#edward nigma fanfiction

[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.

[finniestoncrane]

Arkham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1.2k it's SHAVING AS A SIGN OF INTIMACY TIME listen this might be the beginning of several on this theme it's a kink i've loved for a while!! anyway, eddie has requested some assistance with shaving from reader, who he has decided he trusts enough to hold a razor to his tender skin *drool* also i'm not sorry for how autistic eddie is about his question mark shirt, he is literally me 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: little bit of humorous threats, shaving, flirting, suggestive towards the end

"Must be painful for you, having to ask for help."

"And it might be painful for you to suffer the consequences of your insolent tone."

You lifted your hand up, holding the handle of the very old fashioned razor blade between your fingers and dangling it in front of him.

"And it might be even more painful for you to suffer the consequences of your own shitty attitude if you don't behave."

With a playful smile, you pressed a finger below his chin, lifting it up, noting the smile that curled slightly on his lips, one he was trying to suppress in favour of remaining stoic in your presence.

"You know, Eddie, if you would take proper rests between working on your projects you wouldn't make so many mistakes."

The blade was close to him, not close enough that it made contact with him, but enough that he was lucky you pulled it back quickly enough when he lifted his head once more.

"I don't make mistakes! I have suffered a minor injury to three of my fingers, a consequence of poor tools. It's difficult to source higher quality material when you're a known and wanted entity."

You gently tilted his head back once more, nodding along to his rants, knowing by now when it would be a futile effort to argue with him. And by the time he had finished rambling, you were ready with the blade and the shaving cream, both in hand as you stared him down, patiently waiting for him to be quiet.

"Well? Are you going to get on with it?"

He barked the question at you, and you prepared yourself to begin, stopping short as he raised a hand.

"Hold on. I don't want you to make a mess of my shirt."

He shrugged the green, paint stained, short-sleeved shirt from his slender torso, leaving him in just a low cut, torn vest.

"You're very clumsy."

"Eddie. Clumsy enough that you're worried I'll ruin your already disgusting shirt, but not so clumsy that you'll trust me with a sharpened blade against your throat?"

For a moment, you had him stuck. He didn't have an argument, any words, you seemed to have caught him. But instead of replying, he simply sighed and waved you off.

"The texture of these fresh hairs on my face is far more annoying than any potential nicks, life-threatening or otherwise. This shirt is the only one I own, and it's to the exact fit I like it after the years of wear."

"Your priorities are interesting."

"I'm interesting."

That was his rebuttal, and he was satisfied with it. So you began your work, carefully placing your palm against his cheek. A soft touch, a careful carress, a gesture of reassurance. You cared for him, despite the playful teasing, the insistence on his part that you were only a disposable assitant. You went above and beyond, in awe of him, unable to resist the urge to worship him. You wouldn't let harm come to him by your hands, that's what the touch meant.

And the fact that he seemed to trust you, regardless of whether that was pushed onto him by the circumstances, meant the world in return.

As the razor made it's first pass over his skin, he seemed to raise himself up slightly, a natural reaction to the cool of the metal. So you laid your hand on his chest, pressing him back down and keeping it there. His heartbeat was steady, skin clammy against yours, a brush of soft hair coating his chest.

While you were't able to detect any change in Eddie's demeanour, he was worrying that you could. The moment you touched him he had felt his blood run cold. The threat, the imminent danger, the possibility that you could, at any moment, take his life. But the odd certainty that you wouldn't. It was all swirling through his mind, picking up flecks of the ill-timed arousal as it went.

Each teasing touch felt like it made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and he could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and under the foam on his upper lip. His body grew warmer, worked up in response to the intimacy, the delicate, tender way you handled both him and the potential weapon. And then it happened.

He squirmed slightly, hoping to adjust himself in a way that prevented his growing erection from becoming obvious. If he could keep your focus on his face, on the job at hand, then he might be able to calm himself down before he embarrassed himself. But the more you touched, the more aroused he became, hard against the front of his pants, and then, disaster occurring as his precum leaked out, staining a tiny mark on the front at his crotch.

Eddie's mind quickly flitted through the catalogue of quick excuses he could think of. He could play this off as a natural reaction. An expected response to someone touching him and being this close to him. Nothing to do with you or his deep attraction to you.

He could admit that the intimacy was exciting, allow a sliver of vulnerability to show as he confessed that it was one area that he wasn't all that experienced in.

Throw a curveball? Tell you that the danger was far more arousing that he imagined? That could backfire though, as he was well aware of how irritating he was, and inciting, or inviting, violence might not go as well for him as he hoped it might.

And finally, the ridiculous notion of proudly displaying the effect of your touch flashed through and was quickly stomped out. There was no way he would be able to play it off with any amount of confidence or charisma, and it would take a considerable amount indeed. But now it was in his head, the idea that you might be encouraged, enticed, by his arousal. Enough that it would strike a chord within you, making you as hot and needy as he was. That you might letyour hand trail down the front of his shirt, fingers skimming over the growing, throbbing bulge, offering, perhaps, to shave there too. To finish him off with a flourish. To hold him, touch him, until he-

"Edward?"

He snapped his head towards you, cheeks flushed and pupils wide as he came bck down to earth from his flight of fantasy.

"Edward, are you alright? You didn't answer..."

"I'm fine. my mind was elsewhere. You know how it is being a genius, or... you don't actually. But if you did, you'd know it was difficult to stop your brain from rattling through equations and plans and world changing ideas. So forgive me if I automatically reverted to paying attention to that instead of you."

Deciding to meet him with his own attitude, you tossed a towel towards him as you walked towards the sink, dropping the razor in as you spoke.

"Well, if that's a close enough shave you can wipe the foam off now. And maybe use the towel to clean yourself up further down too."

You had noticed. And you were teasing him.

And worse than that, the insolence, the cruel taunt that suggested you considered yourself good enough to stand toe to toe with him, he found that it only made him harder.

[finzphoenix]

A certain scene from the fanfiction Cat & Mouse, written by the lovely @caesariawritesstuff who also happens to be the one who commissioned this wee thingy. If Riddler/reader is your cup of tea, do check out their fic, it makes for an fantastic read! 🖤🤍

OC (c) caesariawritesstuff

Art (c) Finzphoenix

[knoepfl]

DC Masterlist

Here is the DC Masterlist! Here I will post everything about DC! So if your a fan be sure to keep checking this Masterlist. I will show updates as soon as possible!

Last Updated: 03.01 25

Main Masterlist

Characters: Arthur Fleck, Heath Ledger, Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome Valeska, Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane, Oswald Cobblepot, Edward Nygma, Viktor Zsasz

✧ The Joker

✧ Arthur Fleck

A Warm Embrace

Beyond the Mask

A Night of Firsts

Bang Bang

A Cozy Christmas

A Fleeting Fantasy

Part 1

Part 2

A Christmas Dance with Arthur

Christmas Feelings Christmas Special 7/24

✧ Gotham Series

✧ Edward Nygma

The Riddle of Us

✧ Jeremiah Valeska

Pain and Pleasure

✧ Jerome Valeska

Laugh Until It Hurts

Guess Who's Back!

✧ Jervis Tetch

Down the Rabbit Hole

Madness in Mourning

Trapped in Wonderland

Mad as Love

Madly Festive Christmas Special 4/24

✧ Oswald Cobblepot

A Kid For Christmas Christmas Special 14/24

✧ Viktor Zsasz

Stolen Shot

✧ The Dark Knight

✧ Heath Ledger

Unraveled Dreams, Twisted Love

✧ Batman: The Animated Series

✧Jervis Tetch

Tea for Two

A Very Merry Unbirthday Christmas Christmas Special 12/24

A Wonderland of Our Own Christmas Special 18/24

✧ Jonathan Crane

Shadows of Fear

✧ Arkham Games

✧ Edward Nygma

Mind Games

The Riddler's Reward

✧ Jervis Tetch

Through the Looking Glass

Down the Rabbit Hole

Tea Time Consolation

[batmanie]

Playing doctor - Scriddler ff

The two tons of metal fell down from the ceiling and crashed to the ground with powerful impact, shattering a nearby riddlerbot into tiny pieces and lifting a cloud of dust into the air.

