#edward nashton fanfiction

[trevolinesmelody]

I try to draw comfort art but IDK WHY I cant like it, maybe its Eddie Jacket, idk, mmmmmmmmmmmmm

[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

[adhdnursegoat]

NEW STORY ALERT!

Hello, goats/kids!

I want to introduce you to my newest story, The Edge of Us. Please join me tomorrow at 12:00pm CST when I post the first 3 chapters. Posts may not be every week, but they will always be posted on Tuesdays. This story started out as a one-shot prequel to my piece Candy. However, the plot bunny bred beyond the capacity of a single Word doc. I've agonized over this for the past month, and I'm finally getting the courage to share. This story is a culmination and amalgamation of many of my previous works: Candy, Daughter of Fear, Human, and Make Me Cry.

I do hope you join me in this journey. Summary is below.

Thank you for your time, energy, and support!

Goat!

In the shadows of Gotham City, Edward Nashton—brilliant, bitter, and disillusioned—finds himself unraveling more than just the corruption festering within the GCPD. Tasked with mentoring Romy Winslow, a sharp and enigmatic computer science student, Edward is both drawn to and infuriated by her presence. As their uneasy partnership deepens, sparks fly in a tense dance of intellect, ambition, and unspoken desires. But in a city where trust is fragile and deception runs deep, even the sharpest minds can be blindsided by the chaos of their own emotions.

Set one year before Batman: Arkham Origins, Edward’s obsession with Gotham’s decay collides with his growing fixation on Romy, and lines blur between mentor and mentee. Together, they dive into the city’s labyrinth of secrets, unearthing truths that could shatter them both. But in a world of shadows, every connection comes with a cost, and the edge between love and destruction has never been thinner. Will they rise together—or fall apart in the pursuit of their own truths?

[finniestoncrane]

OH BOY! How about Office Eddie nsfw headcanons? I love that dweeb at the office with a dark streak and honestly just want anything about him 💚

Dano!Riddler x Fem!Reader Headcanons oooooooooh yeah!! i've started writing a little outline for something like this but longer!! this is a good excuse to test some things out and see what works >:3c 🐀💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: voyeurism, pervert eddie, peeping tom, spying, non-consensual stuff, masturbation, unintentional cum swallowing

listen, employment in a nice office isn't all that common in gotham, and you're lucky you're not behind a bar serving sleazy wannabe rogues or hustling for what little money you can get, so you're willing to put up with your shy and quiet and kinda dweeby co-worker

but that's only because you have no idea about all the weird stuff he's up to...

eddie is smitten immediately by you, but he doesn't speak to you at all for the first two weeks you're sharing an office with him

it makes you a little uncomfortable, but he slowly warms up and offers you a hello and a goodbye

when he starts talking to you a bit more, it's about quite dark and deep subjects

it's almost like he's trying to guage your response to decide if you're a good person

or one of the people he goes on about, the undeserving masses

he's nice enough though, and you find that he's very helpful and willing to guide you with the tasks

and you quickly notice that he's far smarter than you, and is willing to hold himself accountable for your training

this seemingly kind gesture isn't selfless, however, it's actually his way of getting closer to you

and to have you depending on him for your job

it's not something you notice at first, if at all, but edward always offers to look your work over before passing it on to the bosses

he's changing it without you knowing though, making sure there are little mistakes that have you reprimanded

eddie delivers that bad news of course, and offers to show you how to fix your errors

you're so grateful that you hug him, or compliment him, and so he can hardly stop doing it

besides, the stupider you feel, the more you'll have to rely on him, and the more you'll view him as smart and wonderful

and in order to keep you thinking that, he'll criticise you sometimes

nothing too mean, not too obvious

but enough that he can see your pupils widening and your skin flushing when he does compliment you

"don't worry, i won't tell the bosses"

gosh, you owe him so much... maybe he'll cash in the favours someday

eddie has the keys to the office and he unlocks it every morning, since he's always there a lot earlier than you

you never question why, but it's so he can set things up

you wouldn't believe how many cameras are hidden in the little space you share

under the desk, in the toilet, in the stationary cupboard

and the work laptop he offered to set up for you?

the webcam is hacked, so he can watch you at home

because at a certain point, he can't stand not to be around you or to know what you're up to when you clock out for the day

and that includes when you leave the room to go to the toilet

he had to drill a hole in the wall of the cupboard between the office and the bathroom, just so he can keep an eye on you

and he finds his behaviour escalating, like an experiment to see how far he can go

it starts with him touching himself under his desk, rubbing his hands over his erection and trying to keep quiet

rubbing against you in the elevator, placing his hands on your shoulders as he stands behind you, staring down your blouse

asking you to reach up high or down low to watch the way your clothes move to expose you

messing with the ac, watching you sweat when it's too hot, watching your nipples harden when it's too cold

then he starts messing with the cables under his desk a lot, something with the wiring you don't understand

but it's an excuse to stare at your legs, trying to get a peek up your skirt

and then before you know it, your sweet coworker is masturbating into your coffee creamer

waiting to see if you can taste the difference, to see if you recognise him on your tongue

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

There's A First For Everything - Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You've been dating Edward for a few months now, and you're finally ready to take a more intimate step in your relationship with him. His lack of experience, as well as yours, leads to a clumsy, yet enjoyable night neither of you will forget. (Alternatively: two virgins have sex for the first time.)

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, Loss of virginity, Reader is a virgin, Edward is also a virgin, unprotected sex, creampie, handjob, singular mention of alcohol consumption (no one is drunk/tipsy), soft sex, slight praise kink, fluff, SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: I haven't written anything in months, so my apologies if this isn't too good. Trying to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!! 💚

It had only been a little under half a year since you had met and befriended Edward after meeting him through a friend of yours who worked with him, and about three months since you started dating him, but you had never fallen for someone so strong and quickly before. He was timid, and at times a bit awkward, but past that he held an intelligence and sweetness that made your heart fill to the brim and swell with a wonderful feeling of pure admiration and love that made you wonder how you previously lived without it.

