took this opportunity to leap to the air and come down upon you with claws... Which met the thin-but-tough metal and leather of your bracers.

"Always prepared, are you?" he asked, his claws raking too close to comfort to your face.

Your laugh was nervous yet distinct, "What can I say, you keep me on my toes! I wasn't expecting you to be out like this, though. Usually you're much harder to find!" From your hip, you pulled a vial of some sort, smashing it to the ground.

He wasn't sure exactly the compound, but it made his eyes blur with tears. He rolled away, just in time for you to thrust forward with a knife blade. Eddie couldn't help but quip, "And somehow you're doing better than I would have thought possible. Taking tips from yours truly?"

Your face leans back away as his hand swings his cane outward towards you in retaliation. A small spark of metal on metal as your knife comes into contact with the sharpened question mark at the end of his weapon. You try to regain your balance... only to find him dissolving into smoke before your eyes-

As he reappears, it's behind you, his hand shoving you forward and his cane reeling you back towards him. A scream strangles out of your throat as you feel the pointed edge cut into your abdomen. Finally, you'd gotten just that touch too arrogant and took the bait before you were really ready to fight him in open space.

Yet even as he tried to approach you, your blood dripping off his cane, you tried to sweep his legs out from under him. It surprised him just long enough for you to scramble to your crossbow. By the time he caught up to you, it was pointed at his face.

You winced, "I'm not on the menu tonight. Sorry to disappoint you." Both of you stood at a standstill. Both of you easily able to kill the other in this moment. He seemed to be thinking over his options.

The man leaned forward, "...Too bad. You would have been a delicacy." He waits for you to lower the crossbow before continuing, "Now... girl, I really do have business to conduct-"

"(y/n)." You managed to sputter, "My name is (y/n). Not..." A pained expression on your face as you moved.

He rolled his eyes, "You expect me to remember your name? Just like that?" As if you held any importance to him. You were very aware if you didn't, you would already have been dead.

"You seem to remember everything else." Your voice is quiet. He was catching on to your fighting style. You'd have to mix it up if... if you were going to continue this, "You should know the name of the person whose going to- Um-" You were a bit lost in thought.

"Ah, and all the banter has left you." Quickly, he pulls you up. It's not rough or hurtful- If anything, his arms about you make you feel secure.

A door nearby opens and he's pulling you nearby behind the wall of the stairwell structure on the roof. You hear other vampires coming out and feel your breath hitched. You see the way his body almost seems to be shielding yours. Perhaps it was the tension... Perhaps it was the blood loss. Either way, you found yourself pulling the man to a kiss.

a kiss, you noted, he had no intentions of getting away from. He deepened the embraced, seemingly curious of your reactions. His tongue brushing over the bottom of your lips. You moaned in pain as his fingers found the wound on your abdomen, his other hand holding you steady. The sensation mixed with pleasure had you slightly hazy.

When you broke away, he was licking your blood off his fingers. His statement was simple, "Payment. Run along now, young lady. And... don't be stupid next time. You were just beginning to impress me." He walks past you to go speak to his colleagues.

You sneak away in a vague sense of shame. Why did you- Why did he- Better to heal up and answer the hard questions later.