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the-witty-pen-name · 2 years

Text

Edward Nashton (The Batman) x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

College AU

Warnings: Stalking & other creepy behavior, Manipulation, Incel/Misogynistic Mindset, Alcohol and other substances, Descriptions of Smut and Masturbation, Cursing

As usual, this is unedited and if there are any tags or warnings I may have forgotten to include, please let me know.

THIS IS AN 18+ STORY WITH DARK THEMES, PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS AND MINORS DNI

You’re so sweet. Soft and warm, and everything that just clouds his focus. He’s memorized every curve, and the natural sway when you walk into a room. It’s like sunshine when you smile, and he notices the way they gravitate towards you. Of course they do, they all do. He’s not naive enough to believe he’s not the only one who wants to be near you. It’s effortless, the way people are drawn to you. But it’s in vain, every time, polite rejections that leave people somehow liking you more. You’re loyal, such a good girl for him, because you know you’re his.

His first impression of you was stereotypical. He pegged you to be another daft popular girl who has clawed her way to the top of the social ladder. Superficial and dumb, being able to use your looks for everything. His observations of people and their trends led him to assume, which he regrets. Somehow, you break the mold, everything he’s observed about social hierarchy out the window. It’s infuriating at first, because you’re just so nice- like god just made you out of a small piece of heaven. Fuck, and you’re so smart.

The first time you interrupted the professor in lecture to correct him (politely, of course- a sweetheart) he thought it was puzzling. You were puzzling. A challenge to figure out, to open up slowly and unravel. It started out innocently, just the sheer curiosity gnawing at him. You were a mystery, and he needed to satisfy that curiosity that was becoming more and more bothersome.

It’s easy to find your full name on the professor’s class roster, all he needed to do was pretend to have questions during office hours. The dimwit goes to get coffee and he’s able to sneak a peak at the list without disrupting anything on the desk. It goes perfectly. And one search on Instagram takes him to your page easily. Except it’s a good damn book dedicated Instagram. Irritating, honestly, but he applauds you for keeping your actual account private, which is the second account in the list of suggestions. It’s dumb that you can’t zoom in on profile pictures.

For now, he settled on lurking at the bookstagram, as you called it in the bio. Cute. That night at home instead of working on his other projects, he stayed up reading each of the long captions you’d written out reviewing each book you had read. Some of them he recognized as ones that were very popular, others were classics, some graphic novels, it was a rather eclectic mix of genres. He liked that. No non-fiction though, he made note. Interesting. He can’t blame you for that.

Once he worked his way through your page, he ends up ordering a few of the titles on Amazon. He’d usually opt for the library, which he used for some other titles you said you liked that he placed holds for. But to get started sooner, the two day shipping was a godsend. He figured he’d have one with him in class, keep it on his desk, carry it around campus with the cover outward, an attempt to catch your eye. Strike up a conversation, figure out something else about you.

He also found himself wanting to read some of these just because of how your posts made them sound. However, his main motive was to use them as a prop in an attempt to have an excuse to talk to you. He would lure you in to him, so he doesn’t have to go out of his way. It’s more natural this way. You’re the social butterfly, fluttering around being outgoing and sociable while he was the quiet one. The mysterious, reserved one. It makes more sense for you to reach out to start that first important conversation than him. And with a copy of a book you rated five stars in hand, he thinks it will work out just as he would like to.

He’d document your schedule as close as he could manage. Observe your daily routine, where you go, when. That way he can plan where he can run into you. Running to the campus coffee cart between classes for you to see him casually reading Madeline Miller or James Joyce or Ottessa Moshfegh or Fredrik Backman something else you’ve read that’s just popular enough to not make you suspicious.

Edward is very good at being invisible. It’s not even something he needs to try at. He’s gone his whole life being naturally ignored, dismissible. He can hide in plain sight as he marks down the time in his journal when you are leaving your third and last class of the day. He sits at the picnic benches outside the dining hall that are on the far side of the quad. From here, he can see almost all of the main campus. It also helps most of the building are comprised of large windows. He can watch you in your dorm building, right up to your floor until you disappear behind your door.

It’s up to him to imagine the rest of your routine as he walks back to his own dorm. The things you do when your doors are closed and you realize you’re alone again, your roommate spending the night with that quarterback boyfriend of hers.

He imagines everything. The way your backpack thuds and how you kick off your sneakers and leave them haphazard on the floor by the door. Your bra off in one fluid motion and tossed into your hamper without even having to look to see if it went in. You sit at your desk, and feed the pet fish you aren’t supposed to have. Naughty girl. You get started on your work right away. Getting the tedious chore out of the way so you can surrender yourself to your bed. Most people just give in to that temptation right away. Not you. You opt to sit incorrectly in your chair, and change from one obscure position after the other (that’s why your back hurts by the way, darling) until you’ve written your last discussion post and submitted the last paper. Then, you enjoy yourself. He imagines you might love your routines. He can put himself right there on the bed, paperback book folded in his hands that is ignored, because he’s so focused on you.

You’re someone whose routine involves a lot of walking back and forth. From the bathroom, to your dresser, to the bathroom again, to your vanity, to your closet, until you’ve successfully paced around the room enough times to spark the carpet. He’ll tease you, his own routine more carefully constructed and requires much less products- although he can imagine himself adding more once you share with him the things he should be doing.

You’ll walk around in your favorite little pair of pajama shorts- or better yet you might steal his boxers to sleep in. Paired with his shirt, and he’s enraptured with the way your chest strains the material. He thinks you’d look really cute with the towel wrapped around your hair fresh out of the shower, walking around the room brushing your teeth desperately looking for something that is never in the right place. Then the towel strewn over your desk chair and he watches intently as you care for your hair. And the way you apply lotion head to toe, and the way the sweet scent of it fills the whole room. You’d get shy when you finally notice he’s been looking at you. It’s so fucking cute. He can hardly stand not holding you when you look at him that way.

He’s probably screwed himself, not thinking about the side effects of using a scented lotion until after he’s finished, but he can’t even find it in him to care right now. His heavy breaths fill his room, and he needs to clean himself up. It’ll be fine. It was worth it, he thinks, to have something that smells like you to allow him to slip into his little fantasy. His whole room smells of strawberry and brown sugar, and he just wallows in the way the empty feeling in his stomach just makes him yearn for you. That time it all felt too fucking real.

His mind almost scares him, how the imagines he conjures up can become like memories. He knows they are a figment of his imagination, but sometimes that line between his false memories and his much more depressing reality becomes more and more blurred the more he dreams of you.

It finally happens the next time he’s outside having his lunch. He’s sitting under a tree in the quad, occasionally taking bites of his sandwich but the book he’s reading is taking up the majority of his attention. He’s gotten lost in the pages, and he doesn’t even remember the rest of the world exists until a shadow steps in front of the sun, blocking the light from hitting the pages he was engrossed in.

“I loved that book,” a voice says. He can hear the smile in your tone. You’re actually acknowledging his existence. He needs to give himself a pep talk before he can even bear to look up and face you.

“I o-only just started,” he says sheepishly, looking down- adamant on staring at a blade of grass in front of him.

“Cool,” you reply, “You need to tell me what you think of it, okay? See ya, Eddie.”

Eddie? No one in his life has ever called him Eddie. He detested being called Eddie until this exact moment. He hated the nickname, always thinking it was childish and demeaning. But not when you say it. It’s so sincere, and so nice the way the syllables fall off your lips. Just you. You are the exception to his disdain for it. He’ll be Eddie for you- your Eddie. Loyal, devoted, head over heels for only you Eddie.

He thinks about all the ways he wants to hear you call him that. In-between laughs, slapping his arm playfully when one of his jokes makes you laugh. A lighthearted chastising, your head tilted in skepticism as he tells you about all the elaborate plans he’s made for the future. A choked sobbed in surprise and excitement when he gets down on one knee. A breathy, whispered moan in his ear when he’s fucking you gently, pulling you apart, or a scream out in ecstasy when you’re begging him to let you cum- shit. He places the book on his lap, and pretends to check his phone while he waits for when he can get up. He groans at how painful it is, to not be able to have you now like how he wants.

It’s not like he makes it a habit to follow you. Sometimes, it’s a pleasant surprise when it happens all on it’s own. However, more often than not, it’s not up to chance. It’s a calculated, meticulous plan to execute the ideal rom com meet cute. You deserve that. The movie perfect romance where he, the right guy, magically is ushered in under quirky circumstances and somehow the meetings turn into feelings.

This is too Pretty in Pink, the god awful frat party in this huge house on campus. He still can’t believe he got in. But as luck would have it, roommate’s quarterback boyfriend needed a few passing assignments to keep from failing Calculus. And with that, Edward Nashton has somehow managed to score an invite to the biggest Halloween party of the semester- and of course, you’d be one of the many attendees. However, you don’t need an invite. You’re expected. These are your friends and you run in their circles. Also, any girl who shows up on this doorstep tonight is going to get in without a fret- no invite or name drop needed. He on the other hand needs to convince the two surly guys at the door he got an invite from their surly friend and after a while of back and forth they reluctantly let him in.

He’s elbow to elbow with tons of sweaty, gyrating strangers as he tries his best to navigate the house. The stairs, the hallways, every room is packed and the flashing lights also obscure his vision. There’s a deejay in the common room, the speakers blasting electronic music are making the floor vibrate. He is so out of his element, but he’s here for you. Because he’s a good boyfriend to you, and he goes places he doesn’t like but that makes you happy.

He’ll gladly hold your bags when you go shopping. He’ll think about everything you find important. Color, texture, finding the perfect things… he will wander with you for hours until you’re happy. He’ll absolve any worry. He will never tell you the rather poor shape of his finances at the moment, but it’s not important. Anything you want, he’ll let you just charge his card. You’re worth it.

Book stores. He knows how often you frequent them from the time you spend together, and the library- based on the barcodes on the pictures you post on your Instagram. He’s even got your card number memorized. He’ll bring you there, find a corner and just read together. You seem to be more into contemporaries, it will be a good balance. He tends to favor more classics himself but he’ll appease you and let you tell him about whatever book you just read- cover to cover, fuck spoilers. He just wants to watch the way talking about it excites you.

He hangs back, just resting his back against the wall. He still hasn’t seen you yet, but he’s content to wait, you too have all night. He watches as people dance and try to yell over the music. The flashes from cameras make his eyes hurt. He’s never observed a more self-absorbed crowd. They chug down whatever mystery concoction they have in their red cups and he hopes that you know better than to trust whatever is in there.

There’s puffs of smoke from a girl in leather pants and basically a top that might as well be a bra as she passes around a joint for her and her friends to share. It stinks up the whole house, and he just knows he’s going to reek of it. He looks down at his phone, trying to pretend he’s doing something. Anything to make himself look indifferent and not at all desperate and out of place. He’s not sure how well he’s doing.

You’re holding a can of something. You’re a smart girl to choose something here where you can break the seal yourself. You hold it in a way where your palm covers the open top as you let your friend weave the two of you through the crowd, giggling amongst yourselves. You look radiant when you’re like this. Happy and carefree from letting just a little bit of your inhibitions down. You work so hard, you deserve a little bit of fun. He just wished it wouldn’t be places like this. He doesn’t understand how everyone here can just keep to themselves when just you passing through the room disrupts the atmosphere. You smell like peach body mist, and it just hits him back against the wall when it wafts by him.

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle as your friend drags you past. You offer him a friendly smile, and hold up your High Noon as a wave he thinks. Either way, he couldn’t care less. You look so beautiful, and you smiled at him. You’re happy because of him. You’re happy he’s here. His chest puffs up slightly in pride, and he can feel himself naturally stand up a little bit straighter.

“I finished the book,” he calls after you, instinctively reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to take out his copy- to give you his annotated copy. By some miracle, you hear him. He can see your eyes light up, and you signal to your friend to go on without you.

“Did you like it?” you ask excitedly, shouting over the music, leaning in closer to hear him. His breath catches in his throat and he’s not sure he can muster up enough air to answer. He finally manages out a yes, and you look confused- clear you can’t hear him. “Let’s go outside!” you say over the music and point towards the kitchen. He gulps and nods, following your lead.

Crowds just seem to naturally part for you, and your presence is met with hellos and other greetings. You smile, and acknowledge each person who acknowledges you and you just make it look so effortless. He trails behind you closely, trying hard to not stare. You push open the back screen door, and there’s a small back porch. You’ve clearly been here before. He wonders what has brought you back here. A fight, a messy breakup, just needing air, or maybe it’s the stress you must feel being so obligated to make appearances. Either way, it’s a special place, and he’s so honored you’re sharing it with him.

“Much better,” you note, the sounds of the party muffled. “So you liked it?”

“Y-yeah,” he fumbles trying to take the copy out of his coat. He somehow manages to hand it over to you. “I uh, thought you’d want to look through my notes.”

“Cool,” you smile, “Definitely. Thanks.” You tuck it under your armpit, opting to give him your full attention. “What was your favorite part? Ah, none of my other friends are readers and I’m desperate to talk to someone about it!”

His brain short circuits when you say the words ‘I’m desperate’ out loud and he pretends to clear his throat. You also said ‘my other friends’ which clearly implies Eddie is a friend. That’s it? That’s okay, he tells himself. Good girls like you go slow, and he knows that you’re worth it.

“I really loved- uh, I underlined it,” he begins, and gestures to the book. You hand it over and he mumbles a small thanks, pushing his glasses up. He flips through the tabbed pages, and searches until he finds the right page.

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

He looks up, and the way you are looking at him has him convinced you know. You know that quote pulled every single thought that he ever thought of you and put it there in black and white. The way he feels the tension between the two of you rise as a silent lull clouds gently over the two of you- like you’re the only two people here. Every painful reminder of the false memories he conjures feels like they are slipping away, and his mind is ready to make tangible ones with you- memories he can feel, and experience with all his senses.

“That’s one of my favorite passages too,” you muse, and he nods. He’s sure his face is as pink as your top that he’s just noticed how it fits so snugly around your chest just oh so perfectly- fuck are you even wearing a bra?

“Yea- uh..” before he’s able to even respond, the screen door creaks open and someone calls out your name. The interruption seems to startle you both slightly.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the guy says poking his head out. Muscular, tall, backwards hat and a tank top with arm holes that almost reach the waist of his… ah, camo cargo shorts. Seriously, sweetheart, where do you even find these people? Oh, a mouth breather as well…

“No it’s okay, Chris, um,” you force a smile, and take a step back from him. Your attention now focused on the frat boy who looks like he’s trying his hardest to spark a thought by rubbing his two final brain cells together. “This is Eddie,” you say, introducing him, “We’re in a class together. We were just talking about a book we both read.” He purses his lips together and forces a closed lip smile toward this other person.

“Eddie, this is my boyfriend Chris.”

Boyfriend.

The large doofus has the audacity to just jerk his chin upwards as some form of acknowledging Edward’s existence, before he steps out onto the porch to press a kiss to your lips, and Edward feels like his entire world is just going to collapse in on himself at any moment.

How could you have a boyfriend? You made no attempt to see him these past weeks, or Edward would have seen. How could this major fucking road block not have reared it’s ugly head until now? You have a boyfriend, and it’s not looking like he’s going anywhere the way he’s snaking his arms around you from behind. You wiggle out of his grasp, not comfortable with the PDA which he can appreciate at least.

“Nice to meet you,” he manages to stutter out before sliding the book back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m gonna be heading out soon anyways so-”

“It’s so early though!” you pout, “It’s too bad, but we’ll hook up at the next one, yeah?”

You have no idea how you’re able to take his breath away. It gets lodged in the back of his throat and he feels his cheeks redden. He knows what you mean, nothing sexual or physical by any means, but fuck- he could swear you do this on purpose. Your little innocent phrases with double meanings, and your suggestive stares, and just how fucking sweet you are.

“Y-eah, f-for sure,” he blushes, making his leave heading down the back stairs. He cuts across the back yard to his dorm building to call it a night.

You’re right that it was early, but there was no point in sticking around that cesspool of a house if you were just going to be tongue tied with that fucking guy for the rest of the night. He’d rather not see that. He needs to devise a new plan. A way for you to realize you’re wasting your time with this loser, and to realize that your Eddie has been there this whole time- patient and just ready to worship you if you only let him.

#edward nashton #Edward Nashton x reader #the Batman riddler #paul dano characters #Edward Nashton x reader smut #the riddler x reader smut #Edward Nashton x f!reader #tw: stalking #tw: dark fic #ed nashton #Ed Nashton x reader #Paul dano riddler #Paul dano riddler x reader #college au #reader insert

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babybluebex · 2 years

Note

Eddie trys to tutor you as you are struggling with a uni paper?

oh wow i heavy relate to this, also COLLEGE EDDIE MY LOVE

Knock, knock, knock. Even as you knocked on his door, you realized how stupid the decision was. He was just a guy in your literature lecture, and, if you remembered correctly from the first day of term, where the professor went around the room and made everyone introduce themselves and their majors, he was an accounting major. He likely was only taking this course as general education course, just something to fulfill his degree requirements. Why were you knocking on his door for help with the paper?