As much as it pained you to admit, you've never been good at relationships. Whether it be your own fears or a lack of genuine connection between you and your partner at the time, something always left things ending sooner than you'd have liked them to. For the first time in what felt like ages, though, you were finally seeing a glimmer of hope in your love life.

You loved him, and that made you believe the concept of there being "the one" truly existed. You wanted to love him in every way you possibly could, and you wanted him to do the same to you. Your newfound love made you a lot more bolder, too.

"Do you want to stay the night at my place?" You blurted out one night after a particularly successful dinner date, feeling a lot more confident in yourself than you usually did. Maybe the small glass of wine you had earlier also helped you along.

"Oh?" Is all he could respond with, mesmerizing emerald green eyes widening a tiny bit in shock that he quickly tried to hide behind a more casual look. Despite his attempted change in expression, you had caught on quick to the sudden apprehension that overtook him, as well as the way he tried to keep his calm. For a split second, you thought you had fucked up and made him uncomfortable. Then he smiled, a light blush covering his cheeks.

A smile. That's a good sign. God, I hope it's a good sign.

"Are you sure?—" He questioned, quickly cutting himself off and averting his gaze as he seemed to regret what he just said. "That was—I'm– I didn't mean to be rude—" He stammered out, stumbling over his words. "Im not good at these things, I'm sorry." He apologized with a nervous laugh, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not good at them, either," You reassured, smiling sheepishly as it was your turn to blush. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to." You looked away, trying to suppress your growing anxiety.

Fuckfuckfuck, what If I tried to move too fast and—

"I want to." He said, trying to act casual, excitement given away only by the way he grinned at you, blush on his face now worsened in the best way possible. "Lead the way."

You were lucky your apartment was only a short walk away from the restaurant, or else you may have died on the walk home from the eager, nervous racing of your heart. There was a first for everything in life, and you were tired of waiting for this first to come to you on its own. You were determined to make it happen; no backing out when you wanted it so much, especially with him.

Everything moved quickly once you had unlocked your door and closed it behind you, leaving only the two of you. You took full advantage of your sudden burst of confidence, even if it was steadily decreasing as you entered further into new territory. You kissed him with passion which he eagerly reciprocated, the kiss only deepening as you led him further into your apartment and into your bedroom.

It was when your back was to the bed and your shirt was thrown somewhere to the ground along with his own that you hesitated. It was new, and it was as scary as it was amazing. You broke the kiss, holding his face gently in your hands as you both paused, looking into each other's eyes with a shared apprehension and desire for the other.

"I've never done this before," You told him with a soft smile. "Be gentle, but not too gentle." He took a deep breath upon hearing the information that he'd be your first. You'd be his, something he craved since the day he met you, but it was also something he didn't believe he deserved. You thought he was perfect? He thought you were an angel, the only light in the whole of Gotham, and the whole of his life. To him, he was beyond repulsive. Some type of vermin born from the depths of Gotham's filth.

You saw the way he sunk into his thoughts, and you were fast to pull him out of them before he fell in too deep. "Hey," You mumbled, voice gentle, pulling him in closer. "What's wrong? We can stop if you don't want to go—" The pressing of his lips to yours cut you off.

"I don't deserve you," He smiled down at you, almost sadly. "Are you sure you want me to be your first? I'm...." He trailed off, looking for the right words. "I'm inexperienced, too." He carefully pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You deserve to be given the best, I don't want to ruin such an important moment for you."

You kissed him lovingly in reply. "You won't ruin it," You comforted. "I want you more than anything or anyone else, even if we're both a bit clumsy or awkward." Your once reassuring smile then turned into a more seductive look as you helped move his slightly shaky hands to the clasp of your bra, helping him undo it and letting the garment slip off. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. You can touch as much as you want, honey."

'Honey.' That single word made his heart warm. He'd do anything to hear you say that again. Anything to hear that makes him feel just as loved and just as wanted. You were an angel. His angel.

He reached out a hand, touching your breast experimentally, enjoying your light moan as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You were soft and warm he realized at that moment, and the closeness of you both felt like bliss. He wanted to be even closer, and you felt the same.

You tugged off each other's pants, the clothing joining the growing pile on the floor of your bedroom. It was just two pairs of thin fabric separating the two of you now, and you were equally as ready to close the gap.

You were the first to make the move, pulling his boxers down and letting his hardened cock spring out. It wasn't overly large by any means, but it was certainly above average. It almost intimidated you, but fuck did you want it inside of you. You were growing wetter by the second.

You looked up at him for permission, which he granted, before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroking it, being as experimental with your touches as he was with his. He groaned, head leaning back and his eyes screwing shut as you continued your movements, steadily increasing your pace.

"Does that feel good, Eddie?" You purred into his ear, taking pleasure in the myriad of noises slipping from his mouth. He let out a whiny 'Mhmm' in response, head beginning to cloud with ecstasy. He was a smart man, smarter than anyone else you knew, but you were turning him ditsy with your touch.

"S-Stop—" He stuttered out, bringing you to a halt. "D-Dont wanna cum yet–" He said hurriedly, watching your hand leave him. He took a small moment to reign himself back in, bringing himself further away from the edge. Once he was calm enough, he began to pull down your panties, soaked from your arousal. It ignited a sort of pride in him to see just how much of an effect he had on your body.

You helped him line up with your waiting entrance. It was now or never. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan muffled against you as he finally sunk into your pussy. You gasped at the feeling, the stretch unusual but causing pleasure to shoot through you.

"Fuck!" You cursed, nails instinctively digging into his back in an attempt to ground yourself. "How are you so big?" You moaned out, whimpering in pleasure as you felt him begin to move slowly. "E-Eddie—"

"Does it feel good for you, too?" He asked in a voice shaky from pleasure, hips slowly rocking against yours. "A-Am I doing this right?"

You pulled him into a kiss, moaning into it along with him as you pulled him in close, bodies melding into each other in a yearning for as much intimacy as possible. It was just the two of you in this moment, and neither of you ever wanted it to end. It wasn't just sex, it never was, you were showing each other just how much love was felt between you, even if it was still relatively new.

