#Dano!riddler x reader

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

The Riddler (Edward Nashton) Dating Headcanons

Ask: "shakes ur hand. hope it's not too much, but could i req some headcanons on what'd it'd be like to date the riddler/edward nashton? i dont mind SFW or NSFW! :3"

Contents/Possible Warnings: Angst, Edward is slightly a little creep, fluff, GN!Reader/AMAB and AFAB inclusive, smut warnings in labeled section, SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: I did both SFW and NSFW, but they're separated into labeled sections in case anybody wants to only read one or the other. I'm happy to be writing for Eddie again! Thank you, Anon. 💚

SFW Headcanons:

You're most likely to meet him somewhere he frequents heavily, such as his workplace or his favorite diner. You're probably his coworker in some way or someone who works/is a regular at the diner. He's not very social, so it'll take him a while before he greets you in any way. Expect a lot of glances or small smiles from him before he feels confident enough to strike up a conversation with you.

Alternatively, you could even be a follower of his. This would change the meeting dynamic a lot, as he'd be more confident in talking to you; he does have ways of knowing things about you if you attend his streams (you should probably invest in better security for your computer, y'know.)

Edward has never had any sort of long-term or serious/semi-serious relationship before you, which is something he's never been proud of. His relationships before you were short-lived and when he was much younger, and they typically came to be because someone pitied him or needed to use him for something. They were hardly really even relationships.

He doesn't form bonds easily with others on account of never really being given the chance, so his relationship with you cycles between him being distant and scared to interact with you out of fear of rejection or abandonment, all the way to him being very clingy and affectionate when he realizes you're not leaving.

Even when he's deep into his fears regarding rejection, he's still very loving. Not a day goes by without him telling you how much he appreciates and loves you. You're the first person in his eyes to truly give him a chance, and he'll never let that go.

Similar to how he sees Batman before meeting him face-to-face in Arkham, Edward thinks you're the only good thing in the city. You are his angel in every sense of the word, a beacon of light in his miserable life.

Going back to the topic of affection, he starts very awkwardly. He's touch-starved in every single way. He's rarely been hugged, kissed, cuddled, etc. He craves affection, but it scares him at first, because he's afraid of fucking it up and pushing you away.

His first kiss with you is something you initiate, and he freezes up when your lips touch his. With his heart pounding in his chest from pure adrenaline, he melts into it, letting out a desperate whine against your lips. He is pathetic in an endearing way.

You'll have to teach him how to kiss, but he's a quick, eager learner. Soon after, kisses will become a primary form of affection for him (giving and receiving).

He's the first one to say "I love you," albeit accidentally. It had slipped out one night while you were on a date, and while he meant it he worried it was too soon, or that he had even might've mistaken your relationship for something more serious than you had seen it.

You had to reassure him that everything was alright and that you did share his feelings. "I love you, Eddie." You had told him.

He had never heard those words before, and they felt exhilarating to hear. He almost started crying, but held it back because you were both in the middle of a restaurant and he didn't want to embarrass you. Once you two get home he hugs you tightly, crying into your shoulder as he does. He's just so happy.

Jumping to discuss his inevitable change into the Riddler, he's very secretive about it in the beginning. It's for three main reasons: he doesn't want to jeopardize his plans and work, he doesn't want to scare you, and lastly, he doesn't want to lose you.

You found out on your own, discovering his whole Riddler outfit hidden carefully in a mostly unused storage closet in your shared apartment. You do eventually accept him and what he's doing to some extent, but his hiding it from you does cause tension and a newfound distrust in your relationship.

Once things settle he's eager to show you off to his followers. He covers what features need to be covered, of course. With a mask of your own covering your face, he gleefully introduces you to his watchers, a myriad of giggles leaving him as he does.

You're met with a positive reception by his chat, with many asking to see you in future streams. You become a feature of his tamer ones, usually being in the background or chiming in occasionally.

Weirdly, his crazed giggles and little riddles are nice to hear. They mean he's happy, and that's what you want for him. He's lived a horrible, lonely life and you think he deserves something good for a change.

All in all, Edward is an awkward, but sweet man to be with. Even when he's dangerous and out for blood when donned in his Riddler persona, he'd still never hurt you. He's in love for the first time in his life, and every part of him cherishes you. Whether he's your Eddie or the infamous Riddler, a lot of love is to be expected from him. He'd happily kill for you, no questions asked.

Bonus: He gives you a lot of cards filled with cheesy, romantic riddles. "What flower is kissable? Tulips." Or "What did the paper clip say to the magnet? I find you very attractive!" The more it borders on being funnily cringe-worthy, the better it is to him.

NSFW Headcanons (Contains: Oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sex on a live stream, semi-clothed sex, questionable use of duct tape):

He fucks like he's in heat. The first time you have sex with him he's rutting into you, trying to get as much of you as possible. He's whimpering, moaning, and whining. He's loud, too. He tries to speak, to let you know how fucking good it feels and how much he loves you, but he's unable to. He's overwhelmed by it all, but it feels too amazing for him to stop

He doesn't last long during your first time, spilling into you with barely a warning, a long whine of your name leaving his mouth as he cums. When he's done he has a dopey smile on his face, green eyes glazed over.

He cuddles after sex every single time. He may like feeling used during the act itself sometimes, but afterward, he wants to feel loved. Snuggle with him, give him little kisses, and clean up with him and he's good to go. Sex is very intimate for him, especially when he's being submissive to you during the earlier parts of your relationship.

This man loves to give oral. He's sloppy and makes a mess of you while he does it, but he is eager to please. He sucks dick/eats pussy like it's his calling and his life depends on it. Please tug on his hair while he's on his knees for you, he loves it.

Edward may give you control, but the Riddler is a different story. The mask gives him confidence and makes him feel fully in control. He feels unstoppable. He'll be a lot rougher and degrading, often demanding you beg for him to touch you. Even so, he's still your Eddie under that mask, and Eddie fucks like he's desperate.

If you're up for it, the Riddler will have sex with you on his stream, claiming it's a little treat for his loyal followers. It gets him off knowing that even though you're being viewed by hundreds all across Gotham City, you're still his and he's the only one touching you. He likes to show off what's his.

He's a fan of taking Polaroids of you during the aftermath of your sessions. Some of his favorites have you tied up with his cum in or on you.

Speaking of tying you up, he likes to use duct tape on your wrists for some extra, kinky control over you.

Edward Nashton is a horny, desperate little freak.

[starlightsearches]

ooooooooh can we eget a track 8 with edward nashton? maybve it's his first time but he doesnt want to tell the reader that?? love your writing 🖤

Moving Too Fast

Track 8: Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones - Give me a character and a NSFW prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Edward Nashton x F! Reader

AN: Thanks for the suggestion, friend! Here's a little love letter from me to pre-mature ejaculation uwu. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated mwah mwah

Warnings: 18+ only, some language, lots of self-loathing from Eddie, sexism, mentions of creepy behavior, making out, and pre-mature ejaculation. Let me know if I missed anything!

Eddie could have sworn it was three dates.

Isn't that what everybody said? Third date go great? Try these six tips to make him yours for sure.

Or maybe he just got that idea from some stupid magazine back when he was in college. The ones he'd shove inside his jacket before the guy ringing up all the ramen packets and dandruff shampoo would notice.

Magazines he'd read whenever his roommate was gone—when he'd stroke his cock nice and slow at the lurid words, still getting used to the idea of pleasure, guilt always sitting at the top of his stomach like an oil slick—reading about all the ways a woman could touch you. Too scared at the sight of tits to look at any real porn.

High school was where he learned what it meant if a girl let you touch her on the first date. Eddie had spent every hellish minute in those fucking locker rooms with his head ducked low, trying to avoid attention, curling in on himself to hide the body he was so ashamed of and didn't understand.

He still heard what the other boys said. Learned all the words—slut, whore, skank—practiced saying them under his breath whenever he was alone so they'd come out naturally if the occasion ever arose. (It never did.)

But this isn't a third date. It's not even a date. And Eddie's not sure what that's supposed to say about you.

He doesn't think you're a slut. There haven't been any other men here on the nights Eddie watched your doorway (before you'd ever said a word to him) from the nearby alley, standing guard, looking for glimpses of you through the windows.

No other men, and he's glad, because there's no way for him to know what he'd have done.

But you do seem eager for him—or for this, at least—with the little noises you're making against his lips, kissing him in the darkness of your bedroom, pulling him against you and all your warm skin.

A word like eager doesn't even belong in the same room as Eddie. Not directed at him, although it emanates from his body like a disease, keeping everybody at a distance.

Everybody but you.

His clumsy hands grip at the extra fabric of your baggy t-shirt where it hangs at your sides, his hold so tight it could rip at any moment.

"You can take it off," you whisper, the words slurring out in the quick pause before you're kissing him again. Eddie's lungs are getting smaller as he lifts the fabric, knuckles bumping against your waist, catching at the edge of your bra. He's lucky his grip doesn't falter, or he'd have to start over.

But maybe Eddie wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life like this—the Sisyphean task of taking of your clothes a riddle he'd love to spend all his time working out—baring your skin but going no farther.

Never needing to show the vulnerable parts of himself.

He has to pull back so you can get your shirt off the rest of the way, balling up the warm fabric in his hands. Eddie thinks about holding it to his nose and breathing deep, letting your scent wash over and through him.

But that will have to wait for another time. When you're not here. When the lock-picking kit he ordered finally shows up on his doorstep.

He rubs the fabric between his fingers instead, gripping hard enough his knuckles turn white. You drop down to the mattress, tits bouncing, and Eddie's vision blackens at the edges.

"Come on, Eds. What're you waiting for?"

To wake up. He can't think of a better answer, so he doesn't say anything, shins hitting the bed, looming over you with his too-warm body and heavy breaths. And none of that makes you push him away, pulling him closer, your body pressing and rubbing against his.

