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#edward nashton fluff
imagine--if · 9 months
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Can I ask for a Dano Riddler imagine? where him and Yn grew up together (she was in the girls wing of the orphanage and they talked through the walls, like him and the joker on the film) and she goes to see him in Arkham, and she's really sad that he's there, because they promissed each other that they'd never leave one another, and it's tearful and all, but he promisses her that he'll leave soon and never be apart ever again😭❤
A/N: I've just gotten round to reading the fourth issue of Riddler Year One so yessss I've totally got plenty of inspo for this imagine 😁 enjoy!!
Wordcount: 2.2K
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"She doesn't say much. And when she does, it's hard to make it out. Shy little thing. Still, she'll get used to it. She'll have to."
You were only four or five when you were dumped in Gotham's orphanage, clutching onto your soft toy as an only source of comfort and some kind of stability in a terrifying world, and an even worse city. You were quiet, barely spoke, and when you did, it was in whispers, all wide, innocent eyes and secretive, the hood up on your little hoodie as you tried your best to hide yourself from everything and everyone. Just a toddler, with a sweet life twisted by death and misfortune that you barely understood as a toddler. You had shuffled meekly behind a carer who led you into the orphanage, a cold and cruel building that they expected you to call home.
The other kids there seemed so much bigger, loud and dominating and aggressive, half of them on drops, only around twelve years old. Others were plain bullies with filthy mouths and hateful glares, children's eyes glancing at you, assessing your small, shy form, before they carried on with what they were doing in disinterest.
You had buried your face in your toy and pulled the fabric of your hood up past your hair and head, over your forehead, shadowing your face, trying to disappear in it. You pulled your legs up to your chest and watched everything happen behind your toy, its fur pressed up against your face. A group of kids watched TV and fought over the remote, others played nearby outside, but from your spot hunched in a corner, opposite you, sat a boy almost as quiet as you. You gazed at him in silence for a few long minutes, absorbed in his puzzle book, and only when he looked up to get a fresh pencil did he notice your young, curious eyes fixed on him.
He was a few years older than you, with glasses pushed up his nose, making his murky green eyes twinkle as they looked back at you nervously. He gave you a small smile, the first genuine smile you'd received in maybe your whole life, awkward and hesitant. You blinked back at him timidly, hugging your toy closer with little hands, returning his smile bashfully. The boy seemed taken aback by the action, and beamed at you, a beat of hesitance passing before he offered you a pen. You stared at it, then at him, and wandered over, sitting beside him and accepting his offer. You barely knew how to read or write, and so you watched him instead, the quiet boy with a nice smile and lots of books, day after day.
And as the days went by, both of you becoming closer and more comfortable together, Edward would start talking to you in his small, sweet voice, writing answers to riddles with a hand over yours, pulling your littler form into his lap after a couple of weeks and reading to you, then helping you read, helping you speak up a little. He'd even speak for you with others, managing to push past his own shyness every so often to help you, to repeat your whispered, lispy voice to those who couldn't catch it. You'd trail after him throughout the day when you could, before you were taken back to the girls' dorm, and you'd linger in the separating corridor, afraid of the idea of you two parting and him never coming back out of his long, shared boys' room.
"I'll see you in the morning," He'd always say soothingly, giving you a warm hug, bending down slightly so you could return it properly. "I'll never leave you. You know that."
And you'd nod, because you knew Edward was telling the truth by the way he said it and looked at you with earnest, young eyes, letting you borrow a book to amuse yourself with if the nights got too long,
But then foster families and adoptees started popping up. And you, being a young, sweet-looking child, albeit a little shy, are swept up into the grips of a random 'family,' and the quickness of how your name's signed away to people you don't even know and have no say over makes your head spin. The orphanage was overcrowded anyway, and one less mouth to feed in exchange for money made all the difference.
Edward, on the other hand, was beside himself.
Newspapers and library books on adoption and rules and any ways to prevent what was happening piled up beside his bed, to the dorm he'd been disciplined to stay in for his shocking outbursts of frustration and hatred and upset. Thomas Wayne's renewal plan could help him, he thought. He'd already assured him that he could get to a special school to study and learn and have a brighter future.
So on the last night you could spend together, sneaking out of the corridor of a room you slept in with the other girls, Edward filled out the form in his shaky, uneven writing, stating on one line that he wanted to go to the school he'd talked about, and on the other, 'I want to stay with my best friend and stop them from being taken away by bad people.'
REJECTED.
The word stamped in bold, horrid red print was the response he got, the word that bled into his mind as you were made to pack a bag and wave goodbye and go, handing your young life over to strangers, and Edward couldn't do a thing about it. You were carted off out of Gotham to go to school and expected to become a whole new person.
But you couldn't.
The years went by agonisingly slowly, and with every one that passed, you thought about him, your friend, Edward. Did he get adopted too? Did he manage to find some source of happiness and hope afterwards? Would he even remember you if you went back?
Eventually, you save up enough money and have enough time to go back to where it all started, in the unfeeling streets of Gotham City. You had no idea where to look, and after hearing from someone that the orphanage had been burned down ages ago, your last resort was to ask at the GCPD.
"Sorry to bother you," you say with an awkward smile, as a detective greets you and asks if he can be any help; 'Lieutenant James Gordon,' his name tag reads, "I'm looking for someone who I think still lives here? We were friends a while ago, and... I'm sorry, you look busy."
"We are quite busy, Miss," Gordon tells you, looking a little overwhelmed. "We've just managed to catch some crazy psycho who's been letting hell loose recently."
Your eyes widen in confusion and interest. "Wow... that's... yeah, I'm sorry, it's okay."
"No, go on," Gordon nods, letting you into his office, "have you got a name, address or anything?"
"I don't know his address," you say in uncertainty. "We were friends as kids. His name's Edward. Edward Nashton?"
Jams Gordon stops abruptly, whirling around to face you with demanding, bewildered eyes.
"Excuse me?"
You frown. "What?"
"Are you trying to be funny?" Gordon says in shock. "Edward Nashton? That's who you're looking for?"
You nod slowly, and Gordon sighs, taking off his glasses and hiding his face in a hand.
"Look, Miss, I don't know how new you are to Gotham, but Edward Nashton has just been arrested and sent to Arkham Asylum for the crimes committed under the name of The Riddler. He was only just apprehended a few hours ago."
Your breath catches in your throat in disbelief, as Gordon's eyes narrow suspiciously, looking you up and down.
"And you really knew nothing about this? You aren't an accessory?"
"I- no," you shake your head, "I only just made it to Gotham this evening."
Gordon nods slowly, though he still doesn't seem convinced. He suddenly grabs his jacket and opens the office door, glancing back at you.
"Come with me."
You follow him meekly, as he leads you out of the building and into a police car. Are you going to be arrested? Could your Eddie really have done this? Why?
Gordon stops outside Arkham, opening the car door for you to step out, and leads you inside, showing his badge to the guards, who let you proceed. The walls are strong and metallic and thick, and the cells are sealed with heavy iron doors with a small, barred rectangular window at their tops. You try not to let your attention wander, sticking close to Gordon, until he reaches an interrogation room. A mad dressed in a jet-black bat suit already stands there with a frustrated look in his dark eyes, and Gordon signals for you to wait as he goes over to the Batman and whispers something you can't quite make out in his ear. The Batman looks over at you quickly, his expression unreadable, and then he approaches you.
"You know Nashton?" his deep, whispery voice states more than asks, and you nod.
Batman stares at you for another moment before marching back into the interrogation room, nodding at you impatiently to come in. You do, blinking at the hard lights and the security cameras glaring at you from the corners of the room. And, behind the strong, glass partition and metal desk, a young man sits staring at you in disbelief.
Clear, dorky glasses. Murky green eyes. Soft, sandy brown hair. It's definitely him.
"Edward?" you say breathlessly, going to step closer, but the Batman gives you a wary look. "Ed, is that really you?"
He nods wordlessly, his eyes wide and stunned. But beneath that familiar, comforting look he's always had, there's a layer you can only just make out, like a hidden spark of insanity, one that's made the whole city go into a frenzy and even The Batman apprehensive. Edward whispers your name like a prayer, his hands pressed up against the protective glass.
"You came back," he says in wonder, as Gordon and Batman glance between the two of you in uncertainty, but you're not focused on them at all, like the whole world is disappearing around you. "I- I knew you would..."
"What happened?" you say, overwhelmed by the whole scenario, staring in wonder at the now grown-up orphan labelled a criminal in front of you. "What did you do?"
"What I had to do," he smiles brightly, adoringly at you, that glimmer of insanity coming to the surface. "What they made me do. And I did it for you, too."
"Me?"
"Who else?" Edward giggles, standing up and moving closer to the glass, his hands cuffed and chained. "They tried to break us apart. But you came back. I've been waiting for so long..."
"What does she know about this?" The Batman slices through the moment, and Edward glances at him distractedly. "Have you been doing this together?"
"Of course not," Edward breathes, turning his attention back to you with a sweet smile. "She's too pure for that. Too shy, and lovely... it was me. But you inspired me," he insists, looking straight at you, "to make a clean slate, and clean it all up, so that it'd be perfect for us. And it will be, angel. You coming back was the last piece of the puzzle." Edward suddenly gives you that all-too familiar soft, loving look you'd seen back in the orphanage, and you have to fight to compose yourself, wanting so badly to run to him like you did so many times before. "You look so beautiful. You haven't changed a bit..."
You feel like crying, stunned by the casualness of what he's saying and admitting to. "I... oh Edward..." you shake your head, giving him a desperate look. "You're in Arkham."
"That's right," Batman interjects again, "you can't be together. You're a psychopath, Nashton. You're not getting out. I'm sending her back home."
"No, wait," you cut in desperately, still feeling just as drawn to the genius madman even after the dark truths, "please, I don't want to leave him, I can help..."
A guard interrupts, bursting into the interrogation room, and you all turn to him.
"There's been explosions," the guard announces, "the city walls have collapsed and the main road's flooded."
As he speaks, Edward giggles to himself, giving the masked vigilante a dark, unhinged look that makes your heart jump in your chest.
"She's not going anywhere," he says excitedly, grinning at you. "You're right where you need to be. We can watch the whole thing together."
The Batman dithers between leaving and staying, eventually rushing out of the room, along with Gordon, to deal with the flooding crisis, and a guard hustles you out of the room as Edward's voice calls out your name from behind you.
"You'll never leave me again! We were meant to be! You know it's true, darling! You know!"
You manage to glance back at him as you leave, studying his crazed, ecstatic look, that same softness in his eyes as the day you had to leave, but tainted with madness. But as you look, you can't help but smile back at him slightly, because you know it's true.
As the waters invade the city and the building erupts into panic along with the rest of Gotham, you know it's true. And maybe that'll make this all worth it.
⭒❃.✮:▹ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)
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abrcmswrld · 1 year
Text
Talk to Strangers
Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader
━━━━
Word Count: 4,951
Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder
Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?
Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!
Ao3 Link
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He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.
You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.
You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."
Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.
━━━━
You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.
But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.
It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.
"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.
"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.
He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"
"It makes you an asshole."
He finally faces you.
"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."
His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."
You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."
━━━━
And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.
You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.
"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.
As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.
You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.
"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."
He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."
You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.
━━━━
But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.
It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."
"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."
Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.
'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'
Holy shit.
━━━━
Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.
It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.
"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."
He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."
He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."
━━━━
The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.
'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'
"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.
You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."
It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.
"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.
"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"
You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.
━━━━
Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.
"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."
"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"
The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.
Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.
You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.
"When you're ready."
━━━━
You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.
He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.
"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."
You slam the laptop shut.
Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.
Paralyzed.
It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.
Shh. Shh. Just breathe.
But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.
You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.
━━━━
Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.
But you know it's him.
It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.
He thinks he's smarter than you.
You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.
You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.
You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.
━━━━
The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.
So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.
You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."
He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.
"I think you should go home and get some rest."
And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.
━━━━
So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.
He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.
He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.
"Edward."
It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
He is terrifying.
"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."
Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"
He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."
You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.
His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.
But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.
You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.
The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.
"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."
It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.
"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."
You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.
He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.
You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.
He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.
"Does this not make you happy?"
Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.
"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."
You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.
You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"
His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."
That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.
"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."
"Okay."
"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."
His hand grips yours as he looks at you.
"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."
━━━━
You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.
But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.
When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.
"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."
"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."
"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."
“I would never have expected it to be him.”
"I hope he gets the help he needs."
916 notes · View notes
devilfic · 4 months
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Could you write some fluffy headcanons about Edward Nashton when he was still in the orphanage? I just want little choir boy Eddie to get some affection
❝young!edward nashton headcanons❞
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pairing: edward nashton x gn!reader. cw: none! words: 1.2k.
a/n: ngl, this one is a little difficult because almost all of edward's life in the orphanage was awful asfkaskfj but I'll try! this is more edward centric than x reader bc I wasn't sure if that's what you wanted. these headcanons jump around from childhood to when eddie is a teenager.