Before you had much more time to beat yourself up over it, the dorm room door opened a little to show the guy you knew as Edward Nashton. You had never been right up next to him— he sat towards the back of the lecture hall and never raised his hand or spoke— but the way he towered over you made your mouth go dry. His hair was long, brushing at his shoulders, and he wore a pair of wire-framed glasses with thick lenses. He was handsome up close, with his little freckles and the pink pout of his lips, and he stared at you for a second before he blinked, his owlish eyes popping like a flashbulb. His eyes were green.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

You were just standing silent in his doorway, staring at him, after all. "Sorry, yeah," you said quickly, clearing your throat. "Um, you're in Dr. Frank's World Lit class, right? Like, Lit 110 or whatever?"

Edward nodded. "You are too," he told you. "I remember you. You've always got something to say."

You shrugged, a little put out that he seemed to be insulting you. Maybe he was secretly a huge asshole and it was a blessing in disguise that he never spoke. "Yeah," you mumbled. "Do you... Um, have you started the paper?"

Edward nodded again. "Finished it," he said in a clipped voice. "Why?"

"I'm just struggling with it a bit," you said, and felt your face go all hot with shame. "I just, uh, need someone to use as a sounding board, y'know? I tried my roommate, but she's not in the class so she doesn't really get it, a-and it would be a huge help if you just... I don't know, listened to my idea? Tell me if it's terrible or whatever."

Edward seemed to take a second to consider the offer, smoothing his hand up the door jamb. "I didn't mean that as a bad thing," he said. "Like, the whole 'you've always got something to say'. That wasn't a dig. You've always got something good to say."

"Thanks," you said. "So you'll help?"

"Sure," Edward said, and he disappeared behind his door for a moment before returning, now holding his keys. "As long as you've got something good to say."

It felt weird to have Edward sitting at your desk. Your room was usually your safe space and, besides your roommate occasionally, nobody ever came in there. It felt odd to have someone else occupy your space, let alone someone you knew so little about. You weren't even sure if Nashton was his last name.

"Okay, so I was thinking," you started. "Since we read Hamlet for so long, that I'd talk about the role of the supernatural in it. Like, the ghost of the king and everything, really talk about him."

"Sounds good," Edward said, picking at a thread on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "It's a good start."

"Start?" you echoed. "No, that's it. Just... Talk about the ghost and how he moves Hamlet forward."

"But that's not all he does," Edward told you. "The ghost is there to advance the plot, yeah, but he's also there to, like, showcase the sadness in the play and tell us where Hamlet's morals lie."

You frowned and folded your legs up underneath yourself on your bed. "Hamlet doesn't have morals," you said.

"Yeah, he does," Edward argued. "They're loose and they're not our morals, but he does have them. Like, um, what is it he says about the serpent that stung his father wears his crown now or whatever? It's telling us what Hamlet thinks of Claudius: he hates him, and he thinks that everything Claudius does is bad."

There was something attractive about the way that Edward seemed ti puff up as he explained everything to you. He seemed to grow in size, asserting himself and his words and making himself important. You kinda liked it. You liked what he was saying a lot more, though, and you quickly tapped it into your computer.

"And the sadness?" you asked.

Edward shrugged and pushed his glasses up his thin nose with a single finger. "What do you think?" he asked. "It's your paper, after all."

You sat and stewed on his question for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what your opinions were, and you finally said, "Yeah, it's sad. If my dad died and haunted me, I'd be pretty upset. Wouldn't you?"

"I guess," Edward said, and he suddenly seemed to put his walls back up in an instant. His puffed chest seemed to disappear back into his body, and he fiddled with his glasses again. "I didn't know my dad too well."

"Oh, shit," you mumbled. "I'm sorry. Did he—"

"I don't like talking about it," Edward said quickly. "But, I guess, yeah, if my dad came and haunted me or whatever, I'd be sad. And probably pissed too."

"Sorry," you uttered softly. "I, um... Yeah. Hamlet's dad haunting him is really sad, and it's sad how we just kinda accept it. Like, this is really tragic and we just don't ask questions. What does that say about us?"

Edward shrugged. "What does it say?" he asked.

You couldn't help but think about your snafu and how you had obviously upset Edward, and you closed your laptop slowly. "Thanks for your help," you said. "I appreciate it. I, um... I'm sorry about your dad."

"It was a long time ago," Edward told you with a heavy sigh. "I was a baby. I don't... I don't think I know his name, even. But whatever. There's really nothing to be sorry about, there's no condolences to give or whatever."

"And your mom?"

"Car accident," Edward said. "Took 'em both. I grew up in an orphanage. It was... Not good. Gotham could definitely afford to spare a little money towards the Wayne's orphanage... So, yeah, if my parents decided to haunt me or whatever, I'd be pretty weirded out about it. Not as weird as Hamlet—" he paused to laugh, a high-pitched sort of half-giggle, like he was really trying to laugh. "But, yeah. Whatever."

"That's not whatever, Ed," you said, and he popped his flashbulb eyes at you. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say, that's awful."

"That's why I don't like talking about it," Edward said. "People always try to say something. What do you say to that anyway? 'Sorry for your loss'? How can you lose something you never really had?"

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly. "I won't say anything then. Forget I started that conversation. Thanks for your help on the paper, by the way."

"Anytime," Edward shrugged. He stood up, obviously done and ready to go, but he hesitated as he palmed his keychain. "Um. Feel free to say no, I won't be surprised if you did. But... do you wanna grab some coffee or something? Sometime, before lecture?"

You couldn't help but smile, and you shifted off your bed to stand closer to him. "Sure," you said, and you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek before you could think better of it. Edward smiled then, a real smile, and you could see the flush in his cheek radiate from where you had kissed him. "I'd love to."

#college!edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #bex answers #hollyisaberry #paul dano #paul dano x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #edward nashton fluff

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cl3fairyyy · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗

summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.

warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!

word count // 4.5k

notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe

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Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues.

His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine.

But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.

Edward is lonely.

His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs.

He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with-

He pauses.

The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword.

The routine is disrupted.

His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections.

The routine is disrupted.

"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.

Back to the routine.

After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job.

To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that.

For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?

The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.

"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice."

She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk."

You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone.

She smiles sympathetically at you.

"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you."

She snorts at your expression and continues.

"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?"

You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat.

"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway."

All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk.

You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.

"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."

Silence.

You giggle nervously.

"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you."

You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second.

Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so.

"Likewise."

With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink.

Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink.

He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction.

He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day.

The routine continues, and he is happy with that.

The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action.

Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.

He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him.

When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton.

But he can't.

He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment.

When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you.

Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon.

Oh no.

Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you.

You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously?

But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.

Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.

He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.

He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time.

Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you.

All of your coworkers, except one.

The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you.

You certainly like him.

You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent.

You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).

It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you.

You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you.

You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!"

You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor.

"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday."

Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!"

His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..."

You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried.

Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.

The routine is disrupted.

The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave.

You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.

You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell.

You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..."

You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great.

"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you."

He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win.

Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away.

You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross."

It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him.

This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead.

You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection.

Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk.

"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to."

You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are."

Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him.

"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?"

Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker.

"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early."

He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly.

"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.

You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink.

"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice."

You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."

After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate.

"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-"

You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music.

You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?"

Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever.

He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps.

Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him.

"Want a hand?"

You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm.

Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you.

It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette.

The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly.

"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to."

He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt."

You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise."

Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows.

"You mean, like a date?"

The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm looking forward to it."

With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago.

The routine is disrupted.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danonation #danocel #the batman 2022 #the riddler

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writingsofmax · 10 months

Note

Hiya! Please may I request a fic where Edward Nashton (either College Edward Nashton or Reader works in the Diner in “The Batman” time period) where Edward finds out the reader has been drawing him sat behind a book or a laptop, or writing something down or even walking around etc?

I may be guilty to drawing Edward Nashton at College/Uni and sat at The Diner (you know the one.)

Anyway, Thank You for letting me request!

Thanks again, Anon x

Artist at the Diner: Edward x GN Reader

Don’t be paranoid, Edward thought to himself.

He had noticed you for awhile. Normally he was too engaged with his work to notice anyone inside the Diner with him. He was always watching out the windows, seeing who was coming or going from the Iceberg Lounge, and writing all of his findings down dutifully in his notebook.

Today though, he had a feeling he couldn’t shake. The feeling that someone was watching him. It crept up his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, sending a shiver through his body. And then he saw you.

Of course when he finally caught you looking at him, you averted your gaze immediately. All the more suspicious.

Don’t be paranoid, he kept thinking, you’ve been more than careful to cover your tracks. They think they’re untouchable but I actually am.

But as he caught you glancing up at him more and more, it was unmistakeable. You were watching him. On purpose.

Why? The question echoed through his mind, as he thought of every possibility. He had been found out. It was one of Falcone’s lackeys trailing him. No, perhaps one of his own followers? Was it someone associated with the Batman? Had he finally been noticed?

Just then, you got up and went to the restroom. He waited until the swinging door closed behind you and then got up, adrenaline coursing through his body. He gathered his things and quickly shoved them into his messenger bag. If someone had found out his identity, he needed to leave now. Find a way to do damage control.

After he had gathered his things, he noted that you left a notebook open on your table, as well as a laptop. That was a good first start to figuring out who you could possibly be. Once he got to your table he dropped his pen, bending down to pick it up. As he leaned over he looked at your notebook, written down in it was———

Sketches..?

Filling the page was multiple sketches of him at the dinner. A side profile of his face, a study of him sipping his coffee. A detail close up of his jacket.

Oh, Edward thought, feeling a bit foolish now, they were just drawing me. That’s why they were looking.

But why had you been drawing him? There weren’t drawings of anyone else on the page. He felt oddly embarrassed about it. Shy.

“Hello..?” Came a voice from behind him. He turned and there you were, looking slightly embarrassed yourself.

“I guess I wasn’t sneaky as I thought,” you admitted, a small smile on your face. “I try not to stare at people when I sketch them but sometimes they definitely notice…”

“Oh it’s okay…” Edward reassured, trying not to give away the fact that you had almost sent him into a full blown panic attack earlier. “Um. These are good.” He commented, not knowing what else to say.

You beamed at the compliment, “Thank you! You were fun to draw, but I couldn’t get your jacket quite right. I really like it though.”

Edward didn’t say anything to this either. Was this a trap? People didn’t just talk to him like this, let alone so kindly.

“Would you like to sit with me?” you offered.

Well. There was an opening to finding out your intentions.

“Um. Sure,” Edward answered.

#danonation #dano!riddler #danocel #the riddler #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #edward nashton x GN reader #gender nuetral reader

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the-odd-devil · 10 months

Text

The Sky Is Dark, But I See You : Chapter 2

Edward Nashton x f!reader Dark Academia College AU

Summary : Edward Nashton is horny. Eddie POV from chapter 1.

It just takes for you to smile at Edward Nashton once to make him obsessed with you.

Word Count : 3 297

Warnings : Didn't think it would be like that, but chapter 2 and there's already a lot of smut oops. 🙈

masturbation, semi public masturbation, obsessive behavior, kind of stalker-ish?, humilation, mention or oral (m! recieving), slight voyeurism.

Tell me if I forgot any! Thanks <3

Author's Note : Finally chapter 2! Woop woop! A lot more porn than I thought, but I wouldn't want it any other way.😌 I hope you'll like it! I had a lot of fun with it!

A big BIG thank you to @always-andromeda for proof reading, it's always an amazing experience and it helps me a lot with my english!

Chapter II : Who Is She

He’ll forever remember the first time he saw you. It was one of those moments that felt out of time and space where every detail is clear and stays in your retina, leaving an indelible print of the scene in your brain. Time slowed down. You were the only bright and colorful aura in the dark hallway that leads to his coding in Python class. He could pin every color that made you, a beautiful and saintly painting in his mind. He saw you because you saw him, eyes burning his; burning his whole being. He felt seen for the first time when you laid your eyes on him, a soft, caring look that had never been given to him before.

He doesn’t know how he deserved that pure gaze from a beautiful creature, warming his heart underneath his clothes, cold and wet from the shitty Gotham weather. Soon, the light warming burned him, it was too much for poor Edward, not even used to the smallest attention directed towards him. He looked down. Oh, he regretted it immediately. He wanted more. That feeling would not leave him. It consumed his thoughts; ate at his brain. He wanted more, more, more.

Other students had already judged him on his looks and were avoiding him as much as they could. His reputation wouldn’t survive a stained crotch. In a clumsy and swift move, he finally let himself free and came in his hand after a few strokes, breathy moans that he tried to keep low as he was finally aware of the situation.

Head low, he accelerated his pace. So overwhelmed that tears started to form in his eyes and his breath quickened. The butterflies in his stomach began to make him nauseous. By the next turn of the hallway where he was sure you couldn’t see him, he ran to the closest bathroom. He felt the other students watching him and knew how pathetic he looked: cheeks red, forehead sweaty, tears falling down his face while he tried to make his tall figure as petite as possible. The shame was growing as he could feel himself getting hard, the memory of your eyes on him, the warmth that this pretty girl he didn’t even know the name of gave him, mixed with the humiliation of the situation was too much for him.

He was painfully hard when he finally locked himself in the bathroom. He let his tears fall from his eyes and whiny moans fell from his lips as he threw his head back to the wall. He was a fucking mess, the shame being washed down by how horny he was. Slowly catching his breath, he was trying to calm down, each exhalation coming out as a whine or a moan. The only thought left in his head was the hope that no one else was in that bathroom or, at least, didn’t see him enter.

His attempts to calm down were in vain. His hand found its way to lightly stroking himself over his pants, removed from what his consciousness was screaming at him. He soon was rutting on his hand, hips losing their will too. He was starting to get close, too close. A moan, louder than the previous, woke him up as he was on the edge. His pants weren’t stained yet. Even if everyone must’ve been in class by now, he didn’t wanna risk walking to his dorm room with a stain on his pants.

Mind clearer after his release, he was finally able to calm down and catch his breath. After putting his pants back on, he went to face the mirror, trying to fix his state. He looked like an even bigger mess, hair pointing every direction, oval glasses slightly crooked on his head, marks of his tears all over his cheeks, and a rest of drool at the corner of his lips. His clothes were no better, sweater, shirt and trousers wrinkled and out of position. He avoided his reflection, unable to stand how pathetic he looked.

He quickly made himself presentable, splashing his face with water to cool down and wipe off the mess before repositioning his clothes. He checked in the mirror that he looked ok. He hated his image – as always – but he didn’t look as though he’d just jerked off in a college bathroom after a girl looked at him with a little bit of sympathy. What time was it? Maybe he could still go to his Python class.

Were you doing it on purpose? He was really starting to consider this hypothesis. Because he was seeing you way too often. He felt like he was going crazy. And he was. Maybe he wanted you to be following him. Maybe he was starting to hallucinate visions of you in the hallways multiple times a day. You were becoming a difficulty, a problem. Graduating was his only way out from the misery he was predestined to. Widely opening its arms, the depths of hell waited for him.

You were distracting him, but he’s addicted. His whole body heated up every time he felt your presence, he was feeling hot, too hot. He felt like his brain was overheating and that his dick was trying to take control while hardening in his pants.

He had some more active periods than others, skirts of girls flying through the wind, the first time he saw a girl in her underwear after entering a room without knocking, when he first discovered porn, when he hid to watch a boy of his dorm jerking off, when he observed a couple having sex in one of the orphanage's rooms. He knew deep down that he was a pervert. But at least he could function, preparing himself for greater causes. Somehow, you were different. You noticed him, and that changed everything.

Most of the time he succeeded at controlling himself; not looking at you, praying that he wouldn’t smell your perfume today. He knew he looked like an idiot, face all red and looking at the ground; he could hear the other students laughing at him, he looked pathetic. Did you find him pathetic? Did you like it? On those days he was just a couple of minutes late, catching his breath at the next corner where you couldn’t see him anymore.

On other days – the unfortunate ones – days when he couldn’t control himself, days when his brain was boiled and only his erection was able to take commands, he missed a class. Too busy releasing himself in some toilet paper in a dim bathroom, hand on his mouth trying to muffle his moans.

Edward hadn’t been a compulsive masturbator before you. He did what he had to do in some unsanitary bathroom at the orphanage where he could be alone for a few minutes, hoping that nobody would notice he was gone. And of course nobody ever noticed.

He was scared to look up from his paper and meet your gaze. He was scared of what he’d see, unsure of your intentions, unsure of his body. His body that was already betraying him, cold sweats and unbearable heat, he knew his face was red. Oh, you must be delighted. He thought that if he succeeded in controlling his breath until you went away, everything would be fine. Just 3 hours maximum, the library would be closed by then, and he’d be able to go back to his dorm room.

He certainly wished you hadn’t noticed him this day, sitting across from him at the library. You’re doing it on purpose, you're clearly doing it on purpose. There were dozens and dozens of unoccupied seats all over the library, and you’re sitting in front of him. His brain hurt. Why were you doing that? What did he do? Did you want to make fun of him? To ridicule him in front of everyone? He could feel tears forming in his eyes, too many thoughts and emotions going through his brain.

But he should know that he wasn’t this lucky. Was it curiosity? Was it to know if you were looking? Was it a deep desire? Intrusive thoughts? He looked up and met your gaze. It instantly lit up, happy to have finally caught the attention that you were looking for. You gave him your prettiest smile. His eyes opening wide, he could feel his whole body going into shock. His blood ran cold but his skin felt like it was bubbling and boiling. He let out the most pathetic whine and it woke him up from his paralyzed state. He tried to hide by looking down at his paper.