Tits pillowing against his chest as you cup your hands around his neck, tongue dipping deeper into his mouth when you raise your chin. One of your legs hooks around the back of his ankle, stroking at the leg of his jeans.

And worst of all, your palms—warm, and a little damp—slipping the bottom of his shirt out from under the waistband of his pants. Eddie feels the press of your hands against his skin like a brand, and he hopes your touch will stain him somehow because he'll never feel you like this again. Not after what comes next.

Eddie's already too close. You've hardly done anything and he's close, so hard it's painful, his tender dick pressed up against your thigh, warm from your body even through the layers he wears. He feels his heavy balls drawing tight against his skin, so desperate to spill somewhere besides his own hand.

Eddie literally begs his body to hold on, to wait, pleading silently with god, with whoever could be listening, with his own shame to stop the inevitable next step.

It's no use, as he knew it would be. Eddie cums with a moan that mortifies him down in his bones.

Your hands stop their movements, lingering questioningly at the space above his hips.

"Eddie?"

He feels your breath hit his face, lips no longer against his when you press your head further into the pillows, looking up at him as his cum seeps into the fabric of his jeans, hot and heavier than he's used to, probably soaking through and smearing over all your lovely skin.

"Eddie, did you—"

He shoots back with a cry before you can get the question out, unsure where to look, pressing his hands over the wet spot on his crotch, all his visible skin bright red and flushed.

"I'm—oh, god—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

He's crying, actually, steps away from full-blown, whiny sobs. The one chance he had to be close to someone, to be with someone, and he's ruined it.

The same way he ruins everything.

"I- this doesn't—this doesn't, uh, usually happen."

It's a lie, even without the implication that this has happened with other women. Eddie never lasts long when he's thinking about you, no matter what he tries.

It's a weak attempt, but he has to save face, has to kill the sickness inside of him.

Has to hope against hope that you won't laugh in his face.

Eddie thinks he's imagining it when he feels your hand at his wrist, insistent in its grip until your eyes meet his, not mocking, like he was certain they would be, but curious, and fervent.

"Really?"

There's this lilting appetite in your voice that Eddie could never imagine, that tells him just how dull all his daydreams had been.

"Eddie," you whisper, lips painted wet by your tongue, and you're on your knees, closing the distance he left open, "that's—"

Whatever it is, Eddie doesn't find out. You don't finish your sentence before you're kissing him again.

[imagine--if]

A/N: I've missed writing for Eddie 🥹 hope you enjoy reading! And happy 2nd anniversary to The Batman movie!! Can't believe I fell in love with the film and its characters two solid years ago, and super hyped for the sequel 🖤 A Bruce Wayne/Battinson imagine will be coming soon, so stay tuned!!

Wordcount: 1.3k

Time period: Riddler Year One, Issue 6 (beginning of The Batman)

He hated it when you were gone this long.

It was okay if he knew where you were, if you were working or out with a couple of friends, someplace he could track you through your phone. Through windows. Through anything. As long as the sun was still out and he knew exactly where you were, could reach you whenever he wanted, he could keep his grip on his mentality, and at least half-focus on his plans and preparations.

But he couldn't do any of that right now. Which led to the inevitable.

Pacing his shabby little apartment that you somehow managed to make a little brighter, tidier, something close to home, closer than he'd ever got before. But now, it was cold and dark and empty, painfully quiet, apart from his uneven, staggering breaths that Edward tried in vain to swallow down.

'Breathe.'

It was a simple job. Too simple. Sneak into the Penguin's rooms at the Iceberg Lounge, plant the bug, slip out again, unnoticed. And you would either be very much unnoticed, blending in perfectly with. there's of the deceptively beautiful girls and boys who danced and flirted and drank at the bars and around round tables and tall, glossy silver poles stretching up into the high ceilings of the club. Or you would be pulled aside by some pervert that thought you were as pretty as Edward himself did, maybe by the Penguin, or that pig Falcone.

He shouldn't have set you. Too risky. Send a follower? No, too complicated; not enough of them yet, everything still growing and finalising, piecing together in a lovely puzzle crafted by his mind. You might well go unnoticed, but if he dared go himself, it would be a horror show.

This was a baadddd idea.

The smooth click and glide of the lock twisting and opening up the heavy front door made him flinch out of his thoughts, murky green eyes jumping to the short hallway with hope and fear in his gaze. The same hope a puppy gets when its owner comes back home, the same fear a madman harbours in a dizzying craze, living off the what-ifs and obsessions their mind feeds them in the darkness.

When he speaks, it's in a rush, words tripping over each other and his voice catching, stumbling forwards to grip onto your shoulders with his soft but firm, trembling grip.

"You were gone too long," Edward insists, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, searching for your warmth and reassurance, his eyes trying to take in every part of your face at once. "Too long... and I was worrying, and I felt sick, and I- you can't do it again, please, please, because-"

"It's alright, Eddie," you cut him short gently in amusement and sympathy, your arms fitting snugly around his neck as you embrace him. You easily fill him shiver at the contact, starving, aching, as he hugs you back with enough force to make you breathless, digging his face in your neck needily with a soft whining sound.

It's almost funny, how desperate and childlike he can be, all big green eyes sparkling with joy and awe at how readily you give your affections to him, his skin bare of any sweet touch from another being in Gotham other than yours. But he doesn't want anyone else's now, anyway. The rest of Gotham can sink into its corruption, and his hope incarnate can dance above the waves.

He gazes up at you in a slight daze, speechless, and you smile at him the way you do, the way that makes him smile back in giddy wonder, his thoughts spinning around and around like a carousel, all bright, pure lights and ethereal tunes.

"I miss you," Edward mumbles, half to himself, his stare wandering to study your eyes, your nose, your lips. "Always."

"I missed you too," you reply earnestly, "but it was worth it. I did what you said."

He blinks at your words, his attention circling back as he looks up into your eyes in curiosity and a sweet, almost innocent light, one that doesn't at all match the moment.

"I bugged his office," you clarify, nodding, "in and out. No one saw my face, and if they did, they won't remember it."

Edward lets out a slow breath, his expression loosening from intrigue and thought to the depths bubbling to the surface, his eyes spiked with venom and his words hushed with a small smirk.

"Oh," he mumbles, before giggling slightly, blinking up at you in pride and unhinged malice. "I love you."

You beam at his words, your fingers stroking down the plump curve. of his cheek, an action that makes him shudder and his breath catch in his throat, his eyes round and adoring.

"I love you too, Ed."

"I- I'll give you everything," he promises, his words rolling into lovestruck rambles between repeating your name, "everything I have. Every... everything."

There's that strange but familiar feral hunger in his eyes, not violent, but full of untethered passion and obsession, of love and lust, of everything he's never experienced before. And now that he is, he wants it all, wants it now, to feel everything at once and lose himself in endless spirals of pleasure and ecstasy that rakes up his spine and makes his voice crack and break-

"I'll never," Edward continues in a whisper, tugging you deeper into his arms, walking back and down onto his couch and pulling you with him, "never let you go. Everything will happen as it should, and I'll be there to get you... again, and again, and again, and again, and-"

You let him keep rambling on, his cheek rubbing against yours and ducking into the hot curve of your neck like a cat, his damp lips skimming your skin mindlessly, hanging onto you with his surprisingly strong grip, even though there's nowhere else to go. Tonight, there's nothing but the Riddler, his arms trapping you inside all that he is.

Black and green screens of computers running code down their displays absently fills the night with an eerie but almost comforting glow, polaroid pictures of his targets, red ink scribbled harshly in question marks and accusations over the glossy print. For you, there's a separate case of shots, most taken with you knowing, across the room in his apartment, with Edward grinning and giggling when you glare at him weakly in amusement and protest at the constant flashes and printing of pictures and mugshots.

No escape. None at all. You're with him for life, because you let him in, and like a virus, he ran through everything that makes you, you, drinking it in and fantasizing up until this very moment. A moment where Edward forgot about the blood he shed and the streams up for his cult following, the big board pinned with pictures and news clippings and rage in the form of black and white. He just clung to you fiercely, inhaled you, to do it all again the next morning, still trembling with the warmth and tremors of raw desire and love.

I am there, but cannot be seen," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling impossibly closer to you, his fingers lacing with yours, "to have me costs you nothing. To be without me costs you everything. What am I?"

You've heard this one before. It was in one of the little notes he left you during your first few meetings with him, and every one of his riddles seemed to have something to do with you, with how he saw you, absolutely angelic with no flaws, no blemishes, gorgeously unharmed by the wicked world of Gotham.

"Hope?" you guess correctly, glancing up at him expectantly, and he giggles again, his fingers tracing over your lips boldly, caught up in the moment and his own wonderful world of puzzles and clues.

"Or," Edward smiles brightly at you, resting his forehead against yours... and answering with your name.

✧༺ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ༻∞ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[abrcmswrld]

NSFW Alphabet | TFE!Edward Nashton x Reader

Word Count: 1,979

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), seriously this whole thing is smut and that’s it, AFAB terms used

Summary: A collection of drabbles centered around sex with my version of Edward Nashton from my fic series: The French Exit.

Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the discord server. I’ve loved getting to know their Eddie’s. Thank you for giving my Eddie a chance.

HBD Pookie<3

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

He's tender and clingy, keeping his arms wrapped around you for as long as he possibly can until you finally nudge him off to clean up. After that he's helpful, he loves taking the time to wipe you down. He'll take any excuse to touch your body, really.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He's never given it much thought for himself. He's always thought himself to be below average in most categories. Whether it's looks or strength, he's always felt himself fall short. But he can recognize that he excels in brains. He is quite proud of the mind he has.

