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darlingdreadwrites · 2 days ago

Text

cam 4

pairing: Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

summary: Edward guards what's his when he finds someone else watching you.

contains: reader works at bookstore, obsessed edward, religious imagery

warnings: dub-con, stalking

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Just as if Edward had never stopped, watching you once again became part of his evening ritual– his unspoken liturgy. And after a few nights, he thought it had been foolish to have stopped in the first place. With a near-religious fervor, he paid devout attention to your movements and the tasks he’d found you doing again. His cheeks would feel sore by the end of your “sessions” from all the smiles that lit up his face. He was entranced by all of it. The way your hands moved as you tidied up your desk, the soft concentration etched into your brow as you stared at your laptop screen – he absorbed it all like a sponge. He would absentmindedly circle one of the keys on his keyboard—not typing, not working—simply resting as he watched you.

Everything was perfect. Your unawareness made the connection so pure. If you knew, it would ruin everything – turn his devotion into something you might reject.

But tonight, the feed flickered.

It was a subtle thing at first, the kind of anomaly that Edward might have brushed off on another night. A momentary glitch, a lag in the stream – that was normal. But when it dared to happen again – this time accompanied by a faint, almost imperceptible pop-op in the corner of the screen – his focused sharpened. And so did rage. The muscles in his jaw tighten as a cold prickle of unease crawls up his spine.

“What the hell…” he murmurs, leaning closer to the screen. His fingers dance across the keyboard precision born of obsession. He pulls up the backend of the hacked website, bypassing its layers with a practiced ease. The usual thrill of discovery that accompanies his hacking was absent, now replaced by a gnawing anxiety.

The truth hits him like a physical blow. Someone else was accessing the feed.

Edward freezes, his breath suddenly catching in his throat and refusing to return to normal. The very idea was an affront, a desecration of something sacred. Who would dare? Who would dare intrude on you – and him – like this?

His mind races, paranoia sharpening into anger. His hands tremble as he navigates through the data logs, tracing the IP addresses of recent visitors. There were multiple intrusions, but one stood out. Most of the other ones have only been there for a minute or two – seemingly getting bored and moving onto the next webcam. But a single, persistent user has been accessing your webcam feed almost as consistently as Edward has. The thought of it made Edward’s stomach churn. Someone else was watching you, seeing what he saw. The idea was unbearable – sickening. They wouldn’t respect you like he would, they were monsters. It was as though someone had entered a confessional and stolen his absolution, twisting his holy act of devotion into something profane.

They don’t deserve you.

His vision blurs as a flood of possessiveness surges through him, dark and unrelenting. The sacred connection he has cultivated, the bond he believes fate has bestowed upon him, was being violated. This is wrong. This isn’t fair.

But then, a darker thought starts to take root. What if they hurt you?

His pulse quickens. Of course, that had to be it. He wasn’t the only one capable of hacking into a camera, but most people don’t do it for the same reasons he does. He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t some predator – he was different. He is different. He was meant to protect you, and he has finally been given his chance to.

“Yes.” His hands tighten into fists. “I’m protecting you. I’m going to.”

He repeats the words like a mantra, each syllable solidifying his resolve. This isn’t about jealousy – not entirely. It’s about your safety. If someone else was watching you, it is his duty to stop them. They don’t see you the way he does – they don’t understand how special you are. They won’t respect you, or your privacy. They won’t, they won’t, they won’t. Not like he did.

Edward’s anger crystallizes into a cold, calculating determination. He is going to find this intruder, and he will eliminate the threat.

Leaning back in his chair, he adjusts his glasses and stretches his neck. His fingers move with mechanical precision as he begins the hunt. IP logs, data packets, shared streams – Edward dissects them all, his mind working faster than it ever has before. Each clue brings him closer and closer to his target. The rage simmering beneath his skin makes it harder to think clearly. He pauses for a moment, running a hand through his hair. He huffs, hoping that he would release some of the steam. He needs to focus. This isn’t about rage; it was about justice. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, imagining your face as he had seen it earlier this evening. The calm the image brought him was fleeting, but it was enough.

Edward’s hands resume their work, the faint clicks of the keyboard punctuating the silence. Time is of the essence.