Riddler viewed this scene seemingly unfazed, completely ignoring the fact that the heavy panel landed a mere three feet from him. If anything, Edward looked irritated.

"You useless piece of electronics, can't you be more careful when handling my machinery," he yelled at the other robot that was working on the hydraulic arm that was supposed to hold the pressure plate in place.

The riddlerbot turned its metal head to its master and blinked its green vision-diodes at him, but it didn't answer, of course, and Scarecrow doubted it was capable of understanding a thing.

Much like its creator…

"It could have been you, you know," the hooded man nodded his head at the smashed riddlerbot, now invisible under the heavy panel.

A loose screw from the wreck rolled across the uneven flooring and right in Riddler's direction, stopping at the tip of his boot. Edward kicked it aside, disgusted.

"Do NOT patronize me, Crane. I'm perfectly capable of keeping this place a safe work environment for myself, thank you!" He put his gloved hands into his pockets, now slightly offended, and not caring to look at his interlocutor at all.

Scarecrow would have sighed at this, if he had more fucks to give. "Are you sure about that?"

"What are you implying?"

"I think, you're not careful enough, Edward."

As gentle as Scarecrow wished to put that, it still must have felt like a punch in the guts for Riddler's giant ego. The man in green clenched his jaw, his shoulders tensed, and his arms trembled slightly. As he turned to grace Crane with a furious glare, Jonathan already knew he was walking on thin ice.

"Are you saying my work is sloppy?" Lips pursed, and with the corner of his mouth contorted by an angry grimace, Edward stepped forward, moving dangerously close to Scarecrow, his index finger ready to jab at him with an unnecessary force. "Do you, by any chance, accuse me of being unqualified to do what I'm doing? Are you doubting my skills? MY skills!" The finger was there already, jabbing at Jonathan's chest. "And what gave You, of all people, the right to judge my competence, doctor? Do you think you're better than me? What possibly made you assume I'm not…" The jab "Being..." Another jab. "CAREFUL!"

Before the last jab could ever come, Scarecrow caught Riddler's hand with his own. Edward pulled away, or at least he tried to, but Jonathan's grip was a force to be reckoned with.

"Perhaps, my way of wording it was a little misleading." His voice was as calm as possible, not betraying any of the amusement that sure was there, watching Riddler struggle to get his hand free. "It has nothing to do with your formidable skills. I just thought," He pulled at Edward's arm, pulling the man with it, forcing him to press his body against Scarecrow's toxin vials. "It would be a shame if you lose those skillful fingers of yours in some freak accident," he finished with a soft whisper, aimed for Riddler's ear.

Said ear got a little redder at this comment, and so did Edward's neck, and cheeks.

Scarecrow's grip lightened but Riddler stopped struggling with him anyway. He even allowed a moment of silence between them, wordlessly watching Jonathan.

After a short pause, Scarecrow let the other go, and Edward moved away from him, looking partially confused, and partially flustered, as if he had expected something more to happen.

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Crane. But I'm careful, really."

This sounded silly, especially after what had happened to his robot just a moment earlier.

"You have burn marks all over your right forearm," Jon stated flatly, his eyes still searching Riddler's face for a reaction.

Edward shrugged. "I had a little quarrel... with my computer's transistor... But hey, you should have seen the 'other guy'," He let out a short, neurotic laugh, his attempted joke clearly a defense mechanism to brush the whole thing off. A method that didn't work with a qualified psychologist like Doctor Jonathan Crane.

"There is a band-aid on your neck," Scarecrow tried to make his point yet again, and yet again it failed.

"Merely a scratch from shaving."

"You're not shaved."

"What is this!?" Edward snapped. "An interrogation?"

"I'm simply worried about your well-being. Care to tell me where you got the cut above your left temple from?" He reached to touch Edward's fresh scar, but the man jumped away from him, as if Crane's hand was a white-hot iron.

"That's none of your business," Nigma barked back at him like an angry dog, obviously protecting himself from the painful facts. "A spring might have snapped and scratched my forehead," he added, apparently compelled to answer the truth.

"And you didn't wear a welding mask, did you?"

"I..." This seemed to be a dead end for Riddler's reasonable argumentation, and now he decided to change his tactics and attack. "Look who's talking! The man who had himself handed to a crocodile on a silver plate!" Riddler spat out quite hatefully, some spit shooting out of his mouth as he did.

Scarecrow knew Edward Nigma and this was rather expected, offending others when feeling threatened. Jonathan didn't mind. His skin was tougher than that, Edward's words, no matter how harmful, couldn't hurt him.

"I had the doubtful pleasure of experiencing the close proximity of your fully exposed body. I remember your every defect, I can recall every little scar on your broken frame, including the one on your left wrist, quite telling evidence of your weakness, I'd say."

As far as Jonathan remembered, this “doubtful pleasure”, as the man kindly phrased it, had been received by Riddler quite enthusiastically. By insulting his partner, Nigma was only insulting himself.

Despite all that, there sure was an unexpected pang of bitterness in Jonathan’s heart. He shouldn't have let this man under his skin like this, yet alone into his bed, but here they were, discussing one of the two most sensitive topics for Jon like it was Gotham’s yesterday weather.

Perhaps, he had been too trusting toward the other rogue, naively hoping Edward would be more decent than this?

Edward had been anything but decent. "Riddle me this, Scarecrow," the man went on, now fully confident of his victory. "Which one of us is not careful enough? Which one of us went into the sewers of Gotham without a decent plan, hoping for the best? Which one of us was stupid enough to get himself mauled by a mindless crocodile-man? YOU!" Edward ended his little tirade pointing a judging finger at Jonathan, a triumphant, unhinged grin stretched across his wrinkled face.

Inhaling deeply through his mutilated nose, Scarecrow tried to swallow his resentment toward the other. It wasn't Edward's fault, he told himself, it was simply how his fragile ego functioned. And Edward was a sick man, it was the only way he could operate at all. If anything, he needed help, not logical arguments, and not a heavy hand, but just a little support.

At this point, however, it was really a charity on Scarecrow’s side to even consider giving him that much.

"You're right," Jonathan told the man, not without some spite. It felt like a thousand and the first time he had done this same old thing. One of them had to be smarter, if they didn't want to end up tearing at each other’s throats, and unfortunately, it was never Edward. "I must admit, I didn't plan my sewer escapade as thoroughly as I should have, and it has cost me dearly, which you are aware of. But you're not like me, Edward, you know better than being reckless. That's why..." Slowly, he pulled a little paper slip out of the pocket of his brown, stitched-up coat.

"What's this?" Riddler eyed the slip suspiciously.

"Take a look for yourself," Jonathan offered, outstretching his arm, and handing the paper to the other man.

A mix of curiosity and distrust was painted all over Edward's face as he attempted to read the note in the dim light of an underground train tunnel.

"Are you kidding me? Is that a prescription?" Nigma's voice was basically shaking with anger as he figured out the words scribbled on a little paper slip. "Are you prescribing me medication, Crane? What are you? My psychiatrist?"

“More than you know,” was hanging on the tip of Scarecrow’s tongue but he didn’t allow it to slip through. "Well, I am a doctor, so I..." he wanted to explain but he was cut short by another one of Riddler’s angry outburst.

"I don't want your medical opinion, and I don't need your help," he shouted, enraged once again. "Not yours! Not Batman's! And especially not that from those dolts back at Arkham! When will it sink in to your two-cells brains! I'm-not-CRAZY!"

“Mentally ill.”