When it comes to you however, he can't find a part that he doesn't like, but the feeling of your thighs is absolute heaven to him. He loves to sink his fingertips into the soft flesh as he laps his tongue over you or as he fucks into you slowly. He also loves to rest his head on them and feel your fingers trailing through his hair.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

He will cum anywhere you ask. By the time he reaches his climax, he’s putty in your hands. Any dominance he may have held is gone as his legs shake. You want him to cum on your stomach, back, face, inside you? He’ll do it. But if he’s being honest he prefers to finish inside of you. The sticky slickness as he continues to rut into you even after finishing is the perfect overstimulation.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's very voyeuristic. To an alarming extent. The view from your window is just perfect. He can feel the pressure in his pants the moment you begin to undress after a long day at the office. Of course, you know exactly what he's doing and you secretly get off on it too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He has very little experience. Aside from a pity handjob in his early 20's, he's avoided most sexual interaction. He doesn't find it easy to go on dates. He has a decent idea of how things work as he has watched plenty of porn in his lifetime, but I wouldn't call him experienced.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His weak spot is missionary. He loves to hover over you with you caged in him arms. He enjoys taking it one step further and lifting your leg to his shoulder. It gives him the same pleasure of seeing your face with an added bit of pressure that gets both you and him to the edge faster than any other position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

You’re the one person he can let a chuckle out with. He tries to embrace that side of himself in closed off spaces with just the two of you, such as the break room. But for some reason he can’t make it translate into the bedroom. He’s never been so intimate with someone before, it’s very serious to him. He’s too focused on the ecstasy of the moment and the feelings he has for you pouring out to goof off at all.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps himself trimmed decently. He tried to shave completely once, but ended up giving himself awful razor burn and cuts. He’s not been a fan since.

He doesn’t have a preference for his partner. He loves for them feel confident however they choose.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

As previously said, he’s never experienced such intimacy with anyone before. Never had someone touch him with such tenderness, like they want to heal all of his wounds, internal and external. He often finds himself crying during the act. It’s not a sadness response and it’s something he’s found he can’t quite control. He just wants you to know how much he loves you in that moment. He wants to be as close as two souls can possibly be.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s masturbates decently often. More often after developing a crush on you. Less often when the tension breaks between the two of you. He’d much rather feel your hand, mouth, heat, than his own hand.

Before you, his relationship with masturbation wasn’t great. Years of catholic guilt can do that to a person. He often fights the feeling of shame after his release. He struggles to enjoy the feeling of bliss while coming down. Watching you pleasure yourself for him, and the way you whimper and smile through it intrigues him, and he strives to be able to enjoy himself in a similar fashion.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Voyeurism: This is his big one. It’s questionable at times. He knows it’s sick, the way he watches you through your window, but he can’t help himself. It’s as if you left the curtain open as an invitation.

Even as your relationship progresses, he finds himself asking you if he can watch as you pleasure yourself. He loves to observe. He loves to take note of the things that make you whimper.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers the comfort of your home. It’s warm and safe and comfortable. Nothing else to bother the two of you. Although he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about bending you over his desk at the office. He finds himself getting hard in his pants as he thinks about it, looking over his shoulder at your concentrated face as you sit at your own desk. He pushes the thought away for his own good.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s ashamed to say that everything you do turns him on. He hides it out of fear of offending you or making you believe he only likes the sex, but it’s the little things that get him going. The way you bite your lip while you concentrate on work, the way you laugh at his jokes, the brush of your legs up against him, it all turns him on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He’s not big on any form of weapon play. The idea using a weapon (even in a safe and monitored way) on you makes his stomach turn rather than turn him on. He doesn’t like to mix that side of him with your intimacy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He definitely prefers to give rather than receive. Not that he doesn’t enjoy receiving, but he gets just as much pleasure from eating you out. He loves to bury his head between your thighs and rut against the mattress. Pull him in by his hair and he will cum in his pants.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace depends on the mood he is in. Sometimes he enjoys a loving, slow pace. It allows him to slowly take you apart, piece by piece. But sometimes he loves to drive into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin slapping against yours spurs him on. He loves the way your eyes roll back as he abuses that spot inside you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Shockingly enough, Edward enjoys quickies. He likes to think of it as a miniature version of what you always do. If you’re pressed for time, if the two of you have work, he loves to get in one last fuck. He loves to cum inside of you and watch you leave for work right after.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

His entire life is a risk. The Riddler is a risk. He’d rather not bring you into that risk. He’s seen the way that porn frames scenarios of risky public sex to look enticing, but he just can’t bring himself to enjoy it with you. He’d never put you in a risky position on purpose. You’re the one pure thing in his life.

However, he is willing to experiment with kinks inside the comfort of your own home. He’s supportive when you ask and always tries his best to feed into your fantasies, even if it doesn’t always stick for you guys.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

His stamina is dependent on his mood at the moment. If you have him extremely riled up, he is ready to go multiple rounds with little to no recovery period. However, sometimes he loves a good lazy fuck and to just cuddle up to you afterwards in a hazy, tired bliss.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’d never owned toys before you. He’d thought about it, but never gotten the courage to try them for himself. He knows you own many though and he enjoys using them with you. His favorite is pressing your vibrator to your sensitive bud as he fucks you deep. He loves the way it makes you squirm under him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease and be teased. Although he does find it difficult to tease you for very long. He loves to hear you beg for him and the moment a soft ‘please’ escapes your lips he gives you everything you need.

He loves when you are unfair to him. He loves the playful look in your eyes as you gives him teasing kisses and licks all over his body.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He tries but is generally unsuccessful at holding in his cries and moans. They often come out as a choked off and whiney mess. He loves to hear your sweet noises. He nibbles at your weak spots until you cry out his name. It makes him smile into your flesh.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves to see you wear his clothes. He has to hide the erection growing in his pants when he does something as small as giving you his jacket to wear when you’re cold. It’s such a small action but the way his clothes practically swallow you makes his heart race.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Watching porn all those years hasn’t helped his self esteem. He finds himself feeling insecure about his size a lot. He’s about average length, but is decently thick. He loves it when you let him know how much he stretches you, and the way you clench around him as he drives into you. It’s the only thing that can ease his insecurities.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He is ready to go pretty much whenever. All it takes is the slightest touch of your hands down his chest and sides and those longing kisses, and he is ready. He finds that his sex drive is much higher since becoming intimate with you. It’s a new experience and he finds himself craving you often.

Z = ZZZ (... how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He has gone most of his life struggling with sleep. The orphanage had given him horrific night terrors and his sleep schedule has never been normal. But, after sex with you he feels a calm wash over him that he can't explain. For once he is peaceful and finds himself drifting to sleep rather quickly.

[lena-after-dark]

Pairing: Edward Nashton x Reader

Prompt: "It's been so hard to love you from the shadows."

Requested By: Anon

Warnings: Stalking, delusional thoughts, surveillance, restraint.

Hyper vigilance was something anyone in Gotham had to practice to stay safe. Keys between your fingers when you walk to your car, or a taser at the ready. Never distracted, always focused on those around you. Some might consider that paranoia, but anyone who lived there knew that that was how you survived.

Eddie admired that trait. Especially when he watched you – so focused on looking out for criminals. Not that he'd let anything happen to you, of course. He was always watching, even if you didn't know it. He wouldn't blame you if you didn't notice it. Eddie thought of himself like background noise. Another face among many in the crowded streets. It was a good thing, he thought, to blend into this sea of nobodies that you had to pass through to make it home. If you didn't see him, then neither would anyone hoping to harm you.

Then one day his thoughts turned. Perhaps you knew he was there; your silent guardian. Always a few paces behind. Always in the shadows when you stopped for dinner, or to meet with friends. He liked your friends. They were funny. They made you laugh. They watched your drink when you'd leave the table. Did you know he was there, too? He felt hopeful. Then your eyes met his for one shining moment and he knew. You were aware of him all along. Eddie had to cover his mouth to keep from making a scene. Others couldn't notice him – not like you did, anyway, or you wouldn't be safe. You knew he was there. You knew he was following behind. You knew he watched from outside your home. And he knew that if you wanted him to stop, you would've made him. After all, he saw that you were always prepared for some criminal or thief to bother you. You hadn't turned that taser on him. You wanted him to follow you.

You looked at him again when you stopped for breakfast on your way to work two weeks later. A smile. A secret smile only for him. It was different than the polite smile you would grant passing strangers. He could tell. You meant to smile at him. You knew him. Your guardian. Your shadow. Your Eddie.

He took it further, then. He left you surprises and treats; sometimes in your mailbox, or in front of your door. You knew they were from him, he was certain. He knew what you liked. He knew your favorite color, favorite snacks. He knew what you wore to bed, and what type of toothpaste you used. He knew when you were running low on something, and started to replace things. After all, he'd already made a spare key for himself. He knew that you left your keys visible to him so he could do so. And the cameras, too. They were secret, but how could he keep you safe unless he knew what was happening around you at all times?

Maybe he crossed a line when he started leaving things for you inside your home. You sounded panicked while you were on the phone with a friend. Did he not make it clear enough that it was from him? It was time. Eddie had to take things up a notch. It wasn't enough to be behind you. He had to be beside you now - to reassure you that there was no danger. It was only him. It was your Eddie taking care of you.

He rushed over; staying hidden until he was inside. He was very practiced at moving silently. He brought some things with him - tape and rope and the like. He knew he wouldn't need it, but it was already in his coat. That's what he told himself, anyway. He waited for you to notice him - to see him standing just out of sight. He didn't want to frighten you, so he waited. He expected relief, and joy. When you reached for something heavy, telling him to get out, he was confused.

"Y/N..." he whispered softy.

It was tough for him to restrain you. He didn't want to cause you any harm, but the more you fought him the more angry he got. He didn't understand the things you were saying, or the way you swung at him, ready to hit. Why would you do that? You were being irrational. He had to calm you down.

