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#soft!dark edward nashton

natsuki-bakery · 10 months

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˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ The Riddler pink moodboard ! ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳

•Sfw interactions only | read my dni ! •Don't repost and claim as yours ! Reblogs are okay but not reposts !

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danosrosegarden · 4 months

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just breathe - edward nashton x gn!reader ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: lots of mentions/descriptions of past trauma/edward's childhood mixed with some fluff/comfort.}

{note: this piece was a paid commission, and i have permission to share it publicly. find out more about commissioning a piece from me in my pinned post.}

When Edward was a child, he hugged himself to sleep.

The echoing chatter of the children he shared his room with rippled throughout the four walls, though they were all supposed to be quiet, asleep. Perhaps the more they talked, their breath clouding out from their mouths in chalky puffs, the more warmth would find its way into their small, trembling bodies. Warmth in connection. Warmth in a friend.

Edward did not take part in these midnight, star-speckled conversations. He was fetal-positioned on top of his tough mattress. He wrapped his arms around himself, focusing on the sound of his jagged breathing. In and out. In and out. I am, I am, I am.

Though Edward sensed something deep and dark and impending and dreadful about himself ever since he was young, he was still his own friend. Which set of murky green eyes did he recognize more than his own? What labored, tired breathing did he know better than his own? Who did Edward Nashton know better than himself?

So there he’d lay. His arms would be wrapped around himself and his gangling limbs would be shaking and there would be pinpricks of tears poking at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

If there was one thing Edward could not do to soothe himself to sleep, it was cry. The other children would hear him. He was not a quiet weeper. His nose would fill with bubbling snot and his breathing would become even more troubled than before and the children would laugh. They would laugh until rivers of tears trailed down their cheeks. They would laugh until their stomachs twisted and tangled. They would laugh and laugh and Edward would feel the burning hot shame sizzling throughout his bloodstream. He couldn’t cry. It wasn’t an option.

He must remind himself of this now, as he sits curled up into your side as you run your fingers through his hair and he listens to the sound of your soft, shallow breathing. He may not be the child he once was anymore, but Edward still feels him clawing and scratching inside of him. Don’t cry, Edward. Stop it, Edward. Shut up, Edward. Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT.

He feels the swell of his heart and the tears gloss across his eyes as you bend your head to kiss him on the cheek. Affection was simply not for him; he resigned himself to this fact very young. So when you gift it to him so readily, tied in a soft, velvet bow and glittering wrapping paper, he just doesn’t know how to react.

The tears dribble down his cheek silently at first. He tries as hard as he can to quiet himself and wipe the tears as inconspicuously as possible. But your skin is touching. Your hearts are beating in sync. You are tied together, intertwined in a way some people–children like Edward used to be–can only dream of having one day. You can feel his chest rising and falling in serrated heaving, and you cock your head to see him hiding his face, skin splotched with red clouds, in his hands.

“Eddie? What’s the matter?”

How’s he supposed to explain it? How’s he supposed to convey the frosty nights of bitter, lonesome cold he spent wishing that somebody would swoop in and save him from his own blackened heart and screaming soul, his fingers aching from the chill air and the hairs in his nose frosting together? How does he even begin to express how thankful he feels that he has you now, somebody willing to kiss his scars and cuddle with his sharp-clawed monsters? How does he start?

He can’t find the words. He can’t find any words, in fact, as a pathetic, warbling grumble-cough erupts from his throat. You peer at him with a concern-injected frown as he wipes his eyes over and over, the skin of his cheeks growing ever more red and scratch-marked from his hoodie sleeve.

But he doesn’t need words. You scoot closer to him and nestle into his side, planting a soft, gentle kiss on his chapped lips.

“It’s okay,” you soothe. “It’s alright.”

For the first time in his life, a constant fight for survival, a fight to keep the darkness at bay…he begins to believe it.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n

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always-andromeda · 1 year

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i just wanna cuddle with edward nashton 🥺

– 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh, me too, anon. in fact. this sent me on a little brainstorming session! you probably totally didn't expect a headcanons list from this but lmao I always have to go overboard so enjooooy. <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: vague mentions of Edward's trauma, tooth-rotting fluff, nothing else I can think of!

Physical affection is foreign to Edward. He craves it more than anything else; desires to be known so deeply that when you finally try to give him just that, it freezes him up almost entirely.

It starts innocently enough.

You're watching television with him, only partially paying attention to the game show. It's far more engaging to watch Edward watch the show anyways.

His expression quirks every so slightly with each question. Head tilted, you can tell that he's deep in contemplation. Completely fixated on the screen. Barely blinking.

And you're so lost that you lean into him. You keep telling yourself that it's unintentional as your head rests carefully on his shoulder.

Edward almost doesn't notice you at first. It isn't until your arms curl around his soft midsection that he realizes how close you'd gotten.

He lets out a nearly inaudible, "Oh," as you snuggle into his side. Brain going blank, he stays still for a few seconds.

He's struck by the warmth of your body. How your hands caress him over the fabric of his shirt. He feels each one of your fingers gently pressing into his skin. In that way, you play with the ripped seams of his soul. Your softness has a way of untangling the frayed threads, leaving them open to being weaved into some new design.

There are a few things he does when he finally comes back to his body. He closes his eyes and hopes that the moment etches itself on the back of his eyelids. Then his lean arms offer their own form of kindness as he awkwardly pulls you closer, almost into his lap.

Like a decades old couch in your grandmother's living room, you sink into Edward's body and he groans softly as he lets part of your weight anchor him to the earth.

A chuckle from deep in your throat escapes you. "Mmm, you're comfortable."

You mean I'm not repulsive? Edward wants to ask. But he doesn't.

He tries not to let that worried little voice take form in his head, but his own voice still cracks when he says, "Thank you." To which you laugh one more time.

Edward can be so terribly nervous sometimes over the most normal things. Your amusement quickly turns once you remember that it's probably because of his past; probably because he hadn't really known this simple, sweet sort of solitude. But you flip that thought again and resolve, then I'll make this normal for him.

At nearly the same time, Edward determines that he likes this. He likes the way that even among all of the chaos and darkness, he can have this equilibrium. As he kisses the top of your head tenderly he remembers that this moment belongs to him and him alone.

#askmeda✨#anon ask✨#paul dano #danocel #danonation #the batman #edward nashton #dano!riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #edward nashton fluff #dano!riddler x reader #dano!riddler x you #dano!riddler x y/n #dano!riddler fluff #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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imagine--if · 1 year

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

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

Wordcount: 716

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

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

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

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

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

"Police! Hands up!"

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

But you knew.

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

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

"He just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie."

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

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

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

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

⭒❃.✮:▹𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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starlightsearches · 2 years

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Hunger Pangs

Had this idea a couple nights ago. Sometimes when I can't fall asleep I'll put on Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it made me think of falling asleep next to Eddie. If you enjoyed it please let me know!

Edward Nashton x Femme! Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, piv sex, free use, somnophilia, cockwarming, unprotected sex, cream pie, language, the whole thing is pretty tender.

The screen flickers softly, and Eddie tries to make sense of the movie playing on your laptop, the one you'd sleepily told him was your favorite. His eyes scan across the subtitles, since the volume is too low to hear the whispered words between the two protagonists, both so caught up in their longing glances they couldn't be bothered to enunciate for Eddie's benefit.

The letters all blur together, though. Nothing sticks, not when he's desperate like this. He's fighting to keep his hips still—a stiff ache emanating from his cock and eating away at his reason until the only thing he can cling to is the fear that he might wake you.

But your body’s so warm, curled against his chest. He'd climbed in beside you as soon as he got home from work, found you wrapped up under the covers of the bed you share each night, laughing softly over a story you'd heard countless times and characters you considered intimate friends.

There was something about it—something so domestic, as you pressed up against him, greeting him with a tired kiss—something that gave him hunger pangs he could not satisfy on his own.

His home was not this apartment, not the city that chewed him up countless times and then spat him out for his bitter taste. His home was and always would be you.

And he needed to be inside you. More than anything.

He prays for a sudden tone shift—a musical sting or a bit of shouted dialogue—but it seems the movie is as determined not to wake you as he is. You stay still, chest rising and falling steadily in time with the quiet melody, lips parted in a soft pout. He watches you in the flickering light of the screen.

Eddie feels sick that he could be this selfish.

He'll go to sleep, or try at least. He'll pray for some pleasant dream, something soft that might quell his hunger until he could have you.

Maybe you sense that on some level; your body shifts, pressing tighter until your hips meet his—hard cock pillowed in the cushion of your ass.

Eddie moans. Long and loud, the needy sound fills the space between your four walls. He covers his mouth with a fervent hand, but he's much too slow.

"Eddie?"

You breathe his name, turning over your shoulder, face dark in contrast to blue light of the screen. Eddie swallows, propped up on his arm still so he can look you in the eye.

"Yeah?"

You can still feel him through the thin shorts you're wearing, he's certain. With the gentle sway of your hips, he knows you know.

Your voice is thick with sleep, eyes blinking away the last traces of a dream. "You okay, honey?"

"I'm fine, dove," he whispers, encouraging you to lay against the pillow, brushing a gentle hand over your hair, "go back to sleep."

Your body twists against the sheets, turning to face him. He bites harsh lines into his bottom lip when the contact is lost.

You hum a little question, fingers tracing over the hard shape of his cock through the material of his sweats. Eddie let's out a gasp.

"You could have woken me up," you say.

He bites hard at the inside of his cheek, trying to maintain some composure. "I- I didn't want to bother you."

You just press him flat against the bed, shifting a leg over him until you're straddling his hips. Your body rolls languidly over his jutting cock again. His fingers twist against the sheets.

"You'll never bother me, honey. You can have me whenever you want."

"Really?" He just resists the urge to buck his hips against yours as you lay your head down against his chest, lashes fluttering closed against warm cheeks.

"Mhmm, whenever."

Your clothed cunt is resting right against the bulge in his sweatpants. He takes a chance—emboldened—pressing the tips of his fingers against the damp fabric, tracing your familiar folds until he finds your clit. "Like, god, like right now?"

You hum softly, burying your face in Eddie's shoulder, lips soft at his neck. He takes that as a yes.

Eddie slips his thumbs under the edge of your sleep shorts, soft skin brushing against his knuckles as he bares you from the waist down. You've got hearth-warm thighs; he lets his hands travel over the curve of your ass, dipping into the heat between your legs with chill fingers.

There's a quiet rumbling in your chest when he slides between your folds, just dipping inside your entrance. You're wet already, sensitive from sleep and dripping after the few tender touches he's given. Eddie bites hard enough on the inside of his cheek to draw blood, trying to keep quiet.

It's difficult work, shifting his sweatpants down over his hips far enough for his cock to slip out with your weight on top of him, but he manages, hissing a little at the cool air.

Whenever you want. Eddie wonders if you know what you've promised him. He can't think of a single moment he hasn't wanted to be inside you.

The head of his cock presses up against your waiting hole, and there's a little resistance as he slips inside with a quiet groan, fluttering contractions squeezing him just right.

He takes his time, has to take his time, thrusting in as gently as he can with a white-knuckle grip on your hips as you swallow him. He could cum just like this, from the weight of your body and the plush grip of your cunt and the soft puff of your breaths on his neck.

The muscles in his core tighten; he resists the urge, even if he knows his strength won't last.

Eddie thrusts slowly, but it’s still too much. He's unraveling, not just because of the sublime drag of your cunt around the head of his cock with each gentle shift of his hips. You trust him enough to have you at your most vulnerable. You've given him everything he could want and then offered more.

He feels your lips part against his neck. You moan a little in your sleep.

Eddie spills inside you with a sob, too overcome to be cognizant of how loud he is as the waves of pleasure ripple through him. He can feel his cum leak out of you, white strands pulsing from your swollen cunt as he fucks himself through the aftershocks, going until the red-hot burn becomes too much.

He's panting, a sticky hand at your waist, petting lazily over your spine. You hardly stir. Eddie's shaking free hand shuts the lid of your laptop, plunging the two of you into darkness.

He thinks he could fall asleep like this—cock still seated firmly inside you, eyes closed as he wraps you tight in his arms. He does, breathing easy, feeling safe. Feeling home.

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short-skirt-longjackett · 8 months

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Renewal Isn't A Lie Anymore pt. 10

(okay so we're officially back and I'm ready to start hurting feelings again. And yayy double digits :) )

-Edward Nashton x gn! reader/ Bruce Wayne x gn! reader

-warnings: none that i can think of, but let me know if there are any!!

Hurt.

That's all you could feel right now. Emotionally and physically.

But even with all this pain, you're still standing.

You groaned as you woke up, opening your eyes to see your shared room with Bruce. The dark room, the black, silk sheets you convinced Bruce to get, and the strong scent of his cologne clung to the room around you.

You felt dead, your entire body hurt but mostly your neck. It felt like you were dragging ten sacks of potatoes just trying to sit up. But when you eventually do, you look at the ground below you. You were no longer in your funeral attire, but your old pajamas. The soft ones Bruce got for you from Dubai which you told him not to get you since they were expensive. You knew he still cared about you.

