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#gotham rogues x reader

gatorbites-imagines · 21 days

Note

i was wandering if you can write bane x reader [ i'd ascent to god if its trans/ftm reader, it's ok if you can't or dont want to write it :) ] with a big size difference that's all! have a good day/night and take care of yourself <3

Bane x FTM reader

Headcanons

Still have no internet in my apartment, but luckily my sister is letting me visit her place to do assignments, so I can upload stuff from there.

This is based off of comic Bane more than anything, but i cant really find any gifs of that guy, so comic panel it is.

All in all, I don’t think it matters much to Bane that you are trans. It isn’t something he would see as a dealbreaker, or even care too much about. As long as you guys get along and both have feelings for one another.

Bane is extremely smart too, so if you can’t legally find ways to get treatment, then he would probably know at least 10 different ways to get the result you need.

If you want to build muscle, then Bane is also your guy. He knows as much as one can about the process of working the body and getting the result you want, so he would be able to help you get the look you want, even if you aren’t on any testosterone or hormone blockers.

If you want to work out then Bane could also help you out if you aren’t one for top surgery, as you can get a similar look through the right diet and workout routine. But if you want top surgery, you bet he’s taking care of you afterwards, since he would know a thing or two about medical procedures.

Bane being who he is probably also knows different ways to get you to the hormone level you want, but he would most likely avoid doing anything as drastic as his own mix up with chemicals and the likes, unless that’s what you are trying to go for as well. Would make sure you knew all the dangers first though, just in case.

If you want neither and don’t care much for hormone treatment, surgeries or even presenting masc, then it doesn’t pose any issues either, since Bane wouldn’t really care. Hes one of those “wear whatever you want, I can fight” kinda boyfriends. As long as you are happy and comfortable, then he is comfortable and happy.

He seems like a big scary dude, but Bane would be very respectful of you and how you present yourself. Gives very much “big scary dog privilege” when you guys go out, and you do go out sometimes, as I could imagine some of the bats would let you two go on dates, as long as Bane isn’t causing any trouble. You’ll have to live with being shadowed the entire time though.

The huge size difference also strengthens the whole scary shadow thing, so even if people wanna be transphobic too you, they sure as hell don’t dare to do so, since Bane is towering over literally everyone there with muscles that could kill.

Sharing clothes with Bane would also be entertaining, since hes so much bigger than you. Even just his tank tops would hang off you and slide right off you. You would have to tie it with something or tuck it into your pants with a belt, and even then, it would still look super baggy.

You don’t get the chance to borrow his mask, since he needs it himself. But I could see him finding it kinda sweet if you worked the pattern or colors into your own style. It also helps to tell anybody who wants to hurt you that you hand in hand with Bane. So, crossing you is crossing Bane, even when he’s locked away in Arkham.

The extreme size difference also means you can climb him like a tree, like hanging onto his back like a backpack, or hanging around his neck with your arms without your feet being able to touch the ground if he stands up straight.

You being Banes lover also probably becomes some of the “in the know” knowledge around Gotham. The bigger fish know not to mess with you since Bane would be breathing down their necks if they as much as thought about it.

But being Bane’s partner also means you’d know how to protect yourself and even kill if need be. Being much smaller than him and also being trans puts you at risk, so your lover would want you to know how to take care of anybody that tries to harm you when he’s not around. So, you end up knowing how to use a lot of different weapons and fighting styles one way or another.

But in the end, Bane is a respectful guy whose too damn smart to let you being trans get in the way of a relationship. Your big size difference is also cute in his eyes, since he can easily pick you up or just wrap you in his arms. It’s pretty damn great.

141 notes · View notes

lawrites · 4 months

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Rubens Can Suck It!!

Sweet Gotham S1! Edward Nygma x Plus Size! Female Reader

You are having an awful day when someone leaves a note on your desk, describing your figure. It sets you off, and Ed is the one who seeks to comfort you.

This fic features a LOT of insecurities, specifically around being plus size. It talks about the feeling of being seen by others and how shitty some officers at the GCPD are. But Ed is sweet. No warnings beyond that EXCEPT some dirty thoughts from Ed 👀.

It's been an awful morning and it's only 8 AM.

As a woman who works in a field primarily made up of men, especially a plus size woman, you have made your confidence into your armor. Yeah some of the officers could be pigs, (most of them, actually), but you do love your body and how it looks, so it doesn't bother you.

You enjoy wearing bold colors, pretty dresses, structured pant suits, and even pencil skirts to work most days. They make you feel infallible, and you KNOW you look cute in them. No matter what those tiny men say, you can get through the day feeling good.

And usually...it works. There are some days that you think everyone struggles with their looks, no matter their size. It's what happens when your society is constantly screaming "YOU CAN BE BETTER BUY THIS PRODUCT" at you from all angles.

And so, while you are beating yourself up for letting your confidence slip, you decide to go ahead and make yourself more comfortable while you get it back. Especially because trying to force it wasn't working.

Every glance in the mirror was followed by a critical voice, today. Your hair just didn't sit right, your chosen outfit was too tight and the textures were bothering you, and the high heels you sometimes wear would clack and bring eyes to you. All of that sounded just...exhausting, especially when you just want to get through the day and go home without drawing any attention to yourself.

While usually a pair of eyes on you wouldn't bother you, the thought of Harvey Bullock only staring at your tits when he talks to you, or Jim glancing up and down in what he thinks is a subtle way, or any of the officers giggling when you walk by...yeah it would take only one thing to set you off today, you can tell.

So, while it isn't the most flattering outfit you own, you throw your hair into a ponytail and pull an oversized sweater and linen pants on. Comfy, cozy, still professional enough, and properly disguising your body from any eyes, appreciative or insulting.

After that rollercoaster of emotions while you were getting ready, you don't have time to stop for coffee on your way in, which just adds to your mood. And, of fucking course, some guy decided to begin terrorizing Gotham at 7 in the fucking morning, so all public transport is delayed.