He got you, at last, tied sloppily to one of the kitchen cabinets. It wasn't ideal, but he needed you to hear him. To understand him. He was straddling your legs to keep you from kicking. You'd been yelling, but he didn't want to cover your mouth. He had a plan. It was fine if others heard you.

"It's been so hard to love you from the shadows," he whispered as he leant in close, a trembling hand reaching for your face.

"Who are you?"

Buy Me A Coffee?

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 2447

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late + "You're a monster." + "That's never stopped you before."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ this isn't an official return to writing Dano content! this is merely me getting in touch with my roots a little! because you can't give me unhinged prompts and then tell me not to get even a little bit inspired to write something for Edward lmao. p.s. yes I ever so slightly changed the dialogue prompt!! it just made more sense in the end!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), descriptions of sex, Edward being his normal homicidal self <3, reader is kind of an asshole lmao, vague allusions to violence, and that's all I can think of! please let me know if I need to add more!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

Sometimes it astounded you just how far a set of sad eyes could fuel your romantic mind. You hesitated to admit that you were delusional, but the thought certainly lived in the back of your head. Anytime it traveled to the front you’d simply brush it back with the justification that everyone did this.

Everyone made up those little romances to lose themselves in. It gave you something to think about in the gaps between really living. In that narrow room of your head lived Edward Nashton. And god, was he really starting to take up even more real estate than you’d ever meant for him to.

He wasn’t even your nicest coworker. Far from it actually, considering how stand-offish he was. At first you looked right over him, preferring the company of coworkers that didn’t make you feel like you were being looked down upon. Because whether he intended it or not, he radiated some sort of superiority. Though he rarely spoke, you simply caught the idea that he didn’t want to be part of anything going on.

Edward never attended company lunches, never went out for drinks after work, and mostly kept to himself during his lunch breaks. He seemed almost intent on isolating himself as much as possible. It didn’t occur to you that maybe it was wrong to quickly assign such malice to his disinterest until he chimed in on a break room conversation you were having with a coworker.

She’d been expressing excitement over the prospect of Bella Reál running for mayor against Mayor Mitchell. She’d scoffed, “It’s about time that bastard gets pushed out of office. We finally have a chance for some real change here.”

For as quiet as he was, you were surprised that Edward’s voice sounded so firm when he raised his head and spoke, “Realchange? What are the odds of that? She’s just another politician. And politicians...they’re nothing more than cardboard cutouts for whatever demographic they want to pander to. They can’t save everyone.“

Your coworker rolled her eyes, saying something about how cynicism won’t do anyone any good before decidedly pushing him out of the conversation entirely. And that gave you the clearest picture you’d had of him yet. Maybe it was less that he didn’t want to be a part of things and more that he didn’t know how to be a part of things.

The more you viewed him through that lens, the more he made sense. And the more it made your heart break for him. It wasn't pity. God no. Out of everyone you knew, Edward was surely the smartest and most capable. But that didn't make it any easier watching him look at the rest of the world with that twitchy, distrustful eye.

Maybe if you were a different person you would've said something. You would at least sit with him. But truth told, he intimidated you.

So, not wanting to risk shouldering any of his disdain, you watched him. And you built up an idea. An idea you were quite fond of.

You noticed that he drank his coffee black. Figured that he took everything else that way too. That he cut straight through the sugar and cream and gulped down the bitterness, grounds and all. All reason, no nonsense. You decided it would probably be hard to be with him. But that wouldn't make it any less gratifying.

Already you could imagine Edward and his walls and how you'd attempt to break through them. Maybe there was some sort of tragic past behind his disassociation. Maybe there was something in him that reflected a little bit of yourself. Maybe you could help him; make him happier. Or maybe he was just a plain old asshole and you'd only make each other worse. Either way, it made him compelling to deconstruct.

Especially when comparing him to the other men in your office. Many of them were loud, boastful, and – perhaps due to some deep seated insecurity – always trying to prove something. Edward, on the other hand, seemed to wear that insecurity on his sleeve with his stuttering replies and lingering glances towards his superiors. You bet he was secretly possessive. Not exactly swift to a fight, but definitely quick to prove that his power was effortless; he didn't need showmanship the way those other men did. 

Something about that made him inherently cool to you. As much as he may have been a nobody, a loser, and a nerd...he was also everything. Everything and nothing all at once and you couldn't get enough of it.

If there was anyone in your office you guessed would ask you out, it certainly wasn't Edward. Edward, in your mind, didn't take those risks. And he certainly didn't care enough about you to see you as any different from the rest of his coworkers.

But somehow he managed to break your script the morning he confidently waltzed straight to your cubicle across the office and asked if you liked Italian food.

"Eh, I'm impartial," you replied sheepishly, not sure where the question was leading.

To your surprise, Edward gave a small nod, issuing his silent approval. "Good. Because there's a diner in town that I'd like to take you out to."

You had to blink quickly, wondering for a moment if you'd honest-to-god lost your mind and fallen too far into one of your daydreams.

"Huh?"

That's when Edward's own voice faltered slightly, "I-is that a yes? Or a no?" and finally it struck you that this was reality. 

"Yes!" you blurted your reply. "I'd love to go out with you."

Once you'd worked out the particulars of this assumed date, you could hardly hide your anticipation. You'd been nervous for dates before. But this was a new beast. You barely knew a thing about him and you hadn't so much as had a real conversation with him.

Why he'd asked you out in the first place, you had no idea. None of it made any sense but before you could question his intentions, you second guessed that gut feeling. Those rose tinted glasses fell over your gaze with ease at that point.

Maybe he was just as nervous as you were. Maybe this was his attempt at doing something bold. Maybe you were the asshole for assuming dubious intent. Maybe you just had to give him a chance. After all, he was giving you a chance. And suddenly you interest was piqued all over again.

On its own, the date was average. You hadn't expected a Michelin star meal, but as far as greasy diner food went, this one sat heavy in your stomach and Edward's untrained social skills didn't help.

He made conversation like he'd read a Wikihow article on it before picking you up. And while it was a lackluster feeling that spurred inside you when he was reciting those lines to you, it only made you want to deliberately break his script again. You knew he had it in him; you'd seen it before.

Ignoring every ounce of advice on social etiquette you'd ever learned, you asked him what he thought about the upcoming election. And that seemed to be just the ticket as he set his mug of black coffee down, a goofy grin scrawling out on his doughy face. Before you knew it, he launched into an uninterrupted tangent about the grim state of Gotham politics for the next few minutes.

It was simple enough nodding along and giving the occasional sympathetic hum. Even if you did feel the same about the broken system you lived in, it was a little disappointing realizing that he was like many of the men you'd dated. One that liked the sound of his own voice too much that you could barely get a word in edgewise.

But you think you liked the sound of his voice more when he said, "My apartment is nearby. Would you like to...come over?"

And you knew he liked yours when you agreed.

Edward was a virgin, just like you expected. You tried not to show too much pride over your skillful deduction at the vulnerable admission. But you couldn't help the small rise in your tone when you replied, "Oh, you haven't...?"

Edward shook his head before hiding his face in your neck and groaning. And if you hadn't felt how unmistakably hard he was against your thigh, you might've felt bad for him. As wrong as it felt, you were ecstatic.

You couldn't believe your luck, getting to be this man's first. As meaningless as the concept of virginity was to you in theory...in this scenario...it inspired some very sentimental feelings. Feelings that even if he wasn't exactly everything you'd built him up to be, you'd still always have this imprint on him.

Repeatedly you reassured that you didn't find that fact embarrassing while suppressing the fact that more than anything, you wanted him. You'd dreamed about him for long enough that this felt like teasing. And it wasn't fun.

He fucked almost exactly the way you thought he would. Desperate. Disconnected. Animalistic. Like he was searching for something. Whether that be pleasure or perhaps a good old fashioned connection with someone, you didn't know. All you knew was that it made you giggle to think of your coworkers' looks of surprise when they found out that the Edward Nashton had managed to bring a girl home on the first date.

Even though he didn't make you come with penetration, it was fairly easy showing him how to use his fingers. Initially his touch was rough. As soon as you squealed and squirmed, he'd stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you with that sad, sorry stare. And despite the fact that he'd been the one to hurt you, he still managed to make you feel sorry for him.

But that didn't matter. Once you got him going, his focus on maintaining that light, even pressure as he circled your clit was unbreakable. You could tell that he was deriving pleasure from this too. That he liked staring deep into your eyes as they clouded over with mounting pleasure before blowing wide once you tipped over the edge. He chased the keening sounds of your arousal with an intensity that made the whole thing seem far more urgent than it actually was. 

You were in so deep that you hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks until you'd finished and Edward had set off for his bathroom to wet a towel for cleanup. Once his bedroom door closed, you felt comfortable enough to really lay back and let out the breath you'd been holding. Being around him made your nerves short circuit and as much as you hated to admit it, it shrouded your judgment.

Knowing close to nothing about him, you found yourself picking through the flashes you'd gotten when stumbling into his apartment. Between kisses, you remember hearing squeaks. Maybe it was mice? Rats? Judging by the crumbling state of his room, you were uncertain over whether he owned them or they'd simply...made their home among his. You hoped it was the former. Your imagination forced you to believe that.

Finally you sat up, looking around his room. Edward's discarded button up work shirt laid forgotten on the floor. You picked it up and pulled it on to regain some of your modesty as you began dissecting once more.

Once you started to get a good look at your surroundings, you felt that pit in your stomach. Or maybe it was the greasy diner food sitting uncomfortably in your stomach. But that justification seemed less likely when you noticed the mirror on his dresser was smashed out, the broken glass still sitting on the wood surface. Any idea of it being accidental disappeared when you spotted the cork board beside the dresser. Pinned to it were photos and articles marked dramatically with red ink.

