Late Night Comfort | Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader SMUT
Summary: You help your insomniac boyfriend get some much-needed sleep late at night through the best means possible.
Contents/Warnings: SMUT, Creampie, unprotected sex, implications of mental health issues, insomnia, PIV sex, fluff, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
You’ve always hated how cold Gotham became in the winter. It was the type of cold that not even several layers of thick blankets and the heat your landlord would charge you way too much for could solve, but it wasn’t usually this cold. With a yawn, you blinked open your eyes, shifting your gaze over to the alarm clock on the nearby nightstand, squinting in the dark to read the time better, to see that it had just turned midnight. You let out another yawn, sitting up and looking down beside you to find your boyfriend missing. You frowned, already knowing what had happened.
“We’re out of melatonin already, Eddie.” You mumbled tiredly, finding yourself in the bathroom down the hall after a short walk from your shared bedroom. Edward turned to look at you with sleepy, apologetic eyes, pausing from rummaging through the medicine cabinet on the wall.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He replied softly, shutting the cabinet. “I just couldn’t fall asleep, I’m sorry.” He added, voice laden with guilt, a twinge of shame, almost like he was embarrassed by his ongoing insomnia, no matter how many times you reassured him it didn’t bother you, or make you think less of him, worries he had voiced to you in the past, especially during the beginning of your relationship.
You smiled, rubbing the last bits of sleep out of your eyes. “It’s okay, Eddie, don’t apologize.” You approached him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I know how hard it is for you sometimes. Do you want me to maybe go down to the corner store and see if they have anything?” He shook his head at your question, pulling you closer.
“No, you know how this city can get at night.” He murmured, “I don’t want you getting hurt. I’ll tough it out for tonight and get something after work tomorrow.” Despite his words, you could see just how much he was dreading staying awake through another sleepless night while every horrible thought he could ever imagine raced through his head, all to get up and work throughout the day at a job he hated.
“What if I stay up with you? I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.” You suggested, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair. Usually, it’d soothe him even just a little bit, but it didn’t seem to be working tonight.
“No, don’t do that.” He pulled away from you. “You have work in the morning, too. Please, don’t do that to yourself just for me.” He moved past you, heading to the living room, probably planning to spend the night on his laptop, having a go at another useless attempt at lessening the hell in his mind with any type of puzzle he could find. You caught his wrist, pulling him towards the bedroom.
“What’re you doing?” He questioned, filled with confusion, as you led him back down the hall of your apartment. “Please, honey, I’m just going to end up waking you again if I go—”
You shushed him, entering your shared room. “I think I have an idea of what could get us both to sleep, it’s something I think you’ll like.” You purred, sitting him down on the bed, placing yourself in his lap. He took a deep breath, hands settling on your hips as you leaned in. “Is that okay, Edward?” You murmured, lips ghosting his. He didn’t say another word; instead, he leaned in eagerly, pressing his lips to yours, and you met him with just as much excitement. He leaned backwards, propping himself up on his shoulders as you came down with him, your hands moving to pull off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
“It’s been so long since we’ve been able to do this.” You moved to his pajama pants, pulling them down in one swift motion, Edward helping you to get them off, leaving him in his boxers. The sight in front of you had your heart racing in your chest; desperation-filled green eyes, cheeks tinged a beautiful shade of red, hardening cock pressing against his boxers, just waiting to be touched; it was all so intoxicating. You couldn’t believe that you both let your work get in the way of doing this again and again until neither of you had any more left to give.
“I’ve missed you.” Edward’s fingers slipped up to your shoulder, slowly pulling the strap of your nightgown down, then he did the same to the next, letting the soft garment fall just enough to show the soft apex of your breasts, letting them peak out just enough to send another surge of arousal to his cock. “You’ve always looked so great in this color.” He smiled, hands tracing over the dark green fabric, his favorite color, and something he picked out just for you after he worked a few extra overtime hours at his job. You looked stunning in it, but you always looked so much more divine without anything on.
You pulled off your nightgown, leaving you only in a pair of lace underwear, leaving you both with a thin layer separating you from what you needed.
You grabbed at the elastic waistband on his boxers, pulling them off and letting his cock spring out, hard and leak pre-cum at the tip. God, he must’ve been so pent up, you could tell just by how hard he was. You wrapped a hand around him, earning a whiny moan from him, pushing up into your touch as you began to stroke him. A soft whimper of your name left his lips as he lay back against the bed, letting you straddle him as you moved your hand up and down his cock, struggling to fit all of it in your fingers.