His eyes were burning, unable to close as he stared blankly at his paper. His senses seemed to disappear to be contained in his body; he couldn’t hear, see, smell, feel or taste anything. But he felt like he was going to explode. An orgasm ready to be released at any instant. Pleasure, both contained and denied, burned through him.

Time passed and he didn’t even feel that. The next thing he remembered was the librarian waking him from his trance to tell him that they were about to close. She asked him, concern in her voice, if everything was ok. He blinked, feeling cold tears on his burned cheeks and his already wet underwear.

“Ye-yes…thank you…”

The walk to his dorm was painful to say the least. The friction of his pants on his hard cock made it difficult to walk without looking like a creep, even more so that, being as vocal as he is, he had to bite his lips and cheeks to not moan at each step. He was very glad that it was pitch dark outside and that the students he ran into were far enough away that they didn’t notice him.

She left with a confused expression.

Finally coming back into his own body, he looked down at his crotch in panic. Ok, no wet spot on his pants, but he was painfully hard. He was hoping that holding his coat in front of him in the dark would be enough.

His roommate Ryan was studying at their dorm that night. It was the reason why Eddie went to study in the library in the first place.

He wished he’d noticed when you went away so that he would have been able to “use” the library bathroom. Everything was closed this late. He had no choice but to go back to his dorm room.

And the most difficult part was still to come.

Ryan was a nice guy; smart, handsome, popular, and good at school. Eddie couldn’t bear being close to him, his presence only making him feel worthless. He had to adapt his schedule to his, minimizing the time they had to share the room. It was an inconvenience, but still better than having to talk to Ryan.

The walk to his room was better than expected. For once he was thankful for his ability to be forgotten. In front of his door, he prayed that Ryan was sleeping or went away for a snack or to meet one of his numerous friends. The light underneath the door was telling him otherwise.

He was nice to Eddie, which he initially thought would be a good thing. But every time he talked to him it just felt condescending, as if Eddie was lower than him. He knew Ryan saw him as a creep, just like everybody else, but he was too nice to treat him like one. And tonight would not help that reputation.

Hopeful, he put his ear on the wood. Shit, he’s there. Eddie took a deep breath and decided that the best option he had was to run to the bathroom, keeping his coat in front of him, hoping that no questions would be asked.

He opened and closed the door quickly and silently and started to head to the bathroom, his head low and face still red. Ryan caught him immediately and was his usual self, trying to engage in conversation with Eddie.

“Eddieboy! Hi!”

“Yeah… Yeah! I… um… I had a bit of a migraine at the library… I just need to take a shower…”

His upbeat tone made Eddie jump. He looked up at Ryan like a scared puppy who had just peed on the carpet. His forced smile began to be replaced by an interrogative expression seeing the nerd’s red face and eyes.

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh, ok! Have fun in the shower!”

He was used to Ryan saying that every time he took a shower. But this time, it made Eddie jump again, feeling like Ryan somehow knew what he was about to do. It made Ryan embarrassed of the double meaning of his sentence.

“Oh… um… thanks man…”

“I mean! Um, yeah… you deserve a good shower…”

How Eddie was capable of turning a simple, single word conversation into a living hell was a curse that he had to live with.

He ran into the bathroom and closed the door without looking at him.

Alone in the bathroom, he could finally breathe. His breath came out more as a low moan that immediately triggered his fight or flight response, scared that Ryan had heard him. He stopped for a few seconds, paralyzed. Then he heard Ryan turn on the radio. Good.

He finally calmed down, letting his coat fall on the floor and soon his other clothes followed. The hot water felt like a pause. A pause from Gotham’s cold rain, from the students cold gaze. But soon he felt too hot, seeing you again in his mind, beautiful you who smiled at him. His soft dick was hardening again at the thought of your smile. But this time he had no reservations about letting his imagination and his hands do what they wanted freely.

He needed it so bad. He needed to touch himself while thinking of your pretty lips so badly. In his wildest dreams, he wasn't shy and creepy Edweird. He was charming and dominant, capable of getting up from his chair and flirting with you. Smiling back, winking, sharing a look that said "you and me, in the bathroom, right now.” Your knees on the tiles of the library bathroom, you would suck him off, without even having to share a word. He would grab a handful of your hair and guide you, whispering soft praise of how good you were sucking his dick. Such a good girl, who knew just what she had to do. He came in breathy moans that he was succeeding to keep low enough so that the water and the radio were covering them.

He didn't know how long he stayed in the shower; he still hadn't cleaned himself and the water was starting to get cold. It was late and he had to wake up early tomorrow. He washed himself quickly, put on a towel, and got out his PJs. Good thing that Ryan was already sleeping, he didn't want to have to pretend to be happy that his roommate was kind enough to talk to him. PJs on, mind and dick empty, he drifted off to an unusually calm and relaxing sleep.

Eddie's heavenly hell had just begun. It seemed that you knew what you did to him and really liked it, continuing to flash him your prettiest smiles. It was becoming difficult to concentrate since he saw you at least once a day. When you didn't notice him, he couldn't help but hide and drink up your image. His brain didn’t even register that other students could see him spying on you. He couldn't care, too busy remembering every little detail of you. Every curve, every freckle, every wrinkle when you smiled, how your outfits always matched. He was addicted, you were consuming all of his brain.

You were making a mess out of him. He couldn't even count the number of times he made a fool out of himself after you flashed him a smile. Every time your smile hit him it was like an electric shock in his body made him lose control, his whole body so hot that his glasses started to fog, mind incapable of recording his surroundings. His brain was too absent to tell him he should be careful to not look creepy, his dick having taken full control. He was starting to struggle studying with you appearing in his mind every time he was trying to concentrate, his brain too dependent on you.

He was using every break and every bathroom he could to jerk off. He thought that if he masturbated often enough, he'd get bored of it. That it wouldn’t be as exciting as before. He was very wrong. He had to bite his hand every time to silence the dirty moans that escaped his mouth and dry off his tears with toilet paper before going to the communal sinks to properly wash his face and hands.

He couldn't escape you and, truly, he didn't want to. He drank a lot of coffee before, but now he was certainly developing a severe caffeine addiction, spending all of his time sitting at a table that got the best view of you while you were on your shift. During those afternoons, he could feel himself going insane watching you from afar. You, waving and smiling at him and the little hearts you drew on his tickets and cups. He kept every single one of them in a box under his bed.

All of that plus the clearly unhealthy amount of caffeine in his system and he was left rock hard and shaking when he had to go back to his dorm. He was thanking every God he could think of when Ryan was not here after that afternoon's numerous coffees. Finally he was able to jerk off somewhere else other than in a bathroom. On those evening he fucked his pillows like a mad man, covered in sweat and drooling. He had to buy himself more pillow cases.

His grades were suffering from the torment you put him through. He really had to do something, anything. He would not let Gotham ruin him. You, on the other hand…

He thought of a lot of solutions, some better than others, some more possible than others, some even sinister. His favorite scenario would be to do to you everything he dreamed of. But his brain, even if capable of resolving the most complicated puzzles, couldn't find a solution for him to make the first move. He just knew it would be a terrible idea, even if he succeeded in formulating some words, he was too scared of how his body would react.

His train of thought stops when someone knocks at the door, interrupting his professor. The loud noise makes him jump, but seeing you at the door makes his heart stop. You are taking the same class??? Oh my god you are taking the same class… He starts to panic as an evil smile appears on your face when you notice him too. He plunges his head in his paper, trying to disappear. He knows he is already bright red, but he couldn't help but flash some looks at you while you go to your table.

His mind is running a thousand miles per hour, somewhere between panic and screaming, "THIS IS YOUR CHANCE, DO SOMETHING!" He doesn't even notice the professor talking about a group project until the paper for duos comes to his table. He figures that he will, once again, have to do the work of two alone, He assumes that, too panicked to react, he lost the chance he could’ve had to be paired with you. Wait…

Tag list : @generouspour ; @unholybabyface

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marvelmaniac2000 · 1 year

Text

The Riddler - (Edward x Reader) 💚 Ch.1

Summary: Edward can’t help seeing you struggle with your day to day life, if only there was a way to make it more tolerable.

Subject: Deep! meaningful fluff, eventually will turn into smuts in upcoming chapters, desperation, submissive kink, savior kink, Being pampered/babied kink, stalking, minor depression,

MATURE 18+/ MISPELLING GRAMMAR APOLOGIES

Words: 1.4k

Characters: Edward Nashton x Reader (college fem! reader)

Ch. 2 3

_______________________________________________________

**** (Side notes) ****

Mannn I miss writing so much but coming up with something can be hard. Either way I think the riddler is such a guilty pleasure. He’s technically the perfect obsessive bf.

Will I ever catch a break? You listened to your alarm echo above your ear, reminding you of the vague world that you must come to terms with. Much of your back seemed a bit sore from the night before serving many customers at the cafe. You slowly rolled out of bed and turned your cheap fan off that cooled your room. Almost all of your hair stuck to your neck and face from the sticky temperature throughout the night.

You examine your face in the bathroom mirror before turning on the shower. Much of your problems and responsibilities come pouring into your mind to remind you of what needs to be done before you leave your mom’s house for the day.

Ugh.

Being the age that you are didn’t make sense to why you still lived with your mother and was working multiple jobs to pay your bills. Between trying to find a career, working and life it seemed impossible to obtain. Who knew adulting was so hard...

The steam from the hot shower hugged your skin. You grin in envy looking at your selection of body washes and shampoos you love buying. The body wash you choose for the day smelled like pure coconut and vanilla bean cream. You enjoy the moment of complete serenity washing over you.

After then, you finish showering and getting ready for your shift. You handle the morning routine of tidying up the kitchen before heading out the door. If I lived in my own place I wouldn't have to worry about any of that crap unless I wanted to. Some days weren’t meant to have routine (That’s what Edward told me anyway) and since then your life became a little bit more tolerable.

You start making your way to your local cafe to start your shift for the day. You’ve worked here for quite some time and couldn’t believe how much time has passed by. The glass door is stained by small hand prints and plastered posters of today’s specials. You walk in with a deep breath ready to tackle the day ahead.

Edward was your favorite customer, he reminded you of the sweet nerdy boys that always gave the girls the love and respect they needed. Sometimes in the morning he liked walking past the cafe just to see you before he went to his own job. He knew your schedule by heart but he didn’t suspect you to be working for the seventh day straight. No human being should ever work so many hours. It would take such a toll on his lovely girl. So this time he made it his mission to come see you to fix whatever was going on in your life.

Edward quietly walked toward the counter and pushed the rim of his glasses up before meeting your gaze. “ Oh I see you working again huh?” you turned the oven on behind you and adjusted the tip jar on top of the counter. You gave out a huge sigh and turned to face your customer you loved dearly. “Yeah I might as well right? Time stops for no one” you looked at how adorable he was in front of you. From his baggy plaid jacket and big puppy brown eyes.

The sunlight had not hit the sky just yet and only you and him were in this empty store. You felt so tired and exhausted but seeing him for some reason created this bond like no other.

“(Y/N) are you okay?” He gently leaned his arms against the counter. The bags under your eyes showed a different story but you weren’t going to tell him that. You didn’t want to be some pity party to a man you barely knew. You didn’t respond and instead gave him a free cookie and his usual coffee. Eddie furrowed his brows and watched you walk around the counter toward him. “I promise I’m okay Eddie but I need to ask you a favor” your voice became a little low when it came to confrontation.

Edward hardly had conversations like this before with you but he knew how much he truly loved you. He already knew what your life was like and anticipated the very thing you yearned to have. Independence. His mind raced thinking of you living together, watching your every move and being able to caress your body at night knowing you belong to him. But he couldn’t do that yet with you. You were just a potential roommate but to him you meant much more. Edward’s face grew flush realizing the perverse things he couldn’t wait to do to you. But more than anything he can finally have you to himself. And no one else.

“I’m all ears” he composed himself ready to hear his love bun ask the very question.

“Have you ever considered a roommate?” you dig your eyes searching for an answer.

“I never had one but if you need somewhere to stay I would be happy to live with you” Edward knew he was such a manipulator but he didn’t care. Whatever it takes to keep you near was the very thing he lived for. How can anyone deny those luscious eyes, and soft face you greeted him with everyday? Nothing will compare to how you made him feel.

You beamed with excitement knowing this was your chance to finally gain some momentum into your adult life.

“Are you being forreal? Are you sure? I don’t want to force it ya know?” you began to ramble on until Edward cupped your soft cheeks into his hands.

“(Y/N) it’s okay, for now on I will be the one to take care of you” Edward felt something inside himself sparked a fury of determination knowing he would always be the one to protect you and be there for you. Your eyelashes flutter realizing how close your mouth was to his.

Edward retracted his hands back realizing what he had done. “Sorry I didn’t mean to invade your privacy-” “Noo please don’t apologize please” you desperately wanted him to touch you back more. You never experienced what it was like to have someone who actually liked you show such affection. You caressed his rosy red cheek and softly laid your lips onto his. Edward eagerly kissed you back wanting to taste every part of your mouth.

You break the kiss and awkwardly look the other way. “Let me give you my phone number and then we can start from there right?” Edward took his phone out and handed it over to you.

You added your phone number with an emoji next to it. “I’ll text you and then we can start from there right?” Edward realized the time on his phone but didn’t want to part ways with you yet.

You stood there in awe with your hands tucked in your apron. “Yeah okay” you gently reassured him. How could someone be so innocent, and pure toward you. You wanted this feeling to last, but how could you? Something like this will never last forever you thought. “I’ll be back to come see you.. uh at what time do you get off?” Edward needed to know every detail, he wanted this move to be perfect. He wanted nothing to go wrong. “Seven. I should be done” you gave him a smile and returned to your work. He tucked his hands in his sleeve, left the door and disappeared into the working crowd.

A few moments later your foot crinkled on a piece of paper

“Wha..-” you squinted down and look at a note slipped wedged between the doorway to the kitchen.

BE CAREFUL. LOVE IS ALWAYS BLIND.

You quiver just a bit but not enough to startle you. No this isn’t real. You look up and immediately crumple up the piece of paper. that batman some freak recently has been going around Gotham sticking his nose in people’s business. Well lucky enough for you, you could care less. You toss the paper in the garbage and continue on your day.

please! leave any feedback/likes/comments <3 Thanks to anyone who supports us lil fanfic writers. we do it for yall!

to be continued soon!

#the batman #the riddler #bruce wayne #riddler fanfic #riddler smut #riddler x reader #edward naston #edward naston smut #edward naston x reader #writng #love story #fanfic #dc universe #edward naston fanfic #paul dano #paul dano fanfic #paul dano x reader #paul dano smut #ao3

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riddlerscumshot · 2 years

Text

Happy to Help pt. 2

NSFW!

words: 2,387

contains: incel edward, handjob, oral, praise

pairing: Edward Nashton x reader (technically reader is meant to be gender neutral but afab genitalia is described)

When you told Edward that you got a job working evenings at the local grocery store, he had to mask his disappointment. The two of you had fallen into a routine. When he got home from work, he would change out of his work clothes and into something more comfortable and come over to your apartment for dinner. Usually he brought some ingredients or a bottle of wine. For the past week and a half you two had been the best of friends.

Edward didn't want you spending the time you used to spend with him at some shitty job. And he was especially worried about your safety. Were you really prepared to be out in Gotham that late at night? He knew you had a car, sure, but you could still get hurt, or worse, on your way to and from said vehicle. You had smiled when you told him, which let him know that you were excited about the opportunity, so he tried his best to be excited for you.

"Congratulations, really, this is exciting," he said to you and you smiled at him.

"Thank you! I'm just working the express lane for now, until I get used to everything, but I'm ready to start. God knows I'll be needing the money soon. Having almost three weeks of no work has been nice, but I'm burning through my savings like crazy."

"If you need help with anything, you can always ask me," Edward said, trying to be kind. You blushed and looked at your lap.

"Eddie, I can't take your money. Besides, I'll be fine. I start working tomorrow and I get paid weekly, so I'll have no shortage of cash," you assured him. Edward poked at his food with his chopsticks. Tonight the both of you had decided to order chinese for dinner. Edward had gotten sweet and sour chicken and you ordered the sesame tofu.

"Just... just don't be afraid to tell me if you ever need anything at all. Not just money."

"Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate it."

The two of you finished eating and packed up the leftovers, sticking them in the fridge for later.

"So, is it a game night or a movie night?" Edward asked. When Edward started to come around regularly, you picked up a few board and card games for you guys to try.

"Hmm," you thought for a second before getting a lovely idea. "How about a game. A drinking game," you said with a grin.

"A drinking game? Wh-- which one?"

"Never have I ever?"

"I don't know how to play..." Edward looked at his feet in embarrassment. It became clear in that moment that you were going to get drunk much faster than him.

"We each take turns saying something we have never done before. You start it off by saying the phrase 'never have i ever' and then stating what you've never done. If the other person has done said action, they have to take a drink," you explained.

"Okay, okay, I think I get it."

"Wonderful! So, what are we drinking tonight? Oh! I have everything I'd need for mai tais!"

Edward had never heard of that drink, but he just nodded and said, "Sounds lovely."