It was a surreal moment. Being back in your home after not being here for a while, but everything looked the same, just as you left it. You knew he liked certain things to look a certain way, but he also liked those certain things to look how you wanted them. When you two got serious, you took over creative control of his manor, which he had no problem with. It may sound stupid to others, but he liked whatever you liked.

Slowly standing up, you walked to the bathroom at a snail's pace, legs feeling like jello as you walked. Turning on the night felt like hell as your eyes adjusted to the brightness. Looking into the mirror, you saw your figure. In shorter words, you looked like shit. You neck was marked with red lines from that metal death trap that was around your neck. As you ran your fingertips over the red marks, you heard a familiar voice.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, Y/n.." Alfred said.

It was uncommon for him to be informal, but you liked that he was talking to you like a regular person. You couldn't help but smile, "It's good to see you too, Alfred," you said, your voice small and hoarse. before he could say anything, you hugged him. You knew he wasn't one for affection but given the past events and what happened at the church, he allowed you to wrap his arms around him. He knew you had a warm a heart, different than other depressed souls in Gotham. Alfred knew what you’ve gone through, so would allow it this once.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you laid in bed, flipping through television channels to quench your boredom, the door opens. You though it was Alfred bringing you your dinner, but it was Batman...not Bruce.

You felt nervous under his gaze, like you almost shouldn’t be in that bed. He stood there before finally coming to your side of the bed and sitting down. He looked at your face, “Are you alright..?” he asked, already knowing the answer wouldn’t be yes. You just shrugged, too nervous to speak, too nervous to talk to the man you’re married to. Well the man that was underneath the mask.

“I don’t know…” was all you could say. You looked down at your hands, twirling your fingers together. “Listen…I know you’re mad at me because I was unfaithful, you have every right…But I can’t live if I know you’re with someone else,” he said, taking your hands into his gloved ones.

You wanted to roll your eyes, “You’re only saying this cause you were caught,” you mumbled, not making eye contact with him. “Please listen…She knew who I was under this mask, she could’ve outed me and out us in danger,”

“Oh so that means risking your marriage?”

“It’s not like that! Please, sweetheart, you know I only love you. You’re the only way that I let see the me inside of me. I have never opened up to anyone else, not even Alfred who raised me…”

God, he rarely called you sweet names, so hearing him say sweetheart made your stomach flip with butterflies even with your brain still mad at him. He caressed your hand, his free hand caress your face with small strokes of his thumb.

“I messed up. I let myself so whatever she wanted just so I could protect you, but also my image. I’m selfish. I know I’m distant and emotionally unintelligent…but one thing I do know is I love you,” he said, looking you in the eyes as he spoke.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, there were tears in his eyes. You felt bad. You knew he was a cold person but he would give up the world for you, and only for you. The only time he ever cried like this was your wedding and when he finally opened up about his childhood and his experiences.

Your eyes stung as tears welled up, seeing him cry made you want to cry. He immediately takes notice and wipes your tears, kissing your face where the tears would’ve fallen. “I know you know that I received a video of you…having sex with him..” he said, almost sounding nervous.

You felt like sweating bullets. You had sex with Gotham’s most wanted man after all. “I’m not going to yell at you for cheating since we were split…and I’ve done the same. But what i’m concerned about is how he found you. I’m scared that he will end up doing worse than that…and today proved that…” he said.

And he was right.

You didn’t know what the masked villian had in store for you. Yes, it was Edward, but that mask made him a completely different human being. A monster.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. You would never kiss and tell. And Bruce did the same.

“I know we both…had sex outside of our marriage. And it hurts me knowing that he did that..but I know it hurts you that I did it first…Can we just…call it even and somehow works this out?” he said, sounding unsure of how to express his wants. Bruce never knew how to express his feelings properly, but you knew what he was talking about.

Edward betrayed you. He used your kindness and vulnerability just to turn his back on you and make you a pawn his his game. What loyalty did you have to him now?

You couldn’t tell if it was pity for yourself or your love for Bruce, but you leaned in and kissed him. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He couldn’t possibly deny you, so he held you by your lower back and kissed back.

Your kiss felt hungry yet passionate. The way you both needed each other physically and emotionally. Kissing him felt like you were back home.

The kiss was slowly getting sloppy. Bruce now leaning you back against the bed to continue kissing you. He groaned into the kiss, like he was dying to have a taste of you after how long. And you felt the same way, you did marry him after all.

His hands wanted to roam, wanted to explore his partner like he did before this mess. But damn that bat signal in the sky.

He looked out to see it shining bright in the dead night sky. He sighed, feeling terrible and just wanting you for the night. But your patted his shoulders in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, go and see what’s happening. I’m not leaving.” you said, wanting to stay with Bruce and be by his side again. He smiled, before giving you a few more sloppy, needy kisses before pulling away, “Please don’t stay up too late, I don’t want you to be tired in the morning…” he said, giving one final kiss before pulling away to go do his nightly duties

——————————————————————————————

While you enjoyed your husbands company, Edward was freaking the fuck out. He kept trying to call you, text you, hell even email you.

He felt sick knowing what he did. Maybe if he explained to you what would happen you could’ve been home with him now, instead leaving him to drive himself crazy.

Maybe if he let you know this one plan, you could be laying in bed with him now. Maybe if you knew, you would either agree to do it or just not go to that damned chruch at all.

But who would say “Of course Edward, i’ll let you strap a bomb to me to make batman shiver in his suit! That’s a great idea!”

As he laid in bed, he could only scroll through news articles. Seeing footage of you from that small police cam…seeing your terrified expressions made him sick. He even felt himself cry, seeing how scared and frightened you looked.

He knew he fucked up.

And now, there’s no possibility of you coming back.

#danonation #paul dano #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #the riddler #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x gn reader #edward nashton x gn!reader #bruce wayne #batman 2022 #bruce wayne x y/n

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the-odd-devil · 11 months

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

Edward Nashton x f!reader Dark Academia College AU

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

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

Word Count : 3 297

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

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

Tell me if I forgot any! Thanks <3

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

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

Chapter II : Who Is She

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye-yes…thank you…”

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

She left with a confused expression.

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

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

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

And the most difficult part was still to come.

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddieboy! Hi!”

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

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

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh, ok! Have fun in the shower!”

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

“Oh… um… thanks man…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list : @generouspour ; @unholybabyface

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lifeontoast · 11 months

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Have I Found You?

Edward Nashton x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

SUMMARY: Edward thinks he has found his soulmate at long last. 

A/N: a little something for my Eddie/Riddler fans - enjoy! I’m pretty proud of this one. Feel free to drop me any other Paul Dano requests if you have them.

Trigger warnings: traumatic past mildly implied, mugging

…

EDWARD’S POV

It’s her. I know it. She’s my angel sent down from Heaven. She’s made for me. Me, who has been so loveless my entire, miserable existence.

When I saw her in the diner yesterday, I am not at all ashamed to say I was absolutely transfixed by her totally mesmerising beauty. She was the purest, prettiest creature to bless these disgusting Gotham streets. What on earth is she doing here? Still, I can protect her from that. Well, Edward might not be able to, but Riddler certainly can. Just as soon as I get her to notice me. I know that she’ll love me when she gets to know me! There’s a word, a word I can’t quite grasp…

I’m going back to the diner tonight; she might be there again.

NORMAL POV

It’s him. You know it. He’s your angel sent down from Heaven. He’s made for you. You, who have been so loveless your entire, miserable existence.

When you saw that cute guy at the diner yesterday, it took everything you had not to go over and introduce yourself right away. He was far too good looking for someone like you, or so you thought. His transparent glasses rested on his nose in such an adorable manner, and even from a distance you could see his forest green eyes sparkling magically. Soft brown hair flopped over his forehead as he bent over his pumpkin pie, and what looked to be a puzzle book. Gorgeous and smart. He was perfect. All too aware that you were gazing shamefully, staring even, you looked away, a slight blush on your cheeks.

You’re going back to the diner tonight; he might be there again.

TIMESKIP TO LATER THAT DAY…

It was time. You were going to head to the diner, in the hopes that the gorgeous man would be there again. He had to be. The servers always seemed to know him by name (he was a regular!), though you didn’t know what name. You’d have to ask him that later. Walking down the streets (carefully, always carefully, as who knew what was lurking in those dark alleyways), you noticed a scuffle up ahead of you. Approaching cautiously, you tried to assess the situation. It was a mugging! Some poor guy was having his wallet stolen right in front of you.

Sprinting up to the guy, you prised the mugger’s huge hands off the man and took the wallet back, finally punching him square in the face. He fell to the ground groaning. It was only as you looked at the man who had been victim to the attack that you realised who it was. It was the man from the diner, shaking like a leaf and looking astonished. Even when scared he didn’t look any less gorgeous. His green eyes were wide behind his wonky glasses, and even wider when he noticed it was you who stood in front of him. He bent his head to look at the grimy pavement instantly, cheeks turning red as a tomato.

‘Thank you!’ the man said, daring to steal a glance at you at last. ‘You saved me!’

‘It’s no problem, really.’ You smiled back. ‘Hey, didn’t I see you at the diner yesterday? Let’s go there now, to recover a little.’

The man nodded shakily. ‘Actually, I was heading there when that scumbag attacked me. By the way, I never caught your name... I, um, I’m Edward.’

‘Y/N.’ you said simply, starting to walk towards the diner. Edward followed behind you, smiling to himself. Pretty name for a pretty guy, you thought.

EDWARD’S POV

I was just on my way to the diner to see if that ethereal angel would be there when some idiot decided to mug me for my wallet. It was just a shame that Riddler wasn’t there; he could have killed the man in seconds. Instead, weak, puny, Edward had to cope with him all on his own. I was so tired, I was about to just give him my wallet when someone came running over, and started fighting the guy for me! Finally, punching the man to the ground, I turned to look at my saviour, when I saw the woman from the diner yesterday. So she was an angel! She had been sent there to save me, I just knew it. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I blushed terribly, looking at my feet. She saved me! I thanked her, and she offered to take me to the diner to recover. I asked her name, and she replied with the most heavenly name I’d ever heard: Y/N. It suited her perfectly.

I felt myself fall for her straight away, my heart pounding crazily every time I looked at her beautiful face. When I saw her for the first time yesterday, I just knew she was the one for me! She could never like someone like me, though. I was ugly, and she was stunning. I was weak, she was strong. I was a devil, a worthless sinner, she was an angel. My angel. There was that word again, still just out of my reach…

We started on our way to the diner.

NORMAL POV

You sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter, and Edward sat beside you.

‘Edward, hello! Pumpkin pie?’ the friendly server asked him with a grin, and he nodded.

‘One for Y/N too, please. And two coffees.’ He replied quietly. Looking at you for approval of this order, you smiled gracefully. She nodded, and turned to get your food and drink. You and Edward whiled away the hours chatting about your lives, in between bites of pie and sips of coffee. You felt sure that you were in love with Edward, but were worried that he didn’t feel the same way. Your heart sped up, and your palms were clammy with nerves. All your life, you had never met anyone quite like Edward. He was quiet, yet charming and chivalrous. Beginning to let your mind wander, you pictured your and his life together. Edward would definitely make a brilliant husband, father, grandfather. His shy kindness endeared you to him infinitely, and you saw that he would never let you lift a finger while you were with him. No, that’s ridiculous! You told yourself to get over this pathetic little crush, not knowing that he felt the same way entirely. He definitely had a nice girl waiting for him at home, right? In fact, you probably shouldn’t be keeping him from her.

You decided not to pursue your feelings any further, not wanting to ruin your newfound friendship. Well, there are certain things you cannot share with another person without becoming friends with them, and saving someone from a mugging is one of them.

‘So, Edward, anyone waiting for you back at home?’ you asked, as casually as possible, secretly desperate that there wasn’t anybody. You just had to know.

‘Me? No, of course not!’ he laughed a little too loudly, seemingly wanting to prove eagerly that he was single. Strange. Now that he mentioned it, he did give you the slight impression that he had never been with anyone at all. Something about the twinkle of innocence and inexperience in those emerald eyes.

‘What about you?’ he asked, an audibly sad note in his voice.

You’d been free as air for a while now. You told him so. He looked strangely relieved. He smiled that beautiful, shy smile again.

‘So, Edward, what do you do for a job?’ you asked curiously. You couldn’t work out just by his appearance what he did, although you were sure it would be something nerdy.

‘I, um, I’m a forensic accountant, yourself?’ he replied.

You knew it. Edward was a little nerd! This endeared you to the man even further. You told him what you did, and he nodded, looking a little tense, zoned-out even. You were slightly worried, and were about to ask him if he was okay, when he suddenly exploded.