The words FILTHY PIGS written in big letters over a picture accompanying an article that detailed a GCPD drug den bust. The world LIAR scrawled over an old image of Thomas Wayne, most likely from his campaign days. Then there were the most worrying ones. Photos of people you vaguely recognized that weren't defaced with words. You saw Mayor Mitchell, Bella Reál, Gotham's attorney general, and a few others all with one thing in common. Right in the middle of their foreheads were targets, painted in red that dripped down their faces like blood.

This wasn't just some sort of bizarre art project. The closer you looked at the smaller annotations scribbled into the margins, the more you realized that this was some sort of morbid obsession of his. And for the first time, he scared you.

His stares and his silence meant nothing compared to the pure terror this inspired in you.

The bedroom door creaked as Edward pushed it open. His grip on the wet washcloth in his hand tightened as he caught what you were looking at.

"You see the truth now, don't you?" he asked meekly with a distant look.

"What?"

His voice dripped with emotion, "The brokenness. The-the-the corruption. The suffering. You understand that they need to pay, don't you?" He now stared expectantly, gesturing to his board of horrors.

You spoke carefully and slowly, "I'm...not sure I understand why Bella Reál is up there. All she wants to do is help–"

A different kind of darkness shadowed his expression now. It was one that you couldn't find any sort of romance in. But there was intent. All you knew was that none of the pieces you'd found could ever put together a pretty image. There was no reframing, no romanticizing, and no disregarding this. This intent was one of violence. One that seemed to spread as much pain and poison that was trapped inside of him.

Suddenly his eagerness to take you out felt less like a once in a lifetime chance and more like a death sentence. No amount of deduction would've led you to daydream something this depraved. If you'd poured the milk and sugar into your perception of him, these were bitter coffee grounds at the bottom of the mug. And you were doomed to swallow it up until the last drop.

Edward inched closer, his tone turning almost manic, “No one can save us. Not even the Batman. He can’t save us the way we need to be saved. But I can. I can do the thing that no one is bold enough to do."

“You’re a monster,” your voice quivered.

Edward chuckled. “As if that stopped you before.”

[cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends]

someone write something for riddler x reader where she works the diner and theyre kinda friends and the night he is arrested he tells her to get out of gotham and she does. then later (maybe the penguin timeframe idk but timeskip nonetheless after the flood) she visits him in arkham and they talk <3

[lifeontoast]

Have I Found You?

 

Edward Nashton x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

 

SUMMARY: Edward thinks he has found his soulmate at long last.


A/N: a little something for my Eddie/Riddler fans - enjoy! I’m pretty proud of this one. Feel free to drop me any other Paul Dano requests if you have them.

 

Trigger warnings: traumatic past mildly implied, mugging

 

…

EDWARD’S POV

 

It’s her. I know it. She’s my angel sent down from Heaven. She’s made for me. Me, who has been so loveless my entire, miserable existence.

 

When I saw her in the diner yesterday, I am not at all ashamed to say I was absolutely transfixed by her totally mesmerising beauty. She was the purest, prettiest creature to bless these disgusting Gotham streets. What on earth is she doing here? Still, I can protect her from that. Well, Edward might not be able to, but Riddler certainly can. Just as soon as I get her to notice me. I know that she’ll love me when she gets to know me! There’s a word, a word I can’t quite grasp…

 

I’m going back to the diner tonight; she might be there again.

 

NORMAL POV

 

It’s him. You know it. He’s your angel sent down from Heaven. He’s made for you. You, who have been so loveless your entire, miserable existence.

 

When you saw that cute guy at the diner yesterday, it took everything you had not to go over and introduce yourself right away. He was far too good looking for someone like you, or so you thought. His transparent glasses rested on his nose in such an adorable manner, and even from a distance you could see his forest green eyes sparkling magically. Soft brown hair flopped over his forehead as he bent over his pumpkin pie, and what looked to be a puzzle book. Gorgeous and smart. He was perfect. All too aware that you were gazing shamefully, staring even, you looked away, a slight blush on your cheeks.

 

You’re going back to the diner tonight; he might be there again.

 

TIMESKIP TO LATER THAT DAY…

 

It was time. You were going to head to the diner, in the hopes that the gorgeous man would be there again. He had to be. The servers always seemed to know him by name (he was a regular!), though you didn’t know what name. You’d have to ask him that later. Walking down the streets (carefully, always carefully, as who knew what was lurking in those dark alleyways), you noticed a scuffle up ahead of you. Approaching cautiously, you tried to assess the situation. It was a mugging! Some poor guy was having his wallet stolen right in front of you. 

 

Sprinting up to the guy, you prised the mugger’s huge hands off the man and took the wallet back, finally punching him square in the face. He fell to the ground groaning. It was only as you looked at the man who had been victim to the attack that you realised who it was. It was the man from the diner, shaking like a leaf and looking astonished. Even when scared he didn’t look any less gorgeous. His green eyes were wide behind his wonky glasses, and even wider when he noticed it was you who stood in front of him. He bent his head to look at the grimy pavement instantly, cheeks turning red as a tomato.

‘Thank you!’ the man said, daring to steal a glance at you at last. ‘You saved me!’

‘It’s no problem, really.’ You smiled back. ‘Hey, didn’t I see you at the diner yesterday? Let’s go there now, to recover a little.’

The man nodded shakily. ‘Actually, I was heading there when that scumbag attacked me. By the way, I never caught your name... I, um, I’m Edward.’ 

‘Y/N.’ you said simply, starting to walk towards the diner. Edward followed behind you, smiling to himself. Pretty name for a pretty guy, you thought.

 

EDWARD’S POV

 

I was just on my way to the diner to see if that ethereal angel would be there when some idiot decided to mug me for my wallet. It was just a shame that Riddler wasn’t there; he could have killed the man in seconds. Instead, weak, puny, Edward had to cope with him all on his own. I was so tired, I was about to just give him my wallet when someone came running over, and started fighting the guy for me! Finally, punching the man to the ground, I turned to look at my saviour, when I saw the woman from the diner yesterday. So she was an angel! She had been sent there to save me, I just knew it. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I blushed terribly, looking at my feet. She saved me! I thanked her, and she offered to take me to the diner to recover. I asked her name, and she replied with the most heavenly name I’d ever heard: Y/N. It suited her perfectly. 

 

I felt myself fall for her straight away, my heart pounding crazily every time I looked at her beautiful face. When I saw her for the first time yesterday, I just knew she was the one for me! She could never like someone like me, though. I was ugly, and she was stunning. I was weak, she was strong. I was a devil, a worthless sinner, she was an angel. My angel. There was that word again, still just out of my reach…

 

We started on our way to the diner.

 

NORMAL POV

 

You sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter, and Edward sat beside you.

‘Edward, hello! Pumpkin pie?’ the friendly server asked him with a grin, and he nodded.

‘One for Y/N too, please. And two coffees.’ He replied quietly. Looking at you for approval of this order, you smiled gracefully. She nodded, and turned to get your food and drink. You and Edward whiled away the hours chatting about your lives, in between bites of pie and sips of coffee. You felt sure that you were in love with Edward, but were worried that he didn’t feel the same way. Your heart sped up, and your palms were clammy with nerves. All your life, you had never met anyone quite like Edward. He was quiet, yet charming and chivalrous. Beginning to let your mind wander, you pictured your and his life together. Edward would definitely make a brilliant husband, father, grandfather. His shy kindness endeared you to him infinitely, and you saw that he would never let you lift a finger while you were with him. No, that’s ridiculous! You told yourself to get over this pathetic little crush, not knowing that he felt the same way entirely. He definitely had a nice girl waiting for him at home, right? In fact, you probably shouldn’t be keeping him from her.

 

You decided not to pursue your feelings any further, not wanting to ruin your newfound friendship. Well, there are certain things you cannot share with another person without becoming friends with them, and saving someone from a mugging is one of them.

‘So, Edward, anyone waiting for you back at home?’ you asked, as casually as possible, secretly desperate that there wasn’t anybody. You just had to know.

‘Me? No, of course not!’ he laughed a little too loudly, seemingly wanting to prove eagerly that he was single. Strange. Now that he mentioned it, he did give you the slight impression that he had never been with anyone at all. Something about the twinkle of innocence and inexperience in those emerald eyes.

‘What about you?’ he asked, an audibly sad note in his voice.

You’d been free as air for a while now. You told him so. He looked strangely relieved. He smiled that beautiful, shy smile again.

‘So, Edward, what do you do for a job?’ you asked curiously. You couldn’t work out just by his appearance what he did, although you were sure it would be something nerdy.

‘I, um, I’m a forensic accountant, yourself?’ he replied.

You knew it. Edward was a little nerd! This endeared you to the man even further. You told him what you did, and he nodded, looking a little tense, zoned-out even. You were slightly worried, and were about to ask him if he was okay, when he suddenly exploded.

‘But I hate it there! They all call me Ed-weird, and make fun of me for liking puzzles and “being weird”. It’s not fair! I always have loved my riddles, but they just don’t understand them like I do. They’re so exciting, it gives me such a thrill when I solve one, makes me feel so powerful. Powerful enough to shut them up, to tell them that I’m not who they think I am. I’m not weird! Even in school they’d make fun of me, and at the orphanage too. It was so horrible there! We were always hungry; there was never enough for everyone, and in the winter, it was so cold… if only the Gotham Renewal fund had been used as it should have been, instead of a private money tree for those rich scumbags we call politicians and leaders!’ he seemed like he’d wanted to say all that to someone for a very long time. Breathing heavily, he glanced up at you carefully over his glasses, wincing slightly in embarrassment at his outburst, trying to gauge your reaction. Risking everything, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky one, to comfort him. You threw him a sympathetic glance, and he blushed and smiled ever-so-slightly in return.