Once you finished making the drinks, the two of you sat on your couch, ready to play.

"How about I start?" You suggested and Edward nodded. "Hmm... never have I ever tried drops." You stared at Edward for a moment and watched as he didn't move a muscle. "Okay then, your turn!"

"Uhh... never have I ever... gone cliff diving."

You didn't move.

"Okay. Never have I ever... gone to a college party."

Edward took a drink.

"Look at you!"

"I didn't stay very long. My roommate at the time invited me, but he left my side almost immediately," Edward said. "I'm surprised you've never been to one."

"Well, I never went to college, so I didn't have very many opportunities," you replied.

"Oh, okay," Edward didn't know how else to respond, so instead he picked up where you left off. "Okay, never have I ever drank so much I puked."

You drank.

"Hmm... never have I ever... been inside your apartment."

"Hey! That's targeted! You know I'd have to drink to that," Edward whined.

"Maybe I'm trying to get you drunk," you joke.

Edward drinks.

By the time you're two drinks in, you find the confidence to start getting a little deeper with your confessions.

"Okay, never have I ever done anal."

Edward chokes on his own spit. He blushes and looks down at his drink before opening his mouth to ask a question. "Does," he clears his throat, "does it count if it... does it count if I fingered myself?"

Now it was your turn to choke on your words. "Eddie, I didn't know you were..."

"I'm not gay if that's what you're wondering. Well, I might be bi or something, I'm not really sure. I just sorta... like how it feels sometimes."

"Well, to answer your question, yes I think that counts."

Edward drank.

"Okay, um. Never have I ever sucked a dick," Edward said.

You drank.

"Never have I ever eaten pussy," you shoot back.

Edward doesn't move.

"Really?" You ask and Edward blushes. "Eddie, eating someone out is an important part of foreplay. How many girls have you just given blue balls too?"

"Uh, well, I, um. Never have I ever had sex?"

You stare at Edward, forgetting to take a drink.

"Really?" You ask again.

"I think you have to take a drink," Edward reminds you. So you drink, before going back to grilling him.

"So how far have you gone with someone?"

"Um," Edward blushes. "Once this girl at the orphanage kissed me on a dare."

"Oh, Eddie..."

Edward looks down in embarrassment, his cheeks still red.

"So you've never had a real kiss?"

Edward shakes his head.

Something about the alcohol mixed with your growing comfort around Edward lead to your next question.

"Would you like to?"

Edward looks up at you with wide eyes. Was this really happening? He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"R-- really?"

"Yeah. If anything, I'd want your first real kiss to be with someone that cares about you, Eddie."

Edward blinked at you before vigorously nodding his head. "O-- okay. Yeah. I'd love to kiss you."

You smiled at him before setting you drink down and he did the same. You bring yourself forward a bit before placing both your hands on his round cheeks. He looks up at you with wide eyes as he wondered what the hell he's supposed to do with his hands. He went for placing them on your hips, he'd seen people do that in movies, surely it was the right thing to do. He watched as you stared at his lips and leaned forward.

When your lips attached to his, he felt warm all over. Your lips were soft against his, which were chapped. After about three seconds, he had expected you to break away from him, but instead you reached your hand into his hair and kissed him harder. You pressed into him with a passion you didn't know you had for him. Something in the way his lips felt against yours spurred you on. You wanted to keep feeling them. You wanted to keep feeling him.

You sucked on his bottom lip and listened to him whine as he opened his mouth for you. Once you slipped your tongue into his mouth he was a goner. Blood rushed to Edward's dick. He was moaning and whining into your mouth as you played with his tongue for just a moment before you kissed along his jaw and down his neck. He let out another whine as you started to suck and bite at his skin.

You moved to fully sit in Edward's lap, and that's when you felt it, his hardening cock.

"Oh, Eddie. Are you hard?"

Edward gulped instead of responding.

"It's okay, don't worry sweetie. It's just... would it be crossing a line in our friendship if I helped you?"

"I-- I don't-- well," Edward stammered. "I think it's a line I'm okay with crossing."

You smirked at him before reaching for his pants.

"Can I unbutton these?"

Edward nodded his head with enthusiasm. He couldn't believe this was happening, it all felt like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. What if this was all some elaborate plan to make fun of him? What if you laughed at him? What if you called him a loser and kicked him out? He didn't want to focus on the scary questions floating around in his brain because right before his eyes, you were reaching into his pants and pulling out his dick.

"Oh god," Edward moaned as he felt your soft hands on him. You spit into you hand and wrapped it around his cock and began pumping it. Edward was right, your hand glided along his cock perfectly. It was soft and warm and wonderful. You picked up speed and watched as his face contorted into a display of pleasure. Edward was having this time of his life.

"Does that feel good, Eddie?"

"Yes, yes. It feels amazing." Edward's eyes were shut tight and his eyebrows were knitted together as his mouth hung open. A constant string of moans and whines left his lips as you continued to work his cock. Your other hand gripped Edward's thigh, keeping both of you grounded.

Soon Edward felt his orgasm beginning to blossom. He couldn't help it. You were giving him a handjob. This was the best night of his life and it wasn't even over yet.

"M'close," Edward whined and you nodded and smiled. His hands grasped onto your shoulders as you hand slid along his dick. You picked up your pace just a bit more and listened to the moans pour out of his mouth.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Eddie?"

"Yes, yes. I'm so close. Can I please cum?"

"Yes, baby. Cum for me."

With your permission, Edward spilled his seed all over your hand. He took in deep, heavy breaths as he attempted to come back to reality.

"Please..." Edward started.

"Please? Please what?"

Edward fell off the couch and onto his knees right in front of you. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek along your inner thigh just above your knee.

"Please, can I eat you out? I know I've never done it before but I'll try my best I promise. Please, please."

You were surprised for only a second, then you were turned on. You have never had a man full on beg to go down on you before.

"Okay, since you asked so nicely," you replied. Quickly, you took off your pants and underwear and spread your legs for Edward. He started by kissing his way up your thighs and toward your center. his hands gripped onto your thighs like you were going to float away at an minute.

His face was soft against your thighs, brushing up against them and making you squirm from how it tickled. Edward stared at your core, not quite knowing where to start. He used his hands to spread your legs wide open and pull you toward him. Slowly, he stuck his tongue out and licked one stripe in between the folds of your cunt. His tongue dipped into your hole before continuing up all the way to your clit. He stayed there for a moment, moving his tongue in tight circles. He heard you moan and that encouraged him to keep going. You were surprised that Edward had found your clit so soon. He wouldn't admit this to you, but he had spent a lot of time watching porn and looking at diagrams to make sure he knew how to please people. He loved learning about the pleasure points in all people. He loved that he had one up his ass and he loved that you had one in your hole. Which reminded him to try something.

As Edward started to suck on your clit, he pressed two fingers into your hole. He was slow at the start, just carefully pushing his digits into you, feeling your warmth. Experimentally, he curled his fingers up and toward himself, and did it again once he heard you moan.

"You're doing so good, Eddie. Such a good boy..." you moaned out. Edward whined into your cunt. He pulled his lips from your clit and went back to circling it with his tongue, then he started to spell out his name with his tongue. You didn't realize it at first, but once he got to the A, you knew. His fingers continued to curl inside of you, pressing against your soft walls. You couldn't help yourself, you were a moaning mess. You felt Edward go back to sucking on your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

"Yes, just like that, baby... so fucking good," you moaned and reached for his hair, gripping it tight as you felt your orgasm forming in the pit of your stomach. "Please, fuck, keep going. You're doing so good, Eddie."

Edward listened to your words and kept sucking on your clit and massaging your stop deep in your hole. He wanted to be so good for you, he wanted to make your cum.

"I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck, you're making me feel so good, baby."

Edward whined into you again, he couldn't help it, your words went straight to his head and then his dick. Was he getting hard again? He couldn't tell because he was so focused on pleasing you. He wanted to make you feel good. He existed to please you.

"Fuck, mmm, Eddie, I'm cumming!" You shout as you feel your orgasm hit. Edward kept curling his fingers and sucking your clit as you wiggled in your seat.

When Edward finally pulled away from you, he stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them.

"You taste heavenly," he said to you. You looked at him with half open eyes, your clit throbbed from the attention it just recieved.

"I-- I didn't expect you to be so good at that on the first go."

"Did you really like it that much?"

"Eddie, I loved it."

#the riddler #the riddler smut #the riddler x you #the riddler x reader #edward nashton smut #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader

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summercourtship · 10 months

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter one: water to tread [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual themes | word count: 6.3k words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

previous part

The next morning, your alarm goes off too soon for your liking.You could’ve sworn that you had just put your head on the pillow when the shrill tones from your phone yanked you out of your slumber, reminding you that you had a life to live. Even if it was pitifully boring. You can’t help but wonder, as you stare at the ceiling listening to the alarm, if the most interesting moment of your life had passed by the night before.

Finally you cracked and snatched your phone, shutting the alarm off and sighing at your lack of notifications. What had you been expecting, you chastise yourself as you put it back on your bedside table, wincing as your haggard muscles scream in protest.

Your entire body is sore and practically creaks as you move, a low groan escaping your clenched teeth. You briefly considered skipping class, especially since it’s just an elective and not a necessity for you to graduate. But the professor was a hardass and you’d already used your one allotted excused absence for a dentist appointment. And despite it not being required, you needed to do well. If just for yourself and the pride of seeing your GPA remain above a 3.4.

Maybe he’ll give back our midterm today. It’s an idle thought to get you out of bed, taking your time and hissing as dull pain radiates through your body when you practically slip out of the covers like a boneless mass, just barely catching yourself on your feet.

You cross your narrow hallway to the bathroom, flicking on the light and flinching immediately when you see yourself in the mirrored medicine cabinet (which had plenty of painkillers tucked away inside, thank goodness).

“Fuck.”

You stared at your reflection, gaping at the telltale bruises and cuts. When you’d washed up last night, it hadn’t looked good but what you were looking at seemed much worse. It was like they all decided to puff up and swell overnight, turning colors that you never wanted to see on your skin ever again. Worst than that was knowing that everyone who saw you today would know you’d been beaten up. You’re not sure which is the grossest part of your face: the sizable black eye you're sporting or your busted bottom lip- which has swollen to twice its usual size.

Everyone and their mother will know.

But no one will know who saved you.

It was, you had to admit to yourself, a little bit thrilling. To have had an encounter with the masked man who took down the Riddler when the GCPD couldn’t, the man who saved the city from all that mess he had planned.

And you realized as you carefully washed your face that you weren’t about to tell your classmates about it.

One, because they definitely wouldn’t believe you. (Really, who would? Why would the Batman save a random college girl from being mugged when he could stop more important crimes from happening, robberies and murders of people much richer than you? People worth saving? It didn’t make sense. Especially not to you.)

Two… Well, you wanted to keep it a secret. You wanted to pretend that you were the only girl in the entire city who had ever had this happen to them (ignoring that that was statistically impossible). You wanted to entertain the idea of everyone else being side characters in your story and this was finally, finally, the true beginning of your life. That this boring routine of classes and work wasn’t what you were meant to be doing, that there was some greater purpose waiting for you and Batman was going to lead you to it.

You grimace at your thoughts and your reflection as you grab your washcloth again, wetting it for the second time and gently patting your face, taking extra care around the barely scabbed over wounds. Maybe if you washed it enough times, you could erase your wounds completely.

When you finished having successfully avoided reopening your wounds and applying some antibiotic cream to the cuts, you quickly moved through the rest of your morning routine on autopilot. Your thoughts were elsewhere, stuck somewhere in the alleyway last night and events from almost a year ago. Really last night had just added another dot in a large star-map of Things For You To Overthink and Overanalyze.

Fifteen minutes later you’re out the door of your apartment, moving as quickly as you could with your sore body, your school bag slung over your shoulder. It was fairly light with only the printed PDF pages of the chapter you’d be discussing in class and your notebook. At the last second you had decided to grab a hat to put on, an old bucket hat you’d had lying around your bedroom, realizing you wanted something to shield your face from onlookers. To protect you from random people wanting to be a character in your adventure (people are attracted to spectacle and a busted lip and black eye are a walking billboard advertising personal drama).

It's drizzling outside, a light mist falling from the sky like an apology for what the torrential rain brought upon you last night. You peered up into the sky, enjoying the sensation of tiny droplets on the skin of your face, pulled taut from the swelling.

You lived close enough to your classes, with the campus of Gotham University being scattered throughout the city’s downtown, to be able to walk and have no need to rush to get there in time. Yet you move fast anyway, swiftly weaving your body through the crowd when you arrive in the center of downtown. The fastest way to your class was through the busy intersection, Gotham’s own Times Square. With every step, you’re hyper aware of every person you pass, how their eyes must linger on your face, how their mouths part in shock.

“Oh my god,” You heard it as a whisper carried by the wind as you passed two girls chatting. You’re certain that the next minute of their conversation will be them speculating about you and whether or not your boyfriend did this to you.

In response, you pulled your hat further down on your head, lowering your chin.

Duck your head, keep the hat pulled down. Get to class, suffer for ninety minutes in a closed room, go home.

It was a pathetic mantra but it’s the only thing that was keeping you from turning around and finding refuge again in your apartment.

Finally you made it to your class, inside a squat brick building with a permanent mildew smell on the first floor. Luckily for you, your classroom was on the second. Your stomach was turning into knots as you climbed the stairs, your anxiety about the prospect of being stuck in one classroom with no escape from questions and stares building with every step.

The classroom itself is small but luckily has a back entrance. You duck into the first seat you see in the last row, not your normal seat in the second. No one sits back here, anyway. You doubt anyone will care that you’re back here today (if you decide to participate today, it might give them a chance to answer questions before Dr. Crane acknowledges your hand).

Dr. Crane.

Notorious hardass, great psychology professor, a captivating man you had definitely not masturbated to on a few occasions (but you would only admit this after a few too many drinks). This wasn’t your first class with him as your professor, but your first had been a larger class of a hundred students. This class had twenty. It’s more intimate in a class this size and there’s something erotic, you think, about him knowing who you are now when he didn’t before.

He swept into the room and passed you with barely a minute to spare until class began. Upon his arrival to the front of the classroom he immediately pulled out a stack of papers to place on the podium and even from your seat in the back you can see that the one on top has been thoroughly marked with a red pen.

The midterm.

You aren’t too concerned about your grade but seeing the stack of papers still leaves you swallowing nervously, your eyes darting back and forth between the tests and Dr. Crane (who is just looking over his lecture notes. Typical.)

The clock’s hand moved forward another minute and he began, always punctual, going right into handing the midterms back to the class. Test after test is handed back, the recipient nervously approaching the front of the classroom and taking the test as quickly as possible. Most only look at it from the safety of their own seat, and you could tell from the set of their shoulders what type of grade they received.

Finally, he called out your name, and you hurried to the front of the classroom to grab your paper, for a different reason than everyone else. You just wanted to get it without attracting too much attention to your bruised face. With their backs turned to you it’s easy to duck your head and remain hidden.

When you take your paper from where he’d placed it on the table, you spare a glance up at him, not surprised when you see him simply turning to the next paper and calling out their name before placing the test down. But when he does this, his eyes flicker to you before pausing on your face. It only lasts for a second but you feel the blood rushing in your ears as you clutch your midterm to your chest and turn, eager to get back to your seat with little fuss.

But now you are facing the entire class and the few people who haven’t received their test yet have nothing else to look at and clearly some of them notice your wounds, their mouths dropping open in shock.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?” A guy who gave his opinion too readily in class but never actually held a discussion was the first to break the silence from the third row, the faux compassion in his voice grating your nerves.

One by one, the others' heads snap up to see what he was talking about. And then they all gasp too, asking much of the same things.

Are you okay?

What happened?

Who did this?

Et cetera, et cetera. It was all enough to make you freeze, unused to the entire attention of a class on you. When you answered questions in class, it felt like a conversation between you and Dr. Crane… this is you on display, no barrier between your body and their judgemental gaze.

I was beat up and the Batman saved me. They’d laugh right in your face for saying that. It would be easier to convince them that the Easter Bunny saved you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure your classmate doesn’t appreciate being gawked at. Let her get back to her seat so we can finish this and start class in a… timely manner.”

You looked back at Dr. Crane, grateful for his intervention. You meet his icy state as it, too, examines your face again. But he shows no shock, only a vague curiosity that seemed to say what do we have here?

Heat floods your checks as you turn away, hurrying back to the back of the room where you had situated yourself. Your breaths are quick and shallow like you’d run up a steep flight of steps, but at least the worst part is over. You don’t have to stand in front of these people again. All you had to do was sit there and listen to Dr. Crane speak and then leave as soon as he dismissed the class.

When your breathing calms back down you finally take a look at your midterm, noticing immediately something that had completely slipped your attention when you’d picked it up.

At the top of your paper is a sticky note, with the words “Please meet me after class” written in a clear script. For a brief moment you flush, your first thoughts admittedly perverse, eyes briefly flicking back to Dr. Crane at the front of class.

Oh my god, Dr. Crane wants to fuck me after class.

Then, a second later: no wait, that’s stupid.

He probably just wanted to discuss the paper you’re working on- you’d sent him the rough draft to look at over a week ago and he hasn’t responded yet. (Did you actually want his feedback on the paper or did you just want to ensure that he remembered your existence when you left the classroom? The world may never know.)