“F-Fuck hold on—” His grip moved back to your hips, your hand stilling as you looked down at him with wide eyes, worried you somehow managed to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. He kissed you quickly, soothing any fears after he saw the look on your face. “I need you. Now.” He whispered, tugging at your underwear, pulling them down your thighs, and letting them drop to the floor along with the rest.
“I need you too, you have no clue how much I needed this.” You settled your hands on his chest, sinking down onto him with a moan of your own, high-pitched and needy, something you’d always expected more from him than you. No matter how many times you had sex with him, that first stretch of his cock inside of you always felt euphoric, better than any drug anyone in Gotham could ever offer you. His mouth fell open, eyes closing in pure ecstasy as you began to move, slowly bouncing up and down on his cock. How could you have ever gone so long without this? Without him inside of you? You lived it, and yet you couldn’t understand how you survived.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, fingers tightening around the soft skin of your hips, helping guide your movements. “Clever girl, this was your plan, huh? Gonna ride my cock until we’re both too fucked out to stay awake. I love how smart you are.” You cried out at his words, coming down on his cock just right to hit that special spot inside of you. He was right; it didn’t matter if, at this point, both of you had to call out of work tomorrow, it’d be worth every single ounce of pleasure you’d draw from each other. It all felt too good to stop.
“You got me, Eddie.” You purred, kissing him before you sped up your pace, “but how could I resist? Do you know what you do to me?” He whined at your confession, thrusting up to meet your movements, sending jolts of ecstasy throughout your body. You moaned loudly, letting your head fall against his chest as you let him thrust upwards into you.
“I’m close, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum so hard!”
He groaned at your warning, rubbing at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake at his touch, and the feeling of him splitting you open as he fucked you. He loved this, the way you’d sound just for him, the way you shook, how your pussy fluttered around him and choked his cock whenever you came. He’d do whatever it took, kill whoever you wanted, if it meant he’d always have this with you.
“Fuck! Yes!” You shouted, rocking against him desperately, the beginning of your orgasm coursing through you. “I’m cumming! Edward!” You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you came, fluttering around him as he chased his own climax after yours. Thick ropes of cum shot deep inside of you, filling you to the brim until it leaked out at the sides.
You slumped against him, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from your shared high. You whined in protest as he slipped out of you, unhappy with the sudden loss of warmth, cum spilling out of you and onto the sheets below. You pressed chaste kisses to his skin, moving up towards his lips after only a few, shaky breaths between each one as the racing of your hearts slowed. You two sat in a comfortable silence, Edward absentmindedly playing with your hair.
“You’re sleepier than me now.” He murmured, kissing your cheek. You chuckled sleepily, cuddling up to him. You smiled as you saw his face, eyes drooping with a shared pleasant exhaustion.
“We’re taking a day off tomorrow, you and I.” You smiled. “Call out of work, and spend the whole day relaxing, doesn’t it sound nice?” He nodded, closing his eyes.
“We could have round two in the morning.” He suggested with a grin, only half joking. You giggled, kissing him again before resting your head on his shoulder as you both drifted off to sleep.
ft. Dano!Riddler (Batman 2022)
Day 8 - Webcam, Free Use, Cages
Warnings: Nsfw (MDNI), web-cam livestream, cages / reader is locked up at one point, aspects of free-use and BDSM, p in v, fingers, mask kink, consensual but reader is under his influence so slight power imbalance, he's sweet on you, mention of idolatry, mentions of canon typical crimes / violence, mentions of mania/delusions of grandeur
Synopsis: Edward is the most brilliant man you've ever known--you were so blessed to be his, and for him to be yours. You'd do anything for him...even in front of his dozens of fans.
Word Count: 2251
Stack x Fem!Reader (nsfw)
A/N: I'm literally obsessed with him, for your information--probably OOC in this prompt but whatever i tried LOL-- i usually imagine him awkward and more simpy, super obsessed / smitten with the object of his affection...anyways, here's probably one of the kinker things ive written dADSFASDF we're baptized by fire i guess hehe
You curled up on yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as you hunched uncomfortably, head ducked low. Despite the blanket bundled up around you, you were freezing and desperately wishing the radiator would kick on to heat the drafty room. It was dark, all the lights off, and you had been alone for far longer than you would have like to endure.