And Edward knows one thing with absolute certainty: by the end of the night, you would be his to guard – completely.

He knew he shouldn’t, but Edward was starting to look at this like a game. A game where he could prove to himself how devoted he was to you. A part of him felt the thrill of a challenge, the rush of problem-solving. But it was all muted beneath the weight of his purpose.

He wasn’t breaking into your computer for fun. This isn’t just another project – another puzzle to solve. It was for you.

“Almost there,” he mutters under his breath. He had spent hours piecing together fragments of your life in his journal, studying the details you had unknowingly offered him: the name of your childhood pet (gleamed from an old blog post), your favorite numbers (a recurring theme on your profiles), and the song lists you’d referenced in passing on your social media. Each clue led him closer, narrowing down the possibilities until he eventually found the key.

Edward is all smiles when he finally gains access. With a triumphant click, your computer’s desktop blinks into view on his screen. The modest, organized space is filled with folders and icons that felt distinctly, intimately you. His heart races as he leans closer, his glasses catching the light. He begins to hesitate. This was a threshold, a boundary he hasn’t yet crossed – though he’s gotten close before. But something always held him back, something he was feeling now. He told himself that this was for your own good, but deep down, he knew this was about making you his.

I’m not like them, he assures you in his head.

His fortitude hardens as he navigates through your system. It didn’t take him too long to find the exploit – a vulnerability that had allowed someone else to access your webcam feed. Edward’s lips press into a thin line as he disables it, erasing the traces of intrusion with ruthless efficiency.

There. No one else will see you now. Only me.

But… this isn’t enough. Edward needs more than just the satisfaction of locking others out. He needs to make sure he can always watch over you somehow. His fingers move swiftly as he sets up a secure backdoor, embedding himself into the heart of your system. The code he is writing is elegant, seamless—a private key that only he can use.

He pauses to stare at the lines of code on his screen. This was his signature, his mark upon your world. It was as if he was carving his name into the edges of your existence – claiming a piece of you for himself. And you would be protected because of it. The tension in his shoulders eases as a wave of pride washes over him. He did it – he protected you, just as he vowed to do.

Still, Edward wasn’t finished. His fingers start to move again, installing anti-malware software onto your system and setting up subtle security measures to keep your webcam undetected for good. He adjusts your settings so that no one—not even you—would notice anything out of the ordinary. When he’s done, Edward sits back to stare at the screen. The webcam feed is still there – still live – but now it feels different. It is not just a window into your life anymore; it is a fortress, a sanctuary that only he can enter.

You’re safe now.

There was something deific about you in this unguarded state. The flicker of your laptop screen against your skin, the way you rub your neck absentmindedly as you work – it all struck him with the force of revelation. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way – it wasn’t right to claim you, not like this. But wasn’t it inevitable? Wasn’t it fate that had drawn him to you? He had been chosen – guided by something greater than himself – to find you and watch over you. This world was undeserving of you, and he would make sure you knew your importance as much as he could. Even if you weren’t aware of his efforts.

Edward’s gaze lingers on the feed as he watches you type on your laptop, blissfully unaware of the lengths he has gone for you. And he knows in his heart, you would be proud of him if you knew. You’d thank him – maybe even kiss him. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

He stayed there – watching you – for hours, eyes never leaving the screen. He barely moved; his breath shallow as he watched you go through your nightly schedule. The intensity of his focus was almost meditative, a sacred act that left no room for distraction. By the time you had turned off your laptop and left the room, Edward felt the strangest mixture of satisfaction and longing. The feed was dark now, but that didn’t matter much. He could still see you – still feel you in his mind’s eye.

Edward’s heart is still buzzing with the afterglow of victory – but now he couldn’t sleep. You had long since gone to bed, and nothing but darkness appears from your webcam feed. His glasses sit crooked on his face, pushed askew during the hours of relentless focus. He didn’t fix them like he usually would. Instead, his mind wanders, unraveling a thousand threads of thought that all began and ended with you. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how natural this all felt. Protecting you wasn’t just an impulse; it was his duty, his purpose.

His fingers drum lightly on the desk as ideas begin to take shape in his mind – the online world isn’t enough anymore. He had secured your digital existence, locked down your safety where others couldn’t reach, but what about the rest of your life? What about the people you interacted with every day, the places you went, the dangers you didn’t even see while walking through Gotham?