You removed the sticky note, putting it aside, smiling at the neat 98/100 printed at the top of your test. Flipping through the pages you saw the question you had gotten wrong wasn’t even wrong, per-se, just not answered completely enough for his preference. This needs more detail, he wrote in the margin, that same neat handwriting as on the post-it.

Then, the idea that he wanted to discuss the exam after class was also out of the question, leaving you with the one half formed theory about your essay and a secret desire born from reading too many erotic novels when you really should have been sleeping. But neither of those ideas seemed like something he would do- he’s busy enough over at Arkham Asylum that he could just send you an email with his feedback on the essay and he’s much too professional to fuck a student (at least, in such an obvious way as right after class. You don’t know the man, or what he would or wouldn’t do. Not really).

You looked back up at him as he cleared his throat for the class, your own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Well, now it looked like you’re going to be distracted the entire time, imagining what the hell he could want with you.

He crossed from the podium to the chalkboard to write, TRAUMA AND STRESS RELATED DISORDERS, pausing for a moment to look back at the classroom. (You’re definitely imagining the way his eyes linger for a moment on you in the back.)

You hurried to open your notebook to the page after the notes you’d taken on the reading, your pen already poised to begin writing. His lectures were rapid, with him barely taking any time to breathe before moving onto the next section. You had to be prepared, and even though you weren’t in your usual seat, you had no intention of just sitting this one out.

For most students, Dr. Crane’s classes dragged on, even if they found the material interesting. For you, these classes went by like lightning. Listening to Dr. Crane speak was, in your opinion, a treat. His papers were, admittedly, a bit too dense for you to enjoy reading (though you tried, bless your heart) but his manner of speaking was hypnotic, putting you into a trance for an hour and forty minutes every Monday and Wednesday.

Soon, much too soon, the class was over.

You put your notebook back in your backpack, about to grab your water bottle and bounce when you saw the note he’d left, still stuck to the corner of your desk where you’d initially placed it. Just the sight of the tiny yellow Post-It put your stomach into knots, his handwriting offering no more hints about what he wanted to see you about than it did two hours ago.

You lingered at your seat until everyone had filed out (fairly quickly, nobody (except for you) stuck around to ask him questions). When the door swung shut behind the last person, you made your way up to the front of the classroom, backpack hanging off one shoulder.

Dr. Crane was shuffling through the leftover midterms and his lecture notes. He’s pretending, you thought, to have forgotten about his little note.

“You wanted to speak with me?” You hold up the sticky note between two fingers, raising an eyebrow. Playing at being confident, the kind of girl who wasn’t screaming inside about what he was about to say. He looked up, though you’re certain he heard you approach in the now quiet classroom.

“Are you alright?” His gaze flicks to your lips. Stomach swooping, you blink a few times, trying to figure out why he was asking.

“Yeah why-” You realized what he’s asking about, surprised at yourself for forgetting it. Even more, you’re disappointed that he was just looking at your fat lip, not thinking about kissing you. Embaaaaarrassing. “Oh, this.” You gesture to your face, laughing even though it wasn’t funny and subsequently wincing when smiling pulled at the scab on your lip. “I ran into some trouble but it’s nothing now.”

If I told you the Batman saved me would you believe me? …Yeah, probably not.

He continues looking at you, like his penetrating gaze could see through any facade you may erect in his presence. You clear your throat. “W-was that all you wanted, or-?” You trail off, a pregnant pause hanging in the air between you.

“You may have seen that I’m going to be offering a special topics class next semester.”

You had seen it.

Had lingered over it with your cursor in the online registration, debated contacting your advisor to see if they could pull some strings, let you into a class in which you had no right to be in.

But you would rather a car hit you as soon as you left the building than admit that to his face.

“Maybe? I’m not a major, you know, so I typically can’t take those kinds of-”

“I need a TA and thought of you.” He’s not looking at you, instead writing something in his day planner. You can’t tell if he’s actually doing something productive or just doing that thing that men do where they don’t acknowledge your presence even as they’re carrying a conversation with you.

“...You did hear me say I’m not a psych major, right? I just think this stuff is interesting and take these classes for fun and-” God, you’re rambling. He must realize the effect he has on you by now, a man that intelligent and knowledgeable in psychology couldn’t not realize it.

“I looked at your student information- you have enough credits in psychology to add a minor.”

He said it so casually, like this was something all professors do- check up on random student’s information, try to convince them to add a minor so they can… be a TA? You were torn between being slightly freaked out or pleased. Maybe you hadn’t needed to send him your essay to stick out in his mind, maybe you were doing just fine without pulling any strings. Maybe you didn’t need to be a mastermind for him to acknowledge your existence.

When you looked back on it later, you would realize that you should have been freaked out. Alarm bells should have been ringing in your head the entire time, since you got that sticky note, but… you liked him. And you liked the feeling that your hard work had finally paid off, that you were finally being recognized for something other than being the girl who worked late evenings at that one corner store and got beat up that one time.

“Don’t you typically not even use TAs?” Even in the large class with over a hundred students he had no TA, only offering his office hours if a student needed assistance. (You wonder if anyone had ever actually gone to his office hours, or if they just quietly dropped the class.)

“I’ve been busier lately.” You nodded, remembering that he also worked over at Arkham Asylum. He didn’t talk about it during class, except maybe mentioning it once or twice in passing. But you knew. You stored all the little bits and pieces of information you had learned about him over time in a tiny box in your brain, useless information that only served to prove your interest with the man.

But with the recent uptick in interesting crimes, there was a wave of people becoming patients at the asylum. Some criminals that you hadn’t even realized would qualify for a NGRI verdict were sent to the asylum, but it wasn’t your place to judge why people were sent where. Being sentenced to a hospital for the criminally insane didn’t exactly sound like a lighter sentence to you, not like what some people said when people like the Riddler were sent to Arkham.

“What’s the class about?”

He opened a manila folder on the table, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for and slid it across the table to you.

On it, the class description is neatly printed with the standard information about special topics classes as well as the information that he must have written about his topic of choice.

CLASS DESCRIPTION: PSYCH 430 Special Topics in Psychology: Fear (Dr. Jonathan Crane) | Meeting Time: MW 14:00-15:40 Conference Room, Wayne Hall. This class will discuss the evolutionary origins and necessity of fear and anxiety as well as what this response means to modern humans. Using selected readings from both academic and popular sources, we will discuss and attempt to understand the complex psychology behind one of the basest human emotions: fear.

You purse your lips as you read, only to wince when it pulls at the swollen skin of your mouth. It sounded interesting, yes. But TA’ing was a big responsibility, one that you’re not quite sure you could handle amongst all your other classes and work.

“Dr. Crane, can I think about this?” You don’t look him in the eye, afraid that you’d agree prematurely if you did. You had a feeling that gazing too long into his eyes could convince you to agree to anything without a second thought. “When do you need an answer?”

“I’d like to have everything finalized by Thursday. I’ve seen the work you do and I think this-” He gestures between the two of you, “-would be a good fit.”

You stared at where his hand had woven the two of you together into one unit, a potential team. A professor and his TA, colleagues.

“Thank you.” You almost bite your lip before you remember that that wouldn’t be smart. You turned to leave, before stopping to look back at him. “Even if I add psych as a minor- which I am not adverse to, I think this is fascinating and could be useful for me in the future- are you sure that they’ll let me TA?” You were, after all, a junior undergraduate college student. Not a graduate or even a senior.

“They won’t say no to me.”

You nodded, content to ignore for the moment how his words ignited something in your core, deep in your stomach.

“I’ll let you know by Thursday, then.” You smiled, readjusting your backpack. He simply went back to putting his papers away, a clear dismissal with no smile returned.

You left the classroom, trying desperately to not look like you were rushing to get away from being alone with him for a second longer. Though you disagreed with the other assertions about his personality- that he was boring or creepy- you had to agree that he was a bit intense. Terrifying, sometimes.

You burst into the bathroom, practically collapsing against the sink as you forced yourself to breathe slowly.

Raising your head from where you’d been staring at your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing as you remembered thinking that Dr. Crane was coming on to you. Yeah, not while your lip is swollen and your eye is bruised.

Scratch that.

Not ever.

**** Halloween. October 31. Thursday. The deadline for your decision.

You should be out of your apartment by now, getting to Dr. Crane’s office to give him your decision. And yet you’re still in bed, staring out of the cocoon you’ve made for yourself.

Everything is okay.

You took a deep breath in, finding the point of your wrist in which, when pressure is applied, calmed you. Your eyes are fixed onto the ceiling, trying not to focus on the faint cracks in the plaster. Because then you’d just start worrying about if your building was structurally sound and you have enough on your mind at the moment.

Everything is okay.

Everything is o k a y.

You groaned, throwing your comforter over your head, your heart rate staying steady in its rabbit pace. The normal tactics aren’t going to cut it today, it seemed. Normally you’d just use it as a reason to stay in bed all day (not sleeping, no, never sleeping, only staring into the corner of your room and lingering too much on every thought that passed through the highway of your mind.)

But you couldn’t. You had to see Dr. Crane and tell him your decision. The decision that had, until last night, been a tentative yes. But something flipped in your brain as you’d been thinking about every way this situation could go wrong and now you knew for certain what you would say when you went to see him.

I can’t do it.

Normally, when you would come to the conclusion that you couldn’t (or didn’t want to) do something, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. But this time it felt different. With this… saying no felt like a cop-out.

Probably because it was a cop-out.

You groaned again, almost falling out of bed. Your body is less sore, though the bruises still look pretty fresh. You barely washed your face before you threw your outfit of the day on (leggings, a t-shirt, your coat, sneakers) and grabbed your purse. You didn’t normally have to go to campus on Thursdays and you wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

On the way to campus, you pass by the set up for the Anniversary Memorial for Mayor Mitchell. You turned away, trying to forget that it’s been a year since your world- since Gotham itself turned upside down. Well, more upside down than it already was.

The base of your neck prickles briefly as you thought about it, heat washing over you as visions your mind had created of the city flooding overtook your thoughts, your body suddenly overwhelmed with the imaginary sensation of frigid water rushing over your feet as you stand and stare into the rafters of the Gotham Square Garden, staring down the distant barrel of an assault rifle as shots ring out-

You shook your head, resisting the urge to slap your wrist like you were a petulant child. It didn’t happen. You’re safe and you’re alive. You shouldn’t be focusing on this anymore.

“You weren’t even hurt, get a grip.”

You don’t remember who in your life said it to you, someone who was gone now. But it was easier said than done.

You stood at the crosswalk, waiting for your cue to walk. While you waited, you looked across the street at the small gathering of people. The memorial hasn’t begun yet, but already a crowd is starting to form to watch and pay their respects (though you aren’t sure there are many who still respect him, given what was brought to light last year). It’s mainly older people, their coats and shoes indicating their wealth status. Some of Gotham’s elite come to mourn a man who probably helped line their pockets. But as your eyes glide over the crowd, someone catches your eye.

A tall figure, alone in the crowd, in an all too familiar winter combat mask.

Clear-framed glasses staring right at you.

Your breath stuttered, caught in your throat while somehow still trying to claw its way out like it wanted to suffocate you but then, just as you feel like you’re about to start choking on it, a van passed between you and he’s gone.

The breath that had been stuck in your throat finally escapes you in a gasped exhale and your head whipped around, searching the street, searching for the man you knew you just saw (whether he was the Riddler or just one of those copycat followers from Gotham Square Garden, you didn’t care because you saw him, he was here, and he was staring at you like-)

Or maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe you saw nothing.

There were enough people across the street bundled up in dark coats that, from this distance, could certainly appear like a mask if their hood was up. Through the rain it could have easily looked like another person was standing there, watching you.

Doing your best to push the events- real and fictional- of that night out of your mind, you sighed, turning from the memorial and continuing towards campus, telling yourself that you were just paranoid. He was in Arkham and no one in their right mind would go to Mayor Mitchell’s memorial dressed like that, especially not after the attack in Gotham Square Garden last year.

You’re being silly.

Get a fucking grip.

The small brick building that houses the psychology department seemingly loomed over you on the street corner, another imposing obstacle that you must overcome in the next minute.

You’re greeted with a blast of warm air when you finally open the door after stalling for as long as you could stand, the stale smell of old buildings wrapping itself in your nostrils and filling your stomach with anxiety. Normally you enjoyed it, the musty smell, but now it just meant you were one step closer to denying Dr. Crane. (“They won’t say no to me.” But what will happen when you do?)

You lingered outside his office door. You’d never been in there before, having never needed the help (and you were also, admittedly, a bit frightened of the prospect of being alone with him).

(Which you would have in spades if you accepted.)

(But you aren’t.)

In thirty minutes, this will all be over with.

It was a tactic you used to get through unpleasant things- exams, dentist appointments, interviews.

And right now, you wanted nothing more than to be done with this. To have it be something in the past, a regret you could do nothing to fix.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked three times, a little more forceful than needed. But you didn’t think you could muster up the courage to do it again.

“Enter.” Dr. Crane’s voice called out from behind the frosted glass. You complied, standing awkwardly in the doorway until he looked up to acknowledge your presence. He nodded to the door and you closed it. Trapping you in the tiny office with him.

He’s back to looking at his papers, pen gliding over the surface with practiced ease, wet ink trailing behind his hand. You wonder if it’s schoolwork or work for Arkham. Or personal, whatever that could mean for him.

“I assume you’re here to discuss the TA position? I have the necessary paperwork for you-” He starts to open his drawer, grabbing a folio with one of his lithe hands. You have to wrench your gaze away from it to say your piece. To spit it out.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Dr. Crane. But I appreciate the offer.” He looked up at you (finally), cocking his head to the side as he examined you. Then, he slides the drawer shut, leaning back in his chair, not flinching when the drawer latches with a bang. But you do and you feel like you’ve given a secret away from the way you jump at the noise.

“Sit.”

You follow his order without thinking, the leather squeaking under your weight as you perched yourself on the edge.

“May I ask why?”

“Um. I, well. I just don’t think I’ll have the time with my other classes and work and I’m not sure I’d be the best fit-”

“So you’re afraid?”

You opened your mouth before closing it again, trying to find the best words to describe what emotion was sitting heavy in your throat.

“Anxious would be a better way to describe it.”

“But what do you really want?”

You stared at him, lips parted. You hadn’t expected him to fight you on this. All you had wanted was for him to nod and say well, I’m sorry to hear that. Not whatever this was.

“It is a good opportunity.” You mumbled. It really was- a TA position for an upper-level class that was for something you weren’t even officially studying? It was guaranteed to look good on paper.

“You should take it.”

“But-“

“Fear,” he smiled as if he was making a joke you didn’t yet understand, “shouldn’t control you. Not when it comes to opportunities like this.”

You’re silent, worrying your bottom lip, ignoring the crunches the scab made with every pass of the flesh between your teeth. Frozen in indecision, eyes focused on a random paper on his desk.

Then he said your name quietly.

“Fear only has as much power as you want to give it.”

You looked him in his eyes- his crystal clear eyes, penetrating and sharp in their clarity- and the words spilled from your mouth like you’d been put under a spell. Hypnotized, like always.

“Alright. Then I’ll do it.”

Dr. Crane smiled and your heart fluttered. Even though his smile was still reserved, something in you twinkled at being the one to make him do that.

He opens the drawer again, pulling the folio out. He rifles through the papers inside, pulling out a few with blocks of text on them.

“Important papers- some are for you to sign, some are for the class itself. Bring the signed papers back by Monday. We can meet at some point over the next few weeks to discuss more in depth about the class and your responsibilities.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You accepted the papers with a nod, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. You folded the papers and put them in your purse, turning to leave.

And then your eye caught on a framed picture of the blueprint for the exterior of Arkham that Dr. Crane had hanging on his office wall. Suddenly, you realized that you hadn’t been worrying about what you’d been worrying about in the morning and that was wrong and all the anxiety that you’d been feeling that morning washed over you again, like it had been stored and waiting for you while you were distracted.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned back to him, everything that had been on your mind the entire day bubbling to the surface.

“Quick question, completely unrelated to the TA-ing.�� It felt like if you didn’t ask it the world would end. Like you would drown if you didn’t ask this very crucial, very important question.

He nods, not saying anything. The universal code of unspoken permission to ask away.

“The R- Edward Nashton is still in Arkham Asylum, right?” It was easier to call him by his real name, not the moniker he had adopted. It made him seem less like a threat (Was he a threat, now? You asked yourself, a question you didn’t know the answer to).

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Dr. Crane, for once, seemed genuinely confused about the direction you’ve pulled the conversation in. His reaction stunned you out of your need for the answer.

“I don’t know- I was just-”

“Curious?” He’s recovered from his confusion in the same amount of time it took you to begin backtracking.

Afraid, your mind whispered in response to his question, but you nodded. You didn’t need another lecture about fear from him today. You’d hear enough of them next semester.

Even still, he looked like he knew your true answer.

“He was there yesterday. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Obviously.” You said, trying to hide your embarrassment about asking such a silly question. Of course he was still in Arkham.

You looked back at him as you left his office, but his head was already bent over his work again. You’re about to really leave when you noticed that his gaze flickered upwards for a brief moment, his pen stopping for a millisecond in its movement.