"You're so tight," He whimpered, body shaking as he struggled to not become entirely overwhelmed by the experience. "Feel so good. I love you. Love you so much." He began to speed up, a mixture of desperate noises leaving him as he tried to get more and more of you. "C-Close— 'm gonna cum soon–"

His finish was speeding towards him faster with each thrust into you, and you weren't far behind. Still, you weren't as close as he was. You needed just a little bit more to push you over that edge you needed so badly to cross. You found one of his hands, bringing it to your clit. "Slowly," You instructed, letting him rub at the sensitive bud. "Just like that, Eddie." You praised, back arching as a new layer of sensation was added to the experience.

It took less than a minute before he came with a whine of your name, the feeling of his thick cum spilling deep into your pussy triggering your own orgasm. The feeling coursed through your body, consuming you in never had before. He continued to move against you until both of your climaxes subsided, leaving you both pleasantly exhausted as you came down from your highs.

He pulled out, snuggling up beside you as you sat in a comfortable silence. Your eyes fluttered shut as you smiled to yourself. You had finally done it, and it was even more rewarding than you expected it to be. You were satisfied and in love, and nothing felt better.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Edward mumbled softly, a small smile on his face as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder. "I want to cuddle a bit longer." You leaned into him, face nuzzling into his chest.

You wouldn't trade this moment for the world.

[darlingdreadwrites]

cam 3

pairing: Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

summary: Edward finally gets the courage to return the books he doesn’t need. Or maybe he just finally gets the courage to see you again.

contains: reader works at a bookstore, obsessed edward

warnings: dub-con, stalking

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

a.n: i uploaded this first on ao3 under the name "cam" - deerrat

Edward had forced himself to stop watching you every night, and it was agony.

He sits hunched over his cluttered desk, pushing aside the left-over container of takeout from last night. Or is it from the day before then? He can’t remember. His brain felt more jumbled than usual, much like his apartment. Papers were strewn in an organized chaos, books he had bought stacked in front of him, and a desk lamp casting a pale halo over the whole mess. He stares at the black void of his monitor, fingers steepled under his chin as though in prayer. But the object of is devotion wasn’t something traditionally divine. It was you.

He closes his eyes, letting the memory wash over him, just as it had for days now. It still haunted him, wracking him with humiliation – how he hadn’t reacted more to your joke. He had been too worried about his financial situation to notice the way your voice had risen in soft amusement as you made that small joke – ”You sure this is all?” You weren’t making fun of him. You were too kind to do that. You wanted to engage in a lighthearted exchange. At least he hoped this was the case. He should’ve said something clever – wittier. Banter – that’s what people liked, right? Instead, he giggled pathetically, like a nervous schoolgirl. How mortifying.

How did I not find out that you worked there? he thinks. It wasn’t a coincidence, no. Coincidence was too random, too cold for something as perfect as this. This was fate. It was a deliberate act of providence pulling him into your orbit. How could he have been so blind? All these weeks of watching, observing, and protecting you, but he never thought fate would intervene so directly. You, his angel, his penance and salvation, worked in the very bookstore he had visited for his plans without any prior knowledge of this.

Edward shifts in his chair, picking up one of the books from the pile on his desk. He thumbs through its pages, inhaling deeply to pick up any remnant of the bookstore. The words swam meaninglessly in his head – he wasn’t even sure he needed this book for his research. Only a few that he bought were helpful, the rest…had been props that gave him more time with you and not between monitors. The guilt began to claw at him, then, sharper than it had been in days.

That thought burned in him, a smoldering ember of shame. He wasn’t supposed to be monitoring you. He wasn’t supposed to follow your life like this. It was wrong for him to do this – he knew that. Edward swallowed hard and lowered his head. I am more than unworthy. He watched you in secret, through the forbidden lens of your webcam. He worshipped you like a sinner who itched to dare touch the divine. It was maddening torture. He was holding back as much as he could.

He glances at your crumpled photograph on his desk, a grainy printout he’d taken from a frozen frame of the feed. Your eyes were wide – unaware – staring back at him. And, for a moment, he hated himself. He hates how much he grew to need you, how much he craves the heat of your gaze to leave scorch marks all over his body. He wanted you to see him – to see him for who he truly was. He knew you could since you had such a kind soul. Edward presses his palms against his eyes, the edges of his vision turning red.

“Forgive me,” he whispers. He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to you, to God, or to the hollow space inside himself.

But Edward had always struggled with the line between right and wrong, hadn’t he? Especially when it was down to something as overwhelming and consuming as you. He clenches his fists, shaking his head violently as if it would get rid of the thought.

But, as he often does, he found a way to justify it. You had come into his life for a reason. He didn’t seek out your hacked webcam – it just happened to be there. He didn’t seek out where you worked – he was only there for his research. He stumbled into the store, nothing more than another nameless customer to you. But he knew there was something more. Surely, there was a purpose behind this. His breath hitches as he remembers your face, the way the overhead lights and fell across your features. Divine. Just… divine. He was, honest to God, grateful that he had bought so many books; his plan for just a few seconds more with you worked somewhat. He only wishes he paid more attention to what he picked up. Some of these were of no use to him whatsoever.

The receipt.

Edward, suddenly frantic, begins digging through the piles of trash on his desk. The thin slip of paper was slightly crumpled, the ink faintly legible. He smooths it carefully over a clean spot on his desk.

He couldn’t go back to that bookstore, right? Could he? What if you realized what he was this time. What if you looked right through him and witnessed the depravity in the recesses of his mind? But what if he couldn’t bring himself to ever go back? The that of letting this chance – this miracle - slip away made his chest tighten almost painfully.

His thin lips twist into a nervous, trembling smile. The books he didn’t need anymore – they were his excuse. The reason he gave himself to go back. How had he forgotten? But it wasn’t just an excuse – it was an offering. He would place himself before you again, risking rejection, risking everything, because that is what you deserved.

With unsteady hands, Edward begins to sort through the books on his desk. He would stand before you, hoping you would see him as him. Not as a stranger, but as someone meant to be there.

Because he was meant to be there.

Fate had made that so.