Edward sits up straighter in his chair, his gaze sharpening. He could just imagine how many people had lingered for too long at your counter. How their eyes looked over you as though they had the right to admire you. Maybe a coworker of yours would laugh a little too hard at your jokes, as though he could ever understand the complexity of your mind the way Edward did. It appalls him.

They don’t deserve to be near you.

It wasn’t just unbridled possessiveness, it was love – pure, selfless love. He is the only one who truly understands you, and he would go mad for you if he had to.

His imagination wanders further, unfurling visions of the ways he can guard you more closely. He pictures himself trailing behind you on your walk home, staying far enough away that you wouldn’t notice but close enough to intervene if some animal approached. He imagines slipping into the bookstore unnoticed, keeping an eye out if your coworker or a customer smiled at you, ready to step in if it ever went too far.

Edward’s breath quickens as the fantasies grow darker, more vivid. He imagines greedy hands snatching you into the shadows of grimy alleys, someone sneaking into your home. The thought has him clenching his teeth. But the anger melts into something softer and sweeter: the vision of him stepping in to save you. You’d look up at him with gratitude, maybe even love.

The rational part of his mind—the part that had once questioned the morality of his actions—was now silent. It was drowned out by the growing tide of his obsession. This wasn’t about morality anymore – it was about what was right. And what was right was ensuring was your safety. He could almost feel your presence as he closes his eyes, letting a shiver run through him. He can hear your sweet voice in the back of his mind. If protecting you meant crossing more lines, pushing further into the shadows, then so be it. He was going to do whatever it took.

Edward opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on the dark screen in front of him. His reflection stared back—calm, composed, and unwavering. He feels no doubt, no hesitation. The boundaries he once tiptoed around now vanished almost entirely.

#riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #riddler fanfiction #riddler fanfic #paul dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #dano riddler #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #stalking mention #stalking tw #tw stalking

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darlingdreadwrites · 1 day ago

Text

cam 5

pairing: Edward Nashton x GN!Reader*

part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

summary: Edward is finally rewarded with the warmth of your touch and affection – or is he?

contains: reader working at a bookstore, slight dom elements, obsessed Edward, religious imagery, suggestive touching, riding

warnings: MDNI, *AFAB!Reader but i don't specify gender, dub-con, stalking, degradation

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

For a moment, Edward feels as though he is floating. He is suspended in a massive plane of darkness, unable to move. He doesn’t remember the last time his mind was so quiet, so peaceful. It was as if he was in a realm between time and space – until he finally opens his eyes.

He was in the bookstore – your bookstore – standing in front of two bookshelves. You were there, standing in between them, shelving books. The sight of you surrounds him with a warmth that emitted from where you stand, ethereal and glowing. You were something angelic, and yet undeniably human. Edward could feel the weight of your presence settle in his chest like a blessing. You were an impossible vision, a being neither entirely of earth nor heaven, a force that demanded worship and devotion. The shelves around you seem to bend toward you, as though bowing in reverence.

The room stretches upward, spiraling to an unseen paradise. The air feels thick, and his view of the world is heavy. The shelves move never-endingly; they were no longer neat rows of books but towering spirals getting sucked into a luminous void behind your figure.

His breath catches as you finally turn to look at him, a kind smile on your face. You approach him with the grace of someone who already knew his every thought, every longing—someone who had chosen him. Your steps are soundless on the polished floors, and he feels an impossible pull to be closer to you, as though his soul is tethered to yours. He can almost not feel the pain in his chest. A throbbing, pulsing hurt that recedes once you get close enough. Or maybe it was that the pain had consumed him enough that he grew numb to it. It doesn’t matter in the end, you’re here now. You are warm, kind, and comforting – a stark contrast to the strange, twisted cathedral around you.

Your hands are soft, the kind of touch that felt both maternal and intimate. You cup his face like you were cradling something precious. Your thumbs graze over his cheeks in a way that makes his eyes sting. He is too afraid of you disappearing if he blinks. Your face tilts, studying him like he has any worth. He is fragile and tender, so tender. Edward feels cherished – safe. His knees shake slightly under the weight of this moment, but he fights it. He should be on his knees before you, but he wanted to stay between the warmth of your hands. As he gazes up at you, he can’t help but tremble.