“What did you just…”

“I said,” Scarecrow kept perfectly calm, savoring the precious image of Riddler’s furious expression, “the correct medical term would be: ‘I’m not mentally ill’. ‘Crazy’ is not exactly the professional way to put it. And of course, you’re not crazy." Crane decided to dodge the incoming tantrum. He walked toward the man, placing his hand on the other's shoulder as if to console him. "But you're stressed, overworked, your body tense, I can sense that much."

It was unlike Edward, not to instantly fend away the intrusive hand resting on his shoulder.

"I'm just.." Nigma was searching for the right word to express himself, his anger getting in his way. "Since when are you so observant? You’re nearly blind, from what I know. Last time you had to ask me to thread a needle for you.”

“…so I could stitch up your favorite shirt.”

“That’s beside the point!”

“It’s fine if you don’t want it,” Crane referred to the prescription, now crumpled into a small ball of paper within Riddler’s clenched fist. “It was a friendly gesture, don’t read too much into it. I simply assumed you might want some of the good stuff to help you relax.”

He pressed a little harder, showing Edward how painfully tense his neck muscles were. Before it could start to hurt, he undid the pressure and gave a little massage instead, trying to release the tension.

Nigma exhaled audibly, his breath a gust of hot air as if he literally let out some steam from his overheating system.

Scarecrow watched him closely, observed how his eyelids lowered just slightly, and how his facial muscles relaxed, giving his otherwise sharp features a calmer expression.

He circled him, never breaking the touch, until he stood behind him with both his hands over Edward’s shoulders.

It was almost unthinkable, how the two cruel villains had learned to accept the touch of the other. As violent as it had been at times, as bizarre, or as clumsy – they both had grown to appreciate the attempted intimacy, and even to seek it in their lonely hours.

And accepting the touch didn’t come easy to people like them, to ones who had been abused, scarred, beaten, traumatized, and forced into straitjackets, or strapped down to a cot in the asylum one time too many. Physical proximity didn’t spark positive feedback in their brains, and yet, they somewhat craved the comforting warmth of another body.

“I can’t just…rest. I have so much to do. One hundred and seventy-five riddles to write, two more racetracks to finish, and the bomb needs to be tested…” Riddler rambled on, and Scarecrow could basically feel his stress, so tangible under his fingertips.

“I know, Edward,” He lowered his voice, making the words come off as gentle, almost sympathetic. His hands were still on Riddler, giving a small massage to his neck, through the soft fabric of his green cotton shirt. “It must feel like suffocating, this overwhelming need to finish what you started. And the thought of something going wrong…” His hands slid to the front of Edward’s chest, as Scarecrow rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder. “Does it terrify you?” He murmured into his ear, eyes narrowed like a content cat. “Do you want this to stop? To silence all those voices in your head telling you that you might fail again, and it will be your own fault?”

He could sense Riddler’s chest raising and falling with sharp in- and exhales. He could feel his heart rapidly pounding as he held him trapped in the cage of his bony arms.

Was his embrace pleasant to the other, he wondered, or was he just preying on Edward’s insecurity again, only making things worse? They both had their compulsions, and while Riddler’s were flashy, and all over the place, his own were more subtle but definitely present.

The way he interacted with people, always treating them like test subjects in his never-ending studies of fear, Jonathan would have lied to himself, if he claimed he controlled that habit. It ran deeper than his conscious mind, it was in his nature, just like it was in a wolf’s nature to devour a sheep.

Scarecrow was a monster who had to sink his claws into his victims, and slowly tear them apart until he saw their innards, whether he wanted that or not.

“You’re wrong, Crane. I’m not afraid,” Riddler’s lies came out a tad too weak to be believable. “I’m going to win this time, I won’t let him beat me…”

“He did us both enough harm.” Crane’s palms traveled over Riddler’s body, finding no resistance. “You work night and day preparing your challenge, letting him sharpen his mind on your ingenious contraptions like on a whetstone, and what do you get in return? Mockery, humiliation, and pain…”

He knew he should stop himself before he would send Edward’s mind spiraling into the depths of his worst intrusive thoughts, but it was tempting, so bloody tempting to explore his fear of failure, to see him crippled by it, unable to act.

“You deserve better than that, Edward,” Scarecrow surprised himself by saying this.

Perhaps he had some self-restraint left in him after all?

“You deserve some rest.” His finger brushed over Riddler’s lips and moved to stroke his cheekbone. It was this kind of soft gesture that Edward really hated, and yet, he allowed himself to melt under Jonathan’s touch. “You deserve a good night’s sleep, and a calm mind to work on your projects. That’s why you will send one of your goons to get you those meds I prescribed you. Can you do this much for me, Edward? And if not for me, can you do it for yourself?”

The man in his arms let out a small sound, something between a grunt and an incoherent confirmation.

Then he shifted his position to face Jon directly. “I don’t work with people anymore,” the man muttered, throwing his arms around Crane’s neck. “They weren’t worth my time. I prefer the company of my riddlerbots… Or you, doctor.”

Crane would have smiled at that, if not for his face. He had to admit, he had never met a man with a gaze so brutally intense as the one of Edward Nigma. But then again, everything about this obnoxious bastard was so damn intense, so vibrant and lively, screaming desperation and insanity. And Jonathan loved that with all his might.

“You must be awfully lonely, my dear,” he teased, holding the other close and gently rubbing his back.

Riddler’s left hand held the back of his hood, eagerly roaming across the thick fabric, while his right was still keeping the prescription.

Jon would have kissed him already, hell knew he would have – lack of damn lips could be a bitch sometimes.

“You have no idea,” Edward confirmed with a haunting whisper, his breath provocatively warm on Scarecrow’s wounded face hidden beneath the burlap. “In fact, I don’t think you can even begin to comprehend how lonely it is at the top, above everyone else...”

“Don’t worry,” Crane pulled him further in, forcing their groins to collide. “With me, you can indulge yourself with being at the bottom.”

“How generous,” Riddler sounded almost offended, however, that didn’t really stop him from rocking his hips slowly, creating more friction. “You may have lost your face, but apparently not your terrible sense of humor. Perhaps you could even replace the Joker?”

“I wasn’t joking,” Jon assured him as his palms found their way down to Edward’s backsides. “If you behave, I will offer you ‘something extra’ to help you relax. What would you say?”

The man in his arms smiled at him flirtatiously. “I… might take you on your offer, dear doctor.”

Would Nigma take the meds afterwards, or not – it didn’t really matter. Even if Jon could fix him, he wouldn’t change a single thing about Edward. He didn’t wish for Riddler to get better, he wanted him alive, yes, but not a compulsion-free, and mentally stable man.

After all, if not for Riddler’s mental issues, the two of them would never have ended up in this unhealthy relationship, and would never have shared any of their precious, intimate moments together.

Had Edward been sane, he’d have cut all ties with Crane faster than one could tell a riddle.

The Master of Fear was not a man easily frightened, but the sudden thought of Riddler slipping through his fingers filled his heart with dread.

Jonathan couldn't afford it. He was ready to suffer Edward’s horrible temper only to keep this thing between them going, because in all honesty, Edward was the best that had happened to Jon his entire life.

Ironically, Jonathan was one of the worst things for Riddler’s mental health.

Fortunately, Edward didn’t seem to mind that.

[caesariawritesstuff]

The next chapter of Cat & Mouse is up! Read it here!

[maestroofcringe]

< ру версия | eng version >

〔E. Nygma, Private Investigator〕

Case Nᵒ0: Gotham's Sherlock Holmes.

Finally got courage to post it... Sorry if English is bad, not native language. Have a nice time reading!

synopsis: The brilliant mind of Edward Nygma requires action, but he does not intend to return to crime. Then a plan comes to his mind - to become a private detective. Edward is well aware that he may need help. Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane agree to participate in the case, also unwilling to continue their criminal activities. However, the plan is not going according to plan at all...

Several months have passed since the Riddler's criminal genius was finally recognized as sane. The doctors, who had previously locked him in a cell, inevitably and independently realized their big mistake and admitted that the Riddler is a wonderful person all by themselves. They have never ever been bribed, and he have not been making fake documents, of course.