You barely manage to get to your desk by 8 AM with no coffee and already in a bad mood. Setting your stuff down, you dig your palms into your eyes, trying to fight off the urge to just leave. A small slip of paper in neat handwriting makes you smile just a bit, though.

What is always found on the ground

But never gets dirty?

You struggle for a second, your brain moving at a slow pace thanks to the lack of coffee. That is, until you hear footsteps and something blocks the lights streaming in from the windows. You gasp and turn towards Edward Nygma, who is standing right next to you and casting a...

"Shadow!" You blurt out.

He gives you one of his sweet, tight-lipped smiles and nods. "Correct!"

You force a cheery tone to your voice so you don't spoil his mood. Ed may be a bit...odd, but he is one of your best friends here, and he doesn't deserve to be brought down just because you aren't in a good mood. "Great! How many is that so far, Eddie?"

He immediately recites, "That would be 85 riddles correctly guessed out of 90 I have shared with you. 3 you needed a hint for and 2 you did not solve entirely."

You cross your arms in mock anger. "Hey! I did my best! Those ones were hard. It's almost like you wanted me to fail or something."

He hurriedly scrambles to get the next sentence out, "Oh! Oh I would n-never! I j-just..."

Whoops, guess your bad mood made that "mock" anger sound more like actual anger. You take on a placating tone, "Ed, it's ok! I know you just enjoy riddles. And sometimes that big brain of yours makes up a new one that stumps me."

You laugh, maybe a bit bitterly, now, as your bad mood forces itself to the front again. The next sentence is nearly mumbled, "I mean, it must be difficult, sometimes, making puzzles for someone who isn't as smart as you."

Ed seems confused more than anything, now. "I'm...I'm not sure what brought that on, but writing down riddles for you every morning is f-fun for me!"

You sigh, twirling a pen from your desk in your hand to avoid eye contact. "It's just...it's just one of those days, Ed. I couldn't find an outfit that made me look nice..."

Ed interrupts you with his insistence, but he still stumbles over his words, "B-but you always look n-nice!"

Your smile comes out as a grimace, "You're sweet, Ed, but everyone doesn't think so." You glance around to make sure that your next words aren't overheard. "I know that I can usually brush cruel insults away, because I try to tell myself I'm beautiful..." You choke out the last part of your sentence, cutting yourself off before you get too emotional in the middle of the office.

You get up and decide to leave the main lobby to get some of the shitty coffee from the break room. At least there you could better disguise the tears in your eyes. "It's really not a big deal, Ed. I guess I'm just not myself, today. Give it a day or two and I'll be more amusing."

And without waiting for a response, you hurry off.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to respond to the dismissal you just gave him. Usually the two of you would talk for at least 5 more minutes.

Wracking his brain as he walks away, he tries to think of something to cheer you up.

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

Rubens

Flashes of his paintings fly through Ed's mind as he attempts to type out a sweet note to you. Every time he gets a glance of a plush thigh or your soft belly, he thinks of how he painted Venus, the Goddess of Beauty.

A voice he's been trying to avoid for a while now pipes up, Yeah, Goddess of only beauty? I'm sure that's all you're thinking about, Ed. How about Goddess of Se-

Ed cuts the voice off before it can finish that thought, but now he is unfortunately thinking about it, even at work. Rubens didn't paint all of his women clothed, especially Venus. Her nude form fuses with yours in Ed's mind, haunting him, taunting him.

There's just...so much he can play with. Your body...so much he can sink his long fingers into. He goes back to your belly, what he has ascertained to be the main source of your insecurity. He empathizes with that, but all he can think of whenever you wear something tight is bending you over in the medical lab on site and holding onto that plush belly as he-

Again, he cuts himself off. He would like to think that the other voice took over again there, but those thoughts were all him. He adjusts himself a bit as he sits at his desk, trying to be subtle.

Then he looks back at the screen in front of him, remembering your mood today, and that hits him like a bucket of cold water. He curses the tears in your eyes from old insecurities popping up again. He has seen you become more and more confident in your time at the GCPD, learning to ignore the pigs that giggle at everything that isn't "normal" to them.

Ed knows that feeling, and especially the taunts from those cops, well. He's off, to them. He never quite knows when to start or end a conversation, and he injects his interests even when he knows people are tired of them.

And that's why he likes (loves) you. You always smile and try with his riddles. You even continue to talk to him after, and are interested in who he is outside of work! That's rare. And if he could return that joy you have given him every day, it would be worth it for the possibility of you figuring out his true thoughts.

Unfortunately, while he has a mind for riddles, analytics, and all things mathematical, he has not been as blessed with poetry. So he wants to type this out...if nothing else than to keep you from feeling like you owe him something.

He types and deletes and types and deletes, looks at the clock, drums his fingers on the desk, and then types slowly this time. Reading it over, he nods at what he has written. It's not amazing, but he hopes it will make you feel like there are people in the office that are on your side, maybe even a secret admirer.

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

And now you're soaking wet. You just wanted to escape your desk and get a simple sandwich and the sky decided that it was a perfect time to begin a deluge right before you got back to the GCPD building. Why? God hates you, apparently. There's no other explanation that would satisfy your overdramatic mind at this point in time.

Luckily you managed to keep your precious food dry by stuffing it under your coat, but the rest of you is definitely not so lucky. You huff and start towards your desk. Bullock sees you on the way, starts a sentence of some sort, (most likely to quip at your condition), but the glare you send his way shuts him up immediately.

You end up collapsing at your desk and peeling off your outer coat, feeling the air conditioning of the building start to combine with your wet clothes to make a chill seep into your bones. Trying to ignore it but unable to suppress a shiver, you place your food on your desk...wait...is that? It is! Someone left a little typed note to you under the bag.

You pick up the note, giving it a quick glance to see if there was anything to connect it to someone. There are no initials or name...hmmm.

Your eyes read over the words on the page once...twice. And your heart shatters. How could...why would...how could someone be so heartless that they would taunt you today of all days?