The soft humming coming from the computer was the only sound in the room, steady and swallowing the silence. Edward sits before the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard in hesitancy. He doesn’t know if he should proceed. He swore to himself – swore – that he wouldn’t do this anymore. No, not after seeing you. Not after speaking to you. That encounter should have been enough to quench any thirst of watching you without your knowledge. It should have been sacred.

But he was weak. Weak and pathetic.

“It’s not wrong,” he murmurs, his voice cracking under the weight of his lie. “It’s not… I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

The mouse moves under his trembling hand, navigating through various folders and encrypted paths until a hacked feed blinks to life. It flickers for a moment before stabilizing, revealing the small, intimate view of your world. The camera is angled to show just enough of this corner of your apartment – your couch, a bookshelf, and part of your kitchen.

God, there you were.

Edward’s breath catches in his throat as he leans closer to the screen, glasses slipping just slightly down the bridge of his nose. You are in the kitchen, back turned to the camera as you reach for something in a cupboard. The nature of the mundane scene was supposed to have reassured him. It should have been proof that you are safe, and that you didn’t need him hovering over you like this. But he can’t look away.

You move with an unconscious grace that he finds absolutely mesmerizing. Every gesture of yours was imbued with meaning. The way you tilt your head as you pour water into a mug, the soft sigh that escapes your lips are you settle on the couch with your tea. You look so cozy; he almost wants to get up and make himself a cup of tea.

“I’m not doing anything bad. This isn’t wrong,” he whispers, brows pinching together. He presses a hand to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater to quiet the rapid pounding of his heart. “It’s not. I missed you. I just wanted to see you.”

The guilt was there, he could feel it, but he pushes it aside. He can’t stop now. You were just too precious, sitting there in the comfort of your apartment. The world was filled with many dangers you couldn’t possibly anticipate. Edward wanted to shield you from them.

His chair creaks as he leans back, tearing his gaze from the screen for only a moment. He taps his fingers on the desk with a relentless rhythm. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. He’s not strong enough to let you go – not yet. A soft sound from the feed draws his attention back to the screen. You had pulled out a book and were now reading, tucking your legs under you. His mouth went dry. This was almost too much for him. His lips part in a quiet gasp as he tries to keep himself from letting his eyes stare greedily at your bare legs.

In a sort of distraction, Edward reaches for the black notebook on his desk. He flips to the page where he had written your name. He adds another line beneath the things he already scrawled:

Reads in the evening. Looks peaceful. Like a saint in quiet contemplation.

The words blur as his eyes fill with unshed tears. He quickly closes the notebook with shaking hands. He didn’t dare look back at the screen.

“Enough,” he mutters pathetically. “That’s enough.”

He minimizes the feed but doesn’t close it, the tiny icon blinks at the bottom of the screen like a beacon. His resolve wavers for only a brief moment before he turns his attention to another task. Pulling up the bookstore’s system, he had found this to be quite easy. He hacked the website shortly after learning you worked there. He navigates through the interface with a practiced ease, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he looks for a schedule. When he sees your name appear, his heart skips a beat.

“Tomorrow?” he whispers, lips curling into a smile. “You’ll be there tomorrow.”

He sits back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing. What he was doing wasn’t wrong. He was just preparing – it was part of his mission. He had to know and make sure that you would be there when he returned the books. Edward glances at the icon where your feed was, hand over the mouse. Just one more look - just to make sure you were still safe.

Instead, and with all the strength he could muster, he closes it and stands up, the wheels of his chair scraping against the floor. He turns away from the computer, closing his eyes and clenching his fists at his sides.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs. “Forgive me for what I am.”

The words hang heavy and low in the air as he moves to his bed. The screen behind him glows on, casting long shadows across the room.

Tomorrow. He just had to wait for tomorrow, and then he would see you again. Patience was a virtue.

Edward stands in front of the glass door of the bookstore, the strap of his canvas bag digging into his shoulder as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His pulse is erratic, the beats thundering in his ears like a drum signaling an impending reckoning. Edward had timed his arrival perfectly. He couldn’t be too early because returning books wouldn’t take too long, and he wanted to see you. He couldn’t arrive the second you got there because you wouldn’t have settled in immediately. He came just in time, assuming you’d be behind the counter or doing some other tasks around the store.

He adjusts his glasses with shaky hands and pauses momentarily to mumble a small prayer. He lets his arm fall back to his side and grips the door handle. Stepping inside, the small bell above the entrance chimes. The sound reverberates through him like a church bell, calling the faithful to worship. The bookstore was warm and inviting, the scent of paper and wood polish attacking his senses. He stores every detail – the layout of the shelves, awkwardly placed stacks of books, the other customers browsing the aisles, and the distant singing of a playlist drifting through the air.

You are crouched near one of the lower shelves next to the counter, sliding a book into place with careful precision. Edward’s breath falters, body tensing as though struck by a divine force. You’re entirely unaware of him as you focus on your task. But, to Edward, you are the center of the universe and the axis upon which everything turns. He clutches the strap of the bag tighter, knuckles whitening as a thousand thoughts race through his mind. Should I approach you now? Would that seem strange? What if he says something wrong, something that shatters the fragile connection he believes you share?

For a moment, he considers turning around and leaving – never to return. But the thought of wasting this chance – this gift – was unbearable. He forces his legs to move before the instinct to run away fully takes over. The sounds of his shoes against the wooden floor must have caught your attention because you stand and turn toward him. When your eyes meet his, Edward’s stomach twists violently, a heady mix of elation and terror floods his senses.

“Hi there,” you say sweetly and softly. Recognition lights up your expression, and you offer him a small smile. “Back so soon?”

Edward freezes, his tongue suddenly feeling too large for his mouth. The logical part of his mind screams at him to say something - anything – but the words are tangled in his throat.

“I… uh…” He shifts the bag on his shoulder and awkwardly fumbles with the strap. “I… bought too many. I mean-I don’t need all of them. I thought, thought I did, but…”

His voice trails off and he averts his gaze, rounded cheeks flushing a deep red. You tilt your head slightly, your smile growing a fraction wider. Edward swears he could see some type of glow in your eyes – like a little switch went off. Was it kindness? Patience?