Despite the fact that Ed didn't need a job due to his fortune he was dying from boredom. He may have left most of his obsessive "dragging Batman into a game" thoughts behind, but his brain still required a challenge. If he doesn't find a way to entertain his mind, he might snap and start throwing riddles around the city again.

However, his genius had not faded. Not at all. And one day, during regular going through his extensive library, he came across a book of Sherlock Holmes. Eureka! This was what he needed! A private detective was perfect for new job! After all, Edward was an ex-cop, ex-cop undoubtedly superior to the Dark Knight in field of deduction and many others.

Therefore Nygma decided to become Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes. Edward figured out what he would need to do to achieve this goal. He came up with three simple steps to begin career of the city's most brilliant detective. The first step was to "prepare the necessary documents", the second was to find a case, and the third was to solve it successfully, getting interviewed as nice promotion and gaining more cases. And then, everything would fall into right place. Starting is always the hardest part, isn't it?

Paperwork...  No, Nygma never liked to do this, which meant he needs some good lawyer, notary, or at least someone who knows enough about it... Precisely! What better lawyer could be than former District Attorney Harvey Dent?  He heard Harvey is "retired". Ed thought he'd probably bored out of his mind, too.  Moreover, Dent is physically much more prepared. And extra guns never hurt.

Edward immediately picked up his phone and found Two-Face's number in contacts. He called him and invited for a drink at their favorite bar. Fortunately, Dent accepted the invitation.

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

Half an hour later, Nygma entered the bar where Harvey was waiting for him. He was holding some papers with schemes and explanations. It seemed like he had drawn the whole diagram by hand, with every single detail painted.

Harvey rolled his eyes and chuckled as he asked: "I thought you invited me here to chat, not to lecture me about your new "genius" plan. To be honest, Ed, I've had enough of it and so have you."

"You don't understand, Harv! It's a win-win option. This time I'm sure on one hundred percent, I did the research and, believe me, I thought it all out. The usual. Yet, you didn't even try to hear me! When some stupid coin offers - you agree and go forward it, but as old friend ask you for help, you immediately "quit". And! AND, it's not about crime! The plan is legal, for note. Believe me, you'll regret your refusal if you won't listen to me. Therefore, let me give you a little tip - listen, or rather write it down. Maybe not only half of your brain will start working! Harv, please, don't be an idiot for the next ten minutes and let me explain. I quitted crime, agree, BUT I'm not going to get rid of my mind in order to meet the standards of society!" Edward quickly interrupted Harvey, not letting him get a word in until he finished his tirade by asking," Which one of us is the brain, after all, me or you?"

Harv frowned, not appreciating the "hints" about his past decisions. He took a deep breath, counted to ten and exhaled. Edward had a point, it was worth listening politely, Dent can refuse any time later.

" Well, let's imagine I believe you," he finally said, adding, "Go on, smart-ass."

"Harvey, what do you think about private detectives?" - Edward's smile returned as if he didn't throw a tantrum five seconds ago.

"Seriously, detective? What's the riddle here, Holmes?"

"Right, like Holmes."

"You're kidding, Ed..."

"Please, remember, I'm not the one to joke about important things. What I said doesn't sound a joke, does it? Sooooo," - Nygma wanted to push his friend to the right conclusion.

"It means you being honest. Let's assume that's not some kind of trick. Besides, your "honesty mania", or whatever it's called..." Harvey paused for a moment, trying to recall the exact word, but alas, no other idea came to mind. "Forget it. How does this relate to me?"

"That's a great question, Harv! Good job! I told you the brain would start working. Fpr why I'm here - I need your expertise. You know the law inside and out, being an expert in document management and stuff. You're the real professional, aren't you? You know how to do good work and I need someone I can trust without fear of back-stabbing," Edward seemed almost sincere for a moment, however he quickly hid behind his sarcastic mask and strange sense of humor. " Harv, I'm going to die of boredom or kill someone! Think about it. You wake up in a trap, failing to answer my riddle and getting HEAD OFF! Not that you use it anyway..."

"Come on, Ed. I was just asking." Former DA sighs, thinking about how it could be beneficial for him, after all he wants to help people again. "Ah, screw it! Will do! I agree 50%. Is that a deal, partner?"

"DEAL! It's a deal!" Edward replied, feeling happy about the success awaiting him at the next step. Of course, success always awaited him, because the unrivaled genius of E. Nygma had never let him down. It was rare to see the Riddler in such good spirits, especially after his career ended. Well, there he was, walking down the street with a happy smile on his face. A suspiciously happy smile...

"You have no idea what a great decision you made, Harvey!" He exclaimed as they walked towards the bus stop, where they would split up.

Harvey smiled, but said nothing. He was still unsure of why Nygma was doing this. It's unlikely that he was doing it out of kindness. Moreover, it was also unlikely that Ed had called him only for the sake of working with papers. Harvey knew it was too soon to hide his colt. "I should keep an eye on him," Harvey thought, waving goodbye as he disappeared into the bus. "I promise you, Gilda, I will not let him hurt anyone else. Not after what happened... not ever".

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

First step was made. Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes now planning brilliantly solve the case, case waiting for him to be found. No one knew that the case would find them on its own.

[imagine--if]

I have been wondering who Riddler’s girl partner was, being who told the police that she had seen them go into the café. His plan necessitated his capture at that point, and I highly doubt he would have left things up to chance — no, she will be important.

A/N: That's such a relevant point and I can totally work with it 💚This was so fun to write haha it's getting me back into doing stuff for The Batman againnnn 😁 enjoy reading!! And let me know if you like the new imagine blog post layout thingy (I do 😏)

Wordcount: 716

"Lieutenant, we got a witness here, says she saw someone coming down the fire escape right after the shot. She said he went into the corner diner. The guy's sitting by himself at the counter, right now."

You blink up in faux worry at the policeman, who nods at you with a stern but thankful look.

"Thank you, miss. You should go home, where it's safe."

You nod, backing away from him, as he rushes off to get the rest of his team. Police cars start pulling up outside the diner you've come to time and time again, never a hotspot for trouble and the flashes of angry red and blue reflecting in its long windows now. GCPD stream out of their cars, guns held firm in their hands, as they shuffle around the building and hesitate at the entrance. In the midst of the chaos, a shadowed, jet-black dramatic figure appears, cold eyes boring through the glass of the diner and to the quiet man in the warm navy coat, sitting peacefully indoors.

The peace is sliced through as Martinez kicks open the door, his gun entering the place before he steps in, voice loud and demanding.

"Police! Hands up!"

But the man takes his time, his gentle grip flicking and working expertly on a symbol in his drink, calmly, patiently. You smile softly in the darkness of the opposite street, looking past the heads of police and cars to watch the familiar figure work his magic so naturally. It could only ever be natural to Edward Nashton, and it was something you were so used to, but still so amazed to seeing every day, for a time that seemed like so long, but must only be a few months. You could make out his face even though you couldn't see it properly; a small, nervous smile quirking up his lips ever so slightly, his round face boyish and youthful as it turned to take in the sight of uniformed apprehenders, glaring at him as if he was the pig, an unfeeling psychopath with no story good enough to make up for what he did.

But you knew.

He blinked up at them in a mirror-like way to how you stared up at that policeman, curious and innocent, with that glimmer of something more, darker and dangerous and oh-so-clever, in those murky green hues.

And though you couldn't hear what they were saying, you whispered it anyway, gazing at the sight with a shiver of adrenaline and love and nerves and a barrel of other emotions you couldn't stop to identify.

"He just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie."

Martinez lunges forward in the diner, slamming down The Riddler with a hateful force, two other men rushing to help, rifling through his pockets, yanking out the IDs and demanding an explanation that was left unanswered. And as they worked, guns raised and eyes glaring daggers, Edward's own stare flicked suddenly from the scene to you, barely visible in the drowsy streetlight at the end of the road you lingered at.