There is a group of those rude, awful officers that like to congregate together around the water cooler, gossiping and laughing at anyone who wasn't them. But right now, one of them is talking while looking directly at you, and when he stops he throws his head back in laughter, with the rest following.

Holding back a sob, you crumple the letter in your hand and get out of the room as fast as you can without running. As soon as you are out of their sight, tears start streaming down your face and you run to a nearby empty room. It doesn't even matter what it is, you just care that it's empty and safe and lock the door behind you, collapsing against a wall and trying to catch your breath as you gasp for air.

You hold that position for only about 30 seconds, trying to muffle your sobs so they couldn't be heard by anyone outside, but apparently you weren't quiet enough. A quiet knock sounds on the door.

Tap tap tap

You do your best to school your voice, but it still comes out shaky as you reply "Please find another room."

But the voice that filters through the door is one you recognize well.

"Y-you looked cold, so I brought you an emergency blanket. Oh! And a-also your lunch."

You let out a sob, unable to stifle it. "T-thank you, Ed." And you walk over to the door to unlock it, opening it just a tad so he can't see your state.

But Ed is observant, and even with what little you present to him, he can see you are massively upset. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you are trembling, whether from the cold or from your current emotions, that he can't tell. He tries his best to gather some courage.

"W-would you mind if I sat with you for l-lunch?" He holds up your bag of food and you notice that his own lunch is clasped in his hand behind it.

Quickly, you try to consider if you are ready to fully cry in front of Ed, but his kind, if nervous, smile and his own insistence on joining you made you certain that he wouldn't be too judgemental.

You turn your head to the side to try and hide it a bit more as you step back to open the door. Your arm sweeps over to gesture to where you were sitting. "Be my guest, Mr. Nygma."

This makes him let out a nervous chuckle, but he enters anyway. You close the door behind him and lock it.

"I hope you don't mind, I just don't want anyone to see me...well..."

He nods, "That is perfectly understandable."

You both stand awkwardly for a few moments, but you eventually feel the floor calling to you again, so you nestle against the wall where you previously had collapsed. Ed slowly settles down at a respectable distance from you, his gangly limbs shuffling until he finds a comfortable position.

When he hands you your bag of food, he decides it's better to talk about what happened than sit in silence. "M-may I ask why you are upset?" You glance at him, and your eyes start to fill with tears again. He hurriedly starts to stutter through another sentence, "Oh! B-but if you p-prefer not to talk about it, t-that's ok!"

You shake your head, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I guess people like to take advantage of you when you're down sometimes, Ed."

You sigh, but begin feeling more angry than sad. "I mean, I've been in a bad mood all day, I got rained on when I was just trying to get some food, and then some asshole leaves me this."

You open your hand to reveal the crumpled note to Ed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, recognizing it. Oh no, you fucked up, Ed! The voice in his head gleefully taunts.

Your sniffle brings him back, and you look down at the note, spreading it out so you can read it out loud.

"While you are not seen by others as a beauty

I cannot keep myself from glancing at your desk.

Your figure is full, and yet one word sticks truly,

I can only describe you as such: Rubenesque."

Ed ponders over the poem, while a bit rudimentary, it was full of his true compliments to you. But your face crumples when you get to the last word, stuttering it out.

Your eyes look to him, "I mean, Ed! How could someone write this?"

You see his face scrunch in confusion. "I admit, I do not quite understand. I see nothing wrong with the note?"

Feeling frustration well inside of you, you gesture with your hands wildly. "Nothing wrong? It's that word, Rubenesque!! It's an insult, I know it, especially with how those assholes were glancing at me as I read it, laughing once I was done."

Ed seems to be more confused now. "I was not aware it was an insult?"

You nod, and remember all of the times you have heard it in the past, "It's always been used by people who want to try and appear to be kind, but truly aren't. They call me Rubenesque in this snide tone, like it's something they can barely stand to spit out of their mouths."

Ed tries to interrupt, but you continue, softer now. "I just don't know Ed. The whole note seems to be mocking me...calling me full figured and not a beauty. Am I really that bad?" He shakes his head while you feel tears starting again, so you look down at the floor.

Now at a whisper, you barely get out the next words. "I just...I don't even want someone to like me anymore. I just want them to leave me alone." With that vulnerable confession, you sob, and bring your hands to your face, trying desperately to cover it. A shiver runs through you again.

After a few beats, you feel warmth around you, and you glance up to see that Ed has moved closer to cover you with the blanket he brought. His long arms stay in place in a hug after he positions it, keeping you close to him. You are a bit taken aback, as the most that Ed has touched anyone in the past was maybe a handshake.

He leans down so you can hear him, his voice more sure, now, even if it is soft. "Do you know about the painter, Rubens?"

You shake your head. "Is that where the term comes from?" He nods. Not feeling charitable, you grab the blanket and bring it closer around you as you grumble out, "Rubens can suck it."

He lets out a giggle at that, and you feel your heart warm at the noise. "I understand that you feel it is an insult...would you mind if I explain what it really means?"

You nod, because even if it is as bad as you make it out to be, at least you can hear his voice as he explains it.

One of his hands strokes the blanket surrounding you, right on top of your arm. "Rubens painted many different subjects, but the descriptor of Rubenesque usually refers to his nude paintings of women. Specifically, women like Venus."

You lift up your head to look at him. "Venus as in the Goddess of Beauty?"

He nods, gently. "Yes, among...other things." His eyes darken for just a moment before returning to his informative rant. "The women he paints are known to be full-figured, yes, but they are beautiful because of that, in my opinion."

You sit as still as you can, barely breathing, wanting to hear every word he says. A long finger comes under your chin and guides your face until you are looking right at him. "I wrote you that note. I think you are the definition of beauty."

And with that, he brings you gently forward, looking in your eyes the whole time. You let him, and lean forward to meet his lips. The kiss you share is sweet and short, but it fills you with a giddiness that makes you feel like a teen experiencing her first kiss again.