‘But I hate it there! They all call me Ed-weird, and make fun of me for liking puzzles and “being weird”. It’s not fair! I always have loved my riddles, but they just don’t understand them like I do. They’re so exciting, it gives me such a thrill when I solve one, makes me feel so powerful. Powerful enough to shut them up, to tell them that I’m not who they think I am. I’m not weird! Even in school they’d make fun of me, and at the orphanage too. It was so horrible there! We were always hungry; there was never enough for everyone, and in the winter, it was so cold… if only the Gotham Renewal fund had been used as it should have been, instead of a private money tree for those rich scumbags we call politicians and leaders!’ he seemed like he’d wanted to say all that to someone for a very long time. Breathing heavily, he glanced up at you carefully over his glasses, wincing slightly in embarrassment at his outburst, trying to gauge your reaction. Risking everything, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky one, to comfort him. You threw him a sympathetic glance, and he blushed and smiled ever-so-slightly in return.

EDWARD’S POV

I was having such a great time at the diner with Y/N. I was falling deeper and deeper with every passing second, and felt ashamed at myself. How could she ever like me back? She asked me what I do, and I told her. But there was something I wanted to say to her, something to tell her. Something I’d wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all who would listen, to be honest. Anybody else would look at me like a rat and get up and leave in disgust. But she was different. She wasn’t like all my co-workers (if you could call them that; they hardly did any work) or strangers on the street. I had a feeling that Y/N would understand me, after all, she was my angel. Of course she’d understand.

It all came out in a rush. I hadn’t meant it to be like that! She looked a little stunned when I’d finished, but, surprisingly, she placed her warm, soft hand over mine. She smiled, and I melted. My heart blew up in a supernova. She was just perfect. She looked into my eyes like she loved me, loved me! I finally knew the word I had been grasping at for hours now.

Soulmate.

…

A/N: as usual, thanks so much for reading! You guys rock! Once again, feel free to drop me any other Paul requests if you have them.

#lifeontoast #paul franklin dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano #the riddler #dano!riddler #danonation #danonator #danocel #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #riddler x reader #dano!riddler x reader

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lost-in-sokovia · 2 years

Note

Sure we’ve seen give Eddie a Christmas experience but giving him a good thanksgiving meal????? Saying you’re grateful to have him in your life? Man’s sobbing into his turkey and stuffing

pumpkin pie

warnings: fluff with no plot :)

edward nashton had essentially zero memories of a home-cooked thanksgiving meal.

one year at the orphanage a charity group had provided them with a somewhat warm meal, but eddie had of course sat alone in a dark corner, passing on the generosity of the season by sharing part of his dense dinner roll with the rats that peeked out of the cracks in the walls. every other year was just what small meal the orphanage could provide, and in his adult years it was eating alone at the diner.

it was your first thanksgiving with edward. you had decided the two of you would make a turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, peas, and eddie’s favorite, pumpkin pie. initially, edward was a bit anxious about the idea of spending all day cooking in his small kitchen; when you had turned on soft 40’s music and kissed his cheek every time you passed him, however, it was suddenly his favorite environment.

you had opened up one of his windows to exchange the hot air from cooking with the cool november breeze. it was a cloudy day in gotham and the streets were practically empty, everyone going about thanksgiving activities with their families. you and eddie were as happy as you could be together in his tiny kitchen, the two of you constantly in fits of giggles every time you would bump into each other or make a small mess.

“eddie baby, you’re going to have more potatoes on your apron than in the bowl,” you laughed. your boyfriend looked down at his leaf-patterned you had brought for him and smiled, turning slightly pink.

“s-sorry,” he chuckled sheepishly. you kissed his nose and grinned.

“don’t sweat it, i’m just playing with you,” you reassured sweetly. you turned back to your bowl full of pumpkin for the pie as the oven beeped.

“oh, i got it!” eddie piped up. he quickly opened the oven and his glasses immediately fogged over from the rush of hot air. he carefully lifted the heavy turkey out with pot holders and placed it on the counter. you sat your bowl back down and stood beside edward, inspecting the turkey.

“look at us,” you admired out loud. “we made our first turkey together.” something in edward’s heart warmed as you laid your head on his shoulder. your first turkey together, hinting that there would be more to come in the years forward. he was absolutely enamored. he didn’t know anything like this, and in his small little apartment there was just so much love surrounding him. you glanced at him and saw his glossy eyes from behind his glasses. you kissed his cheek and ran your hands through his soft hair.

“come on, baby. let’s finish things up.”

——

you sat across from him at his small table, set with your quaint little meal. there was a candle in the center of the table and all of his lights were dimmed and merely gave off a warm glow that complimented the candle. edward’s green eyes scanned over the table in awe and excitement. your heart warmed.

“you can start, eddie,” you said gently. edward’s first move was to immediately grab a slice of pumpkin pie and you giggled. you slowly began to fill your plate as well, your eyes never leaving your elated boyfriend. “hey,” you started. you placed your hand on his and locked eyes with him. “i love you. i’m so grateful to have you here with me.”

edward’s eyes filled with tears as he smiled sadly, one of the tears quickly escaping. “i-i love you too… thank you…” he choked out quietly. you grinned and squeezed his hand, hoping he knew how much you meant it.

“tell me how the pumpkin pie is, okay?” you winked as you let go of his hand. eddie nodded and quickly shoved a small bite into his mouth. his green eyes lit up and his pupils practically dilated as he held back a smile.

“it’s really good,” he mumbled through a full mouth. you giggled.

happy thanksgiving, eddie baby.

#edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #the batman 2022 #paul dano x reader #paul dano fanfiction #paul dano fanfic #paul dano

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kiss-me-muchoo · 2 years

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𝙎𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧 || 𝙀𝙙𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮• 𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙢?, 𝙎𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙢𝙨 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙪𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚, 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚, 𝙖 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙨. 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨• 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨 // 𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙩, 𝙨𝙪𝙗!𝙀𝙙𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 (𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚). 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙. 𝙉𝙊 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙊𝙁𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿, 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚. 𝘼/𝙉• 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄’𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩, 𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝘿𝙚𝙡 𝙍𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙙𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚.

𝘾𝙤𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙟𝙞𝙩𝙤 𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙭 (𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚). 𝙋𝙖𝙪𝙡 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Paul Dano playlist <3

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“Edward!” the fourth time you moan his name in the same sentence, he knows he’s doing a good job. The room is dark, illuminated only by the tv, and the faint lights of the city, lurking through the wide window of your apartment. “Eddie!, I’m so close to cum!”

“M-me, me too…” he can barely speak, the pleasure is unbearable, in the best possible way. His hands are firmly positioned in your waist, while his forearms push behind your legs, opening them wide open, your knees brushing your ribs with each thrust of him. “ I’m so close”

“Just like that, Edward! Oh god!” he can’t believe it’s his second time having sex… No, making love to you. “Fuck me, Edward. Fuck me…”

He can’t believe you are allowing him to take your body, to give him an unimaginable pleasure. He was on the verge of tears the first time, now it’s the same.

“Oh!, don’t stop, love. I’m cumming!” your erotic voice makes him sob a little harder, and before he can take a deeper breath, he’s finishing inside you. It’s blurred the image of you arching your back, opening more your legs as you are in the ecstasy of your orgasm.

“That was… unexpected” you manage to say while breathing unevenly, with a big smile on your face. Edward collapses on top of you, his face between your breasts, and a hand is softly caressing your hip. Instantly, you go and brush his sandy hair, you can feel he’s leaving baby kisses on your skin, which you find lovely.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says, almost whispering. You know he was crying a little, but you didn’t mind, deep down you loved the fact that you were able to make a man feel like that.

“Oh, Edward. You’re so sweet!” Somehow boys who were extroverts didn’t match you. You wanted a soft and caring man, and Edward Nashton was all that. Maybe awkward at the beginning, he would be extremely shy, but six dates and seeing each other almost every day for three months was enough to make him warm to you.

“I’ll help you with that,” he said after getting off of your chest, referring to your sleep bra and hoodie. It was getting very cold in Gotham, Halloween was right around the corner, and he had so much to do.

“Thanks, babe” he melts when you say things like that. It was still a little shocking to accept how much you liked him, you showed affection towards him, which never happened in his life before. The dark pit of his life was miserable, but just when he found an escape with the vigilante of the city, you also came, like a gift for his work to cleanse the city. But you didn’t know any of this.

“Here…” he tosses you the bra and there is your sweet Edward. Blushing extremely hard even after having sex five minutes ago. He can’t stand your gaze for a very long time, and you giggle at it every time. Once he helped you with your hoodie and pajama pants, you stood to get some water. A glass for you, and one for him. When you return, he’s putting on his clothes again, and it makes your heart ache because you didn’t want him to leave.

“Stay…” he looks at you, his sweet face scanning you. You are falling in love, with his beautiful green eyes, and his soft cheeks that you can’t help but pinch every time you kiss him. You just wished he was more open to telling you about his past. However, whatever it was that you were having with Edward Nashton, it was starting to feel like real love.

“Okay…” Edward knew he had to go, his plans were getting very close to the due date. He couldn’t waste any time, but… he was also falling in love with you. You weren’t supposed to come into the picture, but now you were here, turning everything upside down in his life.

“I was thinking this weekend we can go to the library, it has a cute coffee shop that opened yesterday!” your excitement makes him smile, after nodding, he drinks the water you offered looking at you, brushing your hair in your vanity.

“I-, I’d love that” you smile at him through the mirror. He looks so awkward and cute sitting on the edge of your bed. So you go and stand in front of him, between his legs.

“Edward…” his eyes are focused on your stomach. Soon, you take his hands, placing them on your hips. He’s blushing again, blinking nervously, so you go and caress his chin, putting some pressure to make him look at you. “I think I love you. For real…”

“What do you love about me?” he didn’t know where the courage came to ask you that, it just happened.

“Well, I love your sweet face, your soft hair, the way you push your glasses every time they start to fall. I love your proper mannerisms, how a gentleman you are. But what I love the most is how you care about me, you see the good and the bad in me, and yet you’re still here” he looks at you, it felt like he was testing you, but you opted to ignore it. “Keep in mind that I do the same for you. I care for you, I want us to be a team. If we decide to take this further, I’ll gladly look for you, just like you do with me. You understand?, I love you”

The way he stands to tower over you, to kiss you right away, surprises you. Like you had convinced him, because he is kissing you passionately, with you corresponding with the same passion. His hand gently presses against your cheeks, and his glasses feel cold against your cheekbone.

“I love you too. I’m never letting you go” he sees your grin, taking it as a blush. You never expected your words would have a different meaning to him, nor his. The bomb was about to explode in a matter of weeks.

For now, both of you were giggling while kissing, before falling into your bed again, still kissing, madly in love.

—

A few weeks later, you were feeling amazing. You had this gorgeous work as a kindergarten teacher, a small and cozy apartment in Gotham, and a perfect boyfriend loving you every day as if it was the last.

The only overwhelming thing was the news. Things in Gotham had always been chaotic, but now, two days after Halloween, you had a serial killer who claimed to be having trials with corrupt figures of the local government.

You can see your little students peacefully painting on the canvas you gave them. The assignment was about painting what you love most. But you can’t focus on that, cause you are hearing the news on your phone, with your earphones on.

This guy named The Riddler was getting very famous. And honestly, he terrified you. Even though he had some valid points, about exposing the bad people of the city, his methods of indoctrination were… obnoxious.

“Miss, Can you see our paintings?” the little Calvin asked, taking you back to reality, where you were teaching toddlers and kids of four years old.

“Sure, let me see what you have done!” the kids giggle, and as you pass, you can see they tried to paint their parents, some of them only their mom, or dad. Another painted things like flowers, food, and even a toothbrush, which made you laugh at the innocence and cuteness of a child.

“These are amazing, kids…” before you can add anything else, the bell rang. The kids were cheering since it was Friday, grabbing their bags and waving bye to you. “I’ll hang this on the walls! Don’t forget to bring a foam paper of your favorite color for Monday”

As they exit the classroom, you decide to take a little more time on the school, cleaning and hanging the papers. With the stack of drawings in your hand, you are standing over one of the tables, carefully placing every painting in a wire you placed before.

Suddenly a shiver runs through your spine, you feel awkward and the cold makes you turn around to look at the empty classroom. At least three minutes passed, and you’re done with half of the papers. But you swear your scream was loud enough to be audible even in the parking lot. Someone poked at your back.

“Goddamnit!” your heart is pounding so fast, but you can relax when you see your boyfriend giggling behind you. Stabilizing you over the table with his hands on your hips, preventing you to fall.

“Edward! You’re a jerk” he giggles harder. You push your shoe against his stomach softly, giggling too. His adorable face smiling at you is enough to stop being mad. He helps you get off of the bed, and when you’re on your feet, you can’t help but kiss him.

You shouldn’t kiss him in your workplace but it was impossible, he looked so cute, with his clear glasses and usual clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Edward shrugs, looking around.

“I was done with work, and I wanted to surprise you” again, you’re hugging him. It’s not healthy how much you’re in love with him.