“Hey, it happens,” you shrug and gesture toward the counter. “Go ahead and set them down. I can take care of the return for you.”

Edward moves closer to the counter; his movements were stiff and mechanical as though he were a puppet on strings. He pulls the books from his bag and stacks them as neatly as he can, careful not to let them tumble. You glance at the titles as you begin processing the return, fingers moving deftly over the register.

“Guess you had an ambitious reading list, huh?” Your eyes flick up to his, a playful smile on your lips.

Edward blinks, stunned by the sound of your voice addressing him directly. He nods – too quickly – and clutches the edge of the counter to ground himself.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whistle.

You chuckle softly, the sound light and airy and perfect. Edward’s chest tightens. That noise had just carved itself into his memory. He watches as you start the return process, using the receipt and credit card he fumbled to place on the counter.

“Well,” you say, sliding the receipt closer to him. “If you decide you need them after all, you know where to find us.”

Edward stares at the receipt for a moment, willing himself to respond, to say something witty or memorable. Instead, all he manages is a mumbled “Thank you.”

As he tucks the receipt into his bag, you give him one last smile. A simple, fleeting thing that leaves him both ecstatic and hollow.

“Have a great day.” You give a small wave before turning your attention back to the register.

Edward lingers for a moment longer, feet rooted to the spot. He wants to say more and extend the moment, but the heavy weight of his nerves presses him back. He turns and walks to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last.

After stepping outside, the cold hair hits him like a slap, shocking him out of his haze. He seizes the strap of his bag tightly, heart still pounding. You spoke to him more than he thought you would. You even smiled at him. And though the interaction was short-lived, it felt monumental.

This wasn’t the end, he tells himself. It can’t be. This was only the beginning.

The walk home was a blur for Edward. The world had reduced itself to muted colors and distant sounds as his mind churns in relentless turmoil. His hand clutches the receipt in his pocket, the thin paper crumpling from the force of his grip. He replays the encounter over in his mind, each iteration punctured by a fresh wave of self-recrimination.

“Idiot,” he mutters under his breath as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. “Why didn’t I say something normal? Anything?”

He fumbles with his keys, the jangling sound sharp against the oppressive silence of the hallway. He finally manages to shove the door open, and slam it shut behind him. He turns around and leans against it, chest heaving as though he ran a marathon. His eyes flutter closed and he presses his forehead against the cool wood. Your face lingers in his mind like an afterimage burning into his vision.

Edward’s heart clenches painfully, the memory of it both calming and tormenting. You smiled at him—four times. Not only out of obligation or politeness, but with a genuine warmth. The kind of warmth that someone like him doesn’t deserve. He pulls the receipt from his pocket, uncrumpling it. This – it wasn’t just a piece of paper anymore; it was proof. Proof that you saw him, spoke to him, shared the smallest moment with him. This was sacred, a tangible fragment of your interaction. He crosses the room with hurried movements. He pulls open a drawer, retrieving a small, unassuming box. He stares at the pictures he has of you in there before gingerly and reverently placing the receipt inside. He stares at everything in the box again, his breathing shallow. It was all wrong, all of it. And, he knew that. But even as shame courses through him, so does something else. Something that’s deeper, darker, and more powerful.

“I can’t help it,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “You’re… you’re my everything.”

He shuts the box quickly and pushes it aside, making his way to his desk. The computer was waiting for him – as if expecting what he was going to do. He hesitates even letting his hands go near the keyboard.

“I just want to make sure you got home safe,” he murmurs as he searches for your webcam.

The soft flow of a nearby lamp shines a light on your figure. You are seated at a table, a pen in hand, scribbling something in a notebook. You bite your bottom lip in concentration, briefly glancing up at your laptop to see whatever you were writing notes for. Edward pretends that he’s sitting across from you – admiring you. He rests his chin on his hands, eyes fixing on you.

 But beneath all that adoration, a storm rages. His thoughts spiral into darker places, every moment of calm shattering by the fresh surge of self-loathing. What was he doing? Watching you like this – hoarding every moment like you were lovers. Pretending to be in the same room as you. How could he claim to care for you when his actions were so disgustingly invasive, so wrong?

“I’m protecting you. I’m doing this for you.” But the words sound hollow in his own ears.

The lie is becoming harder to sustain. He knows that. He can feel it in the way his chest aches. His fingers itch to reach out through the screen and finally bridge the impossible distance between you.

Edward pushes back from the desk and stands abruptly. He begins to pace in the claustrophobic confines of his apartment, his hands gripping his hair as he struggles to contain the chaos within him. And yet, he knows he can’t stop.

He can’t walk away. He can’t let you go. The though to removing himself from your life – even in this unseen way – was too painful. You were a light in his darkness and the only thing that made the endless nights worth enduring. He sinks to his knees, hands clasped together, pressing his chest against his thighs as though in full supplication.

“I swear,” he whispers, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I swear I’ll protect you. From everything. Frome everyone.”

He whines as the final vow slips from his lips:

“Even from myself.”

But, deep down, Edward knows that it was a promise he was too weak to keep.

[riddled-with-fear]

Matter Of Time

Well, here it is. My first fic. Or really, my first drabble. Originally I had planned for a SFW fic but well, one thing led to another and lo and behold. Another smutty Eddie fic to add to Tumblr.

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x Fem!reader

Summary: Edward watches reader from the shadows of a roof top, convincing himself what he's doing is protecting you.

Word count: 1,238

CW: semi-public male masturbation, themes of stalking, voyeurism, self-loathing, Edward being a fucking creepy weirdo, and dubious consent.

This has been uploaded to my AO3 as well!

Edward had been patiently waiting for you to come home. 

Unbeknownst to you, of course.

He had overheard you at KTMJ revealing to another mutual coworker that you had errands to run after work. Not that he was eavesdropping of course! But that meant you weren’t getting home until later and not your usual time of six-thirty.