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I like to think edward always had really severe bedhead which he would not take care of at all
the exception being if it was for mass, but this used to get him in trouble with the wardens a lot
until one year he just buzzed it all off bc he was sick of getting yelled at about it all the time.... except all the wardens were DEVASTATED
"your hair fit you so well :(((" "why would you do that? it looked really nice when you combed it"
the wardens were rarely ever nice to him so he was very taken aback by this
so he eventually let it grow out again and started. kinda taking pride in his hair?
there wasn't a lot he could do with what little the orphanage had to go around, but sometimes with the money he'd get from his delivery job, he'd buy some nice hair gel and do his hair really neat before leaving for the day. eventually he would get compliments about how nice and soft it was and sometimes pretty people at school would ask to touch it which used to send his little heart into OVERDRIVE
tried growing it down to his shoulders ONE time but he eventually had to invest in hair ties and that was just way too much work
I can't remember if his hobbies are ever mentioned in the before the batman novel but since paul dano is a movie buff in real life, I think it would be cute if eddie was too
when he would get some money, he'd cut class to go to matinee showings and have the time of his life
it was nice bc it was somewhere he could be alone for a few hours and he could always afford a little escapism
the nights where his mind was still fresh with a movie he'd seen earlier in the day were some of the easier ones
sometimes he'd lay up in bed replaying them over and over in his head until he conked out for the night
and sometimes, when the really young kids couldn't fall asleep at night, he'd recite the plot of the movies he saw as bedtime stories
the older kids are awful to him but the younger kids? they love his bedtime stories
(he also might've gotten reported to the wardens about cutting class to see movies but his grades are so good that if they call about him skipping out on a class every now and then, some of the teachers will just straight up lie for him)
(and I mean, he gets really good grades. as long as he passes his classes and isn't getting into anything bad, they couldn't care less)
ironically, his time as a choir boy made him want to join a rock band as a kid
edward probably had a cheap little cd player he kept close to his heart and a secret stash of cds hidden in one of the ceiling tiles in the boys' bathroom that he'd pull out when he was alone and just lose himself in the music
I also like to think he's a fan of math rock and midwest emo because why wouldn't he be
once he got too old to be a choir boy, he started taking lessons from the organist just so he could do something with his hands
but you know what he'd really love to play if he could? the bass
if he'd had the money (and the assurance no one would destroy it), he would've loved to get a bass and just shred on it all hours of the night
(I'd like to think older eddie puts some of that accountant money toward one and it's one of his prized possessions. he may not be the best at it, but he can play his favorite songs and that's much better than nearer my god to thee)
(he definitely sings under his breath too while he plays, partly because his neighbors would complain if he sang any louder and partly because he hasn't really gotten used to losing that choir boy voice)
(this is definitely inspired by the fact that paul is in a band btw)
very eloquent writer!! he used to write poems and songs as a kid that he'd run by his english teacher after class to get advice on
he's written a few secret admirer love letters to crushes over the years with that skill. he never had the guts to reveal he was the one behind them, but he preferred the reveals in his head where they at least could never go wrong
truth was, he'd slip in some riddles from time to time and it almost surely gave him away, but none of his crushes ever outed him on it and that was a small victory
used to take naps in church when he could get away with it but his snore would always give him away
(can you imagine that being why no one liked him. no edward, the orphanage kids didn't hate you because you liked riddles, they hated you because you snore too loud)
near insatiable sweet tooth which he carries into adulthood
teachers would sneak him bags of candy on his birthday that he'd guard with his LIFE so the other kids wouldn't steal any
the wardens would also have to save money on birthday cakes so sometimes all the kids born in a month would all share one cake, but sometimes one of the wardens would save him an extra slice without the other kids knowing if he helped her with her crossword puzzles or filing her taxes
if this takes place in the first snow universe, I'd also like to think that tween-age eddie would sneak out at night to come see you at your place
you'd wait for the tell-tale sign he was there—a small pebble at your window, followed by two more just to be clear, and then you'd rush downstairs to let him slip in through the backdoor
you'd share the leftovers from dinner in your room, laughing under the sheets as you shoot "would you rather"s at each other for as long as you have breath in your giggling little lungs
(you'd almost been caught a few times, and as eddie got older and as he eventually started climbing through your window when his legs got long enough, the rush of hiding under your bed while your father asked what all the noise was about would get him a little lightheaded)
sometimes you two would even lay in bed with the bedroom door locked (when you were old enough to get away with doing that), sharing your fears and worries and ambitions for the future
and you'd always fall asleep first
and he would just lay there, content, facing you, watching your smushed face in the pillow and your hand still half gripping at his wrist over something funny he'd said ten minutes earlier
he'd always tuck you back in tight and sneak out the back door bc he didn't want to leave the window open in the winter, and he surely didn't want to wake you to close it
your mother sometimes saw, but she never said a thing about it to you, and you and edward were both too confidently stupid and young to think you'd been caught
and if you noticed that she always made just a little too much extra at dinner these days... well, nothing really needed to be said about that
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs
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smellydano · 1 year
Text
comforting eddie || edward nashton
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warnings: nothing really, eddie is a sad boy,
synopsis: eddie thinks he doesn't deserve you
word count: 828
a/n: just a little something bad random that i found in my drafts !! ALSO the gif is so beautiful
you and eddie were sprawled out on your bed, the sheets and comforter entangling both your legs that were placed between each other. he placed his arms around your torso, his frame being significantly bigger than yours, making the position slightly awkward but still comfortable. eddie had his face buried into the small crook of your neck. letting out a heavy sigh, he placed little lazy kisses around your neck and collarbone before he lowered himself to your chest. you held the back of his head, running your fingers through his soft brown hair. his glasses pressed against your upper chest, resting his face on your cleavage that poked out from your tank top. 
“what’s the matter, honey?” you question him, looking down to see the top of his head. “it was a long day at work.” is all he could manage to say, voice muffled from being pressed against you. a frown crawled upon your face, not buying his reasoning. 
you rub soothing circles on his back, releasing a slight moan from his lips. you placed a kiss on the crown of his head, “honey, you can tell me if there’s something wrong. is everything okay?” you felt his breathing come to a halt, unsure if he should tell you about everything on his mind. he let out another sigh, his fingers playing with the fabric of your top. 
“I just need comfort right now, please.” he pleaded, you could hear the tears threatening to spill down his cherub face. you continued to stroke his hair, leaving small gentle scratches on his scalp. you felt his breathing become uneven and more sporadic. you quietly shushed him while rubbing his back, trying to settle him down. the tears started to soak your shirt, looking down at him with a frown. you’ve never seen him this upset.  you whispered sweet nothings down to him as he wept in your arms. 
with growing concern, you asked him once more, “what’s going on, sweetpea. please?.” you coaxed as you combed his hair from the side of his face, trying to give him some room to breathe. He placed his cheek on your chest, taking a deep breath as you encouraged him to.
“i-” he hesitated, you gave him a reassuring nod as he felt all sorts of emotions.
“i just don’t understand how you love me.” his sentence was quickly cut short by quiet sobs. you sighed, pulling him up closer to you. you felt your eyes start to form tears and your bottom lip start to quiver. you were unsure where this came from, he seemed fine when he left for work this morning. 
eddie was a complex man, and you knew that. he’s had many firsts with you; first kiss, first date, first i love you’s, first time having sex. yet, he never started to question himself and your relationship until very recently. sure, he’s always felt like the luckiest guy in the world, dating someone who’s far out of his league. but recently, it’s all he thinks about. how you deserve so much more, someone who’s less awkward, more attractive, and more experienced with everything. a lot of his insecurities seem to stem from his lack of experience with, well, everything. he’s never had a girlfriend before you. 
“oh sweetpea.” you said in a soft tone, your voice sounding like sweet honey. he cuddled himself closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder.
“i can’t find the right words to express just how much i love you, you’re the kindest, sweetest, most lovable man i’ve ever met. i’ve never felt safer with anyone before. i love everything about you, honey!” you quietly exclaimed, trying to keep your tone quiet.
he continued to weep in your arms, sniffling occasionally, “c’mere eddie.” you said as you tried sitting up. he lifted himself off of you, sitting crisscross across from you and showing his red eyes and tear-stained face, which fogged up his glasses. you gently took them from his face, placing your hands on the sides of his face and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. quickly, you cleaned his foggy glasses, and placed them back on his face. he smiled as you pulled him up to the top of the bed. you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, then one on his lips. 
as you pulled away, you noticed his cheeks tinted pink. one of the many things he loved about you was how you still managed to give him butterflies no matter how long you’ve been together.
“you’re the love of my life eddie. i’ve never felt so sure of someone in my entire life. please don’t think that you don’t deserve my love. you deserve it, and so much more.”
a small smile crawled onto his face, pulling his knees towards his chin, starting to rock himself a little. you pulled him close into a big hug, rubbing his back until he felt calm. 
----
i’m working on my wips (including requests!) thank u sm for reading and supporting even tho my writing sucks LOL love u 🍄🖤🧚🏻
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always-andromeda · 1 year
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Can I please have Molasses chip with Edward Nashton ♥️
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– 𝐈 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲
𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sometimes I feel like I write Edward as the biggest simp of all time. and this is one of those times.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied stalking, slight manipulation, Edward is a delusional little creep, very fluffy (if you're also a weirdo lol /lh), nothing else I can think of!
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Truthfully, Edward falls in love too easily. Well, it's not exactly love. More like infatuation. Or...obsession. Edward falls into obsession very quickly.
Because as soon as he gets his eye on you, he can't help but fixate. Every move, every breath, every word, every bit and piece of you that he can get his hands on, he sinks his teeth in like a feral dog, fighting for scraps.
He memorizes your schedule, makes sure you're safe, and takes note of all the little things that are important to you. I just can't help it, he tells himself. See, in Edward's mind, he can never be too careful.
Besides, it's not like you made it difficult for him to keep tabs. You should be grateful that it's him looking after you and not some other weirdo. Yes, you really are so very lucky to have him in your life.
And you'll never get a hint of any of it unless Edward wants you to. The glimpses you get of the man behind the curtain are all highly curated.
You'll run into him at the coffee shop where you get your morning drink. And he'll offer to pay for your drink and watch you smile in delight. Then he snatches the stick you'd used to stir your coffee with from the trash after you leave.
A few weeks later, you'll find yourself holding the elevator door open for him in your apartment complex. You recognize him, of course; how could you not? The kind eyed man who'd paid for your coffee on a whim had lived in the back of your mind for a while now; small acts of kindness like that were rare in Gotham.
And he acts pleasantly surprised to see you again and explains that he's just moved in. As if all of this was some happy little accident.
Edward has to tone down his excitement when you offer him a helping hand whenever he needs it. You say something about how sometimes the ceilings leak and the occasional rat scampers through. But he can handle both of those things. The thing he must prepare for is getting ready to see you almost every day.
Every single day will be a brand new chance to impress you with his stunning database knowledge about you. And he can't wait to watch you fall in love with him too. Because you will love him. He'll make sure of it.
And as the elevator door opens on your floor and you walk out, telling him that you hope he has a wonderful rest of his night, he stares back, waving. Right before the elevator door closes all the way, he whispers, "I love you, my angel. I love you."
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Note
Fluff Headcanons Where Riddler(Or Should i Say Riddly,Kinda Cringe Nickname, Right? Anyways Riddler with Chubby!Afab!Reader? Please?
Riddler/Edward Nashton w Chubby!Afab!Reader Fluff Headcannons
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- He’s obsessed with your entire body. Anything you’re insecure about, you can guarantee he’s obsessed with
- He loves massaging your thighs, and resting his head on them - super comfy
- He loves rubbing your stomach and peppering kisses all over it
- His favourite cuddling position is resting his head on your stomach/thighs and being engulfed by the warmth
- He’ll take chance he gets to compliment your curves and chub
- He loves when you wear things that show off your body
- Finding ways to make you feel confident and powerful in your own skin is a priority
- He admires you and your body in a gentle way that no one else could
- He thinks it’s cute when you wear his clothes and they’re tight/don’t fit due to your chubbiness
- He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world
- All in all, he loves every inch of you
- Riddly loves you for you
Let me know if there’s anything I should add, I think this is a really cute prompt <3
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marvelmaniac2000 · 11 months
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Hi! I adore how you wrote Riddler and the reader in the Fluff + Smut fic! I was wondering could I request a fic or some headcanons about Edward and Fem! Reader’s first time together, maybe with a little bit of soft dom Eddie please!
thank you so much! 💚✨
Thank youuu anon!!! 😘 I love writing about Eddie more than any other character tbh 😬 😅.. 💚 I'm so in love with him 💚
Love at First Sight -----------------------------------------------
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There's so many different headcanons about him but here's the first few that come to mind.
Subject: Pure fluff, pet names, soft! dom Eddie, kiss maybe?, flirting, (sorry for misspelling and grammar)
Words: 400+
just major cuteness to go around UGH
Side notes: all of the possibilities are endless, where do I even begin?
*sobbed uncontrollably in a corner*
This handsome man can't keep his eyes off of you.
he will constantly tell you how absolutely pretty and beautiful you are.
He wants to hold your hand and brush it against his lips.
chivalry is NOT dead when it comes to Eddie. He will hold the door open for you, give you his jacket when it's raining, constantly walking right beside you to make you feel protected.
He will look deep into your eyes and hold eye contact to let you know how much he's listening to you.
He has a bad habit of brushing your loose strands behind your ears.
He loves sitting next to you and swinging his arm around any sofa/couch/chair you guys are sitting in.
SUPER controlling and protective of your relationship.
He insist in paying and he never wants you too. It's just in his nature duh.
some of the nicknames he will give you: love bun, sweet heart, honey, baby girl, princess, pretty girl, cutie pie, Ms.beautiful, mama,
He's so proud to call him his, he super affectionate in public with you
You both do everything together
He lets you borrow all of his hoodies and sweaters
YOU'RE his everything <3
. . .
"I can't believe we are finally together" you cling on to his arm. You walk with him down the street of Gotham with the biggest grin on your face. After all of the bad exes in your life you finally met someone who would do all of the things you wanted in a boyfriend.
"I believe it, I knew eventually you would come to me" he had his hands in his loose jacket with a sheepish smile. He was so cute and wholesome as he stayed close to you. It felt so good knowing you had someone to trust. You never wanted to leave his side, he meant to so much to you now. Is this what being in love felt like? Many cute plans and fantasies flooded your mind. You couldn't wait to do so many things with him. To show everyone the sweet guy you were with. Why didn't you approach him sooner?
You both just wandering around the mall but (actually he was just following you around) he could care less about anything beside just spending time with you. The sun was setting and you grew tired from today. "You ready to go home baby?" Eddie absently offered to hold your bag as you stopped mid stride to looked at the time on your phone.