You separate smiling at each other, and Ed reaches up to kiss your forehead. "I apologize for upsetting you. I was trying to be a secret admirer."

You chuckle, "Yeah, well, it didn't help that I read the note as uncharitably as I could." You glance up at him, "I'm sorry for crumpling it up in anger."

He shakes his head. "D-don't apologize. I'll write you as m-many bad poems as you want." One of his long arms slowly moves down, and a finger traces your hip over the blanket. "Is this ok?"

You feel a warmth spark through you again as he makes contact, and all you trust yourself to do is nod. He nuzzles into your neck, whispering in your ear.

"I want you to know, right now, so there is no doubt, I love your body. These hips, your plush belly...even your soft arms." You feel his warm breath on your ear, and it makes you shudder. "They all remind me of art, and they make me want to..."

He trails off, and brings his hand away from your hip quickly, as if burned. You miss his touch, already, and confusedly ask, "What? Ed?"

You can't tell anything from his neutral face, but he gets up, suddenly, grabbing your lunches together again. "Let's find a better place for lunch, more comfortable...maybe with a table."

You nod, standing up with him. As you position the blanket around you, Ed wraps an arm around your waist.

"A-and...if you would like...have dinner with me tonight. I'll cook for you and...tell you more of my thoughts."

Your cheeks heat up, and his do as well. "Ed, I..." You think for a moment. "I'd love to have dinner with you."

He grins at you, again-one of his sappy, closed mouth grins-and leads you out of the room in his embrace. The two of you chat and giggle, seeking out a proper place for lunch and ignoring all of the stares you get. If you have each other, the rest of the world doesn't matter.

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#lawrites #plus size reader #x reader #reader #plus size fic #gotham #gotham x reader #edward nygma x reader #gotham rogues x reader #gotham edward nygma

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tarrenterror25 · 2 months

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who do you think is the smoothest flirt between black mask, two-face, riddler, scarecrow, and penguin? i know this might depend on the version in question.

Ohhhh!! I like this one 🧐

Just hear me out; out of all of them: Black Mask. The man has no shame so he's coming out the game swinging. In any given version he's shown to be witty with his quips.

"You're supposed to be dead, let me fix that for you."

So I can only imagine his pick up lines are smooth. He's not shy about getting in someone's space either so expect a hand on your waist, thigh, or arm around your shoulder.

Two-Face is second. Public speaking and his charisma helps make him a smooth talker, great for conversation and playful banter, he's gonna have you giggling and kicking your feet.

Riddler could be a smooth flirt because he can come up with clever lines and quips, but he's so narcissistic that it's just not going to happen or it's going to come across as him boosting his own ego. He's not going to pick up on cues, take the opportunity to put his arm on your shoulder or anything. Head full. Many thoughts. None to do with flirting.

Scarecrow would be great at flirting. He understands psychology and can pick up on things like your body language. It won't be hard at all for him to read you and base his next move off of what he observes. He takes it slow, wants the anxiety in you to build up and get your heart racing. He knows you're expecting a kiss from him, your pupils are all dilated, your breaths are shallow and your gaze keeps drifting to his lips, but he's just going to continue staring at you for a bit, silent, letting the anticipation build up as he steps closer and closer only to smile and say something like "I'd like to do this again sometime." And he'll leave. An absolute menace, but he would have your knees buckling and heart racing.

Penguin is okay at flirting. Kinda average, can come off a bit sleazy. He's straightforward, not a lot of quips or clever innuendos. You're hot and he's into and he's just gonna outright say it, no beating around the bush.

#gotham rogues #rogues gallery #black mask #roman sionis #harvey dent #two face #Scarecrow #jonathan crane #riddler #edward nygma #penguin #oswald cobblepot #gotham rogues x reader

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hxney-lemcn · 4 months

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Tea Errors — General! Jonathan Crane x gn! reader

summery: Harley tries to help reader to get with Jon. But when the reader mysteriously doesn't appear at work one day, Jon can't help but worry. What happens when he finds out they're in a hospital?

tw: Descriptions of injury and violence.

a/n: Idk why, but the rogues have been making me write damn novels compared to my other fics. My average has been like...3.7k words for them when normally its only 1k 😭 This fic is loosely inspired by these headcanons by @roguish-gallery

wc: 5.6k

Master List

(Read it on ao3 here)

“Wait…WHAT?!” Harley shouted, not caring how the other patrons glanced in our direction. Although once they realized it was Harley Quinn, they quickly went back to minding their own business.

I dropped my head to the table, feeling my body heat up with embarrassment. I knew that telling Harley a secret was like telling a middle aged housewife the neighborhood gossip. Which meant it won’t be a secret for long, but I’ve been keeping this secret for a long time. It was getting draining to hold these feelings in to myself and Harley was surprisingly one of the closest people in my life at the moment.

How? Well I was Jonathan Crane’s assistant. I helped him with anything he needed to take care of that he didn’t have time to oversee himself. It took me a long time to get into the position I have now, and over that time I found myself falling for him. Somehow. He was reclusive, quiet, and distant. Yet somehow that charmed me. His passion, albeit unique, spoke to me. Not many people were as passionate as he was about his research, and the fact that he never let any setbacks get to him was admirable. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to help him so much.

Even more surprising was how Harley Quinn, the clown queen of crime, seemed to have a strange attachment to Dr. Crane. It was like a frenemy situation. Dr. Crane would always seem to have an air of distaste towards Harley when she was around, yet he would never kick her out or yell at her. Not that he was the shouting type. His threats towards her were surface level at worst, and he never scolded me for her somehow getting into his office.

Which led to us becoming friends. Whenever she deemed Dr. Crane to be worthy of her attention, she’d end up getting sidetracked when I actually would hold a conversation with her. I think Dr. Crane appreciated it as well, since he could actually focus on his toxins instead of making sure Harley didn’t accidentally gas herself…not like it would affect her.