Edward usually spent whatever free time he had during and after work focusing on his true work as Gotham’s Savior. As the Riddler. But now, it consisted of observing you from the shadows. Making notes about you. Memorizing every detail he could about you. Even going so far as to fantasize about you. He didn’t quite understand his infatuation with you. Perhaps it was because you were a new face in Gotham. Someone that has yet to be tainted and corrupted by this cursed city.  Or perhaps it was because for the first time in his entire miserable fucking life that someone had shown him basic human kindness. Not out of pity, but with seemingly genuine intentions. 

Every morning at KTMJ you would smile at him. Every morning you made it a point to greet him. And with that sweet, soft, and pure voice you would talk to him throughout your shared work day;

“Good morning Edward!” 

“How are you today, Edward?”

“Hey Edward, I’m getting coffee, can I get you anything?”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try this diner close by, you should come with me!”

“Hey Edward, mind looking over these accounts with me? These numbers don’t add up. You’re really smart, maybe you can find my mistakes?”

Oh how easy it was for him to become enamored with you. Obsessed with you. Of course, Edward tried many times to forget you. To not allow himself to be distracted by you or by the desire you stirred up within him. He needed all of his focus on cleansing Gotham of corruption. Maybe when he was done he could cleanse you too. But yet, here he was, watching you through your window from the roof of the building opposite of yours like some… stalker.

He shook the word from his mind. It made him sick. It made him seem depraved.

No. Not stalker. He was better than that. Your protector. That’s what he was. He was simply protecting you. After all, was he not Gotham’s protector? Why couldn’t he be yours too? And what better way to protect you than by watching over you?

But no matter how he phrased it, or how hard he tried to convince himself what he was doing wasn’t wrong there would always be that little tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him that it was wrong. That he would never be worthy or ever be enough to deserve any sort of semblance of human connection and that’s why he had to resort to doing… Well... whatever this was.

A light illuminated through your window, pulling Edward from his thoughts. He quickly fumbled in his bag for his binoculars. 

With your apartment being on the fifth floor, you didn’t think to close your blinds or draw your curtains. After all, you probably thought no one would be able to see you. That you were safe from any prying, perverse eyes.

Oh, my foolish girl. Edward thought.

He watched through his binoculars as you looked through your drawers pulling out a pair of gray shorts and a ratty old tee shirt. You tossed the articles of clothing onto your bed and as if you somehow knew Edward could see, began to slowly take off your top. 

Edward took in a deep breath, licking his lips. He watched intently as you pulled the blouse over your head, revealing your midriff and your simple black bra you wore. You moved onto your skirt, slowly unzipping it and shimmied it down your hips where it fell to the floor gathering at your feet. He noticed you wore a matching black thong. 

You stepped out of your skirt, bending over to remove your socks, giving Edward a clear view of your ass. He gripped his binoculars tightly, his breathing became heavier under his mask. He felt his cock stiffen in his pants. You had to have known what you were doing, right?

He didn't linger too much on the thought. You had unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the growing pile of clothes. You turned around, your breasts now exposed to him. Edward decided he could no longer hold back.

"Fuck it."

Quickly unzipping his pants, he took his erect cock in his gloved hand and gave it a few unceremonious strokes. He hissed through his teeth at the rough and cold leather around his shaft.

He continued watching you, noticing that you weren't in a rush to cover yourself. He watched the way your tits bounced with each step you took, causing his cock to weep. He took his gloved fingers and spread his pre-cum along his length.

You sat on your bed, and still made no move to dress yourself. Edward began to think you were putting on a show just for him. As if you somehow knew he would be on this rooftop, watching you, no, admiring you, from afar. Always from a distance. Never destined to be up close.

He gave himself a few languid strokes, watching as you leaned over to your nightstand and pulled out a vibrator.

Edward’s breathing hitched. His hand stopped for a brief moment.

you're welcome here Edward, remember? She even told you. he reminded himself. she extends invites to her place all the time.

Like a fool, I decline every time. No, I'm not welcome here. As if I'm welcomed anywhere. I am meant to be alone. I'm meant to be unnoticed. Unwanted.

He shut his eyes, squeezing back tears. When he opened them again, he saw you laying back on your bed, your eyes closed, your face twisting in pleasure. The vibrator between your legs. Oh what he would give to be the source of that pleasure for you.

He resumed his strokes, picking up the pace. Faster and harder he rutted into his own hand, imagining what it'd be like thrusting inside of you instead.

He watched as your breathing picked up, your own movements getting faster, an indicator you were close to your release.

He squeezed his cock harder and stroked faster.

You came with a shudder, and set your vibrator aside, breathing heavy as you slowly recovered from your orgasm.

Edward came soon after with a guttural groan, spilling his spend onto the concrete roof top. 

For the first time in a long time, Edward felt... odd. It was akin to the same feeling he got when he hid under his covers as a child in the orphanage with a makeshift flashlight and the few books he had. He was expecting to be caught at any moment. To be scolded. To be shamed. He realized what he felt was... guilt.

But for what? What did he possibly have to be guilty of?

You know exactly what. There was the little voice again. 

Edward sighed and stuffed his softening cock back into his pants, and quickly left.

You didn’t know it yet, but his heart was already yours. You unknowingly had him wrapped around your pretty little finger. And soon enough, you'd be his, too. It was just a matter of time. 

[wycroftie]

Should I start writing fanfic/hcs? Give me ideas perhaps.. idk…..

[danosrosegarden]

batshit crazy antagonist lovers after getting kidnapped for the 43rd fic in a row

[thissnakecanbake]

I have decided that the ship name for Edward Nigma/Danny Fenton is now Dead Right. I like it.

Plus, there are very few other writers for my ship, so I claim the right to name it.

Also, I think Half Scared is the best name for the ship of Danny Fenton/Jonathan Crane.