"yea, I work tomorrow unlike you" you peck a kiss on his cheek. both of you worked at the same place, but opposite ends of the building. You always miss him dearly when you guys get busy with other tasks.
"Just call in I want to lay in my bed with you it's been forever" his clingy demeanor kicked in realizing how long it's been since he had you in his arms. He needed you now and tomorrow. You were the only person who understood him and loved him for who he was. He didn't want to lose the happiness that kept him alive.
"Don't worry about them babe, you're always working extra days. We still have so much stuff we need to do at home" he caressed his rough hand on your cheek. His thumb gripped your chin. "You promised me you would cuddle and lay in bed with me right?" his soft deep voice became persuasive drawing in you like smoke. Eddie leaned in to kiss you slowly making you moan. " I promise" you peck his lips again. Eddie felt like he was on cloud nine, finally having the girl and life he dreamed of.
Likes/comments/reblogs/requests & asks
much love <3
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killerlookz · 2 years
Text
Dress my Wounds (Edward Nashton x gn! Reader)
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Description: Edward shows up at reader's apartment severely injured after a murder doesn't go as smoothly as planned (pretty much pure fluff)
Warnings: murder, description of injuries/wounds/blood (nothing INSANELY graphic), reader has questionable morals (know's Edward's the riddler + doesn't mind)
Word count: 5,052 (i got a little carried away lol)
-
You sigh at the pleasant sound of rain hastily tapping your window, and pull a blanket up closer to your chest. You invite the feeling of warmth from the plush blanket as you snuggle up with it, lazily draping your head against the armrest of your couch. A quiet yawn escapes you while your eyes fixate on the TV in front of you. You watch tonight's Jeopardy episode intently, trying to drum up the answers before any of the contestants do.
"Christian Bale brought to life Patrick Bateman, a wealthy businessman and part-time serial killer in this novel turned movie" states Alex Trebek on the other side of the screen.
"That's easy," you say to yourself, "American Psycho!"
"What is American Psycho?" says one of the contestants.
"Correct, $400 for you,"
You smile faintly at the satisfaction of having gotten one of the questions correct. Eddie would be proud, you think to yourself. Edward was a pretty big fan of Jeopardy, and he had gotten you into watching it nightly after it had become one of your pastimes to do together whenever either one of you would stay over the other's apartment.
Your eyes widen as a loud sound effect plays from your TV's speakers and the colors from the screen reflect on your face just a little brighter, announcing the round's daily double. But then, there's a subtle knock on your door and your head flings to the side. Puzzled, you pause the TV and get off the couch, you weren't expecting anyone and it was pretty late for company even if you were. You wander over to your door and stand up on your toes to look through the peephole. When your eye finally aligns with the small hole and adjusts to the distorted view you feel your heart plummet down into your stomach.
Just outside stood Edward, looking longingly up towards the peephole, you can barely make out his bloodshot eyes from behind his shattered glasses. One of his cheeks is scratched up, and he has a bloody nose that's leaking crimson down his swollen lips and a darkly bruised black eye. His face appears to be twitching and he's tightly grasping his upper arm with his opposite hand and he is absolutely drenched from the rain.
You quickly undo the locks on your door and swing it open,
"Oh, Eddie!" you whine, reaching out your hands and motioning him inside. You run your hands through your hair anxiously before shutting the door behind him as he walks in. "God, Edward, what happened to you?" you try to look him in his eyes but he has this painful expression on his face that makes it hard for you to look at him. You can tell behind the cracked lenses of his glasses that he's crying which causes an indescribably painful ache in your heart that nearly makes you well up in tears. You want to hold him, and kiss him, and tell him, everything will be okay, but you don't even know what's wrong with him, and you fear if you were to throw your arms around him you'll only hurt him more.
"He fought back," Edward said meekly, his voice hoarse.
You were aware of Edward's activities, his yearning for change, and the extreme measures he was willing to take to get there. Yet despite the brutality he'd inflicted on others, it never seemed to turn you away from him. It wasn't like you were just going to fall out of love with the man you had spent so many years loving just because he wanted the people driving your city into the ground to pay for their actions.
"Who, baby?" you swallowed hard, "God, let's get you to the bathroom," you huff under your breath, not giving Edward time to answer. You wrap an arm around his waist to try to help him maintain his balance as you lead him over to your bathroom. The sound of his wet boots makes a squeezing sound against the wood of your apartment floors.
You enter the room and flip on the light, a bright fluorescence now enveloping the room. You sit him down on the rim of the tub and he looks up at you with wet, puppy dog eyes, and you feel ready to cry over how much pain he's in. Your gaze slowly averts to his arm, you notice the palm of the hand that's squeezing it is bloodied. You gasp and realize the surrounding area of his jacket is also stained with blood. "Your arm," you say, panicked, "Eddie, what happened to your arm?"
Edward opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and so he tries again.
"He had a knife," his eyes slowly start to go wide and he shakes his head back and forth, "I wasn't expecting him to put up such a fight."
Putting two and two together, realizing Edward was either stabbed or slashed you quickly turn to your medicine cabinet and begin rummaging through it.
"God has this thing always been so cluttered?" you mumble anxiously to yourself before finally coming across a roll of bandages. You pull out some band-aids, as well as hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls from the cabinet under your sink. With shaky hands, you try to gather everything together before reaching into your shower and grabbing a washcloth and wetting it under the sink. You look at everything that you've gathered and hope that it's enough to clean and care for Edward's wounds.
"Eddie, can you stand up and lean against the sink for me?" you ask so you can tend to his arm first. Edward gets up and takes a few steps over towards the sink, resting his back against its outer edges. You look at him for a moment and try to think what was the best way to go about getting his layers off without taking pressure off the wound for too long. You sigh, and place your hand on the collar of his jacket, Edward looked at you and slowly removed his hand from his arm, revealing just how bloodied he really was. You inhale sharply as you saw the deep red that stained his jacket and hand, but you know you can't linger for too long and begin removing his jacket. You notice him wince as the fabric passes his wound. Finally the jacket is off and you toss it over the shower rod.
You turn back to Edward, "I know it's gonna hurt, but can you lift your arms for me, I'll be fast." you ask as you place your hands at the hem of both his hoodie and the shirt he had underneath so you could take them both off at the same time. Edward nods slowly and begins to gradually raise his arms above his head. His face contorts in pain and small groans escape his mouth as he does so, making your heart sink inside your chest.
Finally all his layers are off and your able to get a good, proper look at his arm.
"What happened Eddie?" you ask as you examine his arm. It's covered in blood and continues to bleed, his arm is drenched in various shades of red. A bright crimson pours from the wound, while specks of dark, dried, maroon can be found in other spots. You sigh, relieved, that despite the perfuse bleeding, it seems he wasn't cut deep enough to the point that he'd need stitches.
You grab the washcloth and start to clean up his arm as Edward begins to explain, "It was this cop, working for Falcone, I found out he was pretending to be a dealer for some of Falcone's rivals, and secretly poisoning their supply... sabotaging their drugs so they were no good and people don't won't want to buy from them anymore." he started, small gasps and whines occasionally leaving his lips whenever you got too close to the wound. "It lead to a bunch of fatal overdoses around the city... all those people dead just so Falcone could drive business over to his operation and make his greedy, rich, ass even richer."
"Awful," You shake your head, "This city is full of filthy scum." You'd finished cleaning up the blood from Edward's arm as best as you could, and now you had to actually clean the wound, "Continue with the story baby, this is going to hurt a lot, you'll want to distract yourself," you say, already dreading how much pain you know this is going to cause him. You begin to prep some cotton balls as he continues with the story.
"Well, I found his apartment, broke in while he was at work, the dumb bastard never even locks his doors, well, when he came home, I waited for the perfect time to attack, but as I was sneaking up behind him, I stepped on a creaky piece of- AHHH," He suddenly cut himself off as the peroxide soaked cotton ball began to touch the area outside his wound. You quickly look up at Edward at the sound of his distress, his eyes are welling up with tears, and you notice he's suddenly grabbed a hold of your free arm, squeezing it so tight you're sure he'll leave a bruise.
"I'm so sorry Baby," you sigh.
Edward looks up at the ceiling and blinks away the tears that are welling up in his eyes,
"It's okay," his grip on your arm relaxes, "It's okay, keep going,"
"I'm almost done, and then we can bandage it, mmkay?" Edward nodded to you in response.
"Well-uh, where I left off," He begins, his voice wavering, "I stepped on a creaky piece of wood, and he heard me- ah shit he- he got me down before I could get him down... and- fuckfuckfuck ahh shit we, fought a little, he was able to get my mask off, he pulled out a knife, god-fuck-ah, he put up a pretty good fight- but-but I got him, I got him." Edward finished explaining, interjecting here and there with expletives when the pain became too much. "He got what he deserved."
"You gotta be careful honey," you say as you finish cleaning up the final areas around the wound. Edward is whining in pain, his breathing is labored, and his fingertips have found their way dug back into the skin of your arm. "You uh- you didn't leave any of your blood at the scene, did you?"
"I am careful," he says, letting go of your arm. You notice a small shift in his voice and notice that he's getting a little defensive. "Of course, I didn't. I'm very careful about these things. You know this. I cleaned the blood, and took the knife." He looks at you with a tearful gaze, "I had it all planned out," Edward shook his head, his lip quivering, "My work is ruined."
You look up so your eyes meet his, you knew how passionate he was about these things. You knew the time, the effort, the precision he put into everything, and you knew how much pride he took in his work. He was smart, methodical, everything he did had meaning, and he knew the work of his survival instincts did not carry the same meaning as his work would on a well planned and thought out night.
"Eddie, I know you're careful, I didn't mean it like that... I just- I worry you know, I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you," you reach your hand up and stroke his cheek, careful not to touch any of the scrapes and cuts that litter his face. "I'm not insulting your method, it just hurts me to see you hurt, that's all," you exhale and remove your hand from his cheek, but Edward grabs your wrist before your arm swings back to your side. He places your hand back up to his cheek and kisses the inside of your thumb, and all along down to the palm of your hand while he nuzzles his face into your touch. You form a small smile at his action, the affection makes your heart start to flutter.
"I need to bandage your arm now," you say, slowly removing your hand away from his face and he nods. You grab the bandage from off the sink's counter and begin to wrap it around Edward's arm. He seems a little calmer now, his breath only hitching slightly when your fingers get too close to the open laceration. You finish and tuck the end of the bandage in to keep it in place, before leaning over and planting a small kiss on Edward's arm over the bandage. You hoped that it would be enough and that you had not judged his injury incorrectly by thinking it was less severe than it actually was.
You bend down to get another washcloth from the cabinet under your sink so you could have one that wasn't already covered in blood to clean up Edward's face with.
"I'll clean your face up now honey," you glance back up at him, "Just sit back down on the edge of the tub." You say, running the cloth under warm water from the sink.
Edward obliged, and you got down on your knees, between his legs, and sat up straight so the two of you were nearly at eye level now. You placed your hands on either side of Edward's head, your fingers carding through his hair for a split moment before grabbing the temples of his glasses and taking them off.
"Do you have another pair of glasses?" you ask as you set the broken pair aside. "At home?"
"No, those were my only ones," Edward responded, dejectedly.
"Mmm then it looks like we'll have to go out and get new ones tomorrow," you smile
"Yeah but I- I liked the way those ones looked on me. I thought they looked nice."
You shifted your mouth to the side for a moment before speaking,
"I think you'll look nice in any pair of glasses you try," you push Edward's hair back, and quickly run your fingers over the back of his head, "But I'm sure we can find another pair of clear-rimmed glasses." You place your hand around the back of Edward's neck and gaze at his bloodied face. You sigh as your eyes pass over the scrapes and cuts that litter his face, frowning at the bruise that was forming around one of his eyes. Even now he looked so beautiful to you, despite being bruised up and bloodied, still, it hurt your heart to see him in such pain.
It probably made you a hypocrite, to be all worked up over Edward when he made it out alive and another man lost his life. But, you felt little shame about that, by poisoning those drugs, and working for Falcone, that officer had killed way more people, than Edward had. And those victims were innocent.
You reached out to grab the washcloth off the edge of the sink and first began to wipe the blood from his nose. You place your fingers on the bridge of his nose and squeeze gently to see if he'd have any reaction.
"I don't think it's broken," Edward says, "It doesn't hurt too bad."
"Just being safe." you smile.
The blood under his nose is mostly dried signifying to you that the bleeding had stopped.
"Let me know if I'm pushing too hard, okay?"
You move the cloth around the area of his nose, gently wiping the blood away and you place a hand on his cheek as you do so, rubbing his soft skin with your thumb, careful not to touch any of the abrasions.
Once you finished cleaning up the blood around Edward's nose, you place a small kiss on the tip of his nose
"Can I kiss your lips? I don't want it to hurt." You said, acknowledging his busted and swollen bottom lip.
"Please." He urged.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips ever so gently against Edward's, giving him the smallest peck.
"It's okay," his lips just barely grazing yours as he spoke, "You can kiss me a little harder." he chuckled
In response, you place a hand on the side of Edward's neck and kiss him just a little deeper. He whines lightly when you accidentally press your lips too far against his, which causes you to nearly retract from the kiss, but Edward puts a reassuring hand on your cheek, letting you know what you're doing is okay. His commitment to kissing you, despite the pain makes you smile into the kiss, Edward feels this, and smiles as well.
"I have to clean the rest of your face," you say as you pull away from Edward, "Hopefully this will sting less than last time," you say as you stand up from where you kneeled between Edward's legs. You moved towards the sink and took a couple more cotton balls out and soaked them in the hydrogen peroxide. You scrunched your face as the strong scent of the chemicals hit your nose, urging you to close the cap on the bottle.