As if by fate, there came the sound of keys jingling in the door’s lock, and you craned you neck to look. The deadbolt shifted loudly, the door knob turned, and silhouetted against the light of the apartment hallway was a bulkily dressed man.
He strode in, locking the door behind him and tossing his apartment keys on the side table near the entrance. He didn’t bother to kick off his tactical boots, and they thudded against the dusty floorboard. He walked into the next room where you sat, a pitiful sight.
Your eyes lifted to meet the ones behind clear framed glasses, and you perked up slightly, attention completely on him. Edward.
He had the soft, round face of someone entirely unassuming, looking sweet even. Though, you knew first hand what sort of dark secrets and twisted intellect resided in that brain of his. Regardless, you felt a wave of relief as he entered, glancing to the corner of the room where your cage was, a small smile forming on his lips.
“Look at you,” he cooed. It would have been condescending if he didn’t look so pleased to see you. He approached, boots heavy with every footfall, and reached a hand between the bars of the cage to stroke your hair tenderly. “Are you happy I’m home, sweetheart?”
You nodded, eyes flitting to where his other hand clutched a plastic bag at his side. He followed your gaze, and withdrew his hand. “Just some supplies,” he explained, reading the question in your expression. “For next time.” You didn’t have to wonder what ‘next time’ meant—all you had to do was look on the news to know that everyone was clamoring about when and where the next Riddler attack would take place.
They called him a radical extremist, an urban terrorist preying over Gotham…but you knew him for who he really was: a visionary, serving justice and pointing a light at the corruption that plagued the city. And, more than that, he was your Edward—brilliant and soft-spoken, and utterly devoted to you.
Edward reached a hand down to unlock the latches of your cage, stepping back so you could crawl out and stretch the limbs that had been cramped for too long. “Sorry I’m home late,” Edward apologized. “There was a shooting at one of the downtown stops—it delayed the whole subway schedule.” He set his bag of goodies on the cluttered coffee table, before turning to walk towards his computer set up.
“We’ll have to eat dinner after the stream,” he hummed, contrite. “It’s scheduled for 8:00pm.” You rose to your feet slowly to follow after him, wanting to be close after being separated for so long. You kneeled down next to his chair so you could rest your head in his lap, and he lowered a hand to stroke you as his other clicked away.
After a few more minutes of clicking and typing, Edward had logged onto his secure, encrypted website. The whole process honestly confused the hell out of you, and it only made you respect him all the more for knowing the ins and outs of computer science and hacking. He really was a genius, and the reminder never ceased to make you swell with pride for being his and vice versa.
Edward rose from the chair, walking to the side of the room to dress into his infamous garb. You watched him don the mask so many dreaded and feared—the face behind the movement, which reaped violence against the rats of the city. All of it Edward had symbolically designed, meticulously orchestrated, and filmed for all to see.
As he strapped in and covered up all of his identifiable features, you saw his figure bulk up with the layered fabric and leather. More so, you saw the shift in him that never ceased to amaze you—Edward was set aside now, and the Riddler had come out to play.
He reached a glove towards you, and you stood still while his hands gently maneuvered a little black, lacey mask over your face. He felt it necessary to protect your identity as well, seeing as you were now an extension of him, his sweetheart. He would always take care of you; always make sure you were safe and looked after.
The Riddler patted your head, before stalking past you to sit back down at his computer chair. You laid nearby, languidly stretching your body along the couch, sighing contentedly as you watched him work. He set up the camera, clicked a few more buttons, and soon the red light had flickered on.
“Greetings, everyone,” his voice garbled out, the voice modulator making him sound deeper and more frightening than the man who usually spoke so softly to you. “I’ve got something real special for you tonight. Something they didn’t want you to see.”
You listened as the Riddler began his manic diatribes, informing his loyal followers of the latest updates. Eventually, growing bored, you tuned him out, deciding to leaf through the latest book he’d brought you: The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein.
Around an hour had passed as you went about your nightly routine, the deep sound of his voice lending a pleasant ambience to your reading. Then, startling you from your book, you heard that intimidating voice—comforting and familiar—call your name.
You glanced up quickly, looking at him. The red light was still on, the stream ongoing, and yet he had his chair turned to look at you. The blue glow of the monitors cast him in a rim light, though the lenses of his glasses seemed to glow as it reflected back. Raising a hand, he crooked his finger at you, silently beckoning you over.
You marked your page and set your book aside, obediently rising from the couch and walking over to him. As you approached, you could see the chat on the side of the screen receiving new messages, the viewers evidently delighted by your appearance.