“Well, you have. A very pleasant surprise” he gives you a sweet smile. After cleaning your desk, he waits patiently until you’re leaving the school building. Taking Edward’s hand in the direction of the subway. His fingers stroking yours, you feel warm, against the cold breeze of Gotham at 4:00 pm. The start of the sunset, and his tall figure protecting you every time you had to wait to cross a street.

“I was thinking of pasta. The one you make with truffle oil” your stomach growls, and you nod to him.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Anyways, How was work?” If he could, he would avoid your question. He didn’t have friends, always taking the same sandwich and an apple for lunch, eating alone, hating his work.

“Boring as usual. But I saw you with the last kids, you’re amazing with little humans” you blush, hiding your rising heat and opting to look through the window of the subway. “Hey, don’t hide that pretty face”

“Stop it. You make me go red” suddenly he’s hugging you again, kissing your head. And you realize Edward is being more open to you, open enough to be the one to start public affection.

“You’re pretty even if you look like a beetroot” Edward Nashton feels like home now.

—

The jazz music in your kitchen makes the scene feel cozy. You’re sharing a glass of wine with Edward, the pasta was good, with some salad and dressing, the dishes were clean and the only sound besides the music was the sound of your lips with his. The heated kiss tasted like wine, you were sitting on the little bar you had with your boyfriend between your legs. It sounded naughty, but it was getting more heated.

“Shit, Did I spill some wine on you, love?” he looks down to see some little red dots painted over his white t-shirt.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get cleaned” you nod, smiling, trying to apologize in the act.

You get off the bar, leaning against it, and unlock your phone. The first thing on Twitter is a new update on The Riddler’s case, you roll your eyes. Seeing a little thread, your attention lands on one specific picture. A screenshot of one of his lives, he’s very close to the camera, his scary mask on display, but… those clear glasses, and… those eyes.

You analyze the photo for a few seconds. Dots connect so fast on your head. Edward’s glasses, his eyes. The way he always avoided talking about his past or work, that time when you found him at the store almost at midnight. You were running out of pads, it was an emergency, but he… he was only buying… food for rats.

Rats, like the ones that appeared on the life where the riddler was torturing Savage.

Holy shit, the riddles. The fucking riddles! you thought.

Edward was always asking you to solve riddles, he always was carrying puzzle books or sudokus.

Your heart was beating extremely fast, panic flooded you. Even though you were trying to ignore it, brush it off and continue with your perfect boyfriend. Something was telling you that this was wrong.

“Dear…” you jump, scared. Avoiding to turn towards him, you wait a couple of seconds, debating whether to mention any of this or not. But the words spill so fast, like they needed to leave your body.

“Tell me it’s a lie, tell me it’s only me creating this in my head. You’re not the riddler, right?” you won’t turn until he answers.

“How did you find out?” you shut your eyes closer, pain escalating down your throat after you hear his words.

“Your glasses. And those eyes, those eyes on the news are the eyes that I see when you kiss me when you make love to me. God…” you take a big breath, trying to avoid the tears.

“You’re extremely smart. You just stepped further than the scum of the GCPD. But don’t cry, dear. I didn’t want you to discover it yet but, it’s perfect. You wanted us to be partners, now we can be that…” you abruptly turn to face him. He looks shameless, and it starts to scare you.

“I said partners in love, not partners in crime” your voice is cracking so hard. He walks closer, but you step back.

“From all the stupid people in this city, I thought you would understand…” discovering this side of your boyfriend was more shocking and twisted than you thought.

“Understand what, Edward?” you yell, not prepared to hear him screaming at you.

“Everything!” You’re jumping very scared again, surprised because he screamed at you. The way he screamed at you, was very similar to the riddler’s life, so you couldn’t deny it anymore, he was a serial killer, leaving notes for a vigilante, plotting to hurt people, and committing crimes that would lead him to prison.

“If you ever told me anything, you know I would have done everything to help you” you kind of whispered, crossing your arms.

“Really?, I already know that, you proved to me that you love me. That’s why we are such a good team, the medicines you help get, I’ll use them on my next victim” you squeal in horror. Regretting to help him get antibiotics.

“What about me? You’re going to jail for this!. Don't you know how much you’re hurting me?” again, you’re screaming. No matter how terrified you are of him, it’s not fair the pain he’s causing you.

“I’ll never leave you alone. And I’m not getting caught if that’s what you want. We'll be together, dear” you know you have to run, you have to leave him. At least for some time. Suddenly you realize that Edward is very smart because once he sees the way you try to move, he obstructs your way to the door.

The cold air hit your back, you left the window open. That was going to be your salvation.

“I love you, I really do.” Edward tries to keep calm, but he’s nervous, his true self was something he wasn’t ready to show you, but he forgot you were just as smart as him, and you remember all the things you had seen and done, suddenly not feeling afraid to leave him, just sad. “I have secrets too Edward”

You run to the open window, and before he can grab your arm, you jump. He gasps, running faster to see what you have done, only to be surprised to see you, jumping across the balconies from your neighbors, and then swinging from the lamppost. You can impulse yourself to land and get safely to the ground. He’s shocked, But how wouldn’t be?, if he knew you worked a couple of years at the Iceberg Lounge since you were sixteen, that you made a friend, who taught you to fight and take care of yourself, that you even were a drop seller. Your secrets would give him a new perspective of you, but also, he would understand you. He was going to be happy to find out that you had more things in common.

However, the accumulated rage exploded when you disappeared on the streets, the glass of wine was shattered, cause he threw it. He thought you would’ve joined him, that you would accept him, but he remembered your words when you said that he never explained to you anything. You didn’t know anything about his past in the orphanage, or his miserable teenage years. You had your right to feel scared, but still, it was painful for him. So he promised he would find you and explain everything, only that things would get twisted if you said no. He was going to force you.

—

You know he’s not behind you, but you can hear that creepy breathing thing he does on his streams, his maniac laugh too. While you run, you feel mortified to accept that every good memory you had with Edward was being replaced with bizarre correlations with The Riddler.

You had to make it to that damn apartment, your high heel boots weren’t uncomfortable in a moment like that. You thanked God to be wearing a long sleeve top under your big sweater. Your leggings were covered in dirt on the knee area, your hair was very messy, and you couldn’t see very well due to all the tears that mixed with your cold sweat. The relief you felt when you knocked on the 602 apartment made you cry again.

“Baby, What happened?” When you thought the night couldn’t get weirder, just as you step inside Selina’s apartment, you are greeted by the tall and dark figure of Gotham’s vigilante, the man who used to be called Batman.

He scans you, trying to figure out where he has seen you.

“Oh my God…” you say, realizing for the first time in the night what happened. New tears fall, you don’t give a shit that Batman is looking at you.

“Help me with these while I go get new clothes” Selina states to the man, handing him a little first aid kit. “He’s cool, okay?”

You nod, steadying yourself. You wonder what has been Selina doing because she seemed to know the bat and that outfit she was wearing, she must have returned to the old days when you both were seventeen or eighteen.

“I’ll clean your face” you nod again at him. His heavy footsteps draw all your attention, before he leans, and starts wiping your face with a tissue. He can see a scared young woman, your forehead and cheeks had dust and mud, and the glitter of your eyeshadow was scattered across your nose and cheekbones. The lipstick was a mess like you were kissing someone for a long time, which indeed… happened.

But, the way he softly touches your face, makes you see him straight in the eye, he has blue eyes, very pretty. You had a moment to realize that Batman was also a human under that costume, and with his touch, he was trying to soothe you.

“Okay, please. Tell me what happened” says Selina when she comes back to the kitchen, holding a towel, with some pants and a sweatshirt folded too. You take a deep breath, but you crack again, crying, showing how vulnerable you were at that moment.

“My boyfriend…, my boyfriend is The Riddler” you manage to say. While Batman and Selina look at each other, in shock.

“The same man you told me you started seeing?” you nod. Wiping your eyes, noticing mascara leftovers were over your fingertips. “My phone, my belongings. I left everything at home”

“I’ll get everything you need. But you’re safe now, baby. That’s all that matters” Selina wants to know everything, and Batman too. To him, you fell from the sky, you were the piece that would take the whole case ahead if you talked. For now, he wouldn’t force you, you looked so fragile, weak. But, he knew you were smart, the riddler was very meticulous, and you were able to run away from him. You were too pretty to be involved in a big thing like this, How could a woman like you end up dating someone like The Riddler?

“Does he know you are in touch with her?” Batman asks, referring to your friendship with Selina. You shake your head, and he wants to know why you know her too.

“No, that’s the only thing I bet he doesn’t know about me” Selina nods, gently caressing your shoulder.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. Now go get a shower and sleep. I won’t let that anything happen to you” you thank her, weakly standing up. You brush Batman’s arm and make your way to your friend’s room, begging to take that damn shower.

You can hear them talking when you close the door of the bathroom. Probably the bat will want you to speak, you weren’t sure if you would. You didn’t want to see Edward in jail, you wanted him to be okay. He showed you so many good things, he made you feel loved, yet… his image as the riddler was going to haunt you for the night. You didn’t know that you were about to inaugure a fight between Batman, Selina Kyle, and The Riddler, a fight for you. The most chaotic times of your life were about to come, cause that fight was going to be morally and romantically intense.

#danonation #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #paul dano x reader #hannia’s the Batman era is back #the batman #edward nashton

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radmerrmaid · 2 years

Text

I. the world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it

Summary: Edward Nashton, your weird, solitary, coworker, has been in your mind a lot lately, an obsession that is clearly reciprocated. What happens when your paths inevitably cross?

word count: 7700k (not beta'd, sorry)

warnings for this chapter: soft!dark!edward (talks of depression, anxiety and self-hatred. alcohol and drug abuse. implied bullying, stalking, mysogyny and incel shit in general (hello, it's the Riddler). masturbation, hallucinations and voyeurism. do not interact if you're under 18.

Edward Nashton gets under your skin without you even noticing it.

It’s the way he stares, at first. That is what catches your attention. The forcefulness of his eyes, so unashamed, makes you look away, embarrassed. You sometimes wonder if he does it on purpose to make you uncomfortable, a hint of annoyance at his lack of restraint. But he is excessively shy, quiet, a bit disturbing, yes, but mostly, just Edward Nashton from accounting. Harmless, despite what other people around the office like to suggest.

Then, it’s those small glimpses of gentleness, of an adorable, almost child-like nature seen as awkward and creepy by your coworkers, but endearing to you. It’s the rose-tinted flush in his cheeks when you catch him staring. The timid nod he gives when he bumps into you in the break room; the way his shoulders tense, fingers gripping his mug tightly when he sees you’re both alone, but lingers idly as long as you’re staying, stirring his coffee slowly to give his agitated hands something to do. Trails a few feet behind you and your colleague Betty on the way to the bus stop, always caught off-guard when you look back at him. No one talks or interacts with Edward, except for your shared glances, and awkward gestures acknowledging each other's presence.

You find it cute, at the very least. You doubt that someone would ever have the sensibility to notice it in him, to see past the quietness and introversion. In this city, danger and darkness are found in every corner, sometimes it feels like it’s in the air, dreary and heavy like an invisible fog that enters slowly through your nostrils. It poisons everyone in its bitterness, and everything becomes perverted, eerie. It’s impossible, even naive, to expect something good from people, and even easier to assume the worst if they don’t perform certain social cues to an acceptable level.

But Edward is different. Doesn’t make an effort to be liked, and just keeps to himself. You’ve heard people say he is the best accountant in the financial department, which you suspect is the only reason why he hasn’t been fired or heavily bullied — yet. That’s how he glues himself into your thoughts; part of you feels sorry for him, and another one feels irritated at his behavior (why can’t he just be normal?). But there’s also another part of you, kept under a thick blanket of normalcy, that just wonders what it would be like to play with him. You find yourself replaying the tiniest exchanges between the two of you, and catch yourself being utterly charmed by his awkwardness. Feel your chest swell at the unfamiliar, yet deeply appreciated, massage to your ego when you notice how affected he is by even the tiniest bit of attention he gets from you. You know it’s becoming an obsession, but you’re addicted to that small euphoric heat that burst quickly inside your gut when you see how easy it is to make him blush.

“God, that dude gives me the creeps. Pretty sure he’s been following us.” Betty says constantly. You know for a fact that pretty much everyone else shares the sentiment.

“No, he’s harmless. He’s a nice guy”, you defend him, always careful not to show too much emotion.

“Just because he fixed your computer? I would have it checked for hidden cameras or some shit he might have done to it if I were you.”

Edward makes a move unexpectedly; you’ve been complaining about the IT crew for a few days now. They are charming guys, except for the fact that you’d started to notice they only give a shit about helping out the women they want to fuck. Edward overhears you once and suddenly appears in front of you, offering to help. You give your laptop to him, surprised at his generous offer, unsettled by his sudden confidence, even when he stammers, blushes cherry-red, and doesn’t maintain more than three seconds of direct eye contact. He disappears with your computer to his cubicle, and returns it twenty minutes later, dropping it in front of you and disappearing as quickly as he came. Inside your now-fixed laptop, there’s a small piece of paper with neat handwriting. His phone number.