You kneel back down between Edward's legs and give him a small smile,
"This should be quick, not much to clean left," you start with the largest scrape that sits right in the middle of his cheek. As soon as you press the wet cotton ball against the abrasion Edward hisses in pain and takes a large breath in. You grimace at his reaction to the pain, wishing that you didn't have to do this to him.
Edward continues to wince at each touch of the cotton balls, flinching each time they came in contact with the wounds on his face. It was hard to see him like this, to see Edward in so much pain, but at the same time, you had to be grateful that at least it wasn't any worse, that despite the injuries, nothing truly horrific had happened to him.
You reached for the box of bandaids and ruffled through the assorted sizes to look for one you thought would fit best. You pulled out two of the medium-sized ones and placed them over the largest abrasion on Edward's face in an x-formation.
"All done," you said before kissing Edward's cheek where the bandaids lie. You sit back a little, allowing yourself to get a good look at Edward's face. He looks a little bit better now than he did before, most of the blood was gone, and his wounds were clean. Still, much of the injuries on his face would linger for a while until they eventually scab over. "How are you feeling?"
"My head is absolutely killing me, my arm too."
"No worries baby, I'll get you something for the pain, hold on." You got up from your spot on your knees and moved back to the medicine cabinet, rifling through it to find some sort of pain reliever.
You come across a bottle of Advil and took two pills out of it to give to Edward. You set the pills aside on the sink while you quickly run into the kitchen to get a glass of water so Edward has something to take them with.
"Hopefully this is enough, let me know if you need more." You say as you walk back into the bathroom, glass of water in hand. You grab the pills off of the edge of the sink and hold both them and the water out to Edward.
"Thank you, sweetheart." He says with a smile before grabbing the items from your hands. Edward quickly throws back the pills with the water, swallowing loudly, before finishing off the glass with a loud, satisfied, exhale.
You reach out your hands, motioning for Edward to stand up.
"Are your legs alright?" You ask, realizing you had not checked them for any injuries.
"I'm sure my knees might be bruised, but nothing in need of dire attention." He says, wobbling slightly as he gets up from where he was sitting. You hold onto Edward's waist while you walk him into the bedroom, your both arms wrapped around him tightly. "I can walk alright baby." He chuckles.
"I just like how you feel against me." You smile as you continue to walk to the bedroom.
"Oh, well I like..." he knitted his eyebrows as if contemplating what to say next, "Being... against you?"
"You don't sound too sure of yourself Eddie." You giggle.
"I am, I just, don't know how to phrase it." He shakes his head.
"That's alright, I know what you meant." You say while walking into the bedroom. You let go of Edward, "Let me look, let me see if I have something you can wear."
You scurry over to your dresser which makes Edward chuckle slightly at your hurried movements. You pulled out the drawers and shuffled through them to see if Edward had at one time or another left a t-shirt or a pair of sweatpants at your place that he could wear tonight. After some digging, you pulled out a Radiohead shirt and smiled,
"This must be yours," You held it up to show him. "I couldn't find any bottoms though."
Edward shook his head, "That's okay,"
"Do you need help getting changed?" you ask. "I don't want you to hurt yourself"
"Sure. Please."
"Okay, just sit on the bed so I can reach you." You smile.
Edward sits on the edge of the bed in front of you, and you're once again between his legs, standing this time. You bunched up the shirt before pulling it over Edward's head so he wouldn't have to raise his injured arm too high in order to get it on. Edward put his arms through the sleeves wincing slightly, and you pulled the shirt the rest of the way down his torso.
"Thank you," Edward gave you a small, tightlipped smile, "I can do the rest myself."
You stepped away from Edward, sitting down next to him on the bed. You heard the sound of metal clicking as Edward began to undo his belt before standing up and slipping off his pants and kicking them to his side. From where you sat his legs didn't seem to be too seriously injured, some light scrapes on his knees and some redness that would probably become bruises later on.
Now Edward stood before you as you sat on the bed, looking up at his glasses-less face. You silently admire him for a moment, taking in how beautiful he is, even with his face all banged up. Despite the blood and bruising he still looked so soft, so delicate, and you felt an overwhelming urge to protect him.
"What?" Edward asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down at you.
"Nothing," you pause, "Just staring."
"Is it bad? My face- does it look really bad?" Edward asked, "I'm a little afraid to check the damage."
"Some bruising... your lip is busted... and your face is pretty scratched up," you shifted your mouth to the side in a half-frown, "You still look very handsome, though" you smile, "That won't ever change."
You watched intently as Edward's mouth began to curl into a sheepish grin, the meer sight of his smile making your heart skip a couple beats.
"Oh, Y/N." You noticed a slight blush on his face from your compliment which earned a small giggle from you.
"Come here," you motion, and Edward walks just a little bit closer to you, he's towering over you now that you're sitting and he's standing. You throw your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight, his body is warm and you nearly feel yourself melt into it. You can feel his hand on the back of your neck before it makes its way into your hair. He very softly pulls at the hair that sits on the base of your skull, carding his fingers through the strands as he massages the back of your head.
"I'm so sorry Edward," you say, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt for how injured he was. "I hate to see you so hurt."
"It's- it's alright- I've been through worse."
His statement reminds you of the stories he'd told you throughout the years. The horrors of his childhood, and all the misfortune he'd had to bare at such a young age. And that same misfortune had seemed to follow him throughout his life, and had fallen on him once again tonight, which made you beg the question of, 'when will it end?'
The memories of the stories he'd told made your body contract and squeeze Edward tighter. You wished you could keep him here, safe, in your arms forever.
"I love you, Edward," you say, just above a whisper.
"I love you too, so much."
You look up to look at Edward, your head resting against his stomach.
"Thank you for taking care of me- you're the only one who ever has." Edward's hand slides down to your back and rubs it softly while he speaks. "I was a little worried to show up here so injured."
"Worried?" You frown, you knew Edward was naturally anxious, a product of his upbringing, still, you were a little surprised to hear this, "You never have to be worried around me, ever." You reassure, "I'm always here, for you, only you, no matter what Eddie."
Edward looked down at you and smiled, he seemed calm, happy even, which made you feel at ease. All he could manage out was a choked "Thank you."
After a moment of the two of you silently enjoying each others company Edward spoke again,
"How about we finish that episode of Jeopardy I saw you were watching when I came in before?"
You nodded, letting Edward go as you got up from the bed. The two of you made your way into the dim living room. The rain still pattered hard against the windows which added a relaxing ambiance to the area.
"Here Eddie- I'll lay down first," You say, getting onto the couch and laying across it, only propping yourself up slightly with a pillow against its armrest. Edward followed after, climbing onto the couch carefully so as to not irritate his injuries. Edward lays on his back, resting his head just below your sternum, letting his body take up the length of the couch, your legs out on either side of him.
"Comfortable?" you ask.
Edward tilts his head backward to look at you,
"Yeah- this is nice. Do you want the blanket?"
"Please," you smile.
Edward grabs the plush blanket that sits thrown over on the back of the couch, draping it over the two of you. It covers more of him than it does you since Edward is laid so low on your body, but it still does the job for the most part.
The TV is still on, paused on one of the Jeopardy contestant's smiling faces, giddy that they have the chance to answer a daily double.
"Can you see the TV alright baby?" You ask.
"Not really... it's mostly a blur." Edward shakes his head before tilting his head back once again to look at you. "Just vague shapes."
You place a hand against Edward's forehead before running it backward and gently carding your fingers through his still slightly damp hair.
"Aww baby," you frown, "We'll get two pairs of glasses tomorrow- just in case they ever break again."
Edward hums a, "Mmm." in response before relaxing his head once more, turning it to the side so it faced the TV despite his inability to see it very well.
You pick the remote up from next to you, resuming the game show from where it had left off. The bright colors against the contrast of the dark living room.
"I'll wager 3,000 Alex." Says the contestant picking their daily double amount.
"Okay, Thanatologists study this bummer of a subject." Sates Trebek as the statement appears on the large screen in front of the contestants.
"That's easy, death," Edward says nearly immediately.
"Uhh- what is... death?" The contestant answers hesitantly.
"Death is correct, 3000 for you."
A smile spreads across Edward's face when Alex confirms that he had said the right answer.
"God Eddie, why aren't you on Jeopardy." You giggle, not even surprised that he had gotten the answer so quickly.
"I'm not- pretty enough for television."
"Oh don't be ridiculous," you say, still running a hand through Edward's hair, your fingers carefully massaging his scalp. "Don't say that Eddie, you're so pretty, pretty like you couldn't believe," You began to ramble, "So pretty."
Edward's face starts to flush from your praise, his cheeks turning a light pink that you could just barely make out from under the light of the TV. Edward tries to hide his blushing by nuzzling his face against your stomach, turning his body slightly.
You throw your head back on the armrest so that you're looking up at the ceiling, and you begin to daze off a little bit, listening to Edward's mumbled responses to the Jeopardy answers. As the game goes on, and on his mumbles get quieter, and eventually disappear. You yourself are nearly asleep by the time you notice Edward's quiet snores- you lift your head from the armrest to look down at him.
Edward's arms are brought in close to his chest, snuggling the blanket that surrounds the two of you. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, mouth slightly agape as he breathes in and out. You contemplate waking him so you can bring him to bed, but Edward looks peaceful, at ease, and you didn't want to disturb the sleep he was getting since you knew it wasn't always easy for him to fall asleep.
You knew the morning was going to be hell, that he'd wake up riddled with unbearable pain, and you dreaded knowing you were going to have to see him like that. But all you could do for now was let him relax, and take solace in the fact, that at least for now he was at peace, and not in any pain.
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littl3-val3ntine · 2 years
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every breath you take (pt. 3) ❥ edward nashton
PART ONE / PART TWO
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《♡》
summary // riddler always has everything planned, from the moment his plot begins up until the day after it has happened. he expects himself to be able to expect everything, until his mind is taken elsewhere during a routine stakeout on the police response to his latest hit... now he finds himself, as well as the item of his affection, caught up in his issues and lust for vengeance.
warnings // OHJ GOD LMFAO, gn! smut (I SECTIONED IT, ITS UNNECESSARY TO THE PLOT SO FEEL FREE TO SKIP), typical creepiness that's consistent for this fic, switch!eddie, light choking and kinda voyeurism?, possessiveness, creampie whoops
author's note // hey besties... ur boy just dislocated his knee so sorry for the later update :,)) this one's good nd long though to make up for it.
part 4 will be the last part to this fic, so thank you for joining me along the ride. more 2 come! just kinda done with this one lolz
anyways do enjoy!! love u muah! ^^
《♡》
You swear you recognize this car.
It’s not like it’s all that generic, either. A little burgundy sedan, just old enough to have one whispering to themself, “Huh, what a neat car,” but not so old that it’s antique. It lives somewhere deep in your mind that you’re not quite sure of. God, it’s familiar…
You brush it off. Maybe you just remember it from the parking lot at the press office.
You glance over at the man in the driver's seat, bathed in red light from the traffic signal overhead, to find him white-knuckled around the steering wheel and staring absently ahead through the windshield. The car ride up until now has been characterized by a loaded silence, as if there's things both of you could be saying but aren't. Granted, it has only been about a minute or so since he all but sped out of the parking lot at the hospital, but even so, that's about halfway down to Grange Street, where your car is parked.
The doctor was wise to warn you not to drive. Not only are you dead tired, nearly dozing off in the passenger side of Edward's car, on top of that your mind is still foggy from the sedatives in your system. It takes you a good couple seconds to realize the stoplight before you had changed, even while you were zoned in, unconsciously, on the bright colors.
He doesn't touch the accelerator. Instead, he just gazes blankly into the road ahead, brows furrowing.
You don't have half a mind to follow his line of sight. "Edward," you whisper, "The light's green."
He seems startled by your voice. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."
The engine hums back to life and the car rolls through the intersection, only to slow to a halt a few meters later upon reaching a police road block. So that's what he was staring at.
"I-I think I know another way around—"
He moves his grasp to the gearshift, sliding it back into reverse and throwing his arm over the back of your seat to look through the rearview window. He's leaning over the console and you can feel his warmth again, his closeness bringing with it that same electricity that you missed. The weak glow of streetlights ahead paint his skin— his face, his clavicle exposed by the loose collar of his shirt, the space where his jaw meets his neck— and he looks like a sculpture, all smooth porcelain and fine detail.
You stop him with your fingers against his chest, telling him something about seeing your car up ahead and how you could just walk over to retrieve your bag and house key to save time. He doesn't necessarily realize your exact words. All he's aware of in that moment is your touch.
Edward just nods abstractedly, and then you're getting out of the car before he can even come back to his senses. He misses you immediately. Watching your every move, something heavy in his chest tugs at him and begs to reach for you. He can't let you leave. What if you get in your car and drive off? And then he'll never see you again. It's safer for you in his car.
Shaking away the thoughts rambling on in his mind, he surveys the alleyway for anything— or anyone— that might become an issue along your walk down to your car. Even upon finding nothing, he's still tempted to get out and walk with you. Just to make sure. But he doesn't.
His eyes find you again, halfway into your car and bent over the seat as you reach for your bag. Jaw falling open just slightly, his breath hitches, neck craning forward as if it'll get him a better view. Unconsciously, he commits the scene to mind; the dip of your spine as you disappear into the vehicle, how the light from the moon and the neon OPEN sign above hits the curve of your ass, the way you sit back onto your heels to stand upright. He follows your arms as you stretch them into the air, your back arching almost impossibly and head falling back against your shoulders. He can only imagine the sound you must have made when you stretched like that, the satisfied groan leaving your lips and the sigh of content as you relaxed your body again.
You must be so sore from the hit you took, and that bed at the hospital couldn't have been comfortable. The things he'd do for you, if only you'd ask him... he knows he'd treat you so well. Every aching muscle you could possibly have, he'd be willing to rub it to relief. Anything that could inconvenience you, he'd be there to eliminate it for you. He would kill for you. It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that he already has.