 

EDWARD’S POV

 

I was having such a great time at the diner with Y/N. I was falling deeper and deeper with every passing second, and felt ashamed at myself. How could she ever like me back? She asked me what I do, and I told her. But there was something I wanted to say to her, something to tell her. Something I’d wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all who would listen, to be honest. Anybody else would look at me like a rat and get up and leave in disgust. But she was different. She wasn’t like all my co-workers (if you could call them that; they hardly did any work) or strangers on the street. I had a feeling that Y/N would understand me, after all, she was my angel. Of course she’d understand. 

 

It all came out in a rush. I hadn’t meant it to be like that! She looked a little stunned when I’d finished, but, surprisingly, she placed her warm, soft hand over mine. She smiled, and I melted. My heart blew up in a supernova. She was just perfect. She looked into my eyes like she loved me, loved me! I finally knew the word I had been grasping at for hours now. 

 

Soulmate.

 

…

 

A/N: as usual, thanks so much for reading! You guys rock! Once again, feel free to drop me any other Paul requests if you have them.

[sweetums0kitty]

Mask Maketh The Man

Another Sav fic so soon?! What is this productivity? Anyway! This is another request from my good pal Bunny! @lovesickrobotic I hope you enjoy Bun! <3 Btw my requests are openhttps://www.tumblr.com/sweetums0kitty/717181379533815808/requests-are-open Shoot me an ask!

Warnings: None just pure fluff

He was beautiful, regal, and powerful, so different in his fearsome regalia than when he's just your mild-mannered Edward. He had finally assembled the complete outfit after months of searching Edward was finally the Riddler. "Well… How do I look?" came his modulated voice sending a cold shiver down your spine. His already piercing gaze was heightened by the way the clear frames of his glasses were set over the bridge of the mask. He looked like death, he was an angel of vengeance… Edward was everything. "You're- oh my god, this is really happening!" laughing as you pushed your hair out of your face with a deep sigh. Eddie stepped forward and you instantly stepped back from his hulking form. Arms hanging lamely by his sides he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck but stopped when he was reminded of the plastic wrap at the back of his skull. "Do I scare you like this?" he insinuated taking a step back with a forlorn tilt of his masked head. quickly you stepped forward attempting to soothe Eddie. "No, no! I'm not… You don't scare me! I'm just worried… What if you get caught?" beginning to pace back and forth in front of where the Riddler stood. He snorted and you turned quickly to glour at the masked man before you. "It's a perfectly valid concern!" Sighing the hot breath fogged the lenses of his mask making Eddie look a bit less fearsome. "C'mere" gesturing for you to come into his long protective arms. Obediently you stepped forward and instantly the warm, comforting presence of Edward enveloped you. Resting your head on his chest you could breathe in the familiar scents of coffee and old paper that made Eddie your Eddie. He was so tenderly soft it was hard to imagine the hands that gently stroked your hair, shushing all the niggling doubts that plagued you could be used for such gruesome violence.

Gently he bent forward hooking leatherbound gloves under your knees and bringing you almost effortlessly (He was a bit out of breath, he did always say he wasn't physically gifted. But for you! An effort was made) to the couch before sitting down with you snugly perched in his warm lap. The old futon groaned under the combined weight but held fast. Sitting curled up in his arms you felt truly safe, like nothing in the hellish streets of Gotham could take you from Edward. Still like a child afraid of the monster under the bed, you needed reassurance. Turning to face Eddie you hesitated to touch his face. Emerald eyes held your gaze and you could just see the way his brows were furloughed with the crinkle of the skin around his eyes. "Angel?" one gloved hand reached up to touch your cheek and instantly it clicked. "Can I touch your mask?" the words flopped from your lips in one undignified lump. "Of course, you can.." a bit incredulous that you would even ask to touch him. Even so, your hands gingerly met the vinal of his mask in an exploratory touch. Ghosting fingers over the shapeless face covering you could feel where his gorgeous nose was encased, down further and there were his cherubic cheeks and down once more and you were brushing over his lips. "See I'm still me, just better." whispering as you worked the hooks of the facial covering off so you could properly hold the reddened cheeks of your beloved. Letting the mask flop between the two of you as you bent forward to press a kiss into the plush petals of his lips. Instantly you melded with Edward. Lips dancing together as you cradled each other's cheeks. Finally pulling away to rest your foreheads together. "You're already amazing Eddie." gently kissing his nose. Snuggled under his chin you felt like renewal could be found within your love.

[hrryp0thead]

what’s ur most insane dano! riddler thought 👁️ bc i like him too i just refuse to admit it

that he has a Stockholm syndrome girlfriend that he stalked and kidnapped for years before he made his move

[creepling]

Idk if you still do this but maybe a scenario about dano riddler getting a panic attack from seeing a rat (ophranage memories coming back to him) and a male/gn reader comforts him?

<?> the ratcatcher - e. nashton

edward nashton x gn!reader / <1k words

tags: angst to comfort. reader helps edward through a panic attack. childhood trauma. musophobia. i think i depicted more c-ptsd than a panic attack in this but they kinda go hand in hand??

an: hey thanks for the request!! sorry if i didn't do it any justice but i liked your request and wanted to try it out. also just sorry in gen for not much uploads, i'm swamped with uni deadlines and haven't had motivation to write much, but your request helped that so ty<3

It was time for spring cleaning, and Edward took it upon himself to clear the cupboard beneath the sink. He was guilty of putting random things in there; plastic bags, pest poison, and cleaning products with no organisation. He got to work gutting the abundance of plastic bags, each revealing how dark it was inside the cabinet.

“Hey, can you get me a flashlight?” Edward asked you.

You fetched the torch from another storage cupboard full of junk and tossed it to Edward, noticing the trash pooling around him.

“Damn, was that all in there?” You asked.

Edward flicked the flashlight on, guiding the light inside the dark cabinet. A strong scent of dampness emerged from the darkness, overwhelming Edward immediately.

His hand began to tremble.

“Y-Yeah, I have a habit of stuffing things in it,” Edward nervously laughed.

The smell was familiar in the wrong ways. Images of the mouldy walls in the orphanage. He was breathing in the mould, day in and day out, a constant cough plaguing his childhood.

“I’ll clear all this,” You said, picking up the plastic bags and taking them to the bin.

Edward sucked in a breath, continuing to look inside the cupboard. The pipes were moist and leaking. That caused the mould. He kept a mental note to ask you to fix it. Or this could be something that cannot be restored. His past has come back to haunt him, clinging to the walls of his home. He will never escape this. The darkness in the cupboard will claim him, swallow him whole. A lump began to grow in Edward’s throat.

Edward shined the light to the far corner, where the mould clung higher up, its black centre claiming the corner of the wall. The light revealed a ball of greasy brown fur the size of a shoe. The light startled it, flashing black beady eyes. Its yellow teeth bucked out in fright, and Edward’s eyes widened. It scurried the opposite side, and its sudden movement made Edward drop the flashlight and back off from the cupboard.

The thump of the torch on the ground startled you. You rushed to Edward, witnessing him crawled up in a ball, clinging to his trembling limbs.

Edward was absent. He was back there. Waking up from a light sleep, the mould filling his lungs. The rats nibbled at his fingers, their eyes glistening in hunger. He felt no pain. His fingers were too numb from the cold. His limbs ached, and chills overcame his body. He could not move. He could not scream. All he could do was look at the rats eating away at his cold skin, his eyes wide in panic.

“Edward, please, look at me,” You sat with him, soothing his back, brushing his hair away from his forehead. Once Edward managed to make eye contact, you asked him to breathe slowly. You breathed in and out slowly, and he attempted to copy your pace.

“The rat is gone, Edward. You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me, okay? I’m not going anywhere,”

Edward began to nod, but his heart was still racing. Tears began to run down his cheeks, and you gently wiped them away. “Tell me what you need,” You said.

“St-Stay with me,” He pleaded, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

You nodded, “I’ll always be here. I love you, Edward. More than anything in this world,”

Internal anger filled your mind, but your eyes stayed empathetic. Gotham was fucked up. How many others are out there, traumatised by this city? Someone must pay for this, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. Edward needed comfort, not a reminder to seek revenge.

Your voice helped soothe Edward’s mind. His breath became level, and a sense of calmness came over him. Suddenly he was exhausted, and his tensed arms grew limb. He tried to get up from the floor, but you helped him.

“You okay?” You asked.

Edward nodded, staying quiet. He wrapped his arms around you and lightly kissed your forehead. You smiled up at him, cupping his cheek into your hand, sadness swelling within you at his tired eyes.

“Let’s just go to bed, huh?” He suggested. You nodded, guiding him to the bedroom where you lay with Edward in your arms, soothing his tired body until he fell into a peaceful sleep.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Good Enough - Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Edward has never felt good enough for anyone or anything. When the self-help resources fail to work and the feelings of inadequacy grow stronger by the day, he begins to doubt that he's even worthy of being loved, but you're there to comfort him and remind him of just how much he matters.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Minor spoilers for Riddler: Year One, a lot of angst, hurt with comfort, fluff, mentions of smut (but no actual smut)

Repulsive. Broken. Unwanted. Not good enough. The words he told himself had buried their way into his thoughts, repeating themselves like a twisted mantra that never ended, even with the constant use of every self-help tip and coping skill he had learned. That same mantra had been there so long that he couldn't remember when it had first started.

Maybe it was never something new at any point; maybe it was just the truth that he kept trying to deny with ledgers filled line to line with positive affirmations that he could never convince himself of. 'You are good enough.' No, he wasn't. He never would be. He was fighting a losing battle against himself.