For a moment, there is only peace – a powerful, sacred peace.

A whimper escapes him as you apply pressure to his face, fingers digging into his skin. Your nails sting while you grip him tightly, the smile on your face unwavering. Your fingers press harder, squeezing so hard that his mouth falls open with a sharp cry. And just as the pain started to become overwhelming, your grip loosens.

One of your hands slides down, dragging your nails over the curve of his neck, down his chest, and it burns. Edward shudders under your touch, the sensation not entirely painful, not entirely comforting – just too much. He swallows hard. The heat of desire and shame tangle together in a painful knot.

Then, the words came. Soft, lilting, but slicing through him.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words – so cruel – come from a place where malice and sweetness are one and the same. Your smile, still welcoming and pleasant, belies the puncture of your statement. His confusion makes him dizzy. There is nothing that feels right about the words, nothing logical about them, and yet… they are the only thing that make sense. They are what he needs to hear. He flinches, his body responding involuntarily.

His heart hammers in his chest as you tilt his chin up, your thumb pressing into his skin in a way that makes him ache. He feels small and insignificant under your gaze. The hand that wasn’t on his face travels lower, palming and pressing against his groin with deliberate force. His mind screams at him to reject the sensation, but his body betrays him. He jerks, hips twitching into your palm – seeking more of that sinful pressure. He can’t breathe, can’t think as his chest heaves. The shame twists inside him as his eyes widen.

“Please…” he whimpers, his voice cracking as the smallest shift in your hold on him causes him to moan.

You lean in, your face hovering just inches from his. Your beath was warm on his trembling lips.

“Filthy, filthy thing,” you whisper, the words ghosting against his skin.

The bookstore around you both begins to collapse, the arches crumbling into darkness. The shelves twist, warp, bend in on themselves. The golden light dims to an abyssal void – yet you remain bathed in a holy light. He is consumed by you – by your presence, by your touch, by the haunting words. You hold him in place, your smile syrupy and mocking as you get closer to him. He reaches for you just as your lips brush his.

Edward wakes up with a strangled cry, drenched in sweat. He bolts upright, wide eyes attempting to make out anything in the darkness of his apartment. His heart pounds like a drum, and painfully. The sensation of your touch still scorches his skin as his mind races. He touches his face where your hands had been.

There is a purpose to that dream, he rationalizes, you’re calling to me – touching me beyond this plane of reality.

Edward sits at the edge of his bed, staring at the empty coffee mug on his desk. The remnants of the dream still cling to him like a phantom touch. He’s spent the better part of an hour replaying it in his head. The way your voice had curled around that single phrase – “You’re disgusting” – makes him shiver even now. He is repulsed by the fact his body seems to enjoy how you insulted him with such a loving tone.

He needs to get out of his apartment.

It was suffocating him now. It was logical to get out, wasn’t it? He has been cooped up here for too long, buried in the glow of his monitors and the labyrinth of code he’s been pouring over for weeks. Normal people went out to public places. They sat in cafes, walked in parks, and – yes – they read in bookstores. It wasn’t suspicious for him to do so. It wasn’t strange.

I need to take care of myself.

The thin veneer of his words failed to hide the truth he is unwilling to admit. His attention drifts to the books relevant to his research on his desk. And now, here he is, preparing to go back to the same bookstore under the flimsiest of excuses.

Edward stands and moves to his closet, fingers brushing over the very few neatly hung shirts as he tries to decide what to wear. It wasn’t like this was a date – it wasn’t – but he can’t help the flutter of nerves in his chest as he debates between the gray sweater that makes him look softer or the green button-up that matches his eyes.

He settles on the sweater. Soft was better. Non-threatening. Approachable.

Next comes his hair. He stands in front of the cracked mirror, meticulously combing it into place only to muss it up again. He runs his fingers through it over and over, muttering under his breath how it refused to cooperate. Finally, he gives up and leaves it as it is. He wipes his glasses clean on the corner of his sweater, holding them up to the light to check for smudges. He can’t help but picture you noticing them, leaning in close with a teasing smirk to point out a speck he’d missed. The thought makes his cheeks flush, and he shoves the glasses back onto his face almost frantically.