Anything, if it means you’d forgive him for the way he hurt you tonight.
But before he can indulge further in his thoughts, his passenger side door swings open and you sink down into the seat, bag in your lap. You look over at him and offer a warm smile, as if to silently say, "You can start the car now, I'm ready." And somehow, he understands, as he offers back a whisper of a grin and turns the key in the ignition.
"So, uh, where are we headed?" he asks, as if he doesn't already have your address imprinted in his memory.
And none the wiser, you tell him: "Oh, I'm in the Sycamore Apartments, over on Fifth Street." He flicks his blinker on, nodding before you even finish your sentence. The silence falls over you both again, and the clicking noise fills the car.
"Thank you for driving me home, by the way. I really appreciate it," you say, desperate to break the ice. He just waves you off as if it's the most normal thing in the world. As if you two aren't basically strangers— at least, as far as you're concerned.
"It's nothing. Really, it's for my sake. Peace of mind, I guess." Though it's dim in the car, you swear you see that tiny boyish grin again. He never did smile much. When he does, even just a little, it makes something in your chest flutter. Like you're sixteen again and passing a cute guy in the hallway.
"What," you tease, your tone thick with sarcasm, "Couldn't trust me enough to make it home on my own?"
His eyes blow wide in panic. "Oh, I— No, that's not what I meant at all! I just—"
"Edward."
He looks at you, his cheeks turning dark. You can't help but to laugh. He's so easy. "I was just kidding."
"Oh," he murmurs, settling back into his seat. He raises a brow, removing one hand from the steering wheel to lean his elbow on the center console, all calm and collected like. Clearing his throat, he tells you, "No yeah, absolutely. I uh, knew that from the beginning."
You chuckle again, pulling another smile from him. "Oh did you, now?"
"Yeah. What, you don't believe me?"
"No dice, Mr. Nashton."
He exhales slowly, like a content sigh. You notice his breath hitch, almost undetectably, as you shift in your seat and lean against his forearm on the console to look out the window. He swallows audibly. "You know, you really ought to stop calling me that," he mutters, turning onto Fifth Street and slowing in front of your apartment.
"Why's that?" You turn to him. The muscles in his arm tense as your skin slides against his sleeve. "I think it's got a nice ring to it."
It makes him want to press you face-first into a wall. "It makes me feel like I'm at work."
"Hm, fair enough." Collecting your bag from your lap, you sigh. You're not ready to let the moment go, uncertain of when you'll see something like this again. You two, alone in his car...
You stop yourself before you can get too deep. What, have you got a crush on him or something?
He's looking at you as if he's got something to say, eyes dropping briefly to your lips and then to where your chest meets his forearm. Your eyes, however, don't leave his face. You're so close you can watch every thought in his mind play across his features, but somehow not close enough to distinguish what any of them mean. You're stalling...
Oh, what the hell.
"Do you maybe want to come inside for a few? I think we could both use a drink after... tonight." Maybe you aren't thinking. Or maybe you are thinking, just not with your head. Either way, the thought that illuminates his face right then is clear as day— Yes.
"Are you sure? It's late..." The way he's looking at you is begging you not to change your mind. The idea sits in the way back of your head, screaming, Don't let him inside! But you've already made your decision.
"Yeah it’s late, but I'd feel bad, you know? If you drove me all the way home and I didn't even pay you back." He thinks about it for a moment, having a debate in his own mind that lasts a good few seconds. It's not long, though, until he cuts the engine and nods.
“I’d love to, actually.” Worrying now that he sounds too forward, he adds, “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good drink.”
You grin, satisfied. Trying your best to choke down the childish excitement that bubbles up in your throat, you turn from him and pull up the lock-knob on the car door. Right as you swing your legs out the open door, there he is— looking like a phantom, tall and slender against the distinct Gotham gloom— holding out his hand to help you up.
“Well, thank you,” you chirp as he raises you into the night air. “Quite the gentleman.”
He laughs through his nose. “Hardly.”
There’s a certain danger to the way he responds. Like a warning. You don’t think too much of it as you’re gliding up the metal stairway to your front door, shaky-legged and eager to get inside, but upon looking back on it later it all made much more sense.
While you’re standing there, fumbling to get your key in the lock, your gaze drifts. And your heart catches for a moment, at the sight of it. You’re sure now, Yeah, it’s definitely a crush.
There he is, climbing the steps up to your front porch, blond hair askew and falling into his face as he’s careful not to slip. You turn back quickly, plunging the key in. The lock clicks and you disappear inside.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” you admit, hurrying to gather your coat from the back of the couch and stow away the empty takeout box on the end table. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”
He chuckles, something quiet and gentle, but still it rings through the small room. Shutting the door behind him, he assures you his place is worse. Your guest glances around, taking in the color of the walls and what covers them, and what’s on the tables and how you didn’t seem to know how to close a set of blinds to save your soul. Committing it all to memory. So this is how it looks from the inside. There’s that picture he always sees through the window.
“You can have a seat, if you’d like.” You brush past him as he’s looming awkwardly in the doorway. “What, uh… what do you drink?”
He trails you into the kitchenette, dropping into a chair just beside the counter. Reaching up to the cabinet above the table where he’s sat, you find yourself nearly leaning over him to get to the alcohol. He peers up at the shelves as you pry open the wooden door— it’s been a while since you’ve dug into it.
Crown Royal. Shitty vodka from your friend, a housewarming gift. Cognac you brought to a party a couple months back, and returned home with, unopened. Your collection was slim, but you assured him, “I’ve got wine in the fridge as well, if you’re interested.”
“May I have a glass of wine?”
You look down at him. And he’s gazing up at you, eyes soft. So polite. “Of course, that would have been my choice as well.”
He smiles again. He’ll remember that.
He likes this view of you. Leaning into the fridge, hunting for something, brows furrowed. There’s something domestic about it. And while he realizes it’s just a fantasy, in the moment you’re finding the wine he allows himself to slip into a world where you both are here, together, coming home from work and settling in for a drink. One where he’d make dinner and let you rest in his lap on the couch afterward. You’d fall asleep together, wake together, over again…
Clink.
The sound of glass colliding with cheap marble yanks him from his thoughts. There you are again, just inches from him, pressed against the countertop as you concentrate on pouring the wine. Careful not to spill and stain the surface. He always loved how you looked when you focused.
Once both glasses are half-full, he rises and takes one in his hand. “Thank you,” he hums, and he raises the glass to his lips for a leisurely sip. You don’t realize his eyes locked on you while you stare, his mouth forming perfectly around the rim of the glass. Catching yourself, you glance away.
“No need to thank me. It’s the least I could do.” You settle beside him, hopping up to sit on the counter while he leans his hip against its edge. Chuckling, you remind him, “The wine isn’t even that great.”
You don’t trust yourself to hold the glass, so you release it from your shaking hand to the surface beside you. “Oh, I’m not picky,” he all but whispers. “Besides, it’s not every night I get to drink with friends. I’d be stupid to complain.”
You huff out a sarcastic breath. “It’s not every night my boss is in my apartment, either.” You meet his eyes again. He’s holding you there, and he’s not even touching you. His eyes have gone stoic.
You’re pressed between him and his desk. Holding each others’ gaze, waiting to see who breaks first. Testing the waters. How far can we push it?
“I suppose I’m not complaining either, though,” you add. There’s a beat of silence as he ponders his next words, eyebrows raising as he takes another lazy sip from his glass.
“Since when am I your boss?”
You feel your cheeks warming, and finally you look away. “Well, maybe that wasn’t really the word for it, but you know what I mean. You’re definitely my superior, but I guess you’re not really my boss— that would be a little weird, actually, you don’t really seem like the boss type…”
Amidst your rambling, he mutters, “It would certainly complicate things.”
And you pause. He furrows his brows, as if he wasn’t expecting you to hear that. A hint of panic splashes across his face.
“Complicate things?” you urge him.
He shakes his head, beginning to turn away. “It’s nothing.”
“No.” You reach for him, fingers curling around the loose fabric of his sleeve. He tenses, his body stuttering for a second, but he doesn’t leave. He stays there, right where you hold him. “What did you mean?”
A doe-eyed stare falls on you again as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at you. And there you are. Locked in eye contact again, silently challenging one another as the room becomes pressurized. Pressing you two together until someone breaks. You feel his muscles tensing and untensing beneath your fingertips as he chooses his words.
I just want a straight-forward answer, Edward.
“It’s just a bit strange for someone’s… superior, to be in their home this late, no?”
“I thought you said you weren’t complaining.”
Your breath is speeding up. You’re sure he notices, because his is speeding up, too. He turns back to you again, this time bringing him so close to you that you feel the chill of his belt against the skin of your outer thigh through your clothes. It sets your senses alight, your entire body tingling to attention at the slightest touch. And there it is again, that hand coming down to post on the edge of the countertop beside you, keeping you tucked between him and something so suffocatingly unmovable for the second time that month. Except this time, his confidence is dormant. He’s all whispers and soft linen, his bottom lip stained red.
“I’m not,” he murmurs. Head tilted forward, even with his hair falling down into his face, his eyes still gleam in the dim light from the kitchen lamp as he looks down at you. You can almost feel his breath on your face as he continues, almost silently, breathlessly, “I told you. I would be stupid to complain.”
Your back is arching into him instinctually. The need for him is primal, unlike any way you’ve ever needed someone prior. Your eyes are resting on his lips, recalling how they pursed around the glass, curled into a gentle smile, caught between his teeth sometimes when he’d think. Wondering if you could taste the wine on his tongue. He’d make it taste so good.
His jaw hangs as he exhales a shaky breath, leaning in further to place his glass down next to yours, right behind your far hip. He doesn’t draw back his hand. His hair, stringy and soft, tickles your forehead. His entire body is close. Close enough you could almost feel his lashes against your skin as his eyelids fall slowly shut. Hesitantly, he maneuvers his hips to slink between your knees, quick to return to that sphere of closeness you both have created.
You’re hardly breathing. Feeling weightless on your perch at the counter, you brace your palm against his warm chest to keep your balance. His heart pounds mercilessly against the skin. Trailing upward, you gently brush the hair from his face.
How far could you push it?
Your lips meet. Featherlight at first, but he doesn’t last long. His hands curl around your hips, drawing you against his body as your own rest against his arms, in his hair, anywhere you can find purchase. The pain in your finger is long forgotten against the sensation of him.
It’s open mouthed, sloppy and desperate. Small noises and wandering hands. It’s nothing like he’d ever imagined it would be. In a way, that only serves to excite him further.
His lips are chapped, but they’re warm and wet nonetheless and he kisses you as if you’re fresh air and he’s been drowning. His embrace is possessive. He tugs you into himself and groans something guttural, animalistic. He’s never letting go.
His mouth moves eagerly and without expertise, small sounds escaping the back of his throat as you press further into him. His touch slides tentatively up your back, only to crash back against the marble as he collapses into the dip of your shoulder. His ministrations don’t stop, and he probes the delicate skin beside your throat with his lips and tongue. Incoherent, he’s a mess, sobbing into your body how beautiful you are, how scared he’s been, how badly he needs you.
Please, please, he needs you. He needs you so badly his entire body aches. He’ll do anything. He knows it’s wrong, and he knows he shouldn’t want this, but he’s been so hungry for you for so long and it’s all he ever thinks about when he sees you.
You pry him away from your neck, which is now raw and likely marred by his ravenous mouth, by getting a fistful of his hair and tugging. The sound that leaves him is inexcusable, whining desperately like a bitch in heat, but all is made right again when you caress his face and thumb at his swollen lips.
His pupils are blown to saucers, peering down at you unwaveringly as he looms between your legs. Knowing well he’s hanging on your every word, you ask him softly, directly, “Do you want this?”
His face contorts like he’s about to cry. He sinks into your touch, burying his face in your palm, nodding frantically. “I do. M’want it, so bad… I need…”
“What do you need, Eddie?”
He sucks in a shaky breath. Eddie. He liked that. “You. You, you… I want to feel you, I’ve been thinking about you so long…”
You figure he could tell you about that later. For now, you guide his face back to your lips again, and whisper against his mouth.
“Have me.”
X X X
For being long and lean, he’s stronger than you expected. He sweeps you from the countertop with ease and hauls you off down the hall, hands planted firmly underneath your thighs to hold you tight against him.
You don’t remember telling him where your bedroom was. Once you lock your legs around his back and feel his hips— and something else— grinding right into where you need him, though, you can’t really bring yourself to mind.
Edward turns to nudge open the door with his shoulder, and he doesn’t even bother closing it. He’s too preoccupied with bracing his forearm against your back and laying you gently against your blankets, letting you down so easy he must have thought you’d break at the slightest touch. His body doesn’t separate from you. All of his weight is on top of you, around you, firmly against you. Your legs still curl snugly around him, with his face in your chest and his hands drifting up your thighs.
His hips are already rutting into you, restricted by the clothes that still, to his dismay, divide your bodies. The incessant throbbing between his legs tells him that he would have been perfectly content, had you told him to, to grind against you like a puppy until he got off, but once you tug at the back of his shirt collar he’s just as eager to be free of it.
He fumbles with the buttons on the sleeves, whimpering in frustration when they don’t come undone. “Here,” you prod. You take them between your fingers to help him, to guide him. Like Edward, they come undone quickly beneath your skilled touch.
Not even bothering with the buttons along the front, he yanks it over his head and discards it somewhere off the bedside. You glance in its general direction, but instead you’re greeted by the city staring back at you through the wide-open window.
“Edward,” you push at his shoulder, but he’s engulfed in kissing at your neck again. The most you get is a distracted hum. Squirming, you tell him, “We gotta close the window—“
“No.” He posts up on his elbows to get a look at your face, and his eyes are wild as they land on you. A surge of ferocity rips through him, uncharacteristic compared to how he was writhing against you not moments ago. “I don’t give a fuck who sees. Hell, they can watch. So they’ll all know.”