Should be working fine. Call me if it doesn't.

Edward.

You squeeze the scrap of paper tight in your hand and shove it down a desk drawer before anyone can see, appalled by his boldness. Of course, the office creep is the one who’s going to get the hots for you, you think to yourself.

“Oh God”, Betty says, sarcasm and disgust in her tone, right after Edward scurry away to hide in his cubicle again: “do you think he’s got a crush on you?”

You don’t answer. She senses your embarrassment and leaves you alone. But you spend the rest of the day with guilt heaving in your mind, thinking maybe you’re taking this too far, and even more disgusted when you realize you’re warming up with excitement.

You’ve never been attracted to the quieter ones; no, you crave the extroverts, the charismatic type that fills up the room. Of course, those are the same guys that don’t even pay attention to you, or even worse, the ones that only see you as a playtime. The ones that don’t spend the night, the ones that never text back. I’m having fun, you’re a nice girl, but I’m not ready for a relationship right now. Not with you, at least. Sorry, sweetheart.

An old therapist said once it’s because you want to be like them, want to be liked, want to be popular. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking depressing. You are constantly, ridiculously, trying to be around those you envy, thinking maybe you’ll be more accepted, would feel better about yourself. It doesn’t work, of course. You’re always chasing after your own tail, too distracted by your own mediocrity to maintain a healthy relationship — with yourself or with someone else.

Sometimes, it all becomes too much. You’re broke and depressed, spend most of your free time watching TV, and partying too hard when the loneliness and boredom get too difficult to bear.

But there’s Edward now, and suddenly, he’s occupying your mind most of the time. Eddie. You know he’s just like you. Except, of course, he’s not a liar like you are. He’s unapologetic himself, intense, different from any other man you’ve met before. He ignores the teasing of the assholes from the office and occupies himself with work, books, and crossword puzzles. Stares intently at everything that catches his attention, from the pretty new girl from reception to the news coverage of a political debate. You envy him. Sometimes you’re resentful, angry at him for being like that. And then you’re remembering his blushed cheeks, the shy, almost imperceptible smile he gives you, and only you.

That’s when you catch yourself staring back, wishing things would be different. Wishing you weren’t so fucked up, prettier, more interesting, more desirable. Then maybe everyone else would start to treat you better, to see you. Perhaps then you could reject him and make him suffer. Maybe you could ask him out, and then he would beam, thrilled at your invitation, and then you would let him wait until the restaurant closes, and then he would walk himself home, alone, telling himself that he probably deserved that for even thinking you would give him a chance.

That train of thought is the one that usually leaves you feeling like shit. Obscure, perverted thoughts are constantly flooding your mind, and somehow, your obsession with Edward seems to make them even worse, harder to concentrate away from them, to focus on being a good, nice person so people won’t notice you’re a crumbling foundation collapsing in itself. It’s the same train of conscience that leads to a bender, makes you put on a revealing dress and go out, spend the entire night dancing and drinking and using until you can forget how fucked up and disgusting you are. You crawl back to your apartment, in your clothes that now feel too tight, your feet hurting. It’s always after the partying that your apartment feels strange, foreign, faintly smelling like someone else. You pass out on the bed, feeling guilty and ugly, loneliness heaving in your chest.

The next day, you’re feeling torn apart at the edges, like someone chewed you out and spit you on the sidewalk. And Edward will be there, in the break room, stealing furtive glances until he can’t help but stare. Judgmental, curious, and filled with nervousness. That’s when you get angry.

You snap at him after a particularly rough night. You’ve been drinking the night before, threw up in the street, and took a ride with some stranger that miraculously didn’t try to mug you or rape you. Edward’s intensive staring pisses you off, makes you feel watched, and turns you hyperaware of how intrusive his presence is, and how it’s taking so much of your headspace. You surprise him with a biting remark, not loud, but challenging; doing something that probably no one in the office ever did.

“No one ever taught you that it’s rude to stare, Edward?”

It feels wrong even as the words come out of your mouth. Not because of their slight aggressiveness, but because it feels like they broke something, like the thin barrier that separates the two of you is now gone, like you’ve given him something you can never have back.

***

You are a distraction, Edward knows that.

Just one of the pretty girls in the office, not even the prettier one, if he has to be honest. They’re all the same; most of them look right through him like he’s part of the furniture. The other ones are even worse; looking at him like he’s some wounded animal that deserves to be put down, wary as if he’s going to harm them, even if the only thing Edward sees in them is a bunch of stupid, boring, uninteresting girls who would never understand him.

Then, you get transferred to his floor, and everything changes, because you’re different.

He identifies the façade right away. Maybe it’s because Edward can relate a bit, or maybe everyone else is just too self-absorbed to realize how painfully lonely and desperate for affection and attention you are. It’s almost written on your forehead, the way you go the extra mile to help, to please, especially for those guys around the office that doesn’t give a shit about you. It annoys him a bit and makes him especially angry and resentful of you. But he supposes you can’t be blamed because that’s how most women are, anyway. Trying really hard to please men that will end up treating them like shit. Girls never gave as much as a glance in his direction, disturbed and intimidated by his shyness, by his intelligence, and even by his gentleness and naivety, but he didn’t care anymore. All of those things didn’t matter, not now that he has found his true purpose, his mission.

Entertaining a certain hope of getting your attention is inevitable, after all, even after the arrival of the Riddler, Edward still isn't immune to his weaknesses and desires. But even then, he doubts you would ever treat him differently than the others, even if you’re nicer than they are. Just like everyone else, you must be attracted to the lie. The traditional molds of what a man should be; physical strength, conventional beauty, boldness, experience, and a healthy dose of misogyny, of course. A guy who will see you as a saint, not a whore, and give your life meaning. Give your children, a comfortable home, regular vacations, and a life of blissful ignorance and alienation. Isn’t that what every woman wants?

Edward believed that, too, once. When he was going through hell in that orphanage, or even after that, during college, he’d figured things would get better. But he knows the truth now, finally, the Riddler has helped him see that the sun only shines for a very small group of people in this city, and he would never be one of them. Too bad you couldn’t see it too. But he could show it to you if you’d let him.

He always thought most people were boring, small little humans who tried to compensate for their lack of depth by being mean to him, to those who were too fragile to stand up for themselves. That’s not who he is, never has been. Edward is the broken victim of the shit that simmers under all of those lies. He will never be like them, will never fit in. It's why he became someone else, something else. That part of him — the Riddler, that is — resents you for it, but Edward is curious, and even the killer inside his head needs to admit that no one has ever made them curious before. Not like this.

But he is skilled and mature, and he's been preparing his whole life for this. He can keep them apart; the Riddler, the part of himself that has reached full potential, brimming at the edges with barely contained power, that craves blood and vengeance. But he is Edward, still, and Edward is weak, perverted by his longing, pain, and grief. But as long as he can control them both; everything will be okay. Together, they can solve the puzzles presented by their cruel lives, and even see the opportunity in them. He can indulge, as long as he never forgets about his true mission.

So he allows himself to lust in small doses. To grieve your wasted potential, to imagine what it would be like when Gotham is finally cleaned, and when you — when everyone else — finally see the truth he’s going to uncover. He starts to pick you apart, staring greedily, revealing in all the cracks in the carefully rehearsed acts that show him you’re something else entirely.

Even if you’re always throwing pleasantries around the workspace, being kind, and trying to get everyone to like you, Edward lives for the moments in which he can see the impending traces of corruption in your soul, anger, sadness, and loneliness threatening to explode. It reminds him of a crumbling building, in its final seconds before falling apart like it’s made entirely of sand. The recognition burns in his brain and sparks his curiosity as a good puzzle would. Reminds him of himself. He has never related to anyone before; except for Batman, but like himself, Batman had the mask. You didn’t have anything that could give you power like that. Still, you turn that little key in his mind that unlocks his full attention. And God, what a fucking enigma you are.

Passionate, observant, gentle. Charismatic, a classic people pleaser, desperate for praise. But so much energy is being spent in hiding what you truly are; anger, resentment, jealousy, anxiety. A carefully built appearance. When Lisa from the design team makes an unnecessary announcement to communicate her quitting the job to dedicate herself to her big shot lawyer husband. Edward is the only one to notice the glint of envy in your eyes and watches it disappears entirely, as quickly as it came to, giving space to a perfectly-faked smile as you hug her before anyone else. I’m so happy for you. Edward sees it all, even when nobody else can. The pure, raw despair and hopelessness. He recognizes it from the mirror.

It stirs something inside him. A desire of having more, and isn’t great that the Riddler allows him to just take it?

It's almost impossible for him to stop himself from digging deeper. That same day, he snaps and stops resisting and starts to give in to his obsession with you. To find out everything he can. He sees the social media posts, and the graduation photos on Facebook, and it’s only you. Smiling, but never showing teeth. No partner, no family, no friends.

That night, he dresses up in leathery-deep green like he’s used to by now, mask falling on his face like a balm of relief, and watches all the filthiness of the city from his recently-rented place right by the Iceberg Lounge. Unabashed criminals, upstanding citizens indulging in their true natures, hidden in plain sight. He walks over every step of his mission, revises his meticulously planned steps, talks to his followers, and yells at the camera about every single disgusting thing he sees and feels until his throat is sore. When he turns off the stream, he’s so fucking hard it hurts, and all he thinks about is you you you. Imprinted in his mind like a painting, clear in every detail, so real he can almost feel it move inside his brain; sitting in the uncomfortable squeaky chair and watching TV absently, soft fingers cradling a steaming porcelain mug with cat ears, and the gentle, honeyed smile you give him when he arrives at work, melting all of his rage with warmness and sweetness, the barely-there hint of mischievousness in your curved lips almost feel like a hallucination, but it’s there, and he sees it. He’s the only one who can. He jerks off thinking about fucking you until you're crying, telling him I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I see it now-fuck, you were right. I'm sorry, please please please don't stop…

The next day, you're there as always, and it’s different. Even if Edward feels deeply embarrassed, even if the need to look away when you catch his eye is still overwhelming, the insistent itch that is the Riddler’s existence scratches at him, as a feral animal stuck inside a small cage in the corner of his brain. He spends the entire day agitated, anxious, stealing glances at your cubicle, the memory of him jerking off to the clear image of you is still fresh in his mind. He’s still dripping with the satisfaction, fingertips still buzzing with the chaotic energy, traces of the Riddler still clouding his judgment. It’s always difficult to shake himself back into normal after a particularly satisfying night of being in the mask. Riddler’s voice is relentless, and Edward needs to put a lot of energy into keeping the violence at bay.

Do it, the animal whispers to him, mockingly. We both know she wants it, and you should take it.

Edward trails after you like it's a fucking instinct, like a dog sniffing out food, when you get up for a mid-morning coffee, and the monster inside him laughs when he overhears you complaining again about having a shitty laptop for days and being utterly ignored by the guys in IT.

Poor thing, it says, again, derisively, tone dripping with malignant intent. You can help her. And help yourself.

Dripping with the satisfaction from last night, fingertips still buzzing with the chaotic energy, traces of the Riddler still clouding his judgment; Edward doesn't even think before he's walking towards you, doesn't even register his mouth opening to offer to fix your computer for you while you stare at him in surprise.

He ends up with your laptop all to himself for about twenty minutes, and he makes it fucking count. Make sure he's got enough to penetrate every crevice of your life. He feels like a fucking idiot even as he’s scribbling his phone number on a piece of paper and shoving it inside the computer. Even if you’d never text him, or worst, even if you’re deeply disturbed by his advances and never look at him again, he’s got what he needs from you.

Edward is deliciously tempted to pull a sickie just so he can haul ass home and enjoy all the new material, but he's smarter than this. He waits patiently for the clock to strike 5 pm, so he can get the train home, finger dangling the pen drive with all of your shit in his coat pocket, and he almost wants to pull it out and kiss it. It's only when he gets home, almost giggling with excitement, that he realizes that the thin membrane that separated Edward's obsession with you and Riddler's eagerness to take has been severely damaged.

He becomes bold after that. With access to your phone records and internet history, Edward can’t stop himself from falling into a pit of obsession, drinking every last sip of your chaotic, yet gentle and warm existence like a man starved. He finds out about the drinking, about the occasional cocaine, about the loneliness, the despair-fuelled nights out when you just want to forget about how miserable your life is. He gets it, feels the same, even, but he has the mask. The Riddler is his final stage of evolution, is the façade of Edward that is going to make everyone sees the truth about the people of Gotham and how they are living a lie that is hurting people in all the ways suffering can be inflicted upon. So he’s going to fight back. He understands that not everyone can do it, too.

He loses one more battle against his urges on a Friday night. The social media photos aren’t enough, the pixelated image of you does nothing to soothe his hunger, and the voice keeps telling him to do something, so he gets up, puts on his coat, and walks into your address almost in autopilot mode. The fact there’s a rooftop nearby where he can easily break in and see your apartment window feels like a gift from the Universe, an encouragement, even. See? It’s so easy, getting what you want, the voice tells him. It’s almost like you’re made for him, everything working out perfectly in favor of him being closer and closer to you.