“Okay,” he whispers, taking a deep breath and facing his mirror again. He attempts at practicing a warm, friendly smile – but it seems too unnatural on his face. He raises a hand and waves, practicing what he’d do if he saw you. “Hello. How, how are you today?”

It was completely normal for me to rehearse like this. I’ve seen it in movies.

Doubt creeps in as he assures himself.

He sits back down on his mattress, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Was this really okay? As self-reproach gnaws at him, he replays the dream – your voice just as sharp and cutting as you call him disgusting.

Edward’s stomach churns. Maybe he is disgusting. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to block out the image of your kindhearted, smiling face from the dream. The image of your hands had roamed over him, one of them traveling lower and lower until—

“No,” he snaps, standing abruptly. He can’t let his mind go there; he can’t let his body failing him again before he stepped out the door. He doesn’t have time to touch himself – to relieve himself – again.

He paces the room, his steps uneven and hurried. He mutters to himself that it’s fine to go to your bookstore with no other reason than to just be there.

With a determined breath, he grabs his coat and slings it over his shoulders. He hesitates only once more at the door. His hand stills over the knob as your voice echoes in his mind again, soft and cruel all at once. “Filthy, filthy thing.”

His grip tightens, his knuckles whitening around the doorknob as he shoves the memory aside. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of your touch – the comfort he felt as you held his face in your hands.

Edward steps out into the deafening silence of the hallway, the door closing behind him with a resolute click. He tells himself that he isn’t walking toward you. He isn’t trying to chase the fleeting connection he felt in the dream. He is only going to read.

And that isn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Edward pauses in the doorway of the bookstore for a moment, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of paper. There were a decent amount of patrons this evening, the distant hum of conversation creating a low symphony of activity. Edward’s gaze sweeps the room until he catches sight of you. You stand behind the counter, your back to him as you help someone. Even from this distance, you are magnetic. Your presence commands his focus with the same intensity as the figure in his dream—

His heart beats so fast it feels like it might bruise his ribs. The dream! It was vivid and consuming, filling his chest with reverence, dread, and arousal.

“Just… sit,” he tells himself, forcing his legs to move away from you.

He wanders through the aisles, feigning interest in the messily arranged books but barely registers the titles. His sole focus was finding the perfect vantage point. At last, he finds it – a small table tucked into a corner with a direct line of sight to the counter.

He sinks into the chair with a small smile, placing the book he’d grabbed at random on the table in front of him. His fingers fidget with the edges of the pages. His eyes flick up to you every few seconds despite his best efforts to focus on the text.

Stop staring, he berates himself. You’re making it obvious.

But your pull is too strong. Each glance was a sin, a stolen moment of connection.

Edward’s mind begins to betray him as the dream bleeds into reality. In the dim bookstore light, your form seems to glow faintly. The edges of your silhouette blur and he blinks hard, trying to dispel the illusion.

“You’re disgusting.”

He whips his head to the right, a soft gasp on his lips. You were not there – nobody was. The words echo in his mind and his stomach twists. He snaps his attention back to his book, suddenly feeling like all eyes were on him. You didn’t say that. You wouldn’t – not to me.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he feels your hands snake all over his body. He was starting to feel remorseful again, but it isn’t enough to make him leave.

Then it happens.

You turn, making eye contact with him almost immediately, as if you had felt his presence. For a moment, your eyes meet, and you smile. A smile that was merely a polite gesture to others, but to him, it was as inconsequential as it was devastating.

Edward’s heart hammers so loudly that he is certain you are able to hear it. His face flushes, and he quickly looks back down to read the words swimming before his eyes in a meaningless blur.

You saw me.

The thought reverberates in his mind, equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. He clings to the image of your smile. It is everything to him. A slow smile spreads across his face, eyes wild and glued to a single word on the page. “Passion.” It is almost fitting – actually, it is perfectly fitting.

The minutes tick by, stretching into an eternity as he sits there and sneaks glances when he thinks you won’t notice. He can’t stop – not even when each look feels like a delicious risk.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a darker thought begins to spread. This isn’t enough. Sitting here, watching you from afar. It is a poor substitute for what he truly wants. What he truly needs.