You smiled and whispered a second goodbye, turning and closing the door behind you.

He seemed to really want you as his TA.

It hadn’t even occurred to you, you realized as you’re walking back to your apartment, to ask why.

chapter two pt one

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #batman x reader #scarecrow x reader #batman fanfiction #jonathan crane #bruce wayne x reader #i will tag ed when he actually starts appearing as a character

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odiesdayoff · 3 months

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College AU! Edward Nashton x roommate's girlfriend! reader (Hatefucking/Infidelity (on reader's end)/Popular x nerd trope)

Riddler! Edward Nashton x Mitchell!Reader (Handyman x married woman trope/affair/sex tape/sort of blackmail for information but not dark!)

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #the batman #the riddler

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patheticlittlemen · 1 year

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WORK WIFE

[Edward Nashton x male reader]

Chapter 1- Do You Ever Get Scared?

Drinks with coworkers won’t change your life. Right?

Words: 1880

Warnings: None

A/N: Reader is FTM and autistic (not huge plot points but may be mentioned in minor ways)

Being a receptionist wasn’t really the plan for your future. Honestly, you’ve had stars in your eyes since you were a child and finally getting out of Gotham made you believe you could maybe, just maybe, leave a mark on the world. But eventually, it all came crashing down, and look where you are now. Working a receptionist job at a forensic accounting company in Gotham.

You hate this city. Getting out and going to college was supposed to be your salvation, but if there is a God, he is a vengeful one. So here you are, working at a company you couldn’t give less of a shit about. You lost all your friends when you moved out of Gotham, so when you came back all you had was your mom. The most exciting Friday night plan was binging TV and eating takeout.

Today was no different from any other. It’s Friday, so of course you’re excited for the weekend but are also dreading the terrible loneliness that came with it. Lost in your own thoughts and mulling over shows to watch tonight, you spot movement in the corner of your eye.

You look up and jump at the sudden appearance, relaxing when you see that it’s Edward Nashton. He’s an accountant in the office and probably the closest thing you have to a friend. You only see him at work but enjoy every conversation. Edward smiles at your surprised expression.

“Hey. I brought you some coffee.” He says, placing a paper cup on your desk. “Cream and sugar just how you like.”

You smile thankfully at him and take a sip.

When you first met Edward, he was shy and tensed up any time you talked to him. After working together for a few months, he finally loosened up and became more friendly. You’re glad he did because if he had kept his distance you probably would have had a psychotic break due to isolation. You will admit you’ve grown a crush on him, but you’re too afraid of rejection to make a move.

“I hope you know when I get rich and famous, I’m gonna pay you back for all the coffee you’ve made me.” You say jokingly.

“I’ll take it. What would you get famous for though?” Edward leans against your desk.

“Hmm.. probably for being the best receptionist in the world.” You say overdramatically as Edward lets out a chuckle.

“You’re definitely the best at this company.”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

The sound of the door opening catches both of you off guard as someone enters the building. You shoot an apologetic glance at Edward, who smiles understandingly and walks off while you deal with the guest.

After sitting for hours and greeting maybe two more people, you get up to stretch and go to the bathroom. You smile at your coworkers who were talking in the break room and go to do your business. Once you exit though, someone in the break room stops you.

“Hey Y/N, we’re going out for drinks tonight and want everyone there. You interested?” says Benjamin, someone that you didn’t know well but was always cordial to you.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll go,” you say, excited for the chance to be around people outside of work.

“Awesome. I’ll text you the details.” He said, smiling as you turn to walk away.

You begrudgingly walk back to your desk and prepare to waste more time. About half an hour passes when Edward comes back to your desk. You look up, once again surprised to see somebody.

“Oh, hey Edward. What’s up?” you say, looking back to the intense game of solitaire you were playing on your computer.

“Nothing really, I was just… wondering if you were going out tonight. To the thing. I mean, drinks with everyone.” he seems uncharacteristically nervous and stumbles over his words.

“Yeah, planning on it. You?” You glance up at him and his cheeks turn red. He mumbles something in response but clears his throat and speaks up.

“Yes, I’m going. I was just asking because I think we live in the same area. I thought we could carpool.”

“Oh, that’s right. That works for me, who do you want to drive?” you say, feeling eager that he wants to go with you.

“I can. I don’t drink much anyway.”

“Sounds good. Here, give me your number so I can text you my address.” You say, opening your contacts and passing him your phone.

Edward accidentally touches your hand while grabbing your phone and you could feel that it was sweaty. Luckily your hands don’t sweat much otherwise you’re sure he would feel the same thing from you. He hands your phone back with an awkward smile.

“Awesome. I’ll text you after work.”

“Cool. Uh, I guess I’d better get back to… what I was doing.” Edward says, nervously shuffling away, which makes you laugh a little.

Edward hasn’t been this timid since you met him, which confuses you a little, but you brush it off as him being nervous for tonight. Speaking of, your phone buzzes and you see a text from Benjamin.

Benjamin: We’re planning on meeting at Gotham Trade around 6:30 PM. Hope to see you there :)

The rest of the day drones by with you passing the time thinking about what you might wear while playing (and losing) games of solitaire. Finally, the clock hits 5 and you quickly gather all your stuff and practically run out the door. The promise of human interaction with anybody outside of work, let alone Edward, made you giddy.

After arriving home, you realize you haven’t texted him yet. You pull out your phone and open your contacts to Edward’s page, trying to ignore any nervousness you had about texting him while clicking the message button.

Y/N: Hey Edward, it’s Y/N. Just wanted to send my address and let you know I should be ready around 6 or so.

After sending the message and your address, you drop all your stuff and make a beeline for the shower. Admittedly, it had been a while since your last one. At the moment dry shampoo was your best friend.

After calming yourself down with a warm shower, you try to choose an outfit. Gotham Trade isn’t a very fancy place so you don’t want to wear anything super nice. Still, you want to look good so you spend a little extra time digging through your closet and eventually settle on a white button-down under a sweatshirt. Not too nice but a little more than casual. While grabbing a pair of jeans from your floor and checking to make sure they still smell clean, you hear your phone buzz.

Edward: Sounds good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.

You feel butterflies in your stomach at the thought of Edward coming to pick you up. Pushing the intense feelings down, you continue to get ready. You decide to use a nice cologne that had been sitting on your dresser for a while. It was a gift from your mom for your last birthday and it made you happy that you finally had a reason to use it. You spray some on and grab your phone to check the time, seeing a message from Edward.

Edward: Heading out now.

You didn’t even realize how close to 6 it was and frantically put on a pair of shoes. Using the last few minutes to mess with your hair, you pray that it would stay neat as your phone buzzes again with a message from Edward letting you know he was here. You double-check to make sure you have everything you need as you leave your apartment, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

It’s just Edward. It’s just a work get-together. It’s not that serious.

The chilly wind bites at your face when you step outside and you wish you had put on another layer before you left, but it’s too late for that now. Edward is parked next to the curb, anxiously looking around. You wave to him and his face relaxes a bit as you walk up to his car and open the door.

“Hey,” you say, settling in the passenger seat, “thanks for driving me.”

“Oh, it was no problem. It’s nice to see you outside of work, plus we live close so it made sense to me.” Edward says, pulling onto the road.

While Edward focuses on driving, you took this opportunity to get a good look at what he was wearing. He had on a button-up shirt like he did to work but had jeans and a dark green cardigan on as well. You notice that his hair looked a bit wet, he probably took a shower after work too. Suddenly you were pulled out of your observations as he glances over at you. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you look away.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Edward.” You mumble, trying to alleviate the embarrassment of being caught staring. He chuckles at your statement.

You stared out the window for a moment until gaining the courage to compliment him.

“I like your-”

“You look-”

Both of your sentences die out as you wait for the other to finish. When neither of you continues, you laugh and speak up.

“I just wanted to say I like your sweater. Green looks nice on you.” Edward smiles at that, letting out a sheepish “thanks”.

“Um, I think you look nice. You smell good too.” Edward’s brows furrow a bit at the last comment as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Thanks! It’s a cologne that was a gift from my mom and I’m glad to finally use it.” Normally when you got nervous you had a tendency to ramble but luckily you were able to stop yourself there. You feel kind of silly about how anxious you were. It was as if you were a middle schooler going on their first date. You struggle to come up with something to break the silence until Edward speaks up before you.

“Have you ever been to this bar before?”

“Once or twice, with my mom. I’m not a huge bar person.” You admit. Edward smiles, nodding.

“I’ve never been there. I just don’t get out much I guess.”

“Well, this is a great time to start. Maybe you’ll meet some pretty lady tonight. Or a man, you do you. I know I sure wouldn’t mind some company tonight.” You joke. Edward laughs nervously and glances at you.

“I doubt it.”

“Who wouldn’t want a piece of you? I know I’m holding back every time you come to my desk.” You say, regretting the sentence the minute it comes out of your mouth. It came out as a joke, as you had a tendency to jokingly flirt with your friends but you still hope any sincerity in the confession was hidden.

Edward doesn’t say anything for a second but his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as his car approaches the warmly lit building. You look out the window at the buildings and hope you’re able to make it through the night.

#edward nashton #edward nygma #the riddler #edward nashton x reader #ftm reader #autistic reader #he is my blorbo #my sad soggy kitten

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lost-in-sokovia · 1 year

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okay but hear me out. college!edward nashton x reader but it’s Christmas eve and they both live in the dorms and everyone is home for the holidays but them and they run into each other in the shared kitchen and spend Christmas together?!/?$:7@:&;&:

i don’t know why it’s holiday themed but. there is food for thought

i’ll be here for christmas

warnings: slight sadness, but mostly fluff with little to no plot

“i love you too— merry christmas! bye, guys.”

you made sure your voice was as strong and stable as possible as you ended the call, the salty tears dripping down onto your bed. the lump in your throat finally broke as you let out the breathy sob you had been holding in, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. you were left at college for christmas because the winter weather had made travel not ideal and your parents weren’t comfortable with you coming home, no matter the form of travel.

you sniffled and looked out the window of your warmly lit dorm room, watching the snow fall like powdered sugar from the sky. you could barely see the street lamp across the way and knew that it was better to be safe here than risk any sort of injury going home for christmas. you glanced around at the christmas decorations that your roommate had helped you put up before she went home for the holidays. there was a small christmas tree, string lights, and garland hung along the tops of the walls. your roommate was flying home for her holiday break and you had made her promise to text you that she had arrived safely.

you swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. sitting by yourself in your dorm room on christmas eve was not going to help your mood in the slightest. you knew there were other people spending the holidays here as well, and you figured you could find a friend and maybe at least help give them a not-so-lonely holiday.

you plopped off your bed and onto the carpeted floor of your dorm, slipping on some slippers and running a hand through your hair as you looked in the mirror. your cheeks were a bit pink and your eyes a bit watery and irritated, the evidence of you crying rather visible. you shook your head and sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth it to dwell too hard on your appearance and instead look to improving your mood. slipping on a warm jacket you walked out into the empty hallway of the dorms, shutting the door behind you and making your way to the small kitchens on the middle floor.

the hallways were decorated too, students and staff doing their best to provide holiday cheer for those who would be staying here as well. there were string lights and garland and ribbons donning the walls and doors as you wrapped your arms around yourself. the sentiment was sweet, but in the end it was the same old halls of the dorms you walked nearly every day to and from class.

when you made it to the kitchen there was christmas music softly playing over the speakers and little signs wishing people happy holidays and listing off holiday activities taking place on campus. you saw a boy with light brown hair and in a windbreaker pouring coffee into a mug. it was only you and him in the kitchen, and though you felt your presence was a bit awkward at first, you took a deep breath and immediately changed your attitude to instead view it as an opportunity. you confidently continued your walk in and when the boy turned around, you smiled. you knew him from your math class, he sat one row in front of you and occasionally the two of you had worked together. he had a sort of nervous presence, occasionally stuttering over his words and turning pink easily. however, you knew he was kind and generous and you were happy to find him there.

“hi, edward,” you said happily. his green eyes darted up at you from behind his clear framed glasses as he held his christmas mug of coffee close to his chest. the momentary panic dissolved into a small smile.

“o-oh, hi, y/n,” he replied back. you smiled and walked closer so you were standing right in front of him. “how are you?” edward continued.

“eh, i’m okay,” you responded with a shrug. “not going to lie, i’m a bit sad i can’t be home for christmas, but i’m trying to make the most out of being here for christmas and seeing what i can do to celebrate here,” you explained. edward’s eyes looked into yours as he slightly frowned, leaning against the counter.

“why can’t you be home for christmas?” eddie asked meekly.

“the weather. traveling is a bit sketchy right now and i didn’t leave before the storm really rolled in, so my parents didn’t feel comfortable having me come home…” you blinked back a few tears and smiled sadly. “so i’m here instead!” you held out your arms. you saw the pity on edward’s face and desperately wished he wouldn’t look at you like that, not feeling in the mood for crying in front of someone you barely knew.

“i’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “i-i’m glad you’re here though, i think your parents made the right decision… y’know… not wanting to put you in danger and all that.” his voice was scared but kind, as though he was nervous to voice his thoughts to you. you gave him a small smile.

“thanks, edward. what about you, if you don’t mind me asking. what’s got you cooped up here for the holidays?” you asked in a lighter tone. edward bit his lip and glanced down for a second.

“i’m, uhm… i’m an orphan, so,” he answered hesitantly. all the color drained from your face and you began to internally panic.

“oh my god, edward, i’m so sorry! i wouldn’t have said anything if i had known—“

“no no, it’s fine, really,” edward interrupted and held up a hand. he gazed at your panicked expression and gave you a small smile. “really. i mean, like i said, i-i’m glad at least you’re here, that makes me happy. at least i know you,” he reasoned. you took a deep breath and tried to allow the panic to melt off of you, thanking your lucky stars you hadn’t offended the one person you had seen so far.

there was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you until you finally worked up the nerve to ask him something.

“listen, i know we don’t know each other that well, but…” edward met your gaze, hope sparkling in his eyes. “but maybe, only if you want, maybe you could come hang out in my dorm with me until midnight? it’ll be like new years but we’ll say ‘merry christmas’ instead of ‘happy new year’ when the clock strikes twelve?” you asked. edward’s lips parted and his eyes widened slightly.

“really?” eagerness laced his voice as he questioned you. something lit up inside you knowing that he wanted to take part in the small activity you had proposed. this was your goal; you had wanted to help make someone’s holiday, and it turned out to be easier than you had thought.

“yeah, edward. and i hope it’s not like, weird, that i’m inviting you to my dorm because we don’t know each other that well, but i mean we can watch christmas movies on my laptop and my mom mailed me some holiday snacks and just—” you sighed. “like you said, it’s nice to have someone i at least know a little bit here with me,” you finished. there was a pause as edward’s lips curved up with a smile, and your expression began to mirror his.

“we can go to the christmas brunch they’re having tomorrow morning too, if you’d like,” edward added. you nodded happily, feeling wanted and welcomed.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you agreed. edward exhaled deeply and nodded back.

“great!”

“great.”

you two stared at each other for a moment, nothing else really seeming to matter. you were snapped back to reality when the gentle tune of “silent night” had suddenly turned into the poppy sound of “rocking around the christmas tree.” edward turned slightly pink as you blinked and looked out the window for a moment.

“shall we?” you asked, gesturing towards the door. edward smiled and began to walk beside you as you led him to your dorm. “my mom will be so happy to hear i’ve got a friend with me,” you laughed lightly. edward laughed as well.

“i’m glad i could be here for you,” he agreed. you felt your cheeks heat up as you looked straight ahead and held back a giant grin.

maybe this christmas wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen after all.

#edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #college!edward nashton #college!edward nashton x reader #the riddler #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #dano!riddler #paul dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano fanfiction #paul dano fanfic #cas🧃

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the-witty-pen-name · 1 year

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hiii i recently read your edward nashton college au fic and was wondering if you planned on continuing it ?? i love the storyline and would love to see where it goes :O

Edward Nashton x F!Reader Part 2 (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: nsfw content, dark, sexual references, incel mindset, stalking, manipulation, masturbation, cursing, angst, isolation from peers

A/N: Happy New Year All!!

It’s not fair, the way he’s expected to just carry on and pretend like he’s not spiraling. The way he needs to act like everything is fine, and that he doesn’t care about any of this. It burns, and it’s slowly eating away from him on the inside out. He’s angry, and confused and he feels deceived. How could you do this to him? How could you be with that shithead when he’s right here with his arms and heart opening just praying for a chance to give you the whole world?

You’re such a smart girl in many ways. An amazing student, making dean’s list every semester. You’re a reader… with an almost inhuman GoodReads goal that you surpass every year. And you’re thoughtful- the insights you share of what you read for is enough to just compile and submit as a final thesis. You know how to make people like you. You have mastered understanding people better than Eddie can ever hope- you amaze him with your ability to listen, and to be a good, genuine friend to so many people, especially those that don’t extend that back to you. But in other ways, you're quite dumb. Wasting your time with that guy was just one of the things Eddie realized you needed help with.

He needs to set you up with better internet security once he’s the one your leaning against as you type away on your laptop. You’re busy with a final paper, while your deadbeat boyfriend watches the game with some of his friends. He wonders if Chris knows that your search history is the proof in the pudding that he can’t satisfy you, and you beautiful soul think the problem is you.. not him.