Jus$tice_anycost: she’s finally back on stream! Thought the system got her lolz XD
Eyeswideopen98: She looks so pretty in her new mask omg o///o
WakeUpG0th@m: Yo, he’s got a girl?? I’m new /srs
Eyeswideopen98: @ WakeUpG0th@m yea, she gets the mission, she’s chill
Riddlemesaved: not the only thing she ‘gets’ ;)
Rattrapsss: ngl, sometimes I like her voice more than his LOL
Riddlemesaved: fuck, those tits always get me…
The Riddler turned his head to read, his hands absent-mindedly trailing your thighs and your ass. There never was a need for him to ask your permission. You were happy to service the one you loved whenever he desired your touch.
His eyes seemed to shine with delight as the waves of compliments rolled your way. He thought his devoted followers were so lucky to see your luminous beauty. “You’ve got fans,” he spoke lowly, the sound growling out of the modulator. His traveling hands dipped into your waist band, and he pulled your shorts down without much warning or fanfare. “C’mere.”
You let him pull you into his lap, your ass planted on one thigh as he helped hook your legs around the armrests. Spread open now for the blinking red camera light, you blushed a little, and gave the fans a bashful smile. His chest flush to your back, you heard his breath coming out heavy and hot through the holes in his mask.
Jus$tice_anycost: Damn look at that, her panties are already soaked…
Riddlemesaved: @ Ju$tice_anycost, cause she’s always ready to be used xxx
WakeUpG0th@m: Hooooly shit…
A small whine sounded in your throat as one of his hands wrapped around to rub against your clothed pussy. Two leather-covered fingers circled the wet fabric, a filthy sight. More messages flooded in, eager and lustful directed at the two of you.
“Isn’t she so beautiful?” came his throaty garbled voice behind you. “So good to me.”
Eyeswideopen98: She’s perfect for him…
Rattrapsss: can we see??? <3
You sighed softly as he removed his hand from you, lifting the glove up to your face. He patted your cheek gently, before nudging the tip of the glove between your teeth. “Bite,” he ordered, and you obeyed. Slowly, you tugged the glove from his hand, revealing his fingers, thick and dexterous from all that typing. You opened your mouth, letting the glove fall limply to the floor.
His hand returned to your pussy, and gently it pulled the fabric of your panties aside to reveal your sex, bare and dripping with arousal. The Riddler glanced up to read the messages in the chat, before a throaty, dark chuckle vibrated against your back. “Guess we’ll be online for a little while longer,” he spoke, and then he pushed two digits into you knuckle-deep.
A soft, draw out moan left your lips as he gently fucked you with his fingers. You felt the leather of his mask press against your neck as he took in a deep, ragged breath. You could feel the firmness of his erection against your ass, poking you. You wiggled your ass against it slightly, feeling pent up and a little cheeky.
Your sweet Edward gasped at the feeling, and the sound made your heart flutter. But soon, the Riddler was placing a firm hand on your hip, the other fumbling with his belt as he struggled to undo the zipper and buttons there.
WakeUpG0th@m: fuck, this is so hot
Eyeswideopen98: he’s the riddle, she’s the answer…
Riddlemesaved: yesss, this is my favorite part…!
You felt his hot breath panting against the back of your neck as he freed his cock, and eagerly positioned himself up against you. With his back leaned against the chair, he lowered your hips down so he speared you onto him inch by inch. Your face screwed up with the intrusion, a small cry escaping you once he was fully hilted, the head of his cock nestled against your cervix.
His hand moved north to your chest, and he squeezed your breasts through your shirt. With a strangled groan, he began to move, rolling his hips up into you as he grinded against your ass. His cock was covered in your slick, the sight gleaming against the bright light of his set up.
“A-Ah,” you gasped, your hands clinging onto the armrests for dear life as he picked up the pace, hips snapping against you.
“Damn, you’re so fucking tight. So perfect for me,” he gritted out, pumping into you with enthusiastic zeal. He used you freely, and you loved every second of it. You tried to read the onslaught of comments popping in the chat, but you couldn’t make out more than a few words—you were too drunk on the feeling of his cock pistoning into you.
“Oh my god,” you drew the words out in a breathless moan, and you felt his hands flex into the dips of your hips.