Which led to the current situation. I confessed my hidden feelings for my boss to Harley Quinn. It was wrong on so many levels. It was unprofessional the way I felt about him, and not to mention that he was a criminal mastermind.

…well that second point never really mattered. I got over it the second I saw my first paycheck.

“I know,” I groaned into my arms. “It’s weird.”

“This is amazing!” She squealed, kicking her feet. “Y’know he’s always been a loner. I’ve just been waitin’ for someone to come along and sweep him off of his feet.”

Lifting my head, I stared blankly at her, “I don’t think I’ve swept anything but the floors.”

“Awe I don’t think that’s true,” She smirked, taking a sip of her obnoxiously bright drink. “Y’know he’s never had an assistant last as long as you have toots. Not to mention he seems ta really like ya. I mean he hasn’t made ya one of his test subjects yet.”

“Yet,” I pointed out, taking a sip of my drink.

Harley’s cherry red lips were held in a pout, “Don’t be such a party pooper. Besides! If he tries anything he’ll have to get through me!”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips at that statement. There were some perks to having villain friends. Harley may be crazy, but she was loyal. I’m lucky that I’m in her good graces.

“He’s got a soft spot for ya,” She said with a shrug, stirring her drink with her straw. “He’s just got his own way of showin’ it.”

Harley’s words continued to ring through my head the next day. I brewed some coffee while also checking the email for Dr. Crane. I hadn’t seen him come in yet, so he was either running late (unlikely), or he was already cooped up in his lab (very likely). In fact, it was likely that he hadn't even left it all night.

Seeing as none of the other rogues contacted Dr. Crane, I decided to check out the lab and make sure everything was in order. I’ve only been into the lab a couple of times. Dr. Crane didn’t like anyone entering, and the times I had been in there were to escort Harley out into his office instead. The lab is where he kept his most vile of fear toxin samples. Building off of his old works to create more potent toxins to warp Batman's mind.

I knocked on the door first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t intruding. When I didn’t hear anything, I cracked the door open, peering into the room. Tables are littered with burners, tubes, vials, flasks, pipettes, beakers and basically anything you could possibly need for creating toxins that drive people insane and possibly kill them. My eyes finally fell onto the brown haired scientist, slumped over the table with beakers surrounding him. Orange liquids filled some, others were a dark brown.

Taking a tentative step back, I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made quick work of grabbing the jacket I wore today and quietly slipped into the lab. I scooched the beakers back (keeping them in the same order) to give Crane some more space. I then gently placed my jacket over his shoulders, which made him stir, causing me to tense, only for him to continue his slumber. Carefully, I slid his glasses off his face so he could sleep a bit more comfortably. Folding the legs of his glasses, I placed them near his head.

I should wake him up. It was my job to make sure everything was in working order. Keep an eye on the goons, make sure transactions were upheld, and report any problems to Dr. Crane. Yet seeing how he tended to overwork himself, neglecting his needs, I could only hope that he won’t be too irritated at my decision. Double checking that the space was as safe as it could be, I left the lab. I was just glad he didn’t leave any burners on overnight.

A few hours later, Crane had entered what could only be described as the lobby. It wasn’t really a lobby, as no one came in and out of the hideout except for goons, but it held my desk. I was absorbed in my work, making sure that the next shipment of chemicals came in discreetly and without a hitch.

“I believe this is yours,” His low voice shocked me out of my trance. Looking away from the screen of my computer, I was met with his blue eyes staring back. With his lips barely uplifting into a smirk, Crane teased, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I teased back, taking my jacket back. “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in.”

It was silent for a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. His blue eyes felt like they were piercing through me, and I could only hope Harley was right about how Crane felt about me.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to properly make batches of my toxins if I were drowsy,” He muttered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. “Speaking of, are those chemicals going to be here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded proudly. I always felt proud when I had good news to give him, even if he didn’t give me a reason to. “They’ll be in within the hour.”

With a nod, he excused himself and made his way into the makeshift breakroom.

…

“I wish I could help,” Harley pouted, holding her head up in her hand.

“You have no business getting into other people’s personal lives,” Ivy scolded, green eyes half lidded in a disapproving stare. “Besides, I doubt Crane has any interest in them outside of scaring them.”

My smile fell at that. Ivy was the clear headed one of the two. She kept Harley grounded while Harley helped Ivy let loose every once in a while. Ivy wasn’t really fond of me, though I didn’t blame her. She was weary of all strangers, and we’ve only talked a few times. The only reason being that I was a friend of Harley’s.

“You shoulda seen ‘im red!” Harley exclaimed, flapping her arms around wildly. “He was totes makin’ goo goo eyes' last time I visited.”

“I don’t even understand why you visit the old crow,” She grumbled, taking a sip of water.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Harley waved off. “And don’t listen to red toots. She’s just jealous that I’ve been payin’ more attention to your little love story than her.”

“You wish,” Ivy mumbled into her glass.

“Anyways,” Harley emphasized. “You gotta show him you're interested! But not over the top. He’s mentioned how he had students flirt with him to get better grades so that type ‘a flirtin’ don’t work for him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gotta do somethin’ else,” She explained, twirling her hair. “Y’know, I think he’d really enjoy acts of service. Take care of him a little. Ooo, maybe some quality time.” She winked.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked, slumping over slightly. “Ask him on a date?” Ivy looked as disinterested as ever as Harley tapped her chin in thought.

“Uhhhhmmm,” Harley hummed. “Maybe start with something smaller. Take a break together, get to know each other better.”

I hummed, thinking it over. Harley was actually giving good advice. It wasn’t over the top or brash like it usually is. She must be closer to Crane than I thought.

“I’ll try,” I nodded. It seemed easy enough.

…

Boy was I wrong. It felt nearly impossible to pull Crane away from his work, and I honestly didn’t want to. He seemed close to a breakthrough and I didn’t want to distract him…I’m not sure if it would end well for me if I did. So I decided to focus on what I do best. Acts of service. I dropped by the lab, the room feeling less daunting every time I entered without Crane shooing me out. When his coffee was low, I’d refill his cup, when he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, I’d ask if he wanted any food or snacks.