The amount of times you google and read articles on tips, won’t fix the fact that your boyfriend is bad in bed. Eddie acknowledges he doesn’t have as much of a body count as the man, but even Eddie can observe terrible form and pure selfishness all the way across the street as he watched this supar excuse of a human being chasing his own competition while your face falls for the briefest of moments. Chris doesn’t notice, but Eddie noticed. He embodied it. He makes a promise he’d never not make you cum,’make you feel good.

He wonders what you look like when you aren’t faking it, and putting on a little performance so that asshole can keep his conflated ego. You don’t deserve that. You’re too good for that. If you were with him, he wouldn’t even think about fucking you until you came several times. He imagines you sitting up working on a paper, or maybe reading a book, with your back on his chest where you're safe. And he’d lazily pull you apart slowly with his fingers. Circling your clit and teasing your pretty pussy for hours if you’d let him. And he’d praise you and tell you all the things he wants to tell you now. That you're perfect, the most amazing, beautiful girl and that he’s so lucky that you even looked at him.

He needs to move his plan forward. It’s depressing seeing you pent up and frustrated and he can’t help you just yet. Everything needs to be perfect. He can’t let his baby be stressed, or heartbroken or anything else when the time is right. And of course, that means getting the braindead Neanderthal out of the picture in a way that will make you resent him. He’s sure any evidence he’d need to get this roadblock out of the way lies in the moron’s cell. But, you’re too sweet, and too forgiving. You don’t know your worth, and you are quickly beginning to settle. Eddie refuses to see you settle, not with this man who doesn’t even see you for weeks until he wants a quick fuck. He doesn’t love you like Eddie does. He won’t take care of you the way Eddie will.

In the meantime, he’ll learn to be content to be the shoulder you cry on. To become your friend. He’s decided for now he wants to be friends than not be in your life at all. He’ll continue his role of the found friend. The guy best friend. That’s the trope he’s settled on. You’re always rooting for the best friend to get the girl in the end. This way, while he devises a plan to eliminate Chris from the picture, he can still be close to you. And love you, even if it’s not exactly how he wants it just yet. It’s enough for now just to exist as a page in your life. He can wait. He’s patient. Everything needs to go perfectly.

He knows you’re doing it on purpose. You send him little unspoken messages letting him know that you want him too. The clothes you wear, the way you talk to him, riddled with innuendo and you're so coy. Shy little thing that just makes him crazy. He knows your not innocent, he’s seen the things you do. He knows the e-books you read on your Kindle to hide the romance books. He loves it, your little good girl act you put on for everyone. So sweet, and nice and then you go back to your dorm and the you behind closed doors is such a dirty, naughty girl.

He sees the way you touch yourself in bed when your roommate is gone. He knows all about that little toy you keep under your bed in a shoebox. He thinks about how he can’t wait to get his hands on the thing and show you the other ways you can use it. He’s read the titles on your Kindle Unlimited, your ao3, tumblr… and it’s enough to make his cock undeniably hard. Its all research. To please you, and learn what you like so he can be the best boyfriend for you. Learn all the little kinky secrets you keep in your incognito browser so he can be the one to finally make you fucking cum since your current man clearly couldn’t.

He’s waiting for you outside your dorm, across the quad under his usual tree. He can see you in your dorm, you always seem to have the curtains open. You’re on the phone with someone, and he can tell his baby is upset with how she’s pacing, and it seems like she’s fighting with whoever was on the other end of the phone. He checks the time on his laptop. About 3 minutes ago you should have received an anonymous email with photos from your boyfriend’s iCloud account. He’s not bright enough to realize those pictures weren’t ever deleted. Unseemly photos that broke his heart to send you arrived at approximately 2:23 to your personal email address.

He’ll be here for you, in your time of need. Your shoulder to cry on. He waits outside patiently for the movie moment. Whenever you leave your dorm, he’ll be there and then you’ll see him and it will finally click. It was him all along that you needed. Your shy, quiet, almost invisible Eddie was there the whole time and you finally notice him. You realize how much you need him. That you love him the same way that he absolutely and unconditionally loves you. This heartbreak is just a little chapter for your bigger story. Eddie is your happy ending. He just needs you to see him.

It’s two hours later when you finally emerge from your dorm. You have a hoodie on with the hood up covering your face from the world. He knows it’s to hide the fact that you’re still crying. It’s actually cute. The way your hoodie is longer than your little pajama shorts. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans at the thought of you just wearing that hoodie. You walk with your head down, arms crossed tightly across your chest. You’re embarrassed, and emotional. And vulnerable.

He watches from his place, but then gets up and heads to his position to run into you. Just like he expected, you're walking quickly, head low, heading directly to either your friend's building to talk or maybe the dining hall to grab food before anyone sees you. Either way, you're walking like you're on a mission so he moves quickly.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t see you,” you apologize, quickly helping Eddie pick up his dropped books. “I wasn’t paying attention- Eddie! Oh god, uh, hey.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he stutters, he thought he could be suave, but his stomach is a bundle of nerves and his head is dizzy at the smell of your shampoo. You take the book he dropped (the next read from your Instagram) and tucks it under his arm.

“That one was great,” you comment, looking to move away quickly before he notices your tear stained face. He pours, concerned.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “Can I ask what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you try to say with a sniffle, but fail terribly and erupt in a sob. You do your best to choke back the tears and he can tell your trying so hard to keep it in.

“You don’t seem it,” he says gently, “not to call you a liar.” That makes you smile the smallest bit and it makes his heart race. You take a shaky breath and try to settle your breathing- but it gets much worse and it all just escapes you. You rest your head on his shoulder he offers to you, graciously letting his sweatshirt muffle the sounds of your sobs.

He’s overwhelmed to be this close to you. To have you touching him this intimately. It was all going to plan, and yet he couldn’t anticipate this all would make him feel. He mumbles your name softly and rubs your back as your tears leave a large spot on his shoulder. He loves it. Wouldn’t trade this for anything. It’s all exactly as he pictured.

That’s it, that’s a good girl, let it out. He’s here. It’s all okay now. He’s going to make sure no one hurts you again. You don’t have to worry about that stupid boy. It’s all going to be better now. Just wait and see.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, pulling away, and it takes all his will power to not pull you back in. “This is so embarrassing, I’m so sorry. That was so not okay,” you force a chuckle. “You don’t know me, I’m so sorry, Eddie. I don’t… I’m sorry, uh, I should not burden you with this.”

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, only touching your arm respectively, it’s almost like it’s hovering. He’s a good guy. He’s not going to take advantage of this. Not now. That’s what will make you like him, he’s going to be the respectful guy, the nice guy. The one you can come to and trust.

“It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “Do you want to talk about it? Let me be a little more helpful than just a shoulder to cry on- unless you just need that. That’s okay too. I'm your friend. It’s okay.”

You nod and sniffle, offering a weak but grateful smile. You are able to mumble a small thank you and he just thinks you’re so cute. You’re so sincere. He’s so sorry he had to make you hurt like this. He knows if you knew you’d understand, but you also understand why he can’t tell you. You’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to be subjected to that. That’s why he’s here, so you don’t have to worry your little head about anything else. He’s going to protect you from all of that.

That was the start of your friendship. No longer just classmates, or friendly acquaintances. That moment solidified Edward’s presence in your life. That pivotal moment was what let him in. It was the open window and invitation inside instead of merely getting just glimpses of your life.

It takes so much self control around you, to not be too forward and scare you away. You’re delicate, and he knew he needed to ease in slowly. Purposeful moments spaced out just enough to let you believe it was all happening as it unfolded, and not that he’s had these moments drafted for months just waiting to Star you in them.

Your popularity and status took a very hard blow as soon as you started to talk more with Eddie. People warned you that he was a weirdo, and a creep and that you should avoid him. He was a troubled person and you needed to keep your distance. You ignored all the warnings, people were just cruel, and they never got to know him the way you did, you believed.

Eddie began to help you understand that he was the first true friend you actually had, and how everyone else was fake, and status obsessed. It bothers you to see people avoid you now. They had reached out in the beginning, urging you to stay away from him and come out again, but he helped you understand they didn't care about you. Soon, texts and calls were avoided, you’d rather be with Eddie. Your one true friend, the one person you could be yourself around. He was all you needed.

He can hardly contain himself around you, still, after months of this only friends thing. You’re precious, and delicate, and he doesn’t want to scare you away by moving too fast. You’re growing closer and closer each day, but it’s also more and more painful for him. To restrain his desires, to make the sacrifices he needs to keep you happy. It doesn’t help that you have no idea of how much of an fucking tease you are.

You’re affectionate by nature. Caring, constantly showing your platonic affection through little touches. Holding his arm, rubbing his shoulder, hugs, kisses on cheeks… it’s all so overwhelming. He’s still not used to the chills he gets everytime you touch his arm, or push his grown out hair from his eyes. You’re so needy for physical touch, and it causes him so much strain. He can’t contain himself, desperate to just finally release all the pent up tension running deep in him and just finally wreck you.

Many times, he’d need to excuse himself- thanking whatever higher power let him secure a single dorm with a bathroom- to pump his cock while you wait for him on his bed, movie paused. You’re in his room, something he fantasized about for ages, and it’s so overstimulating. Both of you, legs touching, with your thighs exposed by your shorts that have ridden up. Your shoulders brush against each other and your skin is just so soft, he can’t take it. He wants to just ravish you, freely let his hands grope and roam all over the exposed flesh. He can’t help it, can you really blame him?

Now that it was just him, it became his duty to keep the others away. He’s not stupid enough to think he’s the only one that wants you. He sees the way heads turn when you walk past, and how it goes unnoticed by you often. He sees the way despite his presence, other men on campus will approach you. You think they are friends, but Eddie knows they are just like him. But they don’t want what’s best for you like he does. Self-serving jerks that make you laugh politely at their jokes, and have your little mind convinced their friendliness is genuine, but Eddie sees right through it.

He always wants to keep you just like this. Cuddled into his side, head resting peacefully on his shoulder and just enjoying silence as a movie plays softly as the only source of light in the dorm. He considers himself so undeserving but also the only one deserving of you. He lives to be able to just witness you, your essence… Just the mere fact of your existence is enough to make his life something worthwhile. He can strive to be everything you want, and be the only thing you need as you are for him.

The friendzone is a fascinating phenomena to Eddie. He’s observed he provides the emotional support of a partner, but that final step of establishing a relationship just never arrives. It’s perpetually dating, but the outings aren’t considered to be dates. It’s frustrating, like many things when it comes to you. However, he knows you’re still getting over that asshole. He understands your fears and apprehensions, but it bothers him how they prevent you from realizing your feelings for him. He knows you love him, you show him that every single goddamn day. You just never seem quite there to commit the same way he does.

You just need a little more time, and soon enough he knows he can make you his.

#edward nashton x reader #ed nashton x reader #ed nashton #the batman riddler #the riddler x reader smut

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trelaney · 1 year

Text

I posted 22,137 times in 2022

119 posts created (1%)

22,018 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@amazinggraceling

@starlightsearches

@blndbandt

@solarwindscosplay

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I tagged 962 of my posts in 2022

#stranger things - 26 posts

#eddie munson - 26 posts

#joseph quinn - 25 posts

#yeah - 14 posts

#dano!riddler - 12 posts

#john tyler - 10 posts

#edward nashton - 10 posts

#oh my god - 10 posts

#strangerthingsedit - 10 posts

#:) - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#my mom has a habit of like using my phone so. yeah probably not going to use them but i can look at them and imagine what could have been

My Top Posts in 2022:

19 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

I keep seeing people say they get shadowbanned on tumblr and. 🤦‍♀️

There is no algorithm. If your posts don’t get traction it’s more because no one reblogged it so no one else saw it. That’s it this isn’t tiktok

20 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

Eddie being your study buddy in community college though 🥺 you help him with humanities and he helps you with math. You’re both nerds just for different things. He’ll infodump on you about computers and you’ll infodump on him about the latest book you’re reading or the tv show you’re obsessed with 🥺 you lose touch after you transfer to different universities, but you text every now and then.

42 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

okay you don't have to answer this because I know you're busy but I'm dying to know what you think Eddie would be like when he's jealous??? The thought makes me very 🥺🥰🥵😩

Ok we know he has intrusive thoughts and probably has OCD so he knows he shouldn’t let his mind cycle like this but he can’t help it. He’ll feel so insecure, too, seeing you talk to other people. Smiling, laughing, light in your eyes….he wonders when you’ll wise up and realize he’s no good for you, he’s only dragging you down, you’re better off without him….but you’re the only person in this godforsaken city to ever love him and make him feel happy. He will cling onto you with everything he has, physically and metaphorically. He is doing everything for you, after all. Cleansing this city so it’s a worthy place for you to live, his angel, his light.

All of this to say he’s seething with rage underneath it all. There might be one less person roaming the streets if you linger too long….if only you knew he watched you, always. Always keeping an eye on you, making sure you are safe….after all, he knows all too well what lies in the shadows.

68 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Dano!Riddler x fem!Reader Headcanons

These are very NSFW. Minors do not interact.

So first off we all know he acts different with the mask on. He feels no shame with the mask on, free to act on any desire…

Speaking of, I feel like he really lets his confidence come through in the bedroom in the full getup. And when he comes home after a kill…..

Oh god you know you’re in for a fucking ride. He’s pent up with the thrill, the knowledge that he is one step closer to fulfilling his mission of cleansing Gotham from the corruption and filth. Meaning, when he comes home and he sees you, his love, his light….already in position for him on your bed: face down, ass up. You were edging all night, knowing he wants to be the one to control your orgasms on nights like this. He doesn’t even say anything to you, just stalks towards you. His heavy breathing serves as a soundtrack, so do your desperate whimpering and whining. The anticipation is almost the best part. Almost, because he’s already undone his pants enough to free his cock. You can feel him behind you, the heat radiating off of him, his heavy breathing so much closer now. You can feel him rubbing his cock along your swollen folds, teasing your clit every now and then. Your gasping moans always earn a chuckle, he will fuck you when he decides to and not a moment sooner. And when he decides to, he doesn’t ease you into it. Oh no. He slams inside you to the hilt. He’ll degrade you for enjoying it, being so ready for him that you can take him without needing any preparation first. He’s memorized your body, so it doesn’t take long for him to find your spot and to pound it mercilessly. He’ll spank your ass until it’s red, choke you until your pussy squeezes around him involuntarily, anything that pops into his mind really. If he is in the mood he’ll ask you a riddle and won’t let you come until you answer correctly but when he’s pent up he just needs to fuck you and fill you, if you come it’s inconsequential.

He likes to fill you up, either as the Riddler or as Eddie. He has a breeding kink. I don’t think he knew about it before he met you, seeing as he had never been with a woman before, but when you told him it was ok to come inside once it’s like a lightbulb lit up inside him. He wants kids someday, but not until he’s cleansed Gotham of the filth. He might even find a nice home for you and your future family away from this filthy cesspool you call home but that’s another story. He’s definitely thrilled by the claiming aspect of breeding you, the physical proof that you are his. A piece of him growing inside you, tying you to him forever….it drives him wild. His favorite place to come is inside your cunt, but wherever you want it he will deliver

Now outside of the mask…..Eddie is a sub! Sure he’ll top but you’re always in control. He needs to be praised, but also loves being subtly degraded and overstimulated. You learn what his tipping point is between being overstimulated and loving it and needing to stop and be held

Speaking of, he’s a crier. He looks so pretty flushed red, sweaty and tears pouring down his face. He always has an unsettling glint in his eyes but it’s paired with an overwhelming (obsessive) love for you.

I think he’s too traumatized to have a daddy or a mommy kink honestly

He doesn’t care about his own pleasure, seeing you come because of him gives him pleasure. Whether he comes or not is incidental. Knowing such a beautiful wonderful person even tolerated him enough to let him touch you at all still blows his mind, even though you’ve been together for a while.

He’s loud. In the mask it’s muffled but he still breathes down your neck, grunting and growling as he pounds into you with a punishing pace. As Eddie, he shouts, whines, and screams. When he gets truly overwhelmed with pleasure he giggles to himself. Getting him to that point, where he’s so overwhelmed he can’t control himself, is quite a pleasurable sight

He always falls asleep quickly after sex. It’s just a fact. He doesn’t mind it after you assure him it’s fine. You think it’s cute and endearing that you wear him out that much

180 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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creepling · 2 years

Text

no longer strangers - college!edward nashton x reader

summary: extroverted reader has a lil meet-cute with ed at a college party.

pairing: college!edward nashton (pre-riddler) x gn!reader

cw: fluff<33, ment of alcohol.

College parties became typical after a few months. One night to put your week of study-stress on the back burner so you can have fun with your friends. You were extroverted enough to enjoy big gatherings, and you were becoming a regular face for most of your peers. People liked your company even though you weren’t known to get completely shitfaced (say for that one time. Never again).

Yet today, you weren’t up for dancing or helping your friends make a keg stand. With deadlines approaching, you had many sleepless nights, and you couldn’t shake off the tiredness that hung on your shoulders. No matter how many cocktails you drank. The room where the party took place felt like it was closing in on you and your breath intake became strained. Desperate for fresh air, you excuse yourself from your friends and make your way to the back porch of the union building. Weaving your way through the chain-smokers and stoners, you find a spot by the railing and rest your elbows, swirling the drink in your cup idly.