Even from there, you could read those eyes, soft and sweet and obsessively adoring, no matter the situation, And he smiled, smiled wide and prettily, ogling for your admiration, your approval. For you to tell him that you're proud of him, that you're in this together, that you can still see him because he's not invisible now, and he never will be. That he matters, and he matters to you.

All this is said unspoken, in one loving, long glance, and then he's ripped off the counter, shoved to the cars, the crowd of police following suit, along with the infamous Batman, who catches his gaze and returns it with one of coolness and intense indifference.

You let out a breath you don't realise you've been holding as he's driven away, leaning back against e concrete wall behind you, and roll your eyes to yourself with a knowing smirk. Now would come the stream all set up and ready for them to find, and then to rake their brains over when The Riddler's 'pretty little mystery' was mentioned near the end, in the midst of the retribution, and his followers would flood the chat with crazed hearts and impatient comments, ready for the real change.

⭒❃.✮:▹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]

"The Closet Scene" Edward and Desdemona, Daughter of Fear, concept doodle

[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.

[finniestoncrane]

Can you do a oneshot of Arkham Knight Riddler eating reader out? He needs to eat. And I need a dirty, greasy, disgusting man to violate me with his tongue. I want his to have to wipe the cum and drool as it dribbles down his chin. Absolutely NASTY!

Snack

Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 450 just a lil oneshot, just a lil snack u-u listen i've done it before and i'll do it again lmao if there's one thin i won't get tired of it's eddie eating pussy!! also it's fem!reader but there's no gendered language, so anyone with a vagina who doesn't mind the word pussy should be all good request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, a bit of fingering, mentions of overstim

Eddie rolled his tongue, almost wave like, making the muscle pulse and curve from the back to the tip against your dripping cunt. Each lap made you wail, your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the root as you pushed him to you and pulled him away when you could feel yourself getting too close to your inevitable orgasm.

From the moment he'd fallen to his knees in front of you, you had been close. Desperate. Wet. You could feel your clit twitching as he pulled off your pants, then your underwear. Feel your inside aching as he lifted your legs up and placed them on his deceptively strong shoulders. Let your jaw drop, a howling wail coming out of your open mouth as he used his thumbs to spread your lips apart.

Now, you were soaking, your entire body throbbing, muscles tensing as they waited for your release. Eddie worked at it, his thin lips circling your clit as he inserted a finger inside of you, another joining it quickly after. The way he spread you open, devouring you as though he were actually starving made your heart pound, your stomach flip, your vision going blurry as you got closer to the edge of the intense climax that felt as though it choked you.

You were clouded by your orgasm, brain fogged with only the notion of seeking pleasure coming into focus, but you still stole a look down towards Eddie. As though he sensed you watching him, he looked up towards you, steely blue eyes glinting with his malicious glee. He removed his fingers from you, using the back of the same hand to wipe his chin which was slick with your cum, dripping with his own drool.

Every second he spent away from you was agonising, threatening to dull the release that had been building up. But you felt his sharp nose come into contact with your once again, his stubbled cheeks between your thighs, dark brown hair tickling your skin as he dove back in, pressing his tongue in and out of you, moaning as he fucked you with his mouth.

With a sharp squeal you came, quivering under his continued touch, overstimulated almost immediately after your body settled back down. But Eddie kept going, chuckling to himself, not quite satisfied and certain you had more to give him. He pulled away briefly, only long enough to reassure you in a cruel, teasing tone that felt like he was purposefully mocking your pathetic desperation.

"If you want me to stop, you only have to ask. 'Please, Mister Nigma, Sir. I've had enough.' Say it loud and clear."

He only offered you the out as he was confident you wouldn't take it, smiling smugly to himself as you grabbed him by his hair and pushed him back into you.

[knoepfl]

The Riddler’s Rewards

Characters: Edward Nygma (Arkham Verse) x Reader (You)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, power dynamics, teasing, manipulation, slight dom/sub themes, sexual tension, and mature themes. Not suitable for readers under 18.

Masterlist

Summary: You love teasing Edward Nygma with riddles, scattering them throughout his hideout as a game. Each time he solves one, you reward him with affection, but his 9 for both riddles and you only grows. Now, Edward wants more—and he isn’t about to stop until he has everything.

Words: 1064

---

Edward Nygma thrived on puzzles, the way they teased and tested his brilliant mind. And you knew exactly how to keep him on edge, scattering riddles around his hideout to stoke his competitive fire. But this time, you added a twist—one he wouldn’t see coming.

He had already found the first few riddles, his emerald-green eyes glinting with satisfaction as he solved them effortlessly, each one granting him a small reward—an affectionate kiss, a touch, something to whet his appetite. But you could feel the tension growing between you both, his desire intensifying with every riddle he solved. He wanted more, and you were all too willing to give it to him.

After solving the third riddle, his patience ran thin. As you leaned in to give him another kiss, he tightened his grip around your waist, his voice low and commanding in your ear.

“I think it’s time we raised the stakes, don’t you, my dear?” His words sent a shiver down your spine. “For every riddle I solve from now on, I expect a little more than just a kiss. Let’s see…how about you lose a piece of clothing for each one?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, thrilled by the challenge. Edward grinned darkly, his eyes never leaving yours. He was in control now, and you both knew it.

The next few riddles were easy for him, each one solved in seconds. With each answer, you found yourself stripping away another layer, the tension between you building to a fever pitch. By the time you reached the last riddle, you were left standing in your underwear, your body thrumming with anticipation. But this one—this last riddle—was different. It wasn’t just a game anymore. It was your final move, one that would change the dynamic entirely.

Edward found the final slip of paper hidden beneath a puzzle box on his desk. He unfolded it slowly, savoring the moment before he began to read. His eyes narrowed as he took in the words, his mind already racing to find the answer.

"I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost every person. What am I?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. This was no simple riddle—it was meant to stump him, to challenge him in a way the others hadn’t. And you could see the flicker of frustration in his eyes as he mulled it over.

Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you palpable. You stood there, watching him, your pulse quickening as his eyes darkened with determination. He was close—so close—but not quite there yet.

Finally, a low growl escaped his throat, and he stepped toward you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you against him. “You think you can outwit me with this?” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. His lips brushed your skin, making your body tremble under his touch. “I’ll have my answer—and my reward.”

You let out a soft giggle, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Aww, Eddie, having trouble with this one?” you teased, playfully poking at his frustration. “Maybe you’re not as brilliant as you think…”

His eyes snapped to yours, his jaw tightening, but instead of letting his irritation get the better of him, he pressed you firmly against the wall. “Careful,” he growled softly, his breath hot against your neck. “You may not like what happens if you push me too far.”

Despite the tension in his voice, you couldn’t help but smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gently running your fingers through his hair as you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” you whispered, your lips brushing his skin. “I’m just teasing. Let me make it up to you.”

His rigid posture softened slightly under your touch, the combination of your affection and your apology working to ease the tension. Your kisses moved from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, light and sweet, as your hands trailed soothingly down his back.

“You’re still the smartest man I know,” you whispered, your voice soft and sincere as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “And I love watching you solve every single one of my riddles. But…” You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, a playful glint dancing in yours. “This one might take a little more time.”

He smirked at your challenge, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think you can stump me?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”

You giggled again, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “I would never underestimate you, Eddie,” you whispered. “But I think this time… I’ve got you.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, locked in the tension of the unsolved riddle, your teasing kisses and gentle touches coaxing him to relax. And then, as if the answer finally clicked into place, his eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his face.

“The answer,” he murmured, his voice dark and triumphant, “is a pencil.”

You gave him a bright smile, stepping back just slightly to offer him a playful round of applause. “Well done, Riddler. You’ve solved it.”