It would be stupid to think that Crane hasn’t noticed my change in behavior. How I was providing him more aid than usual. How I started to focus on his needs more. I was just glad he didn’t bring it up, though he wasn’t the type to do that. It was a slow day today. No deals, no shipments, no rogues needing anything. So I was left to help Crane, whether it be cleaning his equipment or getting him another refill.

“Did you need anything else Dr. Crane?” I asked, watching him drop some chemicals into a flask, the chemicals bubbling as a reaction. “Perhaps you could use a small break.”

He paused for a second, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to ignore the purple under his eyes as it continued to grow darker by the day. I could only imagine the soreness he felt as he hunched over his equipment for hours. I felt a glimmer of hope that I managed to get to him.

“I reckon a break wouldn’t hurt,” He mumbled, pushing himself to stand up. A bright grin splashed across my face, feeling giddy that he actually listened. Shrugging off his lab coat, Crane exited the lab and I trailed behind him.

“Harley mentioned you tend to overwork yourself,” I spoke up. “But she didn’t need to tell me that since I witness it first hand almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Crane hummed, taking a seat in his office seat. It looked much more comfortable than the stool he used in the lab. “A bad habit. You’ve been talking to Harley?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, standing in front of his desk. I wasn’t fully sure if he wanted me there for his break, but the advice Harley gave rang through my head. “She’s been really nice to me. Inviting me to hang with her during her more laid-back outings…which never seem to stay that way. But I got to meet Ivy! But she doesn’t really like me, so I feel bad when I third wheel her and Harley.”

Crane quirked an eyebrow, but his reaction was as nonchalant as ever, “I wouldn’t feel too guilty, Ivy doesn’t really like anyone outside of Harley.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, finally deciding to take a seat. “It’s nice to have friends. With my current career path and all, I didn't think I’d have any.”

A silence settled over us before Crane spoke up, “...I understand how the life of crime may be lonely.”

Even though I worked for a criminal, and I was surrounded by criminals, I always forget that I was now technically classified as a criminal. I had worked as a receptionist once when I was a teenager. A minimum wage job to give me some extra spending money. So working for Crane felt nostalgic almost. Even though I was in charge of stock, transactions, and the schedule for Crane…I never saw the aftermath. I could’ve been working for anyone with the tasks I kept, so it was easy for me to forget just how deep I was in if either Crane or I were caught.

“Well,” I trailed off, trying to gain the courage for what I wanted to say. “I hope my presence makes it just a little less lonely around here.”

Crane was cold, distant, reclusive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t human (even if he didn’t want to admit that). Loneliness was like a disease, once the feeling’s there, it’s hard to make it dissipate. It would slowly creep through you until it would fully consume you. Some people had a higher tolerance to it, others didn’t.

Crane seemed to be one of the few that was immune to the feeling. He, after all, never showed anything to prove contrary. Yet the hidden warmth that laid just behind his eyes screamed otherwise. Perhaps, his alias as Scarecrow was only one side of him. The side he wanted everyone to see, that he wanted everyone to cower to. But behind that mask, revealed an old man who was both tired and lonely. Perhaps a part of him craved that loneliness, I understood the need to be alone all too well, but it was clear he also craved a connection. For someone to see all of him, and to accept him for all his flaws and perfections.

“You’ve definitely livened the space up,” He replied, his eyes trailing to the plants I’ve added to his office. “...I do appreciate what you do…thank you.”

I stared at him in awe. The master of fear, a man renowned for bringing your worst fears to life, had given me praise. He had caused my heart rate to accelerate, but it wasn’t from fear.

…

“YES!” Harley cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I better be the maid of honor.”

I let out a snort, “If it took this long for him to compliment me I think marriage is far, far in the future.”

“You don’t get it,” Harley grinned, bouncing in her seat. “He neva compliments anyone! He’s basically just confessed his undyin’ love for ya!”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the amused grin that took over my lips. The idea of Doctor Jonathan Crane, the brooding workaholic scientist/terrorist professing his undying love was entertaining. A man who was a force to be reckoned with, being soft. The more I thought about it, the more I craved to witness such an event. To be someone he deems special.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Or as smooth as it can get with Harley. She only busted one guy's ass after he tried to catcall her. So overall, a calm night. We parted ways eventually, and I seemed to have grown too comfortable in Gotham. I was surrounded by rogues! What did I have to fear when I worked with the most fearsome?

There’s nothing more fearsome than desperation. The terror that filled me at this moment was worse than my first day of working under Scarecrow! The man held a knife up to me, hands trembling as he ordered me to hand over my wallet and all other valuable items I may be carrying. I knew better than to fight. My wallet wasn’t worth more than my life. Though I was scared of what the man’s reaction will be when he realizes I don’t have anything of value. I may have been stupid enough to walk down the streets of Gotham without a buddy, but I was smart enough to keep valuables off of me.

I slowly took out my wallet, to make sure he knew I wasn’t a threat. But the man didn’t seem to be stable, whether he was coming down from a high, or was paranoid, I wasn’t sure, but he jerked the knife forward. I gasped, eyes wide as I watched the knife pierce my abdomen, my wallet dropping to the asphalt forgotten. The man also seemed surprised, as he took a step back.

“W-wait,” I pleaded breathly, but it was too late. The man yanked the knife out and took off running. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the wound. Moving to sit on the trash littered pavement, I tried to keep pressure on my wound as I dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked calmly.

“I-I just got stabbed,” I replied, taking a shuddering breath in. The pain started to spread along with the blood that seeped between my fingers. “I need an ambulance.”

I kept trying to take deep breaths as I gave them my location. My vision started to get blurry as stars filled my peripheral vision. I hoped to whatever was listening that I was close enough to a hospital. That today wouldn’t be my last day. That all I lived up to was being an assistant. Not being able to say goodbye to Harley, to Jon. I tried to stay awake, yet my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. The drone of the dispatcher felt like a lullaby as they tried to question me, keep me awake, keep me alive.