The expensive binoculars he gets to help him watch the Iceberg lounge from the Riddler's place serve him just right, and he waits and waits and waits, patiently, until the Gotham’s sky starts to darken, the warm weather giving in to a pleasant breeze that gets intense from this height. And then, you’re stepping into the window, and Edward’s grateful there’s not anyone around to hear how his breath catches, as soon as he recognizes you. From the rooftop, he watches as you quickly walk around your bedroom hurriedly; you’re finishing dressing up, and getting ready to go out, and he watches fascinated at how beautiful you are, even from this distance. Your hands expertly put on long, gold earrings. Little jumps as you put on your high-heeled shoes. Objectively, Edward shouldn’t even be excited about seeing you; he was never a fan of tight clothing, exaggerated accessories, and heavy makeup, but something about the way you’re dressed tonight makes him deeply, deeply affected. He hasn’t felt like this for a girl before, completely enticed, bewitched by every aspect of your being. His hands are trembling around the binoculars. Something about the exposed skin of your thighs, the darker shade of blue, slightly metallic, hugging your curves in a way that is just so… Fuck, he would give everything to get closer to you, smell you, to feel…

After you leave, it’s easy to get in. In less than ten minutes, Edward’s able to climb your fire escape and enter your balcony. There’s a small glass table with a chair, some plants that are being overwatered, and a trash can filled with beer bottles. He’s almost giddy, arousal and excitement too overwhelming, sharpening his senses, and the sinister nature of his actions is quickly discarded. You would never know he was there; this is for him only, his secret indulgence. If this is the only way he can get closer to you, the only way he can consume your presence and existence, he is not going to refuse himself.

Edward can’t stop himself from giggling when the balcony’s door opens on the first try, unlocked. Well, should have locked the door to keep any creeps from getting in.

The scent is what hits him first, like a swift punch in the face. It’s when he realizes that he has never been in a girl’s bedroom before, and it gets his cock hard almost immediately. The air is honeyed, the mixture of scented lotions, perfumes, and other products is light, but so unfamiliar that he needs a few moments to accustom his senses to it. Vanilla, coconut, strawberries, lavender. He breathes deeply, eagerly trying to glue all the traces of you into his nostrils. The perfume on the nightstand, your choice for the evening, is warm and spicy. Your closet door is open, spilling a mess of colorful fabric as you’d probably ransack it looking for tonight’s outfit. Your vanity is weirdly empty, and he takes note that you’d probably don’t bother wearing too much makeup to going out, just like in the workplace.

When he sits on the bed, there’s already noticeable tent in his pants, and his dick twitches painfully at the soft give of fabric under his thighs. A pang of shame courses through his veins, hot and sizzling. This is probably the closest he will get, so he takes his time. Edward’s long fingers are trembling, and he sinks them in the comforter. The apartment is small, the bedroom even smaller, messy as fuck, but the sheets are expensive. In the bed, your smell almost chokes him in its intensity. He rubs his hand on the sheets, sweaty palms rubbing against cotton. It feels forbidden, like he’s touching softness that he wasn’t supposed to. He faintly remembers your amused voice telling Betty hell yeah, I spend a lot of money on bedsheets, I love being comfy.

Disgust and embarrassment make him close his eyes as soon as he pictures you in his mind. This is your space, your most intimate place, and he’s here, tainting it with his indecent appetites just because he’s too pathetic to ever be here under normal pretenses. Edward rests his head on one pillow, and the scent of your coconut shampoo shoves a needy whine from his throat. He’s rubbing his cock already, palm squeezing over the uncomfortable stretch of his pants, and when he opens his eyes, he sees you clearly; a vision, the materialization of his vivid imagination and lack of control. Your hair is a little bit wild like every other Monday — when the weekend has been rough, and you didn’t get the energy to comb it and style it too neatly. It’s his favorite day of the week: usually, you’re too tired and hangover and the mask you wear to fool anyone else is barely holding on. He strokes his cock through the damp fabric of his pants, thinking about the way your eyes narrow and your lips twitch in annoyance. He plays the casual, angry-fuelled commentary he overhears once from you like a mantra; this city is disgusting, Betty. People like us are always getting fucked and no one gives a shit.

Your image is blurring at the edges, and Edward tries to distract himself from his own desperation to focus on you again. Your dress from tonight is dark green now, leathery and slick, and it shines so bright he can barely look, and it reminds him instantly of his mask, wishes he could have it on, so he could at least have a little bit of control under your relentless gaze. Without it, he’s just Eddie, and you hover over him on the bed, a gentle, patient smile pushing the corners of your lips up, brows slanting as your head tilts to the side, but your eyes travel over his pathetic figure with a pure, ominous appetite, that kind of look that he has come to love it so much, the evil glint that betrays your true, resentful, angry and frustrated self, the one that everyone else is too dumb to see.

Not him. He sees it. And he wants to see more. Wants it for you to look at him with it, to indulge in your true nature just like he does.

Right now, the satisfaction of his own hands on his cock brings enough euphoria for him to lose himself completely, to blur the lines between his senses and reality. Everything smells like you, so he can pretend you’re standing right above him, smiling perversely, watching him stroke his cock greedily. Your voice is engraved on his brain, so he can picture it whispering that’s it, baby, you’re doing so good… He never thought he needed the praise so much, that just the thought of you using a pet name on him would make him want to blow his load so easily, but it does. He’s whining, sweating, biting his lips enough to feel the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth, and then he’s coming, thick spurts of cum on his knuckles and he can hear your laugh.

Shame comes immediately, so quickly that it surprises him, unexpected in his intensity. Edward gets up in a jump, a stream of whispered shitshitshitfuckfuckshit as he hurriedly goes to the bathroom to wash up. He surprisingly manages to get clean without disrupting anything in your particularly messy bathroom, and thankfully doesn’t get any of it on the sheets. His face is burning, his hands shaking, and tears start to prickle in the back of his eyes, humiliation burns in his stomach, the sweat cooling on his skin making him feel dirty and stupid. He’s alone in some poor’s girl bedroom, he broke in. You’re a fucking loser, a pervert. That voice comes back, sounding too much like what he remembers from your tone. The echoing sound of your imaginary laugh blends into a whisper of disappointment, and even though he’s almost crying from embarrassment, he’s nearly getting hard again.

It gets even worse, even more humiliating, when he leaves your apartment in a hurry, and as soon as he hits the street, he starts to miss your smell and the softness of your sheets. This is as close as he can get, and he’s definitely, definitely crying now. Separation anxiety burns in his chest, and Edward is horrified (and aroused, so fucking horny it hurts) when the thought of coming back with the Riddler’s clothes and laying back in your expensive, silky sheets occurs to him.

This is wrong, he thinks to himself, feeling his throat constrict as he walks back home.

No, it’s not. You are the Riddler, you can do whatever the fuck you want.

Not this. Not breaking into some girl’s apartment just because he has the hots for her.

It’s more than that, and you know it. Stop fighting it.

***

Edward’s feelings toward you become harder and harder to understand. The dynamics of his relationships are all very clear in his mind, like his own image in the mirror, even if those people don’t even know he exists. Bruce Wayne is everything he should have been, the prince of Gotham who revealed in Gotham City’s sympathy and became a heartthrob while he suffered at the hands of their cruelty and poverty, becoming a creep with a dead-end job. Batman is the one who gets his need for vengeance, of cleaning the streets of their filthiness, even if his method is unsophisticated and simple, his reach is limited, clouded by righteousness and another lie that is good versus evil. He gets all of that. But he doesn’t understand you.

His urges, desires, and fantasies all come together to form a complex puzzle, a cipher that has its own intrinsic workings, and, the worst part of it all, he can’t control it. At first, he categorizes it as Edward’s thing, his desire to be loved and accepted and cared for all but an annoying inconvenience to his full rise as the Riddler, but he quickly realizes that it’s getting almost impossible to separate the both of them, especially because you’re as appealing to the masked figure as you are to the boy underneath it. Especially when he starts to notice the similarities between the two of you.

It’s the drinking, at first. The beer bottles on your balcony, the tinkling of the spoon hitting the mug when your hands are trembling too much in the morning, the hurried trips to the bathroom as the sickness of hungover strikes too hard, the pungent and acrid smell clouded by perfume after. And it’s also the faltering grasp on your gentle and charismatic persona; he starts to notice that it becomes harder and harder for you to pretend. Someone mentions the mayor, the election, or something, and it starts a tension in the break room. You’re sipping from your mug, staring with disdain at the TV while Don Mitchel Jr. babbles on about his imaginary reality, where Gotham City thrives against criminals, not perishes because of them.

“I fucking hate that guy, but we all know that the lies won’t stop with an election, no matter who wins”

It makes everyone else uncomfortable, not because of the statement, which makes Edward smiles, and even let out a hum of approval. But because no one expects such apathy from you, even the foul language sounds foreign coming out of your lips. But Edward knows you better, can sense the faltering appearances, and part of him is happy at that, even feel responsible for it. Deep down, maybe you know that it’s all pointless, that real change is violent and catastrophic and Gotham needs to die before it’s reborn. Maybe it’ll become easier for you to understand him. Why he’s going to do what he’s about to do.

The lies won’t stop, no matter who wins.

But he would stop them. Him.

That week, he pays you another visit, dressed as the Riddler.

***

Edward doesn't break like you expect him to.

He does get red, his eyes widened a little, but he smiles, a cute little quirk on the corner of his lips. Caught, nervous, but not afraid. It unsettles you, even more than you already were. Especially when you feel a certain tint of satisfaction when he reacts so prettily to your meanness. Okay, maybe you were trying to get a rise from him by making him uncomfortable. People in the office were mean to him every day, but you like him, so it’s not wrong, right?

"I'm sorry", he says, and his voice sounds hoarse from disuse, barely audible if it wasn’t just the two of you and the morning news in the break room. He clears his throat, and tries again: "didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

It's still too early in the morning, Mondays are usually slow, but Edward is already there. It's not often that it's only the two of you together, but when it happens, it's usually when he keeps the staring to a minimum. You usually don’t mind the company, even if you don’t speak to him. His quiet presence doesn’t take too much effort to interact with, and it’s even… nice. Not today, though. Because he openly stares, analyzing, calculating, and curious. It’s heated, too, like he’s painfully interested in your every move, and in your confusion and eagerness to act accordingly, you don’t know if you should be annoyed, tell him off for being a creep (because, as much as you don’t like it when everyone else says it, he fucking is), or take the opportunity to get to know him better.

You kind of want to do all of those things.

The heat of his gaze is impossible to ignore, burning your side all the way from the coffee machine, while you hold your mug and keep your eye glued to the TV. There's another reporting over the upcoming elections in a couple of months, and you're fucking tired and annoyed. The bottle of cheap wine you chugged the night before wasn't enough to make you sleep better, but it was enough to give you a hangover. Plus, you spend the last of your paycheck on it, and now you'd have to wait until Thursday to get groceries. Luckily, you still had some canned tomatoes and pasta in the pantry.

Living in this city gets a little harder every day, and pretending you’re a happy, young person thriving in the face of difficulties is becoming even harder. The fact that Election Year fills people with hope is even worse. You think hope is the worst fucking thing ever because when shit doesn’t get better, people start turning on themselves to find someone to blame. Meanwhile, the criminals and the elite are getting richer, and you’re here, anxiously waiting for your next paycheck to get fucking groceries.

Edward keeps staring, senses your irritation seeping from your pores, in the way you were clutching your mug a little tight. It's worse today, he can tell, because you keep chewing on your lip absently.

God, you looked hot. A fucking mess waiting to happen. Edward is suddenly reminded of those headlines about women who simply snap one day and kill their entire families, a bloodbath that leaves people fucking terrified, because how could someone who’s perfectly normal do something like that? As if they’re not creating a perfect environment for death. It didn’t occur to him before, but it must be hard, being a woman. The constant need to please and be accepted, simmering side by side with so much anger and frustration at being treated like fucking garbage. He gets it. He really does.

"It's okay, I probably look like shit, right?" it's back. The self-deprecating and humble little smile, eagerly trying to pass off as charm. He almost feels angry at that, wants to grab you by your shoulders and shake you until he makes you see that it's not it. People like you and him shouldn’t need to diminish themselves to appear more likable to people. "Mondays aren't really my day."

Maybe it’ll get better by the end of the year, you think to yourself. Maybe then people would return to their usual alienating headspaces, worrying about shit that doesn’t matter, and you’d do the same. Perhaps when the shit show is over, you can’t at least stop seeing that asshole mayor’s face every morning on the news. You sigh heavily and dump the rest of your coffee in the sink.

“You don’t”, he quickly responds, and when you look confused in his direction, he blushes hard, blinks confusedly, and adds: “look like shit, I mean. You don’t look like shit. You look great.”