Edward swallows dryly, his hands gripping the book as his imagination runs wild. He pictures you looking at him the way you had in the dream – not with polite indifference. But with a look of intensity of someone who wanted him.

You’re touching yourself – or touching him, he can’t tell from the proximity – breathing heavily and looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Neither of you are wearing any clothes. He can feel your skin, but his mind refuses to conjure up what your body might look like even as he desperately tries to look down at you. You both moan, sweat covering both of your bodies in a sticky tangle of limbs. The fantasy spirals, painting an intense picture of you closing the distance between you. What he believes is your perfect, naked body on top of his – thighs caging his hips and grinding sensually as you throw your head back in pleasure. He's embarrassingly loud, sputtering and panting like a dog while you’re mewling softly and elegantly.

He grunts in frustration, trying to squint and make out your peaked nipples or how your heat rides his length in vain. His hands grab onto your hips to bring you impossibly closer to his stuttering hips – he was so close. You look down at him to smile sweetly. It softens into something fond as you lean down to whisper in his ear. He can almost feel your breath on him, hear the saccharine venom of your words—

“Stop it,” he says under his breath, shaking his head to dislodge the fantasy.

He needs to leave. He’s throbbing with a discomfort that borders on pain.

Edward stands, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushes it back. He grabs the book and returns it to the nearest shelf, his movements clumsy. As he makes his way to the door, he can’t resist stealing one last glance at you. You are busy again, helping yet another customer with the same warm grin that had shattered his composure moments before.

The bell chimes violently as he steps outside, the cold evening air hitting him like a splash of cold water. That’s what he needs – a cold shower. He shoves his hands into his pockets, his mind buzzing with visions of him and you. He was disgusting.

The water steams down Edward’s back in scalding rivulets, but it does little to wash away the lingering sensations of the day. His shower was supposed to be freezing – a penance to purge himself of the memory of your smile and the fantasy that followed. Yet, it hadn’t taken long for his resolve to crumble.

Edward had given in – his mind stuck on every detail of your fleeting glance at the bookstore, every imagined touch from the dream and fantasy. He’d cursed himself through gritted teeth even as his body betrayed him, chasing an unbearable high that left him slumped against the shower wall. He felt ashamed and hollow.

Steam fills the small bathroom, the heat now oppressive as his mind begins to clear. Edward slides down on the wet tiles, burying his face in his hands. The sound of water drowns out his sobs.

The words from his dream ricochet through him, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion. He winces, stomach feeling like it’s coiling at the memory – no longer making him feel aroused.

No, you’re wrong, he protests pathetically. I’m not disgusting. This isn’t disgusting.

He clings to the threadbare justification like a lifeline, dragging himself back to his feet as the water cools to a lukewarm drizzle. Edward shuts off the shower, the sudden silence amplifies the turmoil in his mind.

He dries himself and avoids his reflection in the mirror, unable to face the pale figure staring back at him. Instead, he focuses on his hands – hands that had sinned against you. The same hands that would someday cradle your face like you had done his. If only he could make you understand.

Back in his room, Edward plops down into the creaky chair at his desk. Like a robot, he searches for your computer. The webcam feed blinks at him, and there you are again. At the sight of you, he almost wants to cry once more. The smile from the bookstore lingers in his mind. His eyes drank in the soft curve of your lips, the way your hands moved as you organized something on your desk. The image of your hands from his fantasies resurfaces, making his heart ache.

“Thank you.” Edward wets his lips, his voice a dry whisper in the quiet room. “For bringing this angel into my life.”

He clasps his hands together, fingers interlocking tightly in prayer. He isn’t sure who he was thanking – a god he’d long since abandoned, fate, or perhaps the dream itself. All he knows is that he feels chosen, as though your existence is a message meant solely for him.

The fantasy builds again as he stares at you, unbidden and unstoppable. In his mind, he sees you smiling at him the way you had in the dream – soft and cruel all at once, yet impossibly kind.

#edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #edward nygma #riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #dano riddler x reader #dano riddler #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the riddler 2022 #the riddler #riddler fanfic #riddler fanfiction #stalking mention #stalking tw #tw stalking

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