[vveirdvvitch]

vveirdvvitch writes

Currently only writing for Edward Nashton/Dano Riddler (but I can be persuaded to write for Harley Quinn)

vveirdvvitch on Ao3

<?> Neighbor Eddie <?>

Edward’s AI Girlfriend

Hygiene Headcanons

Heaven Tonight

Undisclosed Desires

<?> Eddie Smut <?>

Don’t Go (Away)

[trevolinesmelody]

DAY 47! Eddie as a worker of Farmacia guadalajara

Its a way of manifesting working there… tomorrow is my interview and im nervous as FUUUUCCCCC

It sell… pharmacy things :p

So it’s comfortable so drunk people dont came to buy in there, u know? If I dont get accepted im gonna try in 7/11…. O.O IM SCARED OF OLD MAN LOOOOL or maybe an oxxo… is the same but at least oxxo is literally in my neighborhood and Im not gonna need the stinky bus >:3

MINI FANFIC!

Edward, ese era el nombre que se encontraba en su gafete de trabajo, siempre estaba ocupado, realmente, aunque fuera seguido a comprar mi medicamento para la gastritis, nunca me atendía, siempre estaba acomodando cajas y productos, incluso llegamos a toparnos accidentalmente en mas de dos ocasiones, después de todo… siempre iba ahí a comprar mi medicina y productos para el cabello…

Ese día, entré como de costumbre, dirigiéndome, como de costumbre, hacía el pasillo de productos de cabello, mientras veía y comparaba precios de tintes, pude ver de reojo como Edward, aquel hombre blanco, alto, con brazos de tamalero y mejillas rosadas se paraba en la caja registradora, jugueteando con una caja de dulces que claramente estaba comiendo, pasaba de una mano a otra la pequeña caja, hipnotizada, tomé cualquier color de tinte y me dispuse a pagar, solo con una estúpida esperanza de oír su voz e interactuar con el…

Cuando llegué, dejé la caja de tinte en el mostrador, sin apartar la mirada de sus hermosos ojos color esmeralda. “Señorita…” dijo con su amielada y dulce voz, “es todo lo que va a llevar?” Su mirada era confusa, cosa que me sacó de onda, voltee hacia abajo y lo vi, era un tinte de color rubio cenizo caoba! “Q-qué?” Me dije a mi misma, el color de mi cabello era demasiado alejado al rubio, mas como mole quemado, tomé la caja y corrí al pasillo, cambiándola por un color azulado, regresé con el, solo para ver una sonrisa burlona de su parte, mis mejillas se pusieron coloradas de la vergüenza “Lo siento, soy muy distraída” le dije con vergüenza, “está bien, me pasa aveces”, sonrío y procedió a hacer e cheque, pagué y me fui, con una sonrisa de pendeja enamorada, algún día…. Algún día tendré su número…. Y lo invitare a comer chilaquiles en el puesto de Doña Chole…

El Fin…

[imagine--if]

Can you write headcanons on what things dano riddler would text his s/o? Like if they were away on a trip what the texts would look like ?

A/N: Yeas I cannn 😁 this is one of my older requests that I found in my drafts so enjoyyy! I went all out and decided to do fake message thingies instead of hcs bahaha (Also I'm really working towards posting every other day on this blog now that the worst of my finals are done 😅 thank you all for being so patient!!)

[adhdnursegoat]

Premiere!

The first three chapters of The Edge of Us are posted to Ao3! I hope you enjoy! Chapter 1/the prologue can be found below. See link to full work at the bottom!

Enjoy, goats/kids!

The funny thing about power…once you’ve tasted it, it’s the only flavor worth craving.

Gotham: the city that feeds off its own decay. 

To the average mind, it’s just a place of misfortune, filth, and bad timing—a battleground where the worst parts of humanity crawl out from under the rocks to have their day. 

But it’s more than that, isn’t it? 

The world is rotten, but Gotham? Gotham perfects it. This city doesn’t just wear its grime; it drapes itself in it, revels in the stink. Criminals here don’t bother with masks, and the so-called “heroes” don’t look much different than the scum they claim to fight. They’re all actors in a play nobody wanted tickets to, shuffling through their parts, pretending the whole time that it’s something worth fighting for…

Citizens stumble over the cracks in the pavement, breathing in fumes that would choke anyone with a shred of sense. They shuffle through the streets, heads down, eyes half-open, thinking they’re safe if they don’t look too hard. They’re sheep, scurrying through a city that’s sick to its core, all the while the ones at the top keep them under their thumb, pulling their strings like marionettes. They don’t notice a thing. To them, this is just another day in Gotham—a little rough around the edges, sure, but manageable if they keep their heads down and stick to their petty routines.

The poison in the air, the rot spreading through every corner—it’s not just the smell of the streets, it’s in the people, too. They’d rather breathe in the stench of corruption than acknowledge what’s been rotting under their feet for decades. They don’t care, not really, so long as the dirt and decay stay beneath the surface, so long as the ugly truth doesn’t disrupt their comfortable numbness. They’ll let Gotham crumble, brick by brick, piece by piece, from the inside out, so long as it happens quietly. It’s easier that way.

Maybe they’re too far gone to see it. Maybe they’re just afraid to look.

But that’s the tragedy of this city, isn’t it? The more it rots, the deeper its citizens bury their heads in the sand. Denial is their coping mechanism, their security blanket against the truth, and they wrap themselves in it tighter every day. Even as the city darkens, they cling to the idea that nothing’s wrong, that this is just Gotham’s way. The cracks in the concrete, the garbage piling up in alleyways, the shadows encroaching—they treat it all like background noise, scenery in the theater of their denial.

And if that wasn’t absurd enough, now there’s a man jumping off buildings in a costume, dishing out his brand of justice from behind a mask. A bat in the night, lurking on rooftops, swooping down with his fists and his gadgets, as if he’s the answer Gotham has been waiting for. A vigilante, a judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one, convinced he can set right what’s broken. Self-appointed justice wrapped in Kevlar and rubber, clinging to the belief that he’s some force for change, that he’s somehow better than the criminals he hunts.

But what does he know about change? About Gotham’s sickness, the filth embedded so deeply it’s woven into the foundation of every skyscraper? He thinks he’s making a difference by leaving broken jaws and bruises in his wake, but all he’s doing is treating symptoms, like bandaids on bullet wounds. 

And the people? 

Oh, they eat it up. 

Some love him. 

Some hate him. 

Either way, they are talking about him.