“Yes,” he growled out. “I am your god.” His hips punctuated each syllable harshly, and you gasped at each thrust.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sobbed out as he fell into a wild frenzy, fucking into you so hard you were certain you would be sore later. But he was too intoxicating, moaning so deliciously in your ear, that your pleasure was building at an alarming rate.
“W-Wait, I…mmm, I-I’m—” you babbled out nonsensically, but he didn’t ease up his brutal pace. Your eyes screwed shut and you bit down on your bottom lip. The sound of his balls slapping against you tipped you over the edge—the pleasure was all too much.
You came with a cry, clear liquid squirting from you as it hit the edge of the desk and wetted his keyboard. Edward’s hand flew to your clit, rubbing furiously to extend your orgasm, sending droplets this way and that, making an utter mess of the chair and computer.
Within seconds he was pulling out to shoot pearlescent ropes of cum all over your skin, his climax ripping through him violently as he choked out a strained, muffled sound. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as he gently slapped his cock against your folds, spreading his cum around so that it mixed with your own juices.
Jus$tice_anycost: annnnnd im saving this one to my desktop folder… :P
Riddlemesaved: guys I just came so fucking hard I thought I died for a sec
Eyeswideopen98: otp (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )づ♡
You felt your lover shift beneath you, hugging you to his chest as he leaned forward. His hand moved for the mouse, and he read the comments. His eyes crinkled slightly in what must have been a satisfied smile. “Thanks everyone for attending tonight’s meeting,” he spoke, his altered voice deep and content. “That’s all for now, so be sure to tune in next time for more info on our next rally.”
He clicked his mouse a few times, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep your limp body upright against him. You focused on steadying your breathing, and craned your next to kiss his cheek. With that, the little red light flickered off.
pleaseeee more riddler!! i love your writing so much!! maybs something where he has a crush on his roommate, the reader? thank you so much!
Roommate!Eddie didn't get out of his room much when you first moved in. He was skeptical of you, as he is with everyone in this damned city. He had more important things, more important plans to focus on.
However, you were always just so sweet to him, always making an effort to get to know him better. Eventually, he started to notice a cup of coffee waiting for him on the kitchen counter every morning, made just the way he likes it. At first he couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe someone would care so much to memorize how he likes his coffee, and it's things like that with which you've eventually won over Eddie's heart.
He's simply infatuated with you, always keeping an eye on you when you're in the same room. He tries not to be obvious, and most of the time you don't even notice it! He thinks it's adorable how you have no idea just how obsessed he has become with you. He wants to observe you 24/7, wants to know every move you make. Sometimes, he'll follow behind you while you're out running errands or going to work. It's cause he wants to protect you, he tells himself, but he knows his main motive is more of a primal, possesive and selfish one. It's not enough though. At one point he even thought about making a small hole through the wall separating your bedrooms so he could watch you even more, but he's not sure how he'd get away with it without you noticing anything.
Part of him also loves when you leave him alone at home, cause that gives him full permission to snoop around your room, examine all your stuff, open all your drawers and maybe even take a few small things he's sure you won't notice are gone. He's definitely sniffed your used panties at least once (and maybe even stolen a pair🤫). He loves to lay on your bed, your scent overflowing his senses while he imagines cuddling up with you on that very bed.
However, he'll never let you go in his room. He can't afford you finding out about his plans as the Riddler, at least not yet. He knows you're smart, and he prays you'll understand what he's trying to do when he finally explains everything, but not yet.
A/N: Sorry for taking so long to answer this request! I've been stuck in a sort of writing block, but I've finally finished this fic. Hope you enjoy it! -Admin📺🎙
「 tws + notes: unedited, potentially ooc, toxic/unhealthy relationship dynamic, mention of vomit (not detailed), vague mentions of violence + murder (not towards reader), extreme jealousy, edward is extremely insecure, edward is mean to his lovely :( 」
「 gn!reader, romantic relationship <3 」
↳ ft. edward nashton
author's note: this was floating around in my head for a while! huge thank you to @heartfluttered for the prompt,,, yes that's a reference to the song by the scary jokes in the title,,, go listen if u wanna,,,
sloppy writing as i try to figure my stuff out again. sigh.
it doesn't take much to set edward off.
something as innocent as someone else finding mild interest in you can make his entire mood turn sour. but is it really a surprise for someone like edward?
the only thing rivalling his all-consuming self loathing is his complete and utter infatuation with you. and whether either of you have the strength to understand or acknowledge this is a whole other story — which, you've found, doesn't matter in the face of his jealousy.