Let them all watch him as he makes you his. As he drives his dick so deep into you that he can be certain no one else will ever fill you so well again. And when you inevitably wake up tomorrow and dress for work, and try your best to cover his marks and bruises all over your neck with makeup or jewelry, let them peek out in the spots you missed and remind everyone in the office you’re not to be touched. Not to be looked at. Not even to occupy space in another’s mind.
His.
He’s back on you in an instant, tugging on your belt and then sliding down your body to rid you of your bottoms. His breath, hot and heavy, cascades against your inner thigh as he rests his face against it. Eyes closed, he nips at the supple flesh with his open mouth. The warm hand returns to busy itself with squeezing at your opposite leg.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, trying to draw him closer to where you need him. You lift your hips so he can remove your underwear. He dips his head between your thighs, mind going foggy as he takes you in.
A soft mouth accepts you without prompt. His tongue moves against you eagerly, lapping at the nectar that drips from your heat. Your head falls back against the pillows, losing yourself in the wet euphoria he gives you and the muffled noises he makes as he all but suffocates on you.
He doesn’t need to breathe. He’d never been so hungry— never had something so sweet ever graced his tongue. If he choked there, in between your thighs, he’s sure he’d have spent his afterlife bragging.
He lifts his head with a greedy inhale, filling his lungs as he was just starting to get lightheaded. Spit, among other things, coats his lips and the corners of his mouth, and his hair is disheveled from your pawing at it. The smile on his face is unlike any you’ve seen before— something adjacent to deranged. Manic. He’s just getting started.
“I’ve spent so long wondering how you taste,” he whines, rising into all fours to return to his place on top of you. He sits back on his haunches right between your spread legs, the dusting of blond hair on his chest catching the moonlight as his muscles move beneath the skin. The darkness of the room beyond him frames his body, but he seems to glow above you, humming with energy, while he undoes his belt.
His words finally register in your head. “You have?” you affirm weakly, finding it hard to breathe. The smile only widens, tongue pressing insolently against his bottom teeth.
“I have.”
Slipping out of his trousers and briefs, he leans over you again, pressing his nose into your temple. “You’re better than I could have ever imagined," he whispers, taking the hem of your shirt between his fingers. You get the hint. “I don’t know how I’ve possibly kept myself away this long.”
A shuttering groan escapes from deep within his throat just at the sight of you. Now completely bare, you let the shirt fall from your fingers, raising your arms above your head to toss it to the floor. His hands follow, pinning your wrists.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to again.”
You feel it. Warm and thick, pressing into your thigh. His head drops to the crook of your neck. By instinct, you let your legs drift further apart, all but inviting him inside.
He moves his hips at an excruciating pace, sliding his dick slowly against your skin, so close to where you need him. Every so often, he loses control, his hips bucking forward despite his best efforts. You squirm beneath him, mumbling desperately, dumb from arousal— “Please, Eddie”— but he doesn’t relent. His grip around your wrist only tightens.
“Say it. I need to hear you say it.” Holding you down with one hand, he hooks the other under your knee to poise his dick right against your hole. Barely breaking the surface.
Your mind is reeling. “Please!”
“As nice as you sound when you beg,” he quips, panting, “I want you to tell me you’re mine. I need… I need to hear it. Need to.” His fingers dig into your thigh. “Say it. Who do you belong to?”
What little composure he had before is long lost. His entire body trembles above you, like a live wire about to erupt into flames. His cock jumps against your skin, aching to be inside.
“You—!” Your breath is cut short. The stretch that burns between your legs makes your entire body feel limp, giving itself to his touch as he shapes you around his dick.
“Oh my god,” he breathes. Only making it halfway inside before you clench around him, he slides back out to the tip. He releases your wrists, setting you free to let your hands roam again, and slides his arms around your waist as he holds you down onto his cock. Teeth scrape against your throat, weakly resisting the urge to bite down.
His thrusts soon become erratic and quick, reaching deeper inside of you than you ever thought possible and breeding you like a rabbit. Whining, babbling incoherently, gazing at you thoughtlessly, his eyes are lidded— Mine, mine, mine.
“Feels so fucking… oh god, so tight…”
Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding on for any essence of control. Tightening your grip into a fist, you feel his jaw fall open in a silent scream. The mewl that escapes him is pathetic. He likes that. He loves that.
"That feel good, Eddie?" It leaves your lips like honey. He nods fervently into your neck, abandoning the air of dominance he'd played with earlier. The warm body above you, inside you, melts into your touch, offering himself to you. Begging you to take him.
And you do.
It comes naturally, telling him how good he feels, how good he is for you, good, good, good. The bruising rhythm of his hips falters as he loses himself in your praise, mumbling things you couldn't understand and heating the skin of your bare chest with his breath.
You give him another tug. He yelps, his dick stilling within you while you hold his head up to face you by his hair. Glossy eyed, you swear there's tears sliding down his cheeks. Pathetic.
"What happened, baby?" You clench around him, just to hear him squeal. He does. "Not so big and strong anymore, huh? What happened to all that confidence?"
His face twists, and a small sob wracks his frame. He goes to return his face to the crook of your neck, but he's stopped by another yank to his hair.
"Ah—!"
"Use your words, honey. Why are you crying?" A tinge of worry invades your question, but something in you screams in delight at the way you've broken him. At just how easy it was.
There's so much he could say. How he never believed he'd get this far. He could tell you just how many nights he'd spent, dick deep in his fist, thinking about this, and how he can't even contain himself now that it's finally happening. How he's waiting to wake up from this cruel dream to an inevitable wet spot of cum on his mattress, as he has done frequently in the past. The way he needs you right now, to fill you and let you claim him, to hear you decide he's worthy of even the littlest passing thought. To beg you to use him if it means he can take up space in your mind. He wants to sink into the softness of your skin and let you hold him there. How the second he felt you squeezing his dick, he vowed never to leave your bedsheets— he'd stay there, in your bed, waiting for you all day until you return home so he can lay in your arms again like a lapdog. He'd let you whore him out for your own pleasure. Reduce himself for a warm body for you to use if it means he got to be yours.
He can’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he opts for a weak whimper as he tells you, "Need you..."
It wasn't a lie. In this moment, you're the oxygen he breathes— the only thing registering in his mind is how your body moves against his. Committing it to memory for when he inevitably has to let you go. Once you wake up tomorrow and realize who you've taken to bed. The way you'll look at him—or not look at him, even worse— in the days to come. The crushing reality that he will have to return to his spot across the street and observe you from your window again, teased by the events of tonight and the remnants of your touch on his skin.
But you're facing him now, picking apart his expression with eyes unwavering, glowing with adoration. Fully aware and generally sober, you know it's Edward Nashton.
You see him.
He's pulled back to reality by the breathiness of your voice, whispering to him, Oh, come here, baby. The voice from his dreams calling to him again.
Without hesitance, he collapses back into you. His hands squeeze your hips, anchoring you to him as his hips pick up in speed.
His dick slides against your walls with ease, and you feel him twitching inside of you. You caress his back, coaxing him toward his release, chasing your own. He moans softly, mindlessly, " 'm gonna cum..."
The weight of his body lifts away from you, just barely enough to make space for his fingers to snake between your bodies and stroke you. "Cum with me," he begs, "Please, I wanna... wanna make you feel good."
Feeling the coil deep in your belly, you dig your nails into his shoulderblades and buck your hips into his touch. It doesn't take long, between his mewling in your ear and the heat of his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, until you're almost there, clinging to him and clenching unwillingly around his cock.
"Eddie, I'm close—"
"Please cum, please, please... oh, my god, I wanna— I wanna see you." He posts on his elbow so his face hovers above yours, your breath mingling with his and making you dizzy.
You bring your trembling palm against his cheek. He watches your eyes roll back into your skull as your release washes over you, your entire body jolting with the force of it. The low groan that leaves you sends him toppling over his own edge, burying himself deep within you and spilling himself into your body. He lets his forehead fall against yours, a thin veil of sweat dampening his skin. The room fades into a half-awake sort of silence as each of you breathe each other's air, recovering.
When you open your eyes again after a long moment of basking in his closeness, and your own fullness, you find him already gazing down at you. The look in his eyes isn't any different from ones you've received in the past, but this time, it makes sense.
Desire. Unadulterated need. Infatuation.
Reverence.
With the hand on his cheek, you guide his lips down to yours. The kiss is nothing like your first of the evening. It's slow, languid, offering you both time to truly taste one another. To become one entity, joined at the mouth, for a brief time until you both come up for air and he collapses against the mattress beside you.
The moonlight plays on his features, sending shadows that frame his face like he’s Renaissance art. Suddenly he's bashful again, toying with your fingers as he asks you, "Should I let you get to sleep?"
You intertwine your hand with his.
"Stay."
《♡》
PART FOUR SOON
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poppyseed018 · 2 years
Text
Can’t Get Enough
fem!reader x edward nashton
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summary: i missed edward all day and finally he’s home…
warning : romantic!AU, ⚠️ 18+ ONLY ⚠️ smut, soft dom reader, fluff!!!, creampie
word count: 2216
(sorry if layout is weird i write on my phone)
———————————————————————
time, 5:23 PM.
Edward should be home soon. it only takes a few minutes to walk from the train to here. sitting at my desk watching tv on my laptop really wasn’t the best thing i could do with my day off but hey, i deserve a nothing day.
a few minutes pass and i hear his keys jingle in the door knob, followed by them being thrown on the little table next to the front door. then the shuffling of his jacket and shoes coming off.
his footsteps are soft as they approach the bedroom, and even though we’ve been together for over a year i still get butterflies when we’ve been apart for so long like today.
“hello love, what are you watching?” he asks in my direction, going to the closest to get out of his work clothes.
“criminal minds. but i’m barely paying attention”
“and why’s that?” he's busy looking at pajamas but i know i still have his full attention.
“kept looking at the time waiting for you” i can’t help but smile like a teenager. i swivel my chair to watch him look through his many basic t-shirts.
“aww, you’re cute” he chooses a black cotton t-shirt and walks over to my desk, he always looked so hot when he wore his boxers as bottoms. he stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my neck and shoulder crouching down to give a little peck on my head.
“no, you are” i giggled and turned my head to kiss him. he wraps one of his hands around my neck and kisses back. he doesn’t apply pressure, just rests his hand, holding me close.
“you look so beautiful like this, y/n” he stands back up and looks down at me
“like what..?” i look back up to him and feel my face get hot again. i’m wearing some old tie dye shirt and some sweatpants i got from target. a classic outfit for me. it’s nothing special but i can tell he means it.
“like this. ya know all comfortable and….i don’t know i just think you look beautiful”
i stand out of my chair and take a step towards him. i grab both his hands and pull them up to my face so he’s cupping my face. i look him in the eyes and smile up to him, even when i’m standing he’s still much taller than me. he leans down and kiss my forehead, he pulls back and rests his forehead on mine.
“how about we watch something together?” i ask pulling him into the living room and towards the couch.
“oh yeah! you can put on whatever you like” he sits down in the middle of the couch leaving little space for me to sit down. i stand in front of him and flip through movies on hulu, nothing ever sounds interesting. i lean forward a bit trying to read the description of some cliche horror movie. he takes this opportunity to grab both of my hips and pull me down on his lap.
“i missed you today.”
“i was going to say the same thing” he whispered in my ear giving it a small kiss. he then started kissing down my ear to my neck and then to my clothed shoulder. using his right hand to massage my other shoulder, then down to hold my right hand. nails painted his favorite color: forest green. he loves when my nails are done in this color, a small token that i’m his.
“i thought we were gonna watch something”
“don’t worry, love, i can multitask,” he says in between the kisses.
“is it ok if we watch this?”
“yes, that’s perfect, whatever you like.” he doesn’t even look at the screen, eyes closed in bliss feeling the warmth of my skin, definitely getting warmer from these actions.
I loved when he did this, worshiping me even in small actions. he took his left hand and pulled it up to my cheek, just barely glancing at the movie then back up at me. he caressed my cheek as my eyes are on the screen trying so hard not to give into the attention he so desperately wants. i hear him whimper quietly and i feel his hips lightly jerk up into me, he knows i can’t resist those noises.
“yes, eddie?” i look right at him with a slight grin trying so hard not to show him how much i love this.
“kiss me” he pushes the hair behind my ear, “please?”
oh come on!! how could i resist when he asks so nicely? i lean in and kiss his cheek first then pepper kisses all over his face, finally landing on his lips. i turn my upper body so i can wrap both my arms around his neck and rest them on his shoulders, relaxing further into the kiss. He moves his hands to my face and tangles them in my hair pulling me as close as he can. moments like these are when i truly am relaxed and happy, content in the arms of the man i love.
but then there’s moments like this… when i can feel his hand move to my thigh and give a small squeeze before slowly moving up. grabbing onto my hips and gently nudging them back and forth. just begging for me to give him some much needed friction to his crotch. his boxers are thin and i can already feel he’s half hard. growing more and more when i moan into the kiss.
“can- um can you take this off” he started fiddling with the hem of my t-shirt
“no,” he looked at me confused, “but you can.”
“yes ma’am” he was quick with taking it off. gently placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. before he even admired what was in front of him, he embraced me. wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close so his head was resting on my chest. he sat like this for a moment just taking everything in, my scent, my warmth, the sound of my heartbeat, he couldn’t get enough of it. “ mmm missed these” he whispered to himself but i still heard it and smiled, petting his hair lightly.
“you’re missing the movie,” he opened his eyes and looked up at me then back at the tv screen
“no im watching she’s getting stabbed or something”
“mhm sure ok.”
“well how am i supposed to pay attention when i have these in front of me” he started to massage my boobs when he said “these’
“how flattering, edward” i turned my entire body, and attention, so i was fully facing him. he always blushed when i called him his full name: edward
“can you kiss me again please?”