Fuck, he is cute. In a very disturbing way — like someone abandoned an injured puppy, threw them carelessly in your lap, and told you coldly to end its misery. Edward usually keeps his distance, but today he seemed closer, and that makes you feel funny. Maybe irritated at his proximity, but curious. Isn't he supposed to be this scary little boy, shy of everything and painfully awkward? Maybe you've been too bitter to notice he’s nice to talk to and appears to be interested in you, unlike most people in your workplace.

"Thank you, Edward", you smile at him sincerely, because yeah, maybe you're shallow, but it does lighten up your mood a bit. And maybe you're also naive and stupid, but Edward doesn't strike you as the type who would compliment someone just because. "I needed to hear that."

He blushes. His cheeks get this pink hue, right under green eyes that seemed too fascinated to look away, even if he's twisting his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense in nervousness. He nods in response, and you think this is it, but he adds: "Rough night?"

Your smile falters slightly, brows furrowing. You consider lying, but somehow, you simply can't, and then you're saying: "always a rough night in this city, right?"

You're surprised by your answer. You don't even remember the last time you've answered a question about yourself honestly in this office, not even for Betty. Mostly because you feel as if you start being honest about how you're feeling, then you won't be able to stop, and then you're going to be fucked.

But it's so easy with him. He lets out a quick breath, smiles sympathetically, like fuck yeah, and nods at you, agreeing with your grim statement, and keeps staring, waiting for you to elaborate. Looks genuinely interested, leaning against the counter by the coffee machine, a plain black mug in one hand while the other moves slightly inside the pocket of his damp raincoat. His gaze never leaves your face, his entire attention on you, every sense tuned to your answer to his casual inquiry, curious about the reason why you snapped at him, and ready to offer his ear, so you can vent about how you fucking hate everything and everyone.

Jesus, am I that desperate? I'm about to start crushing on the office weirdo.

And you are super normal and adjusted, right? As if.

"What about you, Edward? Did you do anything fun this weekend?"

He thinks it is weird that, usually, this level of interaction with a woman would make him burst into tears by now, but not with you. He's fucking nervous, yeah, because he’d never been this obsessed with someone before, not like this. You're his dream, but Edward sees too much of him on you not to feel at ease. He understands you, sometimes even more than you understand yourself. Your voice echoes in his head, your honeyed, kind tone penetrating every nook and cranny of his brain.

For a wild millisecond, he thinks about telling the truth. Yeah. I waited for you to leave, so I could lay on your bed and jerk off smelling your dirty panties. I came so hard thinking about your pussy that I blacked out for a few seconds. Fuck, it's a miracle he's not getting a boner right now. The attraction and desire always hit him unexpectedly, and it leaves him dumb. Tell the truth. God, he's going fucking insane, you drive him insane, to the point where the smartest, sanest part of him is the sadistic terrorist. Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Fuck, what is he thinking?

"I fantasized about killing Don Mitchell Jr."

He freezes. Thinks what the fuck, starts shaking like a leaf, thinking, that's it. Edward just outed himself as a killer before even doing anything. Also, just weirded out the only girl who's ever been genuinely nice to him in God knows how long.

But you laugh. Not a nervous laugh, but a genuine one, and you shake your head, saying oh man, I didn't see that one coming. And then turn to him, eyes sparkling so bright he thinks he's going to pass out.

"Yeah, I think I might have lost some time on that fantasy too.", and then, fuck, then you think about it, turns your entire body in his direction, body language open while he stands there looking stiff as fuck and tries not to pop a boner in the break room while you both talk about murder. “We’re having the same fantasies, huh? How about that?” the smile you give him is dirty, and he seems deeply rattled by your advances.

Huh. Interesting.

“Feels like every single thing that comes out of his mouth is a lie. But then again, this entire city is built on lies."

Your tone is much more even when you continue, and he’s grateful for having something to divert his attention from your obvious flirtation. That was flirting, right? He can’t remember ever being in flirtatious interaction before. But he knows you. He swallows, throat suddenly dry as a desert, his tongue heavy as a brick inside his mouth. You lick your lips, corners of your mouth twisting in a smirk, and he feels a cold, sticky panic attached to his limbs. Lies. Lies. Lies. She knows. But you're gentle about it, your voice tinged with disappointment, and it moves him. Compels him into speaking without his brain even acknowledging he's opening his mouth.

"Wouldn't it be great to see him exposed one day?", he asks, and he can feel himself smiling sadistically, small, but still.

"Yeah, of course", you answer immediately, like it was so obvious. And Edward's pretty sure he's sporting a semi at this point. "And he's not even the only one-

"What are you guys talking about?"

Betty storms into the break room, presence loud, obnoxious, and throwing a bucket of cold water in Edward's head, and he feels like he can murder her on the spot. He can use the bland butter knife to gauge her eyes out just for interrupting the two of you. But the moment, it's ruined. Even before he can rearrange his thoughts in his brain, that cunt is already talking everyone's ears off about her fucking weekend as if someone gave a shit, and meanwhile, the kitchen is already feeling up with employees.

It all feels like a dream, and he's ready to return to his miserable routine when you poke him in the shoulder, smile, so sweetly he wants to burst into flames, and winks playfully.

"Have a nice day, Eddie. Thank you for giving me the mental image of our mayor dead."

He beams at that, genuinely, because, well, he is many things, and immune to dry and morbid humor is not one of them.

Oh, he would give you that image, in a way that you're definitely going to love him for it.

You’ll see, Edward promises, watching as you leave the break room to go back to work. He’s no longer afraid, shy, or even there anymore. He’s The Riddler. You know what you have to do. See? She wants you to do it. Yeah, he’s going to do this for you. He’s going to focus on his mission and give you what you want. And then you’ll love him for it.

Next Friday, the Riddler sees you in his hunting ground — entering the Iceberg Lounge, and all the illusions of ever controlling his urges and desires die.

***

#danonation #dano!riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #edward nashton smut #paul dano x reader

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

Note

Could you do "I'd do anything to make you stay?" from the angst starters you reblogged with dano riddler please?

I'd Do Anything to Make You Stay

Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 850 my favourite thing about dano!riddler is he's a brutal psychopath and i want to play with him like a little violent paperdoll 🐀💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: restraints, kidnapping, threats

You felt a warm, tickling sensation on your cheek as a tear rolled down it, more of them escaping from your eyes despite how hard you tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to give him anything, but it was impossible now. And you were weeping, more in anger and pain than in fear. The rope had begun to cut into your wrists, though that was your own fault. You had wriggled and pulled and thrashed for what felt like hours, but the clock on the wall let you know it had only been 47 minutes since you came to, bound to the chair you struggled to escape from.

Around you, you could make out some basic shapes. Crates? Boxes, maybe. A squeaking of rats, but they sounded contained, from the same space. Pets? The walls were covered in writing, or papers pinned up, but the dim light from the small lamp didn’t allow for much more to be discerned from your surroundings.

From behind you, a shuffling sound had you stopping completely still, whole body trying to listen.

“Hey! Whoever you are… you know who I am right? My… ”

You hesitated, mulling over your next line before you put it out there.

My father won’t be pleased when he finds out.

It sounded… antagonistic. Almost boastful. Perhaps, that would only land you in more trouble. You decided against saying anything, and kept your mouth pressed closed as the figure rounded your chair, crouching in front of you.

A dark jacket, a threatening mask, his eyes obscured slightly by the glasses he wore. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a roll of duct tape, tearing a strand off slowly and reaching to your face. Without considering this next move, you spat at him, your saliva landing on the cheek of his mask. He laughed, a high-pitched giggle that grew in volume and turned your blood ice cold. Rather than cleaning the mask off, he took off his glasses and removed it completely, turning to you with a soft, convivial smile when his glasses were secured on his face once again.

“Do you know who I am?”

Flicking through your memory like a rolodex, you came to the conclusion that you didn’t know him. But you were aware of the person who kidnapped you, so you offered this as an answer.

“You’re the Riddler.”

Another soft chuckle, but he was shaking his head, soft brown locks falling in front of his face.

“Yes… you’ll all know me by that moniker. It’ll go down in history. But Edward Nashton? He might be forgotten still. Overlooked. Cast aside!”

The longer his sentence went on, the louder he got, keeping a steady pace and if anything getting slower, his last words like the wails of a wounded animal.

“I don’t know any Edward… ”

“Nashton! You’ve forgotten already!”

You held your eyes closed as he screamed, trying hard to calm yourself, impossible as that seemed.

“I work for your daddy. Powerful, rich, and only because others do the hard work for him.”

A sudden realisation crept over you.

“You’re the creep from the elevator.”

His smiled faded quickly, eyes narrowing as his brow furrowed.

“That’s rude. I complimented you.”

He had, and then he hadn’t stopped staring. He had followed you out, along the corridor. Only leaving when you reached your dad’s office. And you had known it was him who sent the messages to your phone before you changed your number.

“It’s a shame you didn’t notice me any of the other times. Perhaps, we could have had something.”

Edward stood up and walked away from you, huddled in a dark corner and swallowed up by shadows. The news footage, the headlines, they swam through your brain. He targeted the elite. The corrupt. Your father kept you out of his business, but you knew he wasn’t the most honest or fair man. To get to him, would he use you? Would your father even care if it meant his own life was spared? In panic and terror, you reached the bargaining stage, desperate to set yourself free, to escape whatever plans he had for you and your father.

A last ditch attempt at flattery seemed your only course of action, and you tried to hide the grimace as you lied to him.

“Wait… wait! Eddie! I… I’m sorry for how I acted in the lift, I didn’t reject you though, you never asked.”

“You got a new phone and blocked my number.”

“Well, but… I didn’t know. If you asked me, I might change my mind! Try it! Eddie, please! I’d do anything if you let me leave, please.”

With a sharp cackle he crouched in front of you again, pulling a small switch knife from his pocket and holding it close to the restraints on your wrists. The blade frayed the ropes lightly, but he pulled it away, taunting you as he dangled it in front of your face.

“That’s funny!”

He yelled it, a maniacal laugh following it, echoing around the room.

“Because I would do anything to make you stay.”

#finnie writes #riddler smut #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #ridler scenario #dano riddler #dano!riddler #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction #the riddler #paul dano #danonation

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danosrosegarden · 9 months

Note

needy cuddly edward after sex i beg of u 🙏

easy, easy - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: mild mentions of smut (nothing explicit), a dash of angst (mild mentions of past trauma), and descriptions of aftercare.}

☽ What a fascinating specimen Edward was to watch when you had sex. You looked into his glossy, pleading eyes with an ardent interest. The way his jaw would fall slack and his cheeks would burn with a fervent fuchsia dust...it was addicting, to see him entranced in such deep-seated pleasure. It unhinged its jaw and swallowed him whole, and to watch his eyes squeeze shut and his hands grip the bedsheets in authentic bliss was an honor. He was so pure like this, so sweet and fragile.

☽ He would've taken anything you'd throw at him in those moments. What he couldn't handle was being left alone after the fact. And you would never. Taking care of him was far too much fun. His skin pressed against yours was too soft, too warm, too comforting to leave cold and desolate.

☽ He would cling to you; he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close before you even had the chance to wet a towel and wipe yourself down. The pads of his fingers pressed into your skin like they were making a statement: they're mine, mine alone.

☽ He doesn't care what happens, as long as you stay close to him. Usually, it was just something quiet and simple like some casual pillow talk, or maybe a shower together.

☽ It goes without saying, but he's only ever felt the bite of frosty isolation in his bones all throughout his life. Its only ever been tight rounds of seclusion and darkness cutting off his circulation, only a black plague gnawing at his heart, clouding his eyes and forcing him to see the worst of people. He wasn't really aware good was something a person could be. Especially not himself. So...he's not really sure what to do when you run your hands through his ruffled hair and coo at him. "So good, Eddie, you were so good for me." He wants to smile. He wants to sob. He wants to be wrapped in your warmth forever. What did he do to deserve something so pure and whole, someone so sweet and gentle?

☽ It doesn't feel like a chore. It doesn't feel like a mundane task that has to be completed each time after sex. It feels like joy, like warmth, like...love? Is this what love is? Love is a bit overwhelming to think about. The word feels like a whirling windstorm to you, something that comes with hurricanes and shattered glass and you're hesitant to call anything love. But this? One hand brushing over the curve of Edward's hip, the other rubbing circles into his scalp? The heat of your bodies mixing together into one sparkling bubble of comfort? This could be it.

☽ Just breathe. You can worry about the popping fire crackling in your heart later. For now, you can breathe easy in the sheets next to him. And you truly do feel as though around him, you can just...exhale. Let go for now.

☽ You're here, he's here. The sky outside your window glitters with stars and a fat scoop of moon. Cicadas are buzzing in the glowing night, and Edward takes one of your hands to lace with his own. You have each other. That's all that truly matters.