Before you could say another word, Edward grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against him, his lips crashing against yours with a heated intensity that left you breathless. “You’re not getting off that easy,” he growled against your lips. “I’ve earned my final reward.”

His hands roamed over your body, the heat of his touch setting your skin on fire. You gasped, clinging to him as he claimed you, his kisses hungry and possessive. Every inch of him was demanding, insistent, as if solving the final riddle had only stoked his desire further.

“You owe me more than just affection for that little stunt,” he muttered, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he lifted you against the wall. “I think it’s time you gave me everything.”

You trembled under his touch, your body responding eagerly to his every demand. And as he pressed you firmly against the wall, his lips claiming yours once more, you knew you had pushed him exactly where you wanted—right into your arms, where he belonged.

---

Edward’s kiss was rough, hungry—everything you expected from the man who had just outsmarted your final riddle. His hands explored your body eagerly, pulling you close as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. You gasped as his lips moved from yours, trailing down your neck with heated urgency. Every touch set your skin ablaze, sending jolts of electricity through your veins.

“You owe me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot as his lips ghosted over your collarbone. “For making me work so hard for that last answer.”

You chuckled softly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pressed against him, your body already craving more. “You didn’t seem to mind the challenge,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair. “You love it when I make you think.”

Edward smirked against your skin, his hands sliding down your waist to grip your hips tightly, pulling you even closer. “I always solve your riddles, don’t I?” he growled, his voice low and dark. “And I always win.”

He tugged you toward the bed in the corner of his hideout, his eyes dark with desire. The teasing banter between you melted away, replaced with the intensity of the moment. The air was thick with anticipation, your heart racing in your chest as he pushed you onto the mattress, his body following close behind.

He hovered over you, his sharp green eyes locking with yours. “I’ve earned this,” he whispered, his voice filled with a possessive edge that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly, teasingly, before he deepened the kiss with sudden fierceness.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing the skin just under your bra, making your breath hitch. With one swift motion, he discarded the remaining piece of fabric that separated your bodies. He pulled back for just a second, his eyes raking over you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin beneath him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the praise making you flush under his gaze.

You reached up, pulling him down into another heated kiss, your fingers slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel him closer. Edward quickly shed his clothes, eager to continue. His body pressed against yours, his warmth enveloping you completely as he kissed you deeply, passionately.

His hands trailed down your body, making you arch against him, every touch sending sparks through you. His fingers lingered on your hips, slowly sliding lower until he found exactly what he was searching for. His touch was firm yet gentle as he teased you, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

“Eddie,” you breathed, your body trembling under his touch. He grinned against your neck, clearly enjoying the control he had over you.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, his voice low and full of command as his fingers continued their torturous rhythm. You obeyed, your voice shaky as you gasped his name again and again, feeling the coil of pleasure tightening inside you.

Satisfied with your response, Edward finally let his fingers slip away, positioning himself above you with a smug, teasing smile. “I’m going to make sure you never forget this,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours before he captured them in a fiery kiss, as he slid into you, making you gasp.

The intensity of the moment took over, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss pushing you both closer to the edge. Edward’s grip on your hips tightened, his pace quickening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ragged against your skin.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built between you, growing almost unbearable. The sound of your name on his lips, the way his body moved against yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

“I need you,” Edward whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “I need all of you.”

With those words, you were sent over the edge, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Edward followed soon after, his body tensing as he groaned your name, his grip on you almost bruising as he lost himself in the moment.

For a few long moments, you both stayed like that, tangled together, your breaths coming in short gasps as the intensity of the moment slowly ebbed away. Edward’s grip softened, his hands trailing lazily up and down your sides as he caught his breath.

He rolled onto his back, pulling you close against his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around you. “I always win,” he murmured, his voice soft now, the teasing tone returning as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You chuckled, still breathless, nuzzling into his chest. “Maybe I let you win this time.”

Edward let out a quiet laugh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. “We’ll see about that, next time.”

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun exploring the dynamic between Edward and the reader in this story, especially mixing the playful teasing with the darker intensity of their connection. If you enjoyed this piece or have any feedback, please let me know! I love hearing from readers.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Okay btw Dorothy's causing problems gang is:

Herself, feat. the world's most stressed bio-terrorist as parental supervision

Elizabeth "I'm using my dad's old hacking rig and he is right behind me as moral support" Nigma

Todd Quinzel, whose mom does not know what he's doing and he better fucking pray she doesn't find out

Maxwell Machin, because being an anarchist doesn't mean your kids are gonna be but at least he's doing the good deeds illegally

Daria Sionis, because calling her dad to make sure he's okay and not doing a colossal fuck-up this week was too much effort and also his phone's off

[caesariawritesstuff]

🕸 - for the trick or treat! Happy Halloween week!

Happy Halloween my friend!

Here's the first ever deleted scene from Cat & Mouse, starting at Chapter 12. It's when Ed and Detective were getting ready to come back to work and I had no idea where I wanted the story to go. I ended up cutting it because I wasn't a fan of the direction it was going in, but there are bits and pieces of this that I do like.

Edward dreaded returning to work.

The GCPD was the last place he wanted to be after his release from Arkham, and it was the last place he wanted to be now. When the cab dropped him off outside, he paid the driver and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror: dark, half-moon circles stained his under eyes. His hair was a bit disheveled, and to his great embarrassment – he was still wearing the same clothes he’d left the hospital in. A dark green sweater and pair of khaki pants. All his other clothes were ruined by whoever ransacked his apartment, and his paycheck wasn’t enough to replace his wardrobe.

The cab quickly pulled away, splashing dirty, melted water onto the bottom of his pants. His cheeks burned; he looked like a fucking mess. Once upon a time, three years ago, he wouldn’t have cared much. When he’d reached his lowest and allowed his personal hygiene to fall to the wayside, dirty clothes, messy hair, and sweat hadn’t bothered him. He’d been far too obsessed with killing Batman to care. But the Edward before that, when he was just beginning his crimes, would never allow himself to fall to such a state. Custom tailored suits, a suave, perfectly groomed image – that had been his aesthetic once. But his obsession eventually wormed its way into every aspect of his life.

His dirty clothes reminded him of that time.

It was a time he didn’t want to remember.

Frowning, Edward gritted his teeth and headed inside the GCPD. He had no choice but to; the new ankle-bracelet strapped to his skin wouldn’t let him. Irritation swelled in his chest, impatience building. His leg still throbbed where he’d sustained his bullet wound; of course, the bullet had been removed, the skin stitched back together. He was lucky the gauze in his apartment hadn’t been tampered with, allowing him to keep the wound dressed and covered. The same for his arm, a bandage was wrapped around the stitches there, too. Each step into the GCPD hurt, but he’d suffered worse. The pain meds he’d been prescribed helped to take the edge off, but he was careful about his dosage, ensuring they didn’t mix with his other medications. He couldn’t afford to dull his genius; his mind was the only thing he really had.

Even if it was just as much a curse.

When Edward stepped into the GCPD, a dozen eyes turned his way. Officers dressed in blue stared him down, the suspicion in their gazes clear. Their distrust. Hatred. Any other person would be embarrassed by the kind of death stares he received now. But it didn’t bother Edward, he shrugged their stares off. In fact, deep down, some old, and sick, twisted part of him enjoyed the attention. Like a greedy snake crawling its way into his mind, it craved more.

He swallowed it down and hurried into the Cybercrime Division’s office.

Archer Crux was already at his desk. Edward glanced at the time; he was more than on time, he was five minutes early. Which meant Archer had arrived before him. For some reason, that bothered Edward. He’d always been punctual. No one else could be more punctual than he.

“Good morning, Edward,” Archer greeted him. His tone was pleasant – too pleasant.

Edward ever so desperately wanted to ignore him, but he sucked in a breath. Reform. Positivity. Social skills.

You said he lacked them. Now was his chance to learn some.

“Good morning, Archer,” Edward replied, but he wanted to shoot himself for even addressing the man. Suspicion tickled at the back of his brain ever since the encounter outside the hospital.