“please who?” this is when i start to grind onto him, knowing it’ll make him extra flustered
“please ma’am” he darts his eyes to the movie then back to my boobs, embarrassed by how turned on he is right now. little does he know i’m just as horny for him.
fuck. he’s so hard under me. i keep grinding on him and kiss him. it’s hot and passionate. he keeps his left hand squeezing my boobs and his right arm pulling my waist close.
“take these off eddie.” it sounded almost like a whine. he lifted his ass up off the couch and pulled them down still trying to kiss me as he did so, holding onto his shoulders for support. when he came back down he whimpered in my mouth of the contact of his aching dick touching my clothed pussy. my grinding started again and his whimpering turned into a quiet moan.
“i could come like this, y/n” he gripped my waist trying to get as much friction as possible
“i know, sweetie, but i don’t want you to”
“then take more of this off please” he hooked his fingers on my sweatpants, tugging on them lightly. “no undies?”
“i told you i was waiting for you”
he muttered a swear word saying how hot that was to him, then pulled my pants off entirely, putting more pressure on his shoulders so i can lift myself up to help him. when i came back down his dick landed perfectly between my folds.
shit, he always got me so wet. i exhaled a breathy moan when i felt how hard and warm he was beneath me.
“mm- fuck you’re so wet, all from me?”
“of course, eddie” i hugged him closer and started to buck my hips more vigorously. the feeling of his dick rubbing against my clit was definitely enough to take me over the edge but i wanted- no, i needed him inside me. i kept rubbing against him, my wetness dripping down to his lap. his head fell back in ecstasy, loving this maybe more than i am.
“please ma’am- ohmygod keep going please” he was so pathetic under me, “just like that. feels so good.”
i loved it.
“come on sweetie beg more. tell me how badly you want it”
“p…please it feels so fucking good pleasedonteverstop” and how could i resist those beautiful words and heavenly moans that left his lips. i went a little faster and messier now. everything was so wet and the way his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hung open was making me even wetter.
one thrust was particularly hard and he slipped right inside me.
we both gasped at the the sudden new sensation. he always stretched me out so good. so full of him i can’t get enough. i bounced and grinded more onto his thick cock, hitting all the right places in me.
“fuck eddie you feel so good. so fucking good”
“you feel even better, my love” he moved his hands from my hips to my face pulling me forward and kissed me hard. our bodies so close together i wouldn’t be surprised if we melted into each other.
“touch my clit for me sweetie”
“yes ma’am” he brought hit fingers up to his mouth but i took them in mine before he could and sucked on them for a moment to get them wet. his eyes were so wide, it was adorable how shy he was. he then brought them down and just barely grazed my clit but it made me whimper loud.
“please eddie, please touch me more”
and i didn’t have to ask him twice, he started rubbing circles with his thumb, not too fast not too slow. absolutely perfect. i put one of my arms back and rested my hand on his knee so he could get the best angle. my eyes barely open i could see him look down at where our bodies met.
“ohmygod y/n you feel good. are you close?”
“mhm” is all i could muster up. with each bounce he went deeper and deeper inside me, “only you make me feel this good. you’re so good for me sweetie”
“say that again. please… say you’re all mine”
“o-oh fuck-k edward, sweetie, i’m all yours. all yours to use and fill up. and you fill me up so good. you’re the only person who makes me feel so fucking good” he started rubbing me a little faster and started to buck his hips up to meet mine. moans and swears fell from his puffy lips.
“i’m so close please mommy please don’t stop” he had never called me that before,
but i loved it.
my orgasm came first and wow did it hit me hard. i gripped his shoulders with both my hands now rocking harder feeling the euphoria wash all over my body and right into his. he stopped rubbing me and hugged me close, fucking himsef up into me now. trying so hard to get to his own high.
“oh yes! fuck me eddie please fuck me”
“ohfuckfuckyes… y-yes shit, i’m gonna come for you mommy” it was barely audible but a second later his whimpers turned into grunts and his thrust slowed down to a stop. i rocked against him, guiding him through his high. i kissed his cheek and all over his face as my grinding stopped.
“you have no idea how good you make me feel eddie”
“and you have no idea how good you make me feel,” he stayed inside me, arms still wrapped around each other. “i think you’re missing your movie”
“it was worth it” i mumbled into his neck.
“let’s go shower, ok?” i nodded and slowly got up off of him. he winced as he pulled out of me, standing up and taking my hand to lead me back to our room and into the bathroom. he turned the water on and waited for it to warm up, still holding my hand. “it’s warm enough now.”
we both got in and just stood there holding each other, feeling the warm water wash over us. i could feel his come dripping out of me and down my leg. he looked down at me and smiled. i looked up at him and smiled back.
“i could come from this too”
“oh yeah?”
“yes y/n i told you. you’re so beautiful”
“you are too eddie”
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imagine--if · 11 months
Note
Can you write headcanons on what things dano riddler would text his s/o? Like if they were away on a trip what the texts would look like ?
A/N: Yeas I cannn 😁 this is one of my older requests that I found in my drafts so enjoyyy! I went all out and decided to do fake message thingies instead of hcs bahaha (Also I'm really working towards posting every other day on this blog now that the worst of my finals are done 😅 thank you all for being so patient!!)
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abrcmswrld · 10 months
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No idea scenario wise how this would play out but Riddler with a reader who has a mommy kink? Wanting to take care of him, calls him pretty, just a bunch of stuff related to him being treated very nicely,
Pretty Boy | Edward Nashton x Reader
Word Count: 481 (Drabble/Headcanons)
Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), mommy kink drabble basically,, nothing much just edward being taken care of in various sexual and non sexual ways,, this is kinda of unorganized but some of it was scene based and some of it was headcanon based so bear with me
Author’s Note: I gotta be honest i had no idea what to title this lmao,, thank you for sending a request! I’m kind of feral over this scenario,, i need to treat him right so badly he deserves it
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He's flushed in your bed and moaning out your name until he makes a sound that doesn't quite match. But you're holding him down and riding him with such passion you can only get out a quick, "What was that, baby?" He throbs inside of you and his cheeks become even more flushed than they already are. "I-I..."
You place a hand under his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you raise your hips up just enough for the swollen tip of his cock to remain inside of you. You're practically whining at the absence but you hold firm. "Be a good boy for me, yeah? You gonna tell me what you said?" He whimpers before the words fall from his lips, so sweet.
"Y-Yes- Please, mommy..."
It brings a flutter into your stomach and you let your hips fall back down on him, swallowing him to the hilt. "That's my good boy." And -dear god- you find yourself enjoying this. You find your self craving to take care of him. The thought alone throws you over the edge.
━━━━
•He doesn’t seem to mind you bringing that side out of him. Some nights he will come home exhilarated and tense, ready to bend you over the bed and take what's his. But you find yourself loving the nights in which he is tired and small. He works so hard to please you and you always call him your boy.
"My sweet boy."
"My good boy."
"Are you gonna make mommy cum?"
•And he always responds with a choked off moan and a quick nod. And he follows through. Helplessly eating you out, face buried between your thighs. He looks so pretty like this, you think. He’s bucking his crotch against nothing until you finally, finally give him the pleasure of your gentle and comforting touches.
━━━━
•He's delicate after sex, but you don't mind. You'd always be there to take care of his spent form. Wiping him off. Leading him into the bathtub. Washing the postcoital sweat and grime out of his hair. It's a love language.
•He's never had someone to do these sorts of things for him. He was always meant to fend for himself. To make sure his needs were met on his own. He still feels that ping of responsibility for his own health and needs. But it feels so good to let you take care of him.
━━━━
•And it carries into your relationship in ways that aren't inherently sexual as well. Work was hard? Your arms are open to his tired form. You stroke his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.
•He lets you peel his work clothes from his body and pull him into bed with you. His legs are almost always tangled with yours. A way of desperately clinging onto that closeness and non sexual intimacy.
•You find pleasure in it. The warmth his body radiates as he clings onto you at night is cozy, and you find yourself missing it on the nights he "works" late.
•But he’ll always be your sweet boy. He will always come home to your open, waiting, and loving arms.
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devilfic · 1 year
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ok but Edward when he was still in the orphanage falling in love with a kid he constantly sees when he goes to church, like a childish and innocent love (I just want edward kid to receive a little affection) 😔
❝first snow❞
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plot: life wasn’t all pain, there was you. there was you. pairing: child!edward nashton x child!gn!reader. cw: fluff, light angst, choir boy eddie, mentions of bullying, childhood trauma. words: 1.9k.
a/n: ever since I received this request I’ve just fawned over how sweet it is. here you go, anon
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Edward is aware of how timid his voice sounds. It was a reflex, the wobbly authority of it, because he’d learned early on that he wasn’t much of an authority on anything except dodging the older kids’ punches. He could pretend he hadn’t said anything if you turned around and gave him that look he was so used to getting. Meant for squirmy vermin like him.
But you don’t snap at him or look at him like he’s used to. Your eyes are shock-wide and frantic when his words finally settle in: “You shouldn’t be here.” But your eyes shoot up at first, taller than himself (were you expecting someone else?), and when they land on him shivering in his choir boy robe they all but melt. He’d never been looked at like that. Your little hands grip the massive church door a little less tightly and then you smile, “It’s snowing.”
Edward blinks. Of course it’s snowing. It’s December in Gotham. It always snows in December.
But by the look on your face, Edward could‘be been convinced it had never snowed before. That snow had been a construct of childhood, like Santa for the kids who got to be lied to about Santa, and that all kids your age knew by now that snow wasn’t real. And then you’d opened that church door and suddenly it was.
The breeze coming in would be enough to make the orphanage’s scary wardens shiver and complain about wanting to go home early while Edward’s fingers go numb for the night, but he finds himself moving closer to you.
You pull the door a little wider and suddenly you’re waving him over, beckoning him beside you. He can see the snow past your head. “You’ll catch a cold.” He tries, a little louder, a warning with experience. “They’ll notice we’re not in service.”
Still, he comes closer.
When Edward is right beside you, he can hear the chatter of your teeth and see your breaths clouding the space between you both. For a moment, he thinks that this might be a trick and turns quickly to catch some burly monster of a teenager before they could shove him out into the cold to freeze to death, but no such thing happens. It’s just you two in the foyer, and the echo of the priest in the main hall.
“Does it always snow like this?” You bypass his warning.
Edward looks out at the white coating the Gotham streets, adults rushing through the light snowfall knowing what would await if they stayed in it too long. Even beautiful things in Gotham were deadly. “Yeah, it’s winter. It always snows in winter.”
Your eyes narrow a little indignantly, “Not where I’m from.”
Edward remembers. Your father, the imposing figure he was, had mentioned a place warm and very far away from Gotham. He also remembered wondering why anyone from such a nice place would move here. Your pristine clothing had told Edward you were from a much, much better place, but he hadn’t had it in him to be as upset about that as he usually would be.
In fact, he finds himself a little nervous standing right next to you. “What’s it like where you’re from?” He asks, as if he hadn’t gone to the Gotham Public Library weeks ago and asked one of the librarians about it after you’d first arrived. The other kids would only ever tell him it was somewhere he’d “never get to go”.
“It only ever gets cold really late in winter, and it never lasts long. Mom had to get me new clothes for Gotham because it gets too cold here and it never snows back home.” Then you make a face and correct yourself, “Back there.”
You hadn’t looked too fond of your new situation upon moving here. Your father had said your family was joyous at joining the church, and yet your face had been filled with grief. As if it had only settled in on that Sunday that you would never be leaving Gotham.
Your eyes start to fog over with the same grief again, and… it’s strange. Edward doesn’t like seeing you like that. He finds himself fumbling for something to talk about that other kids his age would like, something he wasn’t very good at, and settles on a memory, “When the wardens feel generous, they sometimes take us to Gotham Square. They put a really big Christmas tree up and give out free hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. If you sing,” his body had long since accustomed to the Gotham winter, but only now does he feel his cheeks warm under your curious gaze, “they always make us sing.”
“Why do you call them wardens?”
“Huh?”
“You’re from the orphanage, right? Why do you call them wardens? It sounds kind of mean.”
Edward blinks, having never had to think about it. That was one thing the other kids could agree on, “Because they’re mean.”
He should hate it, the flash of sympathy on your face. He doesn’t need sympathy from people like you or Bruce Wayne or anyone. What he needs is a jacket. It’s getting really cold standing by the open door with you.
“You’re a pretty singer.”
Edward actually makes a noise. It’s strained, like the cats that loiter outside the orphanage for scraps that’ll never come, “What?”
“You’re a pretty singer, you have a pretty voice,” you clarify, using the word pretty, pretty, pretty, you’re pretty, pretty, “my mom thinks so too. She said I should sound more like you.”
“Can you not sing?” His voice stutters as does his little, gentle heart. Not used to the kindness.
You shake your head and push the door closed a little, the cold getting too much for you, he thinks, “Apparently, I sound like I’m in pain.” And then, to Edward’s surprise, you demonstrate with a little shriek you call holding a note.
And he doesn’t mean to because it’s impolite to laugh at others (as if it ever stopped anyone from laughing at him), but he bursts into such an uncontrollable fit of giggles that his glasses fog up and he can only just see your mouth turn from an “o” into a smile. He grabs at his stomach to stop the shaking of his laughter but it barely helps.
He should be more worried that someone will hear. But you don’t look bothered. He feels safe right now. Something else he’s not used to.
“See! That’s unfair. You have a pretty laugh too.” You complain, though your tone is playfully annoyed.
“No, I- I don’t,” he wheezes through heavy breaths, “you’re crazy.”
“Am not!”
Edward wipes under his glasses at the small tear forming in his eye, coming down from his fit to see you proudly smiling with your hands now behind your back. It comes out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop himself, “You must have hypothermia.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, confused, “Hippo- what?”