The sound of sirens rang through my head foggily. The pressure I kept on my side had loosened as my hands started to feel colder. The searing pain started to numb as everything soon turned dark.

…

When Jonathan had walked into the hideout that following morning, the space was unusually quiet. As he passed your desk, he noted that it hadn’t changed since you left the night before. It was strange when the smell of coffee brewing no longer filled the air. That your cheery voice hadn’t greeted him. He felt his mood sour by the second.

Though it was odd that you were late. He couldn’t remember a day that you weren’t there to greet him. You were only human, and people made mistakes. He’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t make it a habit.

After making himself a pot of coffee, he went into his lab to drown himself in his work. Like usual. Yet that stupid nagging wouldn’t leave the back of his head. Where were you? If you needed to miss work you would’ve called in. Yes, typically he didn’t really allow sick days. His goons were paid to get the job done, not to lay around and be sick.

But you weren’t just any goon. You were his charming assistant who made his day, even if he didn’t show it. He paused his movements, eyes fogging over as he started to theorize where you could possibly be. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Maybe you forgot to call? With that thought, Jon took out his phone and called you. Each ring made his heart thump faster. When he heard your voice, a sense of comfort washed over him, only for it to be your voicemail. His comfort vanished. Remembering the fact that you had mentioned going to see Harley, he decided to call her. (Texting wasn’t really his thing).

“Hiya Jon!” Harley greeted over the phone. “You finally called!” Not wanting to waste time, Jon got right to the point, asking if she knew where you were. “Whaddya mean they’re not at work?” Harley asked, voice giving away her concern.

Jon hung up, a scowl starting to form on his face. Where the hell were you? A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time started to form. His gut twisted, heart pumping faster, he felt scared. A feeling he’d normally welcome. A state he was so used to it felt like home. Yet, with the context of you possibly missing, his fear wasn’t welcome.

It wasn’t until an hour later when relief flooded through his system. Your caller I.D. flashed on his phone screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer.

…

The first thing I heard was the sound of beeping. I scrunched my face as pain seared through my abdomen. Blearily opening my eyes, the bright light overhead seared my brain. I let out a groan as everything started to hurt. My head pounded at the same time heels clicked against the ground. Looking over, a nurse rushed over to me.

“You’re awake!” She spoke loudly, her voice irritatingly cheery for my current condition. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“What happened?” I asked, throat raspy with misuse.

“I’ll let the doctor go over your condition,” The nurse replied patronizingly.

“What time is it?” I asked instead, wanting to get some information.

Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it before replying, “It’s currently 10:47 am.” A knock on the door sounded through the room before the doctor entered.

“Good morning,” The doctor greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I grumbled, trying to shift up on the hospital bed. The nurse quickly rushed over and helped me.

“Well, it would be concerning if you didn’t feel anything,” The doctor jokes. “I’m Dr. Bell. You’re currently in Gotham General Hospital. You were stabbed, luckily, all major organs and arteries were missed. You’ll be discharged in a few days if your wound shows no signs of infection. Do you have any questions?”

“Uhm,” I muttered, trying to take in all this information at once. “Where…are my things?”

“Would you bring their personal belongings Lynn?” Dr. Bell turned to the nurse who nodded and hurriedly, the sound of her heels following her out of the room. “Not so good news, there’s no one named under your emergency contact list, so you may have to stay longer in the hospital if you have no one to take care of you. And since you were stabbed, the police are here to do a brief interview.” I let out a sigh, leaning my head back. Dr. Bell nodded to two police officers standing just outside of my room before taking her leave.

“Hello,” One police officer greeted me. The other slightly tipping his hat. “I’m Detective Yates, that’s my partner Tanner. I’m sure you already know why we’re here.” I nodded, pulling the thin hospital blanket further up.

“We know this may be hard to talk about,” Tanner spoke up. “It’s still fresh, but that’s why we try ta get as much info as we can right away.”

“It’s all really blurry,” I lied. “I might not be much help.” It wasn’t blurry. I remember every second vividly. The distress in the man's dark brown eyes. How his dark brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hasn’t had a shower in days. How his hands trembled with the silver of the knife glittering under the street lights. The look of utter horror, panic, and regret that flashed in his eyes as the knife plunged through my skin.

He was a person who needed help, not enforcement.

“Any detail will be of help,” Yates gruffed. “Do you remember how they looked?”

“He…he was tall. Maybe 5’9?” I offered. If I said nothing they’d get suspicious of my intentions. “He was wearing a hood, so I couldn’t see much besides that.”

“What clothes was he wearin’?” Tanner asked next.

“Uhm, black hoodie,” I replied. “And blue jeans.”

“How’d he act?”

“Scared,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He ran off right after. Don’t remember much after that.”

Another lie. I remember the fear that rushed through me when I believed I was a goner. The pain that felt like liquid fire burning through me. The glow of the street light that shined down on me as I bleed out. Though I doubt that’s what the police needed to know.

“Thank you for your time,” Detective Yates replied, standing up with his partner. “We’ll contact you if we find anything else.”

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, waving at them as they left. When I finally thought I’d be left to my own devices, Nurse Lynn entered carrying my belongings.

“You didn’t have much on you,” She said mindlessly, setting my things down on the bed beside me. “Wallet, phone, and keys. If you need anything, just press this button.” She aimlessly pointed near the side of my bed. With that, she was gone. Finally, peace and quiet…not counting the loud beeping of the heart monitor. Checking my phone, my eyes widened. Over 100 notifications. Most of them being none other than Harley Quinn.

Scrolling through the spam of texts Harley sent, my heart warmed at how much she really cared for me.

‘Jonny called me’

‘u ok toots?’