“How are you feeling?” Archer swiveled around in his office chair, a white mug of steaming coffee in his hands. He studied Edward from head to toe. “I can’t imagine taking a bullet was pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Edward replied. The man really was daft, wasn’t he?

“Good thing we have office jobs,” Archer said, smirking.

Was he…attempting a joke? Edward didn’t laugh. He shrugged and asked, “What have I missed?” He sat down in his chair.

Archer nodded to the stack of files behind him. “That. There’re instructions for you. Take your time. I wouldn’t want you to overdue it.”

Edward raised a brow. “Please.” He thumbed the files in an interest. “I could do this in my sleep.”

Archer snorted and turned back around. “Funny enough, I believe you.”

But Edward wasn’t being funny. He was serious. He’d spent many a night dreaming of lines of code, machinery, riddles and traps and puzzles. And he was desperate to prove himself right; these files had clearly built up over the last few weeks. He was positive he could complete them by the end of the day. A test, then. Edward liked tests and challenges. This wouldn’t be difficult.

He swiveled around and looked through the files. Identity theft, fraud, hacking, malware. All different crimes that’d taken places since he was gone. Several files listed the evidence name of different computers that’d been turned in, all which needed to be scrubbed, searched, or disposed of. Each was part of a case against someone or a business. He glanced over his shoulder to see Archer deep in his own work. A separate laptop was propped up on his desk and, by the lines of code, Edward could tell Archer was working on searching a computer which had been hacked into and infested with viruses. Edward snatched the first folder off the stack and stood, ready to head to evidence.

As he left the office, he quickly scanned the area: your desk was empty. Mack was sitting across from the desk, phone in hand.

Edward caught a snippet of conversation as he walked past. “No, no, honey – of course I’ll be home for dinner. Honey, I just got to work—”

Edward didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He wandered through the GCPD, head down, cheeks burning. Any officer who he came even remotely closed to turned the other way and completely avoided him. Their stares didn’t bother him; he didn’t need them in his life. He was here to get his job done, earn a paycheck…save up for a state-of-the-art computer all over again. Those long years and time wasted. Was it worth breaking his efforts to reform just to get some revenge on the one who did it?

He considered the thought longer than he should have.

Ducking his head to avoid more stares, he made his way to the evidence room and presented his badge to the man at the desk. He asked for Item #212, the computer he needed. The man, to his surprise, only nodded and went to retrieve the item without hassle. Some of the tightness loosened in his chest. Of course, he was Edward Nigma. The stupid man with his stupid gawking face should be honored to be in his presence.

Stop, Edward’s mind screamed at him. He reached into his pocket, retrieved his stress ball, and gave it a few strong squeezes.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely fifteen minutes into his shift. And what was taking the man so long? He tapped his foot, checked the clock again. Reached for his phone and checked, with too much hope, that you had texted him – but you hadn’t.

He hadn’t spoken to you since your last message the other night when he thanked you for the food. When you had no idea he’d been watching you from his spot at the Italian restaurant. He assumed Archer didn’t know about your lie; it would be so very easy for Edward to tell it himself. Drive a wedge between the two of you, but…if he did that, then he’d have to admit why he was out. Like himself, Archer seemed like a suspicious man. And Edward didn’t want to draw questions towards himself – the kind where people asked why he was following you, why he was watching you. The questions that revealed men as creeps and stalkers and disingenuous.

Edward’s heart plummeted. No, no, no – he was none of things. He wasn’t stalking you at all. He’d simply been curious, that was all, and a man like him had to satisfy his curiosities. But…still. He wished you were here. He wanted to write a few riddles and slip them onto your desk, eagerly await your answers to see if you’d get them right. He longed for the cat and mouse game the two of you played.

He glanced up; the man was still taking his sweet time. Edward quickly found your contact in his phone and sent you one anyways.

If you’re a child, you know me well. When you’re old, I’ll be your hell. I’m often felt but rarely shown. I’ll drive you mad if you’re alone. What am I?

Just as he sent the message, the man returned. He passed the computer to Edward, a judging look in his eyes, before turning back to his own work. Edward turned on his heels and said nothing; perhaps a “thank you” would have been appropriate, but he kept his mouth shut and headed towards his desk.

The GCPD was filled with officers. Men and women dressed in their uniforms. The phones rang off the hook like crazy. He noticed Mack had left his desk, apparently off the phone with who Edward could only assume was his wife. Before he returned to his desk, he took a quick hang to the break room to grab some coffee – because damn, did he need it. The dull ache in his leg was getting to him, and he hadn’t slept well the night before, his mind too occupied with thoughts of you, his apartment, his shitty life. A group of officers were sitting at the table, so engrossed in conversation that they didn’t even notice him.

Edward remained quiet as he poured himself a cup.

“Did you hear?” one of them asked. “Rollins and his partner can’t seem to catch a break on their X-Murderer. He’s already killed several people and they ain’t got no leads.”

“Come on, give them a break,” a female officer said. “His partner’s been through a lot. I mean, she got stuck being Riddler’s handler and got mixed up in his baggage with Two-Face and Penguin. They’ve got a lot on their plate.”

Another officer scoffed. “I know, I know. I’m just saying – people out there are startin’ to get nervous.”

“It’s Gotham. People are always nervous,” someone else replied.

Mug in hand, Edward slipped out of the room.

Interesting. He didn’t realize that you and your partner were no closer to finding the killer. He supposed he hadn’t talked to you about your investigation. Your time at the warehouse and in the hospital took precedent over such a fact.           

But…it got his mind spinning.

It wasn’t his place to interfere with your investigation, but frankly, he didn’t care. If anyone could solve such a complicated crime, than who else better for the job? Gotham City lacked it’s Greatest Detective. Perhaps it needed another one.

And, if he could solve the case, or even discover a clue to slip your way…maybe you’d be impressed with him. Trust him a little more. Confide in why you were so interested in looking in his files.

His heart beat heavy in his chest as he slid back into his chair and got to work. Archer said nothing to him when he walked in. He set his mug off to the side, booted up the computer, and found himself once again lost in a series of lines and codes.

Until his phone vibrated in his pocket. Smiling, he slipped it out to see a response from you: Boredom. I take it nothing exciting is happening there?

Nothing. Unless you consider sweeping through endless lines of code, he sent back.

I thought you liked doing that sort of thing, you replied.

Only when it’s not as mind-numbing as this job. There’s not nearly enough here to stimulate my intellect and mental prowess, he sent back.

Your ego is showing again, Mr. Nigma, was your response.

Edward’s cheeks burned. A sudden excitement shot from his stomach and down through his groin. Something about reading his name – Mr. Nigma – and knowing it was coming from you, well…it stirred something dark and primal from deep within him.

No. Now was not the time for distractions. He turned the sound off and set it aside, face down, so he wouldn’t be tempted to send something witty back. His ego would be the death of him. That was something he’d come to terms with long ago, when the doctors in Arkham helped him to realize his issues.

And so, Edward set his mind to the task at hand. He began fixing the computers, scrubbing them clean, erasing them of malware and other cybercrimes which had plagued their hard drives. He was quick and precise – and by lunch time, he’d finished half the files on his desk. With a smirk, he knew he’d have all of them finished before his work day over. Another thing he could flaunt in Archer’s face – considering the stupid man was only on his second device for the day. Edward would know. He’d glanced behind him several times to make sure he was superior in his work. It wasn’t even a contest, but dammit, did Edward sure want to win whatever petty war he was playing with Archer.

At precisely noon, Archer stood. “I’m going to lunch,” was all he said before departing the office. He paused before he was halfway out the door. “I don’t think I need to remind you of my warning from before. Just because you got kidnapped and shot doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook.”

Edward smiled. “Of course not. You’d be a fool if you did.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose with his middle finger.

Archer frowned and left the room.