“Hypothermia… it happens when you get too cold. You can get confused.” Edward winces explaining, wondering if you’d catch on that you actually didn’t like talking to him soon, “Delirious.” He tries instead, as if the word would be any more familiar to you if you didn’t pore over books and word puzzles like he did all hours of the day.
“Oh.” You blink, your silence a tiny trigger on a shotgun pointed at his self-esteem. He shouldn’t have confused you, brought you out of the fun. You’d think he was dull now. Like the other kids do. “Is that why I feel this way?”
“What?” It’s Edward’s turn to be confused now. You don’t clarify this time, jaw clenching like you’d said the wrong thing. He worries suddenly that he’d been right on the money.
He steps closer and presses his hand to your forehead on instinct like he would the babies at the orphanage, checking warmth through the night and hoping for sunrise. Out from your mouth escapes a little peep at the contact and he pulls his hand back very quickly, now worried he’d overstepped the boundary. Crossed over too quickly into familiarity, into fondness. Your skin was burning warm. What had you meant by “this way”?
Your mouth opens to form a word when the door you’re leaning on suddenly shuts under a heavier weight. The two of you hadn’t even noticed your mother now standing there, furiously concerned and wrapping her coat around your shoulders, “What are you thinking? It’s freezing outside! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Edward feels a pang in his heart when your mother cups your cheek, feeling for what he’d felt for moments ago. He gets that nasty little feeling twisting in his heart again. Remembering who you are and who he is.
You have a mother to keep you warm. Why should he worry?
He’s halfway in a turn when your mother suddenly looks at him, and then touches him on the cheek too and he jolts away from the unfamiliar (soft) contact. Her hand retracts with quiet concern, “Are you alright, dear? You look flushed. You both really shouldn’t be out here.”
Edward presses the back of his hand to his own face and notes that she’s right.
You look up at your mother and then back at Edward, “Sorry. It’s my fault. I wanted to watch the snow with Eddie.”
Eddie? You knew his name?
The kids in the home called him that with condescension, because “Edward” was too dignified and full of itself and there was nothing Edward needed more than to be knocked down a few pegs. Of course.
You, on the other hand, said it like a friend. Like you two had known each other forever. Like you knew him too well to just keep calling him “Edward”.
“Well, service is almost over. Shall I escort you both back to your pews?” Your mother’s sweetness is so strange to hear. When she holds out her hand to him, he is too shocked to jump away this time, “You can sit with us if you’d like, Eddie.” She has a glint of out-of-place warmth in her eyes just like you.
Edward wants nothing more than to accept, but the other kids would notice and the warden would drag him by the scruff into the old, rickety orphanage bus and tell him that he’d get no dinner tonight for embarrassing them. His stomach turns at the thought. “No thank you, ma’am.”
“At least come get warm.” She beckons, ushering you both back to the main hall.
Edward follows you, a step behind, until he simply can’t and must return to the pews with the other church boys who watch him with wide eyes. One of the wardens looks furious when she finally spots him off with you. He feels her eyes burn into the back of his head even when he sits down, rigid with his hands shoved between his thighs to warm them up again. He stares ahead, unmoving, not even answering the boys nearest him and their questions about where he’d been.
Edward stares ahead until he just can’t anymore. You’re staring right at him from across the aisle, hands cupped around your mouth as he watches you make out a word: Hippo-term-ia.
It’s hard to pass off his laugh as a cough.
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry
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smellydano · 2 years
Note
I heard ur in need of requests so I shall shower u in some lmaooo
Ok this is very random but I love taking pics of my friends like a mom does and I was wondering if I could request reader doing the same for Eddie aka riddler aka poor meow meow and just showering him with compliments
ahHHH okay i love this so much, like what if they were doing sweet household domestic things like baking HAHSGDJDKSH ,, i’d imagine the picture would look similar to those polaroids HHHHH he’s such a little cute meow meow i’m sorry this took a while but it’s here it is :3
smile for me! || edward nashton
edward nashton x reader fluff
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warnings: none! just eddie being a little meow meow
synopsis: baking cookies with the cutest boy eddie :3
word count: 564
you two were on your couch, laying with eddie’s head resting on your chest. you looked down to see him letting out quiet snores, baking must have tuckered him out! you ran your fingers through his soft brown hair, pressing kisses to his head every so often. the timer on your phone chimed as eddie quickly lifted his head and glanced up at you in shock. “the cookies are ready!” you whispered to him, he got up and you ran over to the oven in the kitchen. eddie paused the movie you two were watching and quickly follows behind you, just as excited.
you peaked into the oven to see how they looked. “oh eddie they look so good! can you take them out for me please?” you asked, smiling to him as he watched you with admiration in his sleepy eyes. he loved when you got so excited, seeing you burst with joy made his heart flutter with infatuation. you flashed him a smile as you handed him the grey oven mitts.
“of course i can, sweetheart.” he takes the mitts from your hands and pulls them on. he lowers the oven door and grabs the hot baking tray from the oven. he attempted to put them on the top of the stove when you stopped him, “wait baby, smile for me!” he looked over at you to see you had your phone out, ready to take a picture of him. he closed his eyes and chuckled, giving you that goofy smile you loved while holding the pan out.
you snapped a couple pictures, giggling at them. he placed the sheet down on the stove, taking the mitts off and placing them on the counter. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in from your side. “can i see the pictures?” he asked as he leaned his head on your shoulder. you opened your camera roll to display all the pictures you took during the baking process and then his silly little pose with the cookies.
“these ones are my favourite!” you showed him the last pictures, a big smile plastered on his face. “you’re so pretty.” you smiled as you leaned your head on his, his cheeks turned a tinted pink, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “really?.” he asked with a light giggle. “yes! seriously, you’re the cutest thing ever!” you giggled as you heard him whine in your neck.
you looked over to him on your shoulder, “c’mon baby, let’s get some cookies and keep watching the movie!” you slid your phone into the pocket on your green sweatpants and wrapped your arm around his frame. he nodded, pulling his face away from your neck and watched you as you placed cookies on a plate for the both of you, completely in awe of you. you both made your way back to the couch, eddie trailing behind as he held your free hand.
you laid back on the couch as you patted your chest, signalling him to continue the position you two were in earlier. his hands moving in excitement, he laid on the couch with you, placing his head on your chest as you grabbed a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. eddie felt at peace, grinning like an idiot. he felt so much love for you, slowly drifting back to sleep.
——
ajdhskfhdj i love my little meow meow i wrote him as such a little baby in this oops ,, i hope u liked it anon!! ty for requesting :3
i’m still totally open to any requests !! lmk what u wanna see !! ty for reading ! 🖤🍄🧚🏻
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always-andromeda · 1 year
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strawberry creme for edward nashton maybe ?? :3
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– 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧
𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a fantastic request and I adore you for it, Ethan. thank you!! <3
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: like with almost all of my Eddie blurbs there are equal amounts of angst and fluff lol, nothing else I can think of!
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Kissing is overrated, Edward concluded long ago. Maybe he saw one too many romance movies. Maybe he got sick of watching the couples around him locking lips at practically every turn. Whatever it was that broke him, he wasn't expecting for anything to miraculously fix him.
This was once again, just another thing that the universe seemed to think he wasn't good enough for. How the universe decided these things, he had no clue. All he knew was that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't meant for that kind of attention.
Guys like him lurked in tiny cubicles, watching their glorified excuses for managers get dates that were way too good for them. Guys like him are invisible.
Which is why he's shocked when you actually see him.
Not only do you see him, but you embrace him. You show him that the universe had mercifully carved a path for him. And as long as that path leads to you, he's happy with this bit.
But his happiness is almost completely overshadowed by his anxiety. It's an ever present gnawing in his chest that completely takes over whenever you try to go further than holding hands or hugs and cuddles.
Knowing how nerve-wracking and overwhelming affection can be for him sometimes, you take each bit of progression slowly.
As you lay with him on the couch in his apartment, your attention shifts from the show playing on TV to Edward's face above you. From your spot on his chest, you watch him squint at the television. He scrunches his nose to push his glasses back up the bridge.
Edward may not have found himself to be anything special. But from this angle, he's perfect to you. He's an arrangement of soft curves, flushed skin, and inexperience.
That last part conflicts you. On one hand, it breaks your heart knowing that no one else managed to see him the way you do. On the other, you're glad that he'd somehow blended so deeply into the background that you were the only one who got him like this.
Because you like how deeply you affect him. How just a little stare has him fumbling for the words to ask why you're looking at him like that.
And you love the way that his whole demeanor crumbles entirely when you ask him confidently, "Can I kiss you?"
And who is he to deny such a straightforward request? Edward nods 
His hands are clammy and he has no idea where to put them. This whole act seems like a play that he hadn't learned his lines for.
What is he supposed to do? When is his tongue supposed to enter the scene? Did his tongue even get the part to begin with? So many questions flooded his mind in the few seconds it took for you to lean up to him.
He feels stupid...so very stupid when you pull him down the rest of the way by his collar. But when your lips finally meet his...he feels like he's in heaven. For about three seconds, he saw everything before him. Beyond all the fear and the worries that usually plague him...he has you. In your soft lips, he finds hope. And somehow, that's better than any drawn out and overdramatized movie kiss he's ever seen.
As quickly as it starts, the kiss ends. You dutifully make sure to keep things slow for him. And for a moment, Edward is grateful for it. Because he knows that the second he gets going, he will hardly be able to stop himself. He's inclined to take and take all that you can give him at once, afraid that if he doesn't, this opportunity will be snatched away from him.
"Is that good enough for now?" you ask.
Part of him says that if this is all real, there's no need to rush things. He doesn't need to succumb to the fear of scarcity. But he He can savor this. But he aches for more. He wants to suck the marrow out of every glance, every touch, every part of you that becomes a part of him and vice versa. He'll never get a moment like this again. And he wants to live in it for as long as he possibly can.
With a new sense of certainty, he replies, "Again."
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r1ddlessy · 2 years
Text
bad day with edward nashton
a/n: if you think you know the answer to the riddle lmk!!
warnings:one mention of a gun
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"what's wrong, baby?"
you asked gently as you saw edward staring into the wall with a hazy look on his face. he jumped slightly like you'd startled him, before he shook his face.
"nothing, i'm fine honey." he lied and tried to force a smile but it came out wrong and you knew him too well.
"please tell me, i wanna help you baby." you walked closer until you reached the sofa then you sat on the floor in front of him. you looked up at him and rested your hands on his thighs. edward couldn't hold back when he saw how concerned you looked. he sighed softly.
"i'm just going through a rough patch, you know?" he cupped your face and you nuzzled into it. "just don't know anymore." he looked away once more, while you listened intently. "i don't feel worthy of being with you. i feel like i'm just bringing you down..." he murmured the last sentence quietly but you heard it loud and clear.
"but eds, that's not true!" you protested. "you're amazing and i love you so much. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you." you spoke earnestly, gently reaching out to move his gaze to yours. "why don't we do some things to cheer you up?" you suggested, biting your lip nervously as you awaited his response.
"you would do that for me?" he asked softly, completely astounded. you smiled up at him.
"i'd give you the sun if you asked for it." you admitted, before standing up off the floor and patting his thighs lightly. "you sit right there mister, prepare for an evening of enjoyment." you grinned and bowed before you left, making edward laugh which brightened your mood. you picked up a few DVDs from your bedroom and returned to the living room where edward was sat patiently.
"what movie do you wanna watch, hon?" his face lit up as you showed the display of movies you'd brought.
"The Shining, please." he answered without hesitation and you laughed, having already seen it with him an insane amount of times.
"alright, i'll pop it in while i make some cookies." you kneeled down to place the DVD in but edward moved it away from you.
"don't wanna start it without you..." he said shyly and you smiled, nodding understandingly as you stood back up.
"i'll make you a hot chocolate for while you wait for me to make the cookies then, hon." edward blushed and thanked you while you went into the kitchen. when you returned with a hot chocolate in his favourite mug with whipped cream and mini marshmallows, tears stung at his eyes.
"no one's ever taken care of me like this." he murmured as he took the mug from you. you kissed his cheek and squeezed his upper arm.
"i'll take care of you now, hon."
25 minutes passed and the cookies were piled high on a plate, warm and ready to be eaten while you both curled up in each other's arms on the sofa.
"have i ever told you how handsome you are?" you blurted out as Wendy and Danny walked through the maze on-screen. edward spluttered on his mouthful of cookie and hot chocolate, and you wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. "because you are." you smiled as you cuddled into his side, looking up into his eyes. "you've got beautiful eyes and such a cute face, it's so kissable!" you gushed and edward grew bright red. to prove your point, you planted a kiss on each of his cheeks and one on his nose. when you saw his flustered face it ignited something in you, and you crawled over to straddle yourself over his lap. edward sat as still as a statue while he awaited your next move. you didn't give him time to prepare before you started planting a flurry of kisses on his face, trailing down from his forehead down his nose to his chin and jaw.
edward hummed quietly in bliss. you gave him a few sweet,chaste kisses on his lips before you finally pulled away.
"i love you more than life itself." you murmured, smiling softly as you looked at him.
"you're my whole life." he responded before pulling you close to his chest. you lay comfortably in each other's arms until the end credits rolled, and edward frowned for a moment wondering if this was the end of this blissful time. he hid his frown as you stood up and put the DVD away.
"oh eds!i nearly forgot i got you something..." you hurriedly left the living room and went into the kitchen, coming back with a big book with "50 Riddles" printed on it. "i thought maybe we could figure some out together." you smiled as you brought it over and set it on his lap, opening it to the first page.
"a man walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a glass of water. the bartender pulls out a gun, and the man thanks him and leaves." your brow furrowed as you tried to think of the possible solutions. barely a few seconds passed before edward came up with the answer. you checked it and giggled.
"is there any riddle you can't solve?" you teased.
"how on Earth i got lucky enough to be loved by you."
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