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lovely--lover · 2 years

Text

Flashbacks

Request: Edward Nashton has flashbacks of his childhood and the reader comforts him. Thank you so much for the request @tinyladyblaze

The cruelness of Gotham seeped through the fractured glass. Flowing through the room finding comfort in the children that lay under tattered blankets oozing into them. Stealing away the little warmth granted to each child. Second by second…until it took over. The frigid cold turned the small limbs numb. Another gust of wind shook the frail windows that threatened to shatter. The only protection from the merciless winter.

The blanket was wrapped around him. Tucked under his curled-up body so every part of him would fit beneath it. The cruel cold still found its way under the thin fabric bringing a familiar lack of feeling with it. Pulling the blanket tighter his small frame began to shake, fighting to survive, to keep him warm.

Sometimes he wondered what would happen if the blanket was removed and he slept bare. Would he make it until morning? Would anyone care? Would he finally be free?

Maybe he would attempt it another night? Out of curiosity, he wiggled his toes and fingers, there was nothing. Edward could feel nothing except a pit of sadness that felt never-ending and all-consuming.

It had consumed the infants in the next room over as they began to cry out. Awaking the rats they began skittering across the floor forcing their way under untucked blankets. He whimpered as one ran across his legs the sharpness breaking through the fabric and clawing him as it ran by.

Home a soft voice echoed out blending into the wind.

The orphanage was not a home. It was a prison on the outskirts of Gotham to hide away the forgotten children. Only seen when they were exploited by politicians and media. Then it was back in the holding cell to wither away. Held captive until release, at 18, when they are tossed into the streets with nothing except the clothes on their back.

He was thrown into the streets with nothing. He was nothing. The darkness he grew up in grew inside him. Filling every inch like the cold. Home? He never had a home.

Home it echoed out. Louder, closer…..warmer.

Eddie my love, can you hear me?

The darkness dissipated and was filled with light as the blanket fell from his face. The sudden light burned the back of his eyes. “I’m home!” He peered up through crinkled eyes at your blurry silhouette. Attempting to see clearly he blinked a few times and realized he was crying as tears began to fall.

“Eddie I’m home!” the only response was your voice echoing back….home. Usually, you were greeted with the sounds of typing from Eddie working his voice calling back out “I’m in here”

There was nothing.

The apartment was small there was only one place he could be. Entering the bedroom you smiled at the form nestled under the blankets. “Eddie I'm home,” there was no response.

The blanket was soft under your hand as your hand over him but his body was rigid and stiff. “Eddie, my love? Can you hear me?” Standing beside him you pulled away the blanket “I’m home!”

He peered up at you with blurry eyes almost immediately tears began to fall down his cherub cheeks. The bed creaked as you found yourself beside him caressing his face. The skin was wet and warm beneath your palms “Eddie what's wrong?”

His green eyes glanced between you, the room, the window, there was a distance in his gaze. Unable to settle as if he was elsewhere, lost. “Eddie are you here? Are you with me?”

Finally, his eyes found yours, filled with an indistinguishable emotion, swirling within the tears. A ragged breath forced his lips to part, quivering, before a sob escaped. The hands on his face fell to wrap around his soft waist pulling him into an embrace.

“Oh Eddie.” an ache formed in your chest as he embraced you, fingers digging into the flesh, as if he was scared to let go. Warm tears dampened the fabric of your shirt as his face pressed into your chest.

“I… I was at the orphanage. I was back there at that hellhole” anger spat from his trembling lips.

“The rats were everywhere! All of my clothes had rat bites on them. Made the winters even colder.” A shiver raked through his body as if he was there feeling it all over again.

“And the babies….the poor babies were crying, they wouldn’t stop, one died every winter.” As he continue to speak the shake of his voice left as he became calm describing the horrors of his childhood.

Tears threatened your eyes. Eddie, your sweet Eddie had suffered, he was just a child. A heavy silence filled the room as his voice trailed off unable to talk any longer. Words left you as well what could you say? You had to say something.

“I’m sorry Eddie. I’m so sorry that happened. You didn't deserve that. No one does.”

A whimper left his lips as you pulled away holding him at arms length. His face was red, eyes swollen, lips turned down. “But you're here now, your home with me….our home.” A warm smile adorned your face remembering how you and Eddie searches every part of Gotham for an apartment. Visiting every thrift store to fill it with comfort and love.

“And I promise you will always be warm” grabbing the discarded blanket you draped it over his slumped shoulders.

“You will always have clothes….even if they're from the thrift store” the corners of his lips slowly turned up a glint returning to his eyes.

“And the rats…..well, I cant promise anything about the rats this is Gotham after all…it’s filled with em”

A laugh left his lips a real one deep from his chest “Rats everywhere!”

You couldn't help but laugh with him “We may never escape them!” both of you falling into a fit of laughter. The feeling of home was coming back. The coldness was slowly leaving Eddie and being filled with your warmth and comfort. He was home he was with you.

Masterlist

Sorry it took a while I have been busy but I plan on writing more from now on. I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you for the request and your support 💚

@sapphicandserendipityy @mufnasa @callsigncrash

#Edward Nashton #edward nashton imagine #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton one shot #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x reader #the riddler imagine #The Riddler #paul dano imagine #paul dano x reader #paul dano character #paul dano #the batman

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imagine--if · 2 years

Note

Imagine Ed waking up from a nightmare about his s/o living him or getting hurt and realizing they are not in bed with him 😱! Boy probably have a full blown panic attack! But it turns out the s/o just had to use the bathroom cause they ended up drinking too much (drink of choice) before going to bed

A/N: I have no words so I’m just gonna write- 🥹

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Fluff, comfort and clinginess 💚

Words: 680

Edward wakes up with a start, with great shuddering breaths as if he’s been underwater, his hands gripping at the sheets tangled messily around him. The blood feels as if it’s still there, on his hands and sprayed on his clothes as someone shoots you down from where you rightfully stand, beside him. Just to get to The Riddler. To truly break Edward Nashton.

His eyes widen in dread when he realises you aren’t sleeping soundly beside him. The side next to him on the bed is flat, and Edward stumbles out of it, his head spinning with the strong emotions he’s feeling all at once as he’s only just woken up.

Was it real? Are you dead? Did he fail?!

Your name leaves his lips in a breathless plea into thin air, and he staggers out of the room, his head spinning wildly as he takes in his small, scruffy apartment for any sign of you.

You frown and step out of the bathroom in confusion just as he passes it, and Edward jumps in shock, heaving a shaky sigh of relief as he collapses at your feet on the floor, a crazed, teary eyed look on his face.

You crouch down to his level in surprise, your eyes examining his face and taking his trembling, damp hands in yours. They hold yours tightly before they leave to trace your face, Eddie staring at you in disbelief, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you all over again.

“I- Eddie?” You say worriedly, as he slumps into your frame with a weary smile, a muffled hum into your top as a response. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”

“You… you…” He tries again, letting you pull him up to look at you properly. “You weren’t in bed…”

“No, I just went to the bathroom quick.” you respond, as Edward rubs his hands up and down your arms, clutching strands of your hair and taking uneven, deep breaths. “Just breathe, okay? I’m alright. You’re alright, aren’t you?”

Eddie nods tiredly, breathing in the ever-comforting and familiar scent of you as he rests his head in your neck, mad, soft giggles coming from him.

“It- it was a nightmare, and… you were so bloody, angel… oh, god-“

“Oh, Eddie,” you sigh, rubbing his back soothingly and hugging him closely as he clings to you desperately on the floor. “I’m okay. It’s just a nightmare. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left without saying something or leaving a note…”

“It- it’s not your fault,” he replied, his hands cupping your cheeks as a dopey, hopeful smile pulls at his lips. “You’re alright. You’re alright…”

You nod in agreement as he repeats the words to himself. “Yeah, I’m absolutely fine, okay?”

“But it’s not your fault at all,” Edward insists, a dark, thoughtful look in his eyes as they focus on you. “It’s mine. I need to protect you more! I have to! It’s one of the main things I’m alive for.”

“But you do a great job protecting me, really.”

“I can do more,” he murmurs in thought, “I can do everything. All… all for you. You’d like that, darling? Being safe from the horrors out there? You get to watch it all burn, but I’ll never let you get burnt, ever.”

You nod slowly, a slight smile on your face at his heartfelt words. “Okay, Eddie. But we should go back to bed now, okay?”

“I mean it,” he tells you giddily, resting his forehead against yours and twirling strands of your hair in his fingers. “I’ll do anything for you. I love you~”

You smile as Eddie lowers his head to press loving kisses down your neck, and you shift from your position on the floor, running your fingers through his hair as you coax him up.

“I love you too- come on, let’s get up.”

Edward nods contentedly, almost as if the nightmare never happened now, and he gets up quickly before pulling you gently up with him, leading you back to your room. Because you’re right, it’s just a dream. Reality is much… prettier.

.・ Taglist: ・.

@sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @r4iner @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @vaylordd @dangerouslittlefairy @katjourno @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @callsigncrash @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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diormalfoy · 1 year

Text

gone

pairing: edward nashton x fem!reader

summary: edward ghosts you before becoming the riddler to protect you. inspired by the song “gone” by rosé.

contains: ghosting, breakup, depression.

a/n: this hurts to write but i’ve been feeling kinda sad lately and this idea just came to me. remember you can still request, hope u guys like this ♡

“ I just wanna be the one

but to you, we’re already done

tell me, why’d you have to hit-and-run me?

now im all alone crying ugly

you broke my heart just for fun

took my love and just left me numb.”

Gotham city felt gloomy and dark, as Edward stood by the window of his dimly lit apartment. His mind felt like a labyrinth, consumed with puzzles and enigmas, but there was one riddle he couldn’t solve — his own heart. You had stumbled into his life unexpectedly, igniting a new spark within him. Your presence in his world felt like a breath of fresh air, a beacon of light piercing through the darkness of his mind. You were the woman he had grown to cherish, his sanctuary, his solace, but now he had to let you go. He knew the darkness that lurked within him, waiting to be unleashed. That darkness that threatened to consume everything he held dear, and he couldn’t bear the thought of putting you in harm’s way.

He decided to disappear, like a phantom vanishing in the night. He severed all ties, leaving no trace of his existence behind. His calls went unanswered, messages left unread, as he slipped further into the shadows. Edward had always been different, his intellect surpassed that of ordinary individuals, and his mind thrived on solving mysteries and testing the limits of his knowledge. However, he was plagued by an internal chaos that threatened to destroy him entirely, and he knew that embracing his destiny as the Riddler would only bring destruction into the lives of those around him. He thought of you every day, longing your touch, your warmth. It was a heart-wrenching sacrifice, but he convinced himself it was for your own safety.

“Another story that's sad and true

I can feel the pain, can you?

You had to be the one to let me down

To colour me blue”

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. You searched tirelessly for Edward desperate for any sign of his existence, but all your efforts lead to dead ends. You found yourself lost in a sea of confusion and heartache, replaying your moments together, searching for any trace of where it all went wrong. You just couldn’t understand why Edward, the one who had shown you love and tenderness, suddenly vanished from your life. The silence that enveloped you was deafening, and you wondered if you had been abandoned, left to drift aimlessly in a world devoid of his presence.

Edward watched you from afar, and he was determined to protect you, even if it meant sacrificing your love. But watching you only fueled his internal torment, he was between the desire to keep you safe and his longing to hold you in his arms once again.

One stormy night, you stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building you and Edward used to visit to talk for hours. He had taught you so many things, and you just couldn’t get him out of your mind. The rain was pelting against your face and a soft breeze brushed against your skin, carrying with it a familiar scent. You turned, hoping to find Edward standing there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a single envelope laid at your feet.

Trembling hands picked up the envelope, and with cautious anticipation, you tore it open. Inside was a letter, inked with Edward’s unmistakable handwriting and stained with raindrops. Your heart raced as you devoured his words, feeling the weight of his conflicted emotions pour onto the page.

“ My dear,

I write to you now, my hearth heavy with sorrow and regret. I have chosen a path that requieres sacrifice, a path that will keep you safe from the darkness that threatens to consume me. I cannot bear the thought of you being caught in the crossfire, and I fear that if I stay, I will only bring pain and danger into your life.

Please understand that my absence is not a reflection of my feelings for you , it is a testament to the depth of my love. Hold onto our memories, the laughter and the light that once filled our days. They will guide you through the darkness, as they are the fragments of my soul that I leave behind.

Remember, my love, that you deserve happiness and safety. It pains me to leave, but if fate allows, our paths may cross again, and we will reclaim what was lost. Until then, know that I carry you in my heart, even in the depths of the shadows.

Yours forever,

Edward”

Tears mingled with raindrops as you clutched the letter to your chest. The realization of Edward’s sacrifice washed over you, a mix of pain and understanding intertwining in your heart. Now you finally understood. With a renewed sense of purpose, you vowed to hold onto the memories you had created, to keep the flickering flame of your love alive.

You would wait for him forever.

this was so relieving to write. thank you guys for the support, and please like and reblog if you enjoyed this. kisses, grace ♡

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