At least at the end of the day, he had someone to come back home to, someone who told him every day how much she loved him. Before he had met you his only form of salvation was his puzzles, like it had always been since he was a young child. With you here, though, he had more than just riddles and crosswords online and in the local paper to look forward to after a long workday. You were the only good thing that Gotham City had to offer. You were an angel, his angel.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and closed it behind him, a smile making its way onto his face at the sound of your shoes against the wooden floor as you made your way from the bedroom and toward him. You grinned widely as you saw him, your arms outstretched and wide open before you wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Hi," He murmured in greeting, hugging you back as he nuzzled his face into your soft, beautiful hair. You smiled even wider, looking up at him with eyes that always made him melt with just a single look into his own. "How was work, Eddie?" You questioned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It was—" He paused, trying to find the right words. Shit. It was shit. His boss was a condescending, passive-aggressive, arrogant prick who slacked off more than he worked and still managed to be more successful in his career than Edward had ever been. As much as he wanted to vent, he didn't want to burden you with more than he already was by being with you.

"Fine." He finally decided, putting on a fake smile. "Same old calculations and whatnot. Nothing interesting." He lied. It was another day of statements from Zach that were insulting enough to strike a nerve, but not obvious enough to report to HR. Not like it'd matter, it would probably get swept under the rug and forgotten about. Some days Edward wondered if his superior was actually the pompous dick he thought him to be or just an idiot with confidence.

"Oh." You could see right that smile on his face. Something was bothering him like it had been for days now and you could tell. It broke your heart knowing he was struggling and that same struggle left him unable to feel okay confiding in anyone. "Are you sure...?" You questioned, a hand moving upwards to cup his cheek gently, the man leaning into your comforting touch.

He had lied to you. How could you lie to her? You manipulative, disgusting freak. As the thoughts filled his head, guilt washed over him. God, he didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your affection, and most certainly not your love. Did he deserve any love at all? Was there anything to love about—

"Eddie?" Came your soft voice, the sound like that of an angel. He broke himself out of his thoughts, smiling at you again. "I think I'm gonna go pick us up some takeout for dinner. What do you want?" He changed the subject, moving away from you and back towards the door.

"No." You said a bit sternly, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the nearby couch, sitting down with him. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Tell me what's wrong, Eddie."

"It's not you, I promise that it's not." He insisted quickly, afraid he had upset you with his earlier lie. She's going to leave you. She never should've been yours to begin with. You ruin every good thing you get. He grew tense as the fears filled him and threatened to consume him whole. You were so perfect, so deserving of every amazing thing the world had to offer and more, and he was just... Edward Nashton.

"Woahwoahwoah!" Your hands shot forward at the sight of tears beginning to well up in his eyes, your thumbs wiping them away as they fell. "I'm not mad, honey. I just—" You stopped, unsure how to phrase things. "I'm worried about you. You can tell me anything, as cliche as that sounds. You're not a burden to me; you never have been, and you never will be."

He buried his head into your shoulder, sobbing into it as your arms came to hold him close to you. "Why? Why do you love me? I–I don't understand..." He cried softly against you. "All of these years you've spent with me and I can't comprehend why. Is it out of pity?" He asked. While to anyone else it would've sounded like a bold accusatory remark, you knew that the question was genuine. He needed to know.

"Look at me, Edward." You commanded gently, him moving so he could face you and meet your eyes with his own. The sight of tears running down his face and wettening his glasses broke your heart. "Three years we've been together. In those three years, I've fallen more in love with you than I have anyone else. We've made love more times than I can count. I even wait for the day you'll put a ring on my finger, no matter which one it is. It could be made out of scrap metal for all I care, as long as it's from you.

You're smart, Eddie. Tell me, does everything I just listed sound like I only pity you? Or does it sound like I'm head-over-heels in love with the man in front of me? You are good enough. I love you, Edward Nashton."

That made him cry even harder, but you were there to hold him, just as you had been since you stumbled into his life. If he wasn't good enough for himself, then at least he was good enough for his angel. You wanted a ring on your finger? He'd get you one in due time. Anything for the one who showed him that he could be loved, that he wasn't some type of vermin in the cesspool that was Gotham City. You are good enough. For once, he believed it.

[starlightsearches]

Can I please request Track 1: Crimson and Clover ♥️🧡 with Dano riddler

Track 1: Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells: Give me a character and I’ll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would pine for you.

Edward Nashton x sugar baby! reader

Warnings: Eddie's a big creep (shocker), allusions to the reader as a sex worker, some sexual content (18+), language.

It's incredible how many opportunities open up when you lie on your resume.

Eddie's not a technician. He's certainly not a home security specialist.

With how much the man was willing to pay someone to install a bunch of security cameras he bought off the internet, it's no wonder his new employer nervous about being robbed.

Eddie does his best to swallow down any feelings of wonder when he first steps in through those double-doors.

It's disgusting, really, the opulence of a house like this. There are people starving in the streets on the other side of the bridge.

Eddie's about to learn he's being starved of something other than food. Something he'd never have the money to buy.

You almost startle him off his ladder, popping out from behind a door Eddie was sure would stay closed.

Looking up at him with stunning eyes, glossed lips. A low cut top that's not hiding anything.

Not from his vantage point on the ladder, at least.

You're quiet for a moment, examining him a surprisingly critical eye. Then you go docile, eyes wide and vacant.

"Oh, sorry."

That's all you say, stepping so he's out of your way. Eddie coughs in response, but you're already gone, hips swinging with each step you take away from him.

And that's it.

He's a gonner.

It takes him a second to figure out what your deal is—you're calling his employer daddy after all, and maybe you are young enough to be his daughter. Eddie's no good at guessing other peoples' ages.

But then he notices the way the man's big hand slips up the edge of your skirt, your own arms laden with shopping bags as you walk through the front door.

Eddie strips a screw watching the scene unfold, piecing the puzzle together.

He's got a new riddle to solve.

How is he going to make you his?

An he's no home security specialist, but he knows a thing or two about video cameras.

Sitting in the darkness of his apartment, wearing three sweaters just to keep out the chill, he forgets all about his dismal surroundings whenever you pop up on the screen.

The feed quality is dingy, especially in the half darkness of his employer's bedroom, but he can see plenty, with his nose practically glued to the screen when you get on your knees, shifting between his thighs.

Eddie cups his hand around his cock, feels it grow harder under his palm as your head bobs.

He'll tease himself, all night if he has to, but he won't finish. He needs to save it all for the next time he sees you.

Because Eddie's going to make you his, one way or another.

[imagine--if]

Can I ask for a Dano Riddler imagine? where him and Yn grew up together (she was in the girls wing of the orphanage and they talked through the walls, like him and the joker on the film) and she goes to see him in Arkham, and she's really sad that he's there, because they promissed each other that they'd never leave one another, and it's tearful and all, but he promisses her that he'll leave soon and never be apart ever again😭❤

A/N: I've just gotten round to reading the fourth issue of Riddler Year One so yessss I've totally got plenty of inspo for this imagine 😁 enjoy!!

Wordcount: 2.2K

"She doesn't say much. And when she does, it's hard to make it out. Shy little thing. Still, she'll get used to it. She'll have to."

You were only four or five when you were dumped in Gotham's orphanage, clutching onto your soft toy as an only source of comfort and some kind of stability in a terrifying world, and an even worse city. You were quiet, barely spoke, and when you did, it was in whispers, all wide, innocent eyes and secretive, the hood up on your little hoodie as you tried your best to hide yourself from everything and everyone. Just a toddler, with a sweet life twisted by death and misfortune that you barely understood as a toddler. You had shuffled meekly behind a carer who led you into the orphanage, a cold and cruel building that they expected you to call home.

The other kids there seemed so much bigger, loud and dominating and aggressive, half of them on drops, only around twelve years old. Others were plain bullies with filthy mouths and hateful glares, children's eyes glancing at you, assessing your small, shy form, before they carried on with what they were doing in disinterest.

You had buried your face in your toy and pulled the fabric of your hood up past your hair and head, over your forehead, shadowing your face, trying to disappear in it. You pulled your legs up to your chest and watched everything happen behind your toy, its fur pressed up against your face. A group of kids watched TV and fought over the remote, others played nearby outside, but from your spot hunched in a corner, opposite you, sat a boy almost as quiet as you. You gazed at him in silence for a few long minutes, absorbed in his puzzle book, and only when he looked up to get a fresh pencil did he notice your young, curious eyes fixed on him.

He was a few years older than you, with glasses pushed up his nose, making his murky green eyes twinkle as they looked back at you nervously. He gave you a small smile, the first genuine smile you'd received in maybe your whole life, awkward and hesitant. You blinked back at him timidly, hugging your toy closer with little hands, returning his smile bashfully. The boy seemed taken aback by the action, and beamed at you, a beat of hesitance passing before he offered you a pen. You stared at it, then at him, and wandered over, sitting beside him and accepting his offer. You barely knew how to read or write, and so you watched him instead, the quiet boy with a nice smile and lots of books, day after day.

And as the days went by, both of you becoming closer and more comfortable together, Edward would start talking to you in his small, sweet voice, writing answers to riddles with a hand over yours, pulling your littler form into his lap after a couple of weeks and reading to you, then helping you read, helping you speak up a little. He'd even speak for you with others, managing to push past his own shyness every so often to help you, to repeat your whispered, lispy voice to those who couldn't catch it. You'd trail after him throughout the day when you could, before you were taken back to the girls' dorm, and you'd linger in the separating corridor, afraid of the idea of you two parting and him never coming back out of his long, shared boys' room.

"I'll see you in the morning," He'd always say soothingly, giving you a warm hug, bending down slightly so you could return it properly. "I'll never leave you. You know that."