Someone sat on the steps to the back lawn before you, their back hunched and head low. You tilted your head inquisitively. An urge forms in you to talk to the lonesome stranger. You glimpsed a pair of glasses beyond the tufts of their dirty-blond hair. They wore a plaided dress shirt underneath a navy sweater. You see a shy nerd enjoying his own company from first impressions, making you hesitate to enter his personal space. He senses your stare and turns his head towards you, revealing his kind face making you form a welcoming smile.

“Not much for parties?” You ask.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Not really.”

You chuckle at his straightforwardness, prompting yourself up from the barrier and gesturing to the space next to him. “Mind if I join you?”

He shook his head and scootched over, giving you space to sit on the step. Up close, you couldn’t help but think he was pretty handsome. His cheeks had a tint of rose when your shoulder grazed over his. Maybe it was your delight in meeting someone new, but you always have a love for shy people.

“So, what’s your major?” You asked the typical icebreaker.

“Forensics and Accounting,” He stated. Joint honours, impressive. “You?”

You tell him what you’re studying, receiving a nod of approval from him. “Sounds like tough work,” his words were short, but they were also sweet.

“I think college overall is just tough,” You scoff, earning a chuckle from him.

“Have we . . . met before?” He asked, a puzzling look on his face.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. Why? Do I look familiar?”

The smile on your face becomes contagious as a smile comes to his face, making him look bashfully at the fairy lights illuminating the scenery. “No, it’s just . . . It’s not every day some stranger comes to me and starts a conversation.”

A hint of sadness washes over you at his words, but you cloud it with your smile and follow his gaze up to the fairy lights. “What can I say? I like to meet new people. Especially when they look as nice as you.”

Before the blush on his cheeks spreads to his ears and he flutters at your words, you hold your hand out for him to shake. You greet yourself by name, your eyes observing his delicate features.

“I’m Edward. People call me Ed,” He spoke, trying to contain the tremble in his fingers as he reached out and shook your hand.

As if you weren’t flirtatiously taunting him enough, you say, “A nice name for a nice person.”

Ed let out a nervous laugh. He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. His glasses were slipping lower on his nose, but he paid no mind as his eyes admired your features. Seeing he was a little distracted, you take it upon yourself to reach your finger and lightly push his glasses back up to his vision. The sudden contact brought his head back in surprise, but he quickly laughed off his nerves again. You were sensing he isn’t used to people being this close with him, something you couldn’t help but find endearing. It was hard not to since his shy; wholesome presence drew you in the more you were next to him. Maybe it was the drink thinking, but you had an urge to feel his arms wrap around you. His jumper looks warm and soft. A perfect nuzzle to rest your head.

It turns out Edward was friendly to have a conversation with. He could not take his eyes off you, enlightened by how you expressively motioned your hands. His flusters increased every time you touched his shoulder and laughed at his jokes. The more you spoke, the closer he felt to you, physically and emotionally. How you naturally leaned forward when he talked, listening to his every word. Your shoulder pressed against his shoulder soothed his nerves. He felt more relaxed, getting over the fear of talking to a stranger. At this point, you were not a stranger anymore. Edward felt like he has known you for years. You were oblivious to it, but Ed saw this moment as sentimental; it was the first time anyone had spoken to him since he started college. Possibly, the first time someone has spoken to him like a human being for the first time in his life.

When the party ended, Edward offered to walk you to your dorm.

“It’s fine, honestly. My dorm is just across the yard.” Edward said, gesturing down the path as you left the union together.

You looked around for your friends, none of them to be seen. You quickly texted the group chat with them and said you would meet them by the dorms before bed. Once you give them the clear, you look back at Edward, smiling at his presence. You swiftly loop your arms under his and link yourself close to his side.

“Let’s go, Romeo,”

Edward gave nothing but praise as he walked you home. He thanked you for spending the night with him as he bashfully admitted he did not have many friends. He also said sorry multiple times for distracting you from your friends.

“You don’t have to thank me – or say sorry for anything,” You reassured, “It’s good to meet new people. My friends are used to me wandering off and talking to strangers.”

Edward laughed and looked ahead. You couldn’t help but admire how his face looked in the evening light, the streetlights reflecting off his glasses and showcasing his tight smile. He is painfully shy but still has a composed demeanour. You guessed he was one of those introverts that opened more when getting to know someone. Hoping you could be someone he opened to, you tightened the hold you had on his arm and stopped in your tracks.

“This is me here,” you said, your voice contrasting with the bustle of drunken students from far away.

Edward looked up at the dormitory building. “It’s good to know you’re not one of the rich ones. Would have been jealous,” he half-heartedly joked.

“If I had the rich-kid dorms, I’d have no arms or legs.” You laughed at your joke.

Edward looked at you blankly.

“You get it? Because they say, it costs an arm and leg-“

“Yeah, I got it,” Edward said, a smirk coming to his face. “It just wasn’t funny.”

He laughed and convinced you he was joking, causing you to show a mocking shocked expression and lightly slap his arm mockingly.

“What happened to the shy, nice Ed? I want him back!” You teased.

Edward went back to his bashful self, staring at the ground with his hands deep in his jacket pockets. “Don’t worry . . . he isn’t going anywhere.”

You let go of his arm and faced in front of him, admiring the blonde streaks through his warm-toned hair as his eyes were still glued to his shoes. With some hesitation, you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his head, meeting his dazed expression when your eyes connected.

“I had fun tonight,” you admitted. You chewed the inside of your cheek to contain the grin that tried to force its way onto your expression.

Edward nodded, trying not to melt under your touch. “I did too.”

You took your fingers away from his chin, instinctively going to fumble with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s make sure we don’t become strangers, okay?”

A shaky breath escaped Ed’s lips. He nodded again. “Yeah. I- I don’t want to be a stranger to you.”

Maybe it was because you had a couple of drinks, but you reached up to his face and planted a light kiss on his cheek. His cheeks feel warm under your impact, causing you to reach for his hand and smooth the soft, delicate fingers.

“Thanks for walking me home,” You said as you pulled away, “See you around?”

Ed stood there dumbfounded as you entered your dormitory. When he went to wave you goodbye, you were already in the building and walking to your dorm with the most prominent, stupidest grin on your face. Did that happen? Edward pinched himself, expecting himself to wake up. Yet, the air was bitter, and the lights were the right intensity for it to be reality. When he realised everything that happened was fact, he began walking back to his dorm with a spring in his step. Then, he cringed.

Shit, he forgot to ask for your number.

#decided to surprise you all with some fluff!!#i know i said i would start writing my requests monday but here's something i had in the drafts #so i made some tweaks and decided to post<33 #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the batman #the batman 2022 #paul dano #danonation #500

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littl3-val3ntine · 2 years

Note

i’ve never asked anything on tumblr but i really love your writing so i was wondering if you could write some good old eddie x reader except reader is also super obsessive!! stalkers in love!!!

OMF IM CRYIN I LOVE THIS

anything for u anon ily

thank you for the ask !1!!!

《♡》

summary // as a private investigator, you weren’t often inclined to talk to the forensics guys. eventually, though, the job gets lonely, and it takes a toll on the mental state… so you find a convenient excuse to allocate your investigative skills elsewhere.

warnings // mutual stalking, small gore depiction, profanity, SFW subby!nashton

author’s note // taking a small break to answer some requests!! :D love u guys thank u so much for asking, i personally love this prompt… so gd much… AAAAA ^^

《♡》

This kind of attraction was not something you were familiar with. It wasn’t anything like love at first sight. In reality, when you first met Edward Nashton you thought he was kind of creepy, but you supposed all of the forensics guys were like that, in a way. To someone in your position, they were just a bunch of nerdy little true-crime obsessed freaks.

You preferred to… avoid the forensics team, as much as you could. They didn’t really appear in your plane of existence unless it was absolutely necessary, and much to your dismay, that case marked one of the nights it was absolutely necessary. When you arrived at the scene, jacket freshly-pressed and latex gloves snapping against your palms, they were swarming the place with an unsettling sort of excitement. No one should be so eager to see a murder site.

Suppressing a groan, you pushed through the crowd of authorities and geeks into the house. Your stomach churned at the scent of it– they hadn’t even removed the cadaver yet. You were lucky to be just a few minutes up the road. In the same vein, though, you didn’t have much time before some attorney or cranky police chief chased you out. You had to be quick.

Eyes glued to the scene, you dug in your coat pocket for your notebook and pen. Fleetingly, you glanced at the throng of people gathered in the foyer, searching for a lone gaudy orange lanyard who might be able to give you some semblance of a rundown. When you found him, he was already zeroed in on you, eyes wide with juvenile infatuation, body stilled mid-motion. It wasn’t uncommon for them to look at you like that. You’d heard the rumors– how IT and Forensics both feared you and thought you were some mythical crime-solving deity in the same fashion. But with the way he looked at you, he wasn’t just intimidated. It was the same way you used to look at that unreasonably hot Psych professor you had in college.

You waved him over. Me? he mouthed back. Brows furrowing, you nodded and waved him over again. You don’t have time for this shit.

Before the entirety of your patience slipped through your fingers, he was at your side, looking up at you doe-eyed and waiting on your call. “Give me the summary– quickly,” you told him pointedly, pen poised above your notepad. You didn’t even look at him, choosing instead to scribble some notes about the scene while he rattled on about direction of blood spatter, time of death, missing articles… more forensics babble that you didn’t understand.

When you looked up at him, he stopped completely. He looked panicked, like he was expecting you to yell at him or something. Jesus, these guys get no play… “Thank you,” you squinted at his lanyard to find his name, his forced smile and glasses painted white by camera flash catching your eye, “Edward.”

You paused. Edward Nashton. You recognized that name– he was the guy that sent you all your forensics reports. From his writing, you always thought he was sharp, pointing out patterns and signatures in your serial cases that you’re certain you would have missed otherwise. You’d sent him e-mails here and there to thank him for his input, but you weren’t ever graced by a response. Now you understand why.

“Oh, yeah, it’s… it’s no big deal. ‘s my job, yeah.”

This could be fun. You stared right at him, letting him squirm underneath your unfaltering gaze. “Are you thinking blunt object or a firearm?”

He swallowed hard. “Not sure, we hav-haven’t seen the body. From the force of the spatter on the wall, though… um, it might be a firearm.” You hummed, nodding. Mercifully, you looked to the blood on the wall, a dripping splotch some few feet above the floor. He must have been kneeling down. Definitely a firearm.

“You’re right, bud. Great work.” Tucking your notepad back into your coat, you removed your glove and held out your hand for a handshake. “Are you the same Edward Nashton who does my reports?”

Taking your hand, he nodded fervently. “Yes! I’ve gotten your e-mails, actually…”

“A response at some point would be nice,” you teased, quirking a smile. “We should work together sometime. I could definitely use you on this one.”

Oh boy, you could use him any day, as far as he’s concerned. The warm hand in yours began to shake, either with excitement or anxiety. “We should?”

Pushing a breath through your nose amusedly, you affirmed to him, “That is what I said, yes.” You took in the surrounding room again. “Rally up some of your guys to get pictures of this before they clean it up, as legally as possible.” It came so naturally, slipping back into that air of professionality. He nodded and scurried off, breathlessly telling the rest of his team, Get the cameras. The cameras.

It’s unclear what about him distracted you, but nonetheless he drew you in like a fly to honey. Your eyes followed him as he disappeared through the crowd, and not even the hollering of lawyers pulled you back to earth. Mind still foggy, consumed by questions about him, you found yourself being tugged along by two officers before you even had a chance to do your job.

Standing on the lawn, staring at the house, you cursed yourself.

What the fuck am I doing?

———

Your devotion to the case never faltered. The question became about which part of the case you were devoted to.

Never before had you been so interested in an autopsy.

Any excuse you could find to slip a few floors down and appear in Nashton’s cubicle, asking coyly, “Anything out of the ordinary in the blood samples?” or, “How’s the fingerprint processing coming along?” you shamelessly abused. That’s exactly how you found yourself there, hovering over his shoulder to look at the images his team snapped of the scene. He was rambling on about the position of the body and height of the splatter, this, that, and the other thing. You were only half-listening. You couldn’t really help it– since your time at the scene together, you’d become consumed by him, unable to think of anything else. It wasn’t quite infatuation. More so, it was an obsession, an insatiable need for his undivided attention. Sometimes when you’d get to thinking about him, you’d scare yourself. You knew it was becoming unhealthy but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

Tuning back in, you let your hand graze his back as you leaned forward to leaf through the photos. “Great work, Nashton… these are incredible shots.” He took in a shuddering breath at your praise, shoulders tensing beneath your touch.

“Oh, thank you. Really, it was my team…”

“But this is your analysis, no?”

“Yes!” His head snapped in your direction. “Yeah, I… they tend to let me, um, handle this stuff.”

You smiled down at him. “It makes sense, you’re the most capable.”

He looked about ready to burst, his entire body tense like a coil about to spring free. He was hardly breathing anymore, jaw hanging open with words he couldn’t yet formulate. The tips of his ears and his cheeks beneath his glasses were flushed completely pink, and if you leaned any closer you might have felt the heat radiating from his face.

Clearing your throat, you straightened. “Once you’re through with those, you should meet me in my office. There’s some things regarding this case we should discuss in private.”

He nodded again. “Okay. I mean, yes. I will.” He swallowed hard. With a squeeze of his shoulder and a reassuring smile, you were gone.

There wasn’t anything to talk about, but you were hoping to come up with something between that afternoon and the time his hesitant tapping came at your door some hours later. You were knee deep in his files when he came, notepad sprawled across your desk and absolutely defaced with information. Mailing address, full name, date of birth… marriage status. His presence both called you back to reality, shame washing over you as you closed all your tabs and shut your notebook, and thrilled you further into that obsessive haze.

You knew what you were going to talk with him about.

“It’s unlocked.”

“May I come in?”

You blinked. “That’s what I was implying, yes.”

“Oh.” The door edged open and he slipped through, offering a tight lipped grin as he shut it behind him. You motioned to the chair across from yourself, and he tentatively took a seat.

“So, I wanted to discuss some possible motives with you. Right now on the board we have a possible weapon, time of death, position of attack… but no reason.” His eyes kept dropping to your mouth as you spoke. You suppressed a maniacal grin. “What are we thinking, Eddie?”

He was thinking he’s going to explode right there in that seat, with the way you were looking at him. His mind was cluttered with anxiety, but he still had sense to pick up what you were putting down. The double-meaning. He was smart like that, picking up on the nuances of language, and you knew that. You watched it click in his head.

“Um,” he began, pausing to consider his words. “It might have been… uh, domestic, like infidelity or maybe a couple’s spat…” With your legs crossed loosely beneath the desk, you let the toe of your shoe drift across the inside of his calf.

“Go on…”

“Oh, um, that was really my main theory, actually. We haven’t seen or heard from the victim’s wife since he passed, so she might be a good starting point.” He wasn’t meeting your eyes, often glancing up at you but then, just as quickly, glancing away. His eyes were on your lips, your hands, the papers on your desk. You’d put his files away, hadn’t you?

To your relief, you had. Your heartbeat settled in your temple. You smiled at him, holding out your hand for him. “Thank you, Nashton. That’s all I needed, I’ll let you get home now.”

He took your hand in a weak shake and stood eagerly to leave. “Glad I could help.” He made his way to the door, but paused. “Hey, if you… if you ever, um, need something from me, outside of office hours, just give me a call. I do a lot of my work at home, anyway. D-Do you have my number?”

“I do.” Of course you had his number. It was on his file. You had access to all of his files. Hell, you had them memorized by now.

“You do. Okay, yeah, then… just, ahem. Just give me a call.”

You tried to maintain your stoicity, but you’re certain he picked up on how your eyes softened with amusement. “Goodnight, Nashton.”

“Goodnight.” And then he was gone. The feeling of missing him was instantaneous, a tugging in your chest that wouldn’t rest.

Your eyes drifted back to your notepad.

Snatching it from the desk, you hastily locked up your office and followed him out.

———

That’s how you found yourself where you are now. Sitting in your car, waiting outside his apartment complex. The inside of his apartment was dark– no lights on, no movement, a package un-received still sitting on his doorstep. Had he already gone to sleep? You glance around the parking lot, finding no sign of his car. No, he hadn’t even arrived home yet.

Swallowing around a guilty lump, you start your car and speed home. Your mind is relentless. Where is he? Is he with someone else? Did he see me?

You’re consumed with your thoughts as you pull into your driveway, tunnel-vision until you finally reach the warm embrace of your home. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you take off your shoes and rest them beside the door.

It’s stuffy. Your chest is tight with anxiety, and the comforting warmth from your heater quickly becomes suffocating with every second you spend inside. Trotting over to the streetview window, you throw aside the curtains and budge open the panel. Fresh air kisses you immediately, soothing your lungs with cool air.

The city sleeps before you, a sight that always calmed you to see. Despite the whirlwind of your life, the grotesque realities you are consistently presented with, the city always remains still against the black canvas of the night.

Your gaze follows the buildings down from the sky to the street, pausing on something. A car, just across the street and parked along the curb adjacent to your doorstep. A smile creeps across your face.

Found him.

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