The silent victims wallow in desperation for a hero, for a savior in the dark, someone to make them feel safe without ever asking them to confront what they’re really hiding from. They don’t realize that a man in a mask can’t save a city like Gotham. It’s too far gone for that, too used to its own decay. Maybe they’d understand that if they’d take a real look at the city around them, if they peeled back the wallpaper to see the termite infested structure, if they treated the sepsis festering in their police department and city hall. But they won’t. Because they’d rather believe in a fairy tale, in a hero with wings who can swoop down and make everything right without asking anything to change.

 Ridiculous. 

If he’s being honest, he can appreciate the nerve. At least someone’s trying to push against the status quo, to make this city something other than the mess it is.

He respects the attempt.

But he could do it better.

And it eats at him, you know? 

This knowledge that he could be so much more, that he could do so much more if he weren’t confined to this box, locked in with these idiots who think they’re saving Gotham one speeding and parking ticket at a time. These police, they’re as blind as the criminals they chase, running circles around each other and getting nowhere. It’s a cycle, a routine as dead as the city they claim to protect. 

And he? 

He’s trapped here, forced to watch from the sidelines as they flounder, the only one who sees the truth, the only one with the intelligence and balls to think independently.

There’s a part of him—dark, simmering, waiting—that knows he’s meant for more. He is born to change things, to show Gotham what it could be if it weren’t burdened by the inept and corrupt. Yet here he is, cursed to work in shadows, unrecognized, unappreciated, his potential wasted in a city that wouldn’t know brilliance even if it had a bright, green, neon sign. And sometimes, he wonders if Gotham even deserves saving. This city, these corrupt officials, the police, these pathetic citizens who live with the sickness festering in front of them—they must be enlightened. Stripped of their illusions, their petty routines, rebuilt from the ground up by someone who understands.

But the problem with Gotham? 

It’s too used to its own stench to even try changing. 

Who is he, in all this filth, to try and show them the way? 

He’s a reluctant ghost in their midst, a man asking questions no one dares to ask, a man with answers they don’t even know they need, a man with a mind sharper than any weapon in this city, reduced to sitting in the dark, waiting for someone—anyone—to notice.

They’d call it desperation. 

He calls it purpose. 

And it’s this purpose that sets him apart from them, this knowledge that he can be more, that he should be more. He doesn’t need a cape or a mask to be dangerous. He only needs what he’s already got: his mind, a gift he’s wasted long enough. 

He can see it now, the power of information—of knowledge.

He can feel it coming, a change in the air, a hum of something new. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, this shift that seems to hover just out of sight, a challenge on the horizon waiting to be met. A curiosity lurking in the corners of his mind. He’s close, he can feel it, standing on the edge of something inevitable, something transformative. He’s about to be seen. He will be more.

I will be more.

Full work on Ao3 here!

[finniestoncrane]

Aww Finnie I’m sorry you’re feeling down! Would you wanna write something about spooning in bed/cuddling with either Dano Riddler or Gotham Riddler? Cause the boys need cuddles and so do youuuu!

Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 625 OOP sav you got me, told y'all i was in a MOOD!! i'm going dano for this one because i did gotham more recently, and this utter weirdo deserves some love too!! plus i think a secret spooning session is 100% in his wheelhouse!! 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: if i was going to be conservative and wary i'd say somnophilia, but it's really just fluff!!

Eddie had been studying your sleeping habits. There were tests, several of them, all ethical of course, conducted since youu had started staying over at his grotty apartment. The fact that you had done it even once still shocked him, but that you enjoyed his company so much that you'd forgive his lumpy mattress and pillows without covers just to spend time with him was beyond comprehensible, even to him. But each time you flashed your pleading eyes to him and rushed to the bedroom, his giddy heart would beat quickly, loudly, because it meant one more night of holding you, and one more night of testing the limits.

Nothing untoward, of course. He was simply finding the biting point, so to speak. First, he needed to guage how sound of a sleeper you were. Then, he had to ascertain what decibels of sound, what tones and keys would wake you. And then it was on to movement, temperature, until he knew you so well that he could recreate the perfect circumstances for you to fall asleep quickly and heavily.

Once you were there in his bed, the sounds just right, the temperature just right, he would let you back up into him, your body pressing against his front as you positioned your spine and your joints to slot into him perfectly, seamlessly. His arm would wrap around your front, securely, protectively.

And then he'd begin.

He had long given up on keeping any kind of diary. His notes, his research, they all spoke volumes. And he got out most of his deeper-seated rage and revenge fantasies when he spoke to his following. he saved the sweeter, more vulnerable words for you. Only when you were asleep, though. Only when he had you in his arms, nothing between you, not even a tiny iota of space. His chin resting on your shoulder, his lips close to your ear, his tone low and hushed as he spoke to you.

Did you take it all in? He wondered just how much of what he whispered to you in the night was actually absorbed by your unconscious mind. He preferred not knowing, in fact. This way, he could keep your love, the way you looked to him fondly, the way you cared for him like no one else, judgement free and unconditional. And he could pretend you knew all the darkest parts of him at the same time.

It was nerve-wracking, really. Each night he ran the risk of you waking up unexpectedly to him leaning over your shoulder, looming almost, as he whispered terrible, terrifying secrets.

In the waking world, you thought of him as your quiet, unassuming partner. There were times you looked at him with a hint of knowing, but he was confident that you didn't really know anything, and if you did, you were content to keep it unspoken.

But in his bed? There you were a silent and compliant witness to everything rotten about him, but you stayed there, asleep, warm, nestled against him and not shying away from the truth. Even if you did wake, what would you do? Run? He wouldn't let you, obviously, but he was sure you wouldn't try. You chose to stay with him, you chose to sleep in his bed, chose to let him place his hands around your soft, accepting body. If he just kept holding, kept you there in his embrace, everything would be all right.

But sometimes, just to alleviate the paranoia, he'd snake his arm around your front, press his fingertips tight to you, and whisper only sweet things. A quiet, careful "I love you" and your sweet, sighing response as you moved closer that felt like it cleansed all of his sins.

[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.