Edward’s stomach churned with hunger. He hadn’t packed himself a lunch – well, he supposed, because he didn’t own a lunchbox. Or paper lunch bags. Or plastic utensils to bring. Or napkins.

Shit. He really, truly, had nothing.

He reached up underneath his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. His gaze traveled over to the rest of the files – but something else piqued his interest. Without Archer here to stand over him like hawk, he had an hour to do as he pleased.

Which meant he could dig deeper into your investigation on this so called X-Murderer.

Edward had never cared about what other people did around Gotham, as long as it didn’t interfere with his own plans. The same could be said for now. If the X-Murderer and he didn’t cross paths, that was fine with him. And in truth, he was fine to let a murderer wander across Gotham, it didn’t matter to him. The city was already overcrowded enough, it could use some thinning out. But if the X-Murderer was bothering you, distracting you from him, then he saw no other option than to help you take care of.

 And with Archer gone, he had the perfect opportunity to do a little digging.

Edward turned to his official work computer and searched for any and all files pertaining to your murdered. Within seconds, they appeared, and he clicked on the first folder, diving head first into an investigation in which he had no business looking into.

The first victim had been a man named Johnny Walker. Twenty-Seven. Fit, handsome, the kind of man Edward probably never would be. He was found in a pile of trash outside his apartment by a poor women coming to throw out her trash. Jonny had the signature X carved into his forehead, just as every victim after did. His body showed no signs of trauma, no signs of struggle, but his throat was slashed – yet there was no blood at the crime scene or on the body. Edward quickly realized this meant two things: one, the body had been cleaned before being moved; and two, the victim had been killed somewhere else before being taken to the dump site. Based on notes from you and Mack listed within the files, it seemed you’d already figured as much. 

Pride swelled in Edward’s chest. At least you were on the right track.

But the MO continued for the next several victims. All men, all ranging between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight, none above thirty had been killed. All were men involved in being active, fit, and good-looking. They each fit a similar mold: smoldering eyes, dark hair, a dazzling smile – the perfect image.

Edward rolled his eyes, but continued clicking on each file, digging further into each murder. Any other person would need a notepad to keep track of the evidence, but he didn’t need it. His mind soaked up the information like a sponge.

Five victims. Each killed two weeks apart. Each dumped into the trash like they were garbage. Perhaps they were, in the killers’ eyes. People always did things for a reason, even murders. Edward would know. He never did anything without a reason. This person was trying to send a message, that was clear…but what was the message? These men had to have been targeted specifically. He clicked on a few more folders, opening more files.

Ah, so it seemed each of the men had different gym memberships – but not all to the same gyms. That was something Mack had apparently uncovered while you were in the warehouse together. Based on the men’s physical type, Edward could’ve put that together without needed to do any digging. A normal person might think it was a coincidence that every man went to the gym, but Edward knew better. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and he didn’t believe that there wasn’t a connection there. He just had to figure out what that connection was.

He clicked on another folder, containing the information about the first three victims before he’d ever come to work for the GCPD. Archer had been the one to do the digging of their computers and phones, but apparently, nothing inside had linked the men together.

Which either meant Archer was telling the truth, or Archer was very bad at his job.

If Edward could get his hands on one of those computers and do a little searching himself, perhaps he’d uncover something Archer hadn’t. But just as he was looking for the number in which the computer had been labeled into evidence, a high-pitched, blood curdling scream rang throughout the GCPD.

[blackiraven]

Can you please write about how sale!scriddler draw each other?

As you wish!~✍

Once upon a time I drew. It was my only hobby and the only way to separate myself from the real world. My ridiculous dreams could exist on yellowed paper, fantasies splashed out on the pages and overshadowed the uninteresting text with their colors. The few people I liked could only be with me in the form of beautiful portraits. I could imagine and portray their joyful, loving faces, when in fact they looked at me with disgust and hatred every day.

Once upon a time I gave up drawing for many years. My talent was torn apart and trampled by those who admired my drawings. They only had to find out the artist's name... But now I want to remember and bring my youthful hobby back to life. For all the torments endured, fate as a reward sent me a muse and the only connoisseur of my "paintings" in one person.

Oh, my little frog, I like to draw you so much. It calms me down, I want to really smile. And finally, it's not my imagination that emerges on paper, but reality. Juggling shades of green every time fascinates me for hours. And it saves several lives from my hellish anger...

This time I decided to draw Edward sitting in his comfortable and soft chair, in which he likes to spend time reading. Nigma's hands were complicated on his knees, he himself leaned forward a little, as if greeting someone who would look at this drawing. He was smiling. This sweet, warm and kind smile that fills my heart with life every day. This gentle and caring look, for which I want to wake up and continue to breathe. I always devote the most time to these important details. The rest is easy. A slightly bulky suit with question marks that Riddler always embroiders by hand, a lush bow under the collar of his shirt and a funny bowler hat on his head. The colors were applied with light shading.

"Hmm... something is missing..." I was biting a colored pencil and looking at the drawing from different angles. Background? No. Frogs! The hand grabbed another pencil and began to quickly draw small amphibians. They were sitting on the back and armrests of the chair and on Edward himself. Their eyes were big and just as cute. The last, finishing detail of the picture - on the head of each frog was the same, but a tiny bowler hat. That's great! That's exactly what I wanted! In the lower right corner of the sheet I left a small signature "My prince of riddles and frogs".

"Edward."

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"This is for you."

"Oy, it's as beautiful as all your other drawings. Thank you!"

"Really?"

"Of course, my dear. What gives away a good artist? His doubt in his works."

"Edward, you... Can you draw me?"

"But, Jonathan, you know what... I don't know how to draw."

"It doesn't matter to me. I will value even a blots from you."

"Well... I do not know..."

"...please, Edward..."

When Scarecrow that frightens many Gotham residents whispers and barely says "please," my refusal will be the biggest sin in life. Jonathan wanted to watch me draw, but I was able to kick him out of my office and close the door. This is too exciting a process for me! A stack of paper plopped down on the table, a tall plastic cup filled with pencils and felt-tip pens. An empty white sheet made me sigh loudly and tragically. I drew only as a child, but it turned out badly, like all children, but my parents didn't like it. I haven't painted since...

"Where does each picture begin? The answer is an idea." fingers were tapping on the table, then they took a black pencil and unwound it in every way. In what setting should I draw him? At home, where he is calm and feels good? Or in the maelstrom of Gotham crime, where he has a share of power? The first sheets with the wrong lines were crumpled up and thrown into the trash. Each time I stubbornly sharpened the pencil, as if it made a significant difference. I could draw Jonathan without a mask, but in my performance it will definitely turn out terrible.

Sometimes I looked at Crane's new drawing. It's so beautiful, naturalistic, I appreciate and keep each of them. I'll never be able to draw the same way. After agonizing minutes, the crooked strokes began to take shape. The night sky, consisting of primitive clouds and stars. A large circle in which dense layers of white and yellow were superimposed on each other. Moon. I hope he understands. The whole sheet was painted over, I randomly drew pencils on the white surface, as children usually do. But to some extent it was fascinating. In the very center of the gray-black space loomed a Scarecrow. Angular and sometimes disproportionate. Is he soaring through the clouds? Or just enjoying a quiet night? I don't know... His long hat wrapped around and held the moon, and his mantle rushed down and covered the supposed city. Behind Scarecrow of large and five-pointed orange stars, my author's constellation of heron was lined up. Graceful, majestic and dangerous. To have the trust of this bird is a great honor and achievement. What happened was already a pity to throw away. He should like it, Jonathan never reproached me for mistakes, as absolutely everyone used to do, even when I did a perfect job. My drawing was also completed by a small signature: "My heron, bringer of night and terrible dreams."

"Please, Edward, show me this."

"Okay... um... here."

"This..."

"Jonathan?.."

"Amazing. I'm loving it. Very."

"Are you serious, dear?"

"Yes. Can I watch you draw next time?"