▸ edward's initial response practically overtakes him. he seethes at the thought of someone else wanting you, an anger that corrodes at his insides — but what really swallows him up is the anxiety of them succeeding.
he's been abandoned before. he's no stranger to what this will look like — how agonizing this will be — the anxiety of being truly and fully alone again makes bile rise up in his throat.
▸ he'll need more than a moment to collect himself.
edward, after his initial outburst, will rinse the vomit from his mouth and attempt to bring his thoughts into some form of coherency. it's so easy for him to spiral over you.
you are something beautiful. scintilating. you're his sun and his entire world revolves around you, you, you — and in this moment, you hurt to look at right now. sometimes he loves you so much that he can't stand the idea of you. you are beyond radiant.
what does that make him next to you?
▸ you might be met with accusation first. why did you have to leave his side anyway? you know what type of attention follows you, of course you do. this is why he's so insistent on keeping you in arms reach, don't you see?
▸ his anger caves into something more pathetic after a while, especially if you seem disinterested in arguing.
he's not beyond groveling at your feet about it. is he not enough? spare him and tell him you hate him already, he can see it in your eyes. edward will sob, clinging to you with a brusing grip, begging you through gasps of air not to leave again.
tell him what he can do. tell him that you don't care about anyone else. you see him unfiltered, unhidden — the part of him that shamelessly needs you to tell him he's wanted and loved. how is edward ever meant to be happy if he can't have you for himself?
▸ you could comfort him. given your pity, with your care, edward finds the ability to feel a little better... until later in the same day when he's inevitably left alone with his thoughts.
suddenly he's irritable again, and no, it's not at you this time — he's after the person who wanted you. to him, it's an offense that no one should be allowed to get away with it; a fact he feels the need to make it explicitly clear to the world.
concequences must be dealt, naturally, and edward is more than happy to be the hand of justice.
▸ if you're the type to be more assertive, if you tell him he's being irrational, or if you do anything less than bend to his wishes of cooing over poor, little edward, he immediately snaps at you.
no one will ever love you the way he does, can't you see that?
"i thought you were smarter than this."
you know the intimate details of how cruel the world can be — it's how edward found you. you're kindred spirits, you and him. but here you are now, choosing them over him. the world will eat you alive alone — which is exactly how you'll end up at this rate.
"you have to stay," he tells you. who else will love you like this?
▸ oh, but if you're upset? if the advances were pushed on you? edward is more than furious. rage will be the sole fuel to his soul. it'll what he sleeps, breathes, and eats for the next few days as he feverishly plans on what demise best suits them.
do you want them dismembered? he can make them an example — every eye will turn to see and witness what happens when greedy hands extend too close to something that's his.
and show you of course: you're safe as long as you stay with him.
☆ summary: Attempting to steal a trophy from his latest obsession, Edward gets more than he bargained for when she comes home early.
kinktober '25 ☆ fic masterlist ☆ ao3
The plan had been simple enough; let himself in to her apartment, secure the goods which had pressed at his thoughts for so long, and leave before he could be discovered. So, when Edward heard the slight creak of her apartment door just as his hand dropped within the top drawer where he knew she kept her underwear, a dire sense of panic almost rooted his feet to floor.
As her keys collided with the wooden top of her sideboard, Edward sprang into action. The thick duffle coat which covered him also helped to muffle his movements as he quickly spun on his heel and dashed towards the nearby cupboard – its size definitely enough to hold him without too much hassle. He slipped inside with a graceless shove as familiar fear clutched as his chest and memories of unkind accusations from the women who had previously captured his interest rang crystal clear through his head.
She entered her bedroom with a deep sigh and Edward braced himself for a fight. If she chose to look inside this cupboard then he would be forced to attack her to ensure his escape – his delusion over her not quite deep enough to truly believe that he could talk her into reciprocating his desires if he were discovered.
Hiding himself within the spacious cupboard, one which she clearly used for assorted storage rather than her clothing, Edward allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as she completely neglected the cupboards in favour of flopping atop her bed. His hand loosened around the small, weighted baton which sat within his jacket pocket. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was too close to success in his plans to allow her to stand in the way.
Laying on her back, she made quick work of her clothes as she reclined against the sheets; her t-shirt and jeans slipping from her frame with a casual fluidity which made Edward’s eyes widen and his cock throb as it remained trapped within his combat pants. His fingers shook as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, his mind utterly shattered by the sudden display of her lovely skin.