‘helloooooooooooooo’

‘ur scaring me here’

‘Jonny never called me before y’know’

‘ANSWER ME’

‘pls’

You get the jist. I quickly typed out a short ‘I’m ok, there was a small accident but it’s all good now’. Then I finally got to the first missed call. Dr. Crane. There was something common between Harley and I. Jon never called me before either, and my nerves started getting to me. I’d never missed a day of work before. Well…only if I were sick. I’d never missed a day of work without telling Jon before. Was he angry? Would he fire me? …would I become his next test subject?

I never thought about him like that before. I always felt a strange security around him. It was funny, I found comfort in a man who took away people's comfort. Yet that security was stripped. At the end of the day, he was still my boss. A man who didn’t take insubordination lightly. Yes I was literally stabbed, but there was that fear that still lingered. I suppose that was Jon’s entire motif.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The heart monitor beeped more rapidly each time the phone rang. It rang three times before he finally answered, my name whispered out under his breath.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry about everything. I, uh, had an accident last night. Doctor said I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe longer since I don’t have anyone to take care of me if I were to go home.”

It was quiet for a few beats.

“Where are you being held?” He asked, his voice low. A shiver ran up my spine at his tone.

“Gotham General Hospital,” I replied back.

“I’ll be right there,” He muttered before hanging up. I blinked, unsure how to feel. But I couldn’t dwell on it long because I was being spam called by Harley.

“Hi Harley,” I answered.

“What do you mean you had an accident?” She shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear.

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything but you gotta promise not to freak out,” I sighed. “Jon’s already on his way to visit me.”

“OMG YOU JUST CALLED HIM JON,” Harley shrieked. “Wait, you’re distracting me, what’s going on?”

“...I got stabbed.”

“YOU WHAT?”

I bit my lip, “It sounds worse than it is…?”

“You’re not makin’ much sense toots,” Harley replied, and I could hear the frown on her face. “How can a stabbing sound worse than it is? Are you at the hospital? Please tell me you’re gettin’ cared for.”

“I’m at Gotham Central Hospital,” I stated. “It’s all stitched up. Doc said nothing vital was hit and I just need time to heal. Like I said, it sounds worse than it is.”

Clearly pouting, Harley huffed, “I wish I could visit ya, but I think that’d cause a bit of a hassle.”

I laughed lightly before flinching at the pain it caused, “Yeah, I’d rather you not get arrested.”

“Tell me when you get out, okay?” Harley asked.

“Okay,” I agreed, a warm grin painting my lips.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do ya know who did it?” Harley finally asked. “I’d just like ta pay ‘em a little visit.”

Looking down at my lap, my smile turned more somber, “You don’t gotta do that Harls’. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.”

“...” Harley stayed silent before responding. “That don’t matta. You got hurt, end of story. End of theirs too.”

I sighed, “No.”

“You got a big heart toots,” Harley sighed. “A little too big if ya ask me.”

I chuckled once more, “Yeah yeah.”

“You get betta for me, alright suga’?” She asked somberly.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“And you better call me!”

“I will.”

“...you callin’ him Jon now?” She asked, and I could just imagine the cheeky grin she held.

My heart stuttered at the implication, “I…it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Mhmmm,” She hummed. “No, of course not. You’ve just been callin’ him Crane for what? Two years now?”

“...”

Harley chuckled at my silence, “Alright, I’ll stop teasin’ ya. You get some rest, okay? I need my best friend back in tip top shape!”

“Aye, aye captain,” I saluted, even if she couldn’t see.

“Bye bye toots.”

“Bye Harley.”

I felt myself relax, looking over to the small tv that rested in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote that laid on the side table and scrolled through the channels. I frowned as nothing good seemed to be on, and it was hard to see the screen anyways. Why did they put it in the farthest corner of the room?

The sound of knocking resounded through the room, and a nurse entered the room shortly, “You have a visitor.” None other than Jonathan Crane towered behind the nurse. He was as put together as always, the only sign of something being wrong was the intensity of his gaze as it fell onto my figure. The nurse exited just as quickly, closing the door behind her.

The tension felt high as silence consumed the room. I picked at the linens, anxiety suddenly running through me. Talking to Harley helped me calm down about the situation, but Jon brought me back to reality.

“Just an accident?” Jon asked, his face never leaving its calm expression.

I offered a sheepish grin, “Does someone get stabbed on purpose?”

His face remained stoic, not a hint of amusement as I tried to diffuse the tension. Jon took a seat in the cheap plastic chair that sat next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rage in his eyes dying down into a warm caring look.

I shrugged, “It hurts. I’m tired, a bit hungry.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No,” I shook my head. The previous tension had dissipated into a warmth. Maybe I should get stabbed more often if Jon would take care of me. Nah, the pain wasn’t all that fun.

…

With Jon taking care of me, my feelings towards him only grew stronger. He’d try to help me through the trauma I gained from the interaction. Trauma I didn’t even realize I really had. I would wake up in a cold sweat some nights, the feeling of the knife penetrating my skin feeling as real as it did the night of the attack. I also couldn’t get over the hopelessness I felt that night. The need to see the people I cared about most just one last time. How I took our interactions for granted.

I watched with gratitude as Jon pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, making sure I didn’t have a fever. Making sure I wasn’t catching an infection, even though my wound had nearly fully healed. The sudden urge to confess my feelings consumed me. This wasn’t how a boss normally treated their employee. This was how someone treated a loved one.

I wished to see his soft side, and now I saw it, and I never wanted to let go.

“Jon,” I whispered, my breath fanning over his face. His blue eyes met mine, urging me to continue with his expression alone.

Fear drives people. That’s what Jon theorized. And with recent events, I’ve come to realize that he’s right. I was afraid of rejection, and so I kept how I felt to myself. Now, I was afraid he’ll never know how I feel. How much I care for him, how much I admire and appreciate him.

“Thank you, for everything,” I thanked, taking in just how handsome he was. “Would you be okay with getting a coffee together?”

The faintest look of surprise crossed his features before that barely there grin pulled his lips up, “Sounds like a treat.”

“Then it's a date,” I grinned, closing the distance and pressing a kiss to his cheek.