And you'd nod, because you knew Edward was telling the truth by the way he said it and looked at you with earnest, young eyes, letting you borrow a book to amuse yourself with if the nights got too long,

But then foster families and adoptees started popping up. And you, being a young, sweet-looking child, albeit a little shy, are swept up into the grips of a random 'family,' and the quickness of how your name's signed away to people you don't even know and have no say over makes your head spin. The orphanage was overcrowded anyway, and one less mouth to feed in exchange for money made all the difference.

Edward, on the other hand, was beside himself.

Newspapers and library books on adoption and rules and any ways to prevent what was happening piled up beside his bed, to the dorm he'd been disciplined to stay in for his shocking outbursts of frustration and hatred and upset. Thomas Wayne's renewal plan could help him, he thought. He'd already assured him that he could get to a special school to study and learn and have a brighter future.

So on the last night you could spend together, sneaking out of the corridor of a room you slept in with the other girls, Edward filled out the form in his shaky, uneven writing, stating on one line that he wanted to go to the school he'd talked about, and on the other, 'I want to stay with my best friend and stop them from being taken away by bad people.'

REJECTED.

The word stamped in bold, horrid red print was the response he got, the word that bled into his mind as you were made to pack a bag and wave goodbye and go, handing your young life over to strangers, and Edward couldn't do a thing about it. You were carted off out of Gotham to go to school and expected to become a whole new person.

But you couldn't.

The years went by agonisingly slowly, and with every one that passed, you thought about him, your friend, Edward. Did he get adopted too? Did he manage to find some source of happiness and hope afterwards? Would he even remember you if you went back?

Eventually, you save up enough money and have enough time to go back to where it all started, in the unfeeling streets of Gotham City. You had no idea where to look, and after hearing from someone that the orphanage had been burned down ages ago, your last resort was to ask at the GCPD.

"Sorry to bother you," you say with an awkward smile, as a detective greets you and asks if he can be any help; 'Lieutenant James Gordon,' his name tag reads, "I'm looking for someone who I think still lives here? We were friends a while ago, and... I'm sorry, you look busy."

"We are quite busy, Miss," Gordon tells you, looking a little overwhelmed. "We've just managed to catch some crazy psycho who's been letting hell loose recently."

Your eyes widen in confusion and interest. "Wow... that's... yeah, I'm sorry, it's okay."

"No, go on," Gordon nods, letting you into his office, "have you got a name, address or anything?"

"I don't know his address," you say in uncertainty. "We were friends as kids. His name's Edward. Edward Nashton?"

Jams Gordon stops abruptly, whirling around to face you with demanding, bewildered eyes.

"Excuse me?"

You frown. "What?"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Gordon says in shock. "Edward Nashton? That's who you're looking for?"

You nod slowly, and Gordon sighs, taking off his glasses and hiding his face in a hand.

"Look, Miss, I don't know how new you are to Gotham, but Edward Nashton has just been arrested and sent to Arkham Asylum for the crimes committed under the name of The Riddler. He was only just apprehended a few hours ago."

Your breath catches in your throat in disbelief, as Gordon's eyes narrow suspiciously, looking you up and down.

"And you really knew nothing about this? You aren't an accessory?"

"I- no," you shake your head, "I only just made it to Gotham this evening."

Gordon nods slowly, though he still doesn't seem convinced. He suddenly grabs his jacket and opens the office door, glancing back at you.

"Come with me."

You follow him meekly, as he leads you out of the building and into a police car. Are you going to be arrested? Could your Eddie really have done this? Why?

Gordon stops outside Arkham, opening the car door for you to step out, and leads you inside, showing his badge to the guards, who let you proceed. The walls are strong and metallic and thick, and the cells are sealed with heavy iron doors with a small, barred rectangular window at their tops. You try not to let your attention wander, sticking close to Gordon, until he reaches an interrogation room. A mad dressed in a jet-black bat suit already stands there with a frustrated look in his dark eyes, and Gordon signals for you to wait as he goes over to the Batman and whispers something you can't quite make out in his ear. The Batman looks over at you quickly, his expression unreadable, and then he approaches you.

"You know Nashton?" his deep, whispery voice states more than asks, and you nod.

Batman stares at you for another moment before marching back into the interrogation room, nodding at you impatiently to come in. You do, blinking at the hard lights and the security cameras glaring at you from the corners of the room. And, behind the strong, glass partition and metal desk, a young man sits staring at you in disbelief.

Clear, dorky glasses. Murky green eyes. Soft, sandy brown hair. It's definitely him.

"Edward?" you say breathlessly, going to step closer, but the Batman gives you a wary look. "Ed, is that really you?"

He nods wordlessly, his eyes wide and stunned. But beneath that familiar, comforting look he's always had, there's a layer you can only just make out, like a hidden spark of insanity, one that's made the whole city go into a frenzy and even The Batman apprehensive. Edward whispers your name like a prayer, his hands pressed up against the protective glass.

"You came back," he says in wonder, as Gordon and Batman glance between the two of you in uncertainty, but you're not focused on them at all, like the whole world is disappearing around you. "I- I knew you would..."

"What happened?" you say, overwhelmed by the whole scenario, staring in wonder at the now grown-up orphan labelled a criminal in front of you. "What did you do?"

"What I had to do," he smiles brightly, adoringly at you, that glimmer of insanity coming to the surface. "What they made me do. And I did it for you, too."

"Me?"

"Who else?" Edward giggles, standing up and moving closer to the glass, his hands cuffed and chained. "They tried to break us apart. But you came back. I've been waiting for so long..."

"What does she know about this?" The Batman slices through the moment, and Edward glances at him distractedly. "Have you been doing this together?"

"Of course not," Edward breathes, turning his attention back to you with a sweet smile. "She's too pure for that. Too shy, and lovely... it was me. But you inspired me," he insists, looking straight at you, "to make a clean slate, and clean it all up, so that it'd be perfect for us. And it will be, angel. You coming back was the last piece of the puzzle." Edward suddenly gives you that all-too familiar soft, loving look you'd seen back in the orphanage, and you have to fight to compose yourself, wanting so badly to run to him like you did so many times before. "You look so beautiful. You haven't changed a bit..."

You feel like crying, stunned by the casualness of what he's saying and admitting to. "I... oh Edward..." you shake your head, giving him a desperate look. "You're in Arkham."

"That's right," Batman interjects again, "you can't be together. You're a psychopath, Nashton. You're not getting out. I'm sending her back home."

"No, wait," you cut in desperately, still feeling just as drawn to the genius madman even after the dark truths, "please, I don't want to leave him, I can help..."

A guard interrupts, bursting into the interrogation room, and you all turn to him.

"There's been explosions," the guard announces, "the city walls have collapsed and the main road's flooded."

As he speaks, Edward giggles to himself, giving the masked vigilante a dark, unhinged look that makes your heart jump in your chest.

"She's not going anywhere," he says excitedly, grinning at you. "You're right where you need to be. We can watch the whole thing together."

The Batman dithers between leaving and staying, eventually rushing out of the room, along with Gordon, to deal with the flooding crisis, and a guard hustles you out of the room as Edward's voice calls out your name from behind you.

"You'll never leave me again! We were meant to be! You know it's true, darling! You know!"

You manage to glance back at him as you leave, studying his crazed, ecstatic look, that same softness in his eyes as the day you had to leave, but tainted with madness. But as you look, you can't help but smile back at him slightly, because you know it's true.

As the waters invade the city and the building erupts into panic along with the rest of Gotham, you know it's true. And maybe that'll make this all worth it.

⭒❃.✮:▹ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

[littleoddwriter]

hello again! :D

Can you do a edward nashton x m! Reader who seems like a normal person, but is really dangerous, ik it boring but pretty please :)

Edward Nashton/The Riddler x Male!Reader | Headcanons

Hello there! It's not boring at all!!! And I hope you like what I've done with it. I'm sorry for taking so long. <3

notes; Male!Reader; Mentions of Violence, Murder and Stalking; Unhealthy Relationship.

Edward and you met at a coffee shop you both liked to frequent, getting into a conversation rather quickly. It was hard for you to meet new people and actually talk to them; but he somehow made you feel comfortable, so that soon you felt like you were about to talk his ears off.

You always felt like somebody was watching you, but after meeting Ed, that feeling only became stronger. Only when you were with Edward, did you calm down a bit.

One time, your urge to hurt someone who had pissed you off was all-consuming. Usually, you didn't have any sort of trouble to act on that; but the eyes that you could feel on your back left you hesitant. What if somebody was on to you?

Of course, you weren't exactly proud of your violent habits, but it was freeing to let your anger out on those who caused it, and to make them pay for it.

You had almost let that poor soul go, because of how scared you were that you'd get caught. But then your eyes met a familiar pair behind an even more familiar pair of glasses. Edward.

Instead of suddenly disappearing, Eddie approached you. The person you had followed into the alley to hurt, if not kill, them soon forgotten.

There was an intensity to his gaze that you hadn't seen before. But you liked it. It was a well-known look to you, as you often saw it in your own reflection.

Off-handedly, he mentioned that the person had gotten away. You simply shrugged. Your anger was long gone. The itch was still there, yes, but manageable.

Edward surprised you, then, by saying that he knew where to find a man you had hurt a couple of months ago. Shortly after you had met Eddie. He asked if you wanted to go and finish the job with him.

It was then, that you felt safe enough to let your mask drop. Acting "normal" around people was exhausting, making you even more prone to losing it over the smallest inconvenience. You loved having the chance of sharing your true self with the man who had wormed his way into your heart and brain so easily.

On your way to the man's home, Edward confessed to stalking you, explaining why you had felt increasingly paranoid. You couldn't be mad at him, nor were you afraid of him. If anything, it strengthened your desire for him.

With blood splatters on your face, you kissed Eddie for the first time. Both of you were panting, not from exertion, but excitement. You were grinning from ear to ear.