Something he had only seen through shaky video feed and one intense glimpse through a long-lens telescope, her skin looked even softer than anything he could have imagined as inch after delicious inch was exposed to his sight until she dropped her clothes into a messy pile on the carpeted floor.
Now clad only in her underwear, a simple dark bra and panties which made Edward’s mouth salivate as he imagined how the fabric would feel against his lips, she lounged comfortably in her own space – unaware of the voyeur who observed her from a painfully close distance.
Drawing her knees up, she shuffled her dark panties from her ass before pulling them down her legs and discarding them to the other side of the bed. Her cunt now fully exposed, Edward had to bite down on the pointer finger of his gloved hand as he fought the urge to groan at the open display.
This was more – more than he could have wished for and the guilt which lay alongside the painful arousal which made his cock feel trapped within his pants only made the heat in his gut grow. He watched as she shifted across her sheets to pull a small bullet vibe from her top drawer and place it on her stomach as she rapidly scrolled through something unseen on her phone screen with her other hand.
Eventually the soft sounds of sex rang out from the phone in her hand and Edward felt his cock twitch as he realised she was using porn to get herself in the mood for her self-pleasure. A little thankful for the extra distraction and noise as it rattled through the phone shamelessly, Edward shifted his hand to his groin and quickly freed his cock from its confines.
His cock was already hard, painfully hard, and he wrapped a gloved hand around it – the leather feeling odd yet soft against his pulsing shaft. Unable to believe his luck as a voyeuristic delight settled into his chest, he allowed himself the fantasy of believing that she knew he was there, touching himself in tandem with her.
He told himself that she knew he was watching her. She knew that he would be unable to help himself as she prepared herself for the show she was going to give him. She knew that he would keep pace with her, stroking along his cock as he watched her fingers tease along her cunt and sink into the wet warmth which be oh so tight around her digits as she fucked herself to the thought of him being there.
She groaned as she pleasured himself and Edward had to cover his own mouth with his free hand as the sound sparked him to make a similar noise, thankfully muffled by the glove as his grip on his own cock tightened.
He tried to keep time with her, jerking along his dick as she curled her fingers against her walls to tease those sweet spots which she obviously loved. It was terrible for him, to have to slow himself to her pace and tease his own cock, but worth it to imagine her hand in place of his, her mouth swallowing him down as he stood over her and showed her the full power of the Riddler.
Edward came with a silent gasp, his hand absorbing the little noise he made as his release spilled across his gloved fingers. It was almost too much; the voyeurism mixing with the hot pleasure of his orgasm to make his head feel loose and light.
Catching his release, Edward was careful to not let any spill to the floor. It would be an unnecessary risk and he rubbed the mess against the highest part of his pants – the part hidden by the base of his jacket – as he shamefully ensured he would be presentable for the journey home.
She came soon after, her vibe pressing harshly against her clit as she enjoyed her supposed isolation by letting her moans and gasps ring freely across the room; her toes visibly curling into the sheets as she abandoned her phone to grip at her tit tightly, using her nipple as an anchor as she rode out her orgasm on her own fingers.
It was a beautiful thing to watch and, as Edward tucked his cock back into his pants, he imagined the day soon where he would be the one drawing those sweet noises from her. He knew what she liked now, how she liked to tease herself, pinch herself, even how she liked to hold the vibe in such a way that the intense sensations were just off from her clit.
When she slept, he would sneak out. The small part of him which was disappointed to have not gained what he came for was vastly outweighed by the exhilarated part of him which only felt their connection grow stronger, their shared pleasure giving him a new perspective on what they could have if only his plans would allow him to reveal himself to her.
As she lay quietly on the bed, her slow steadying breaths pairing with a satisfied grin which she flashed at her phone as she switched the porn she had been enjoying off, Edward blinked at her from his hidden vantagepoint; his eyes snapping shut with a determined smile as though committing the sight of her like this to memory.
summary: In his fixation with you, Edward forgets how he is perceived by others.
contains: reader works at a bookstore, obsessed Edward
warnings: BIG dub-con warning, stalking, masturbation, mental breakdown (when is he not breading down), If there are any i missed please tell me
word count: 5.3k
masterlist
a.n: long time no seeeee. i lost the reference picture for the bookmark that i was going to make the header and im unwell. this chapter is (finally) brought to you by Eraser – Nine Inch Nails
taglist: @powerhourpermile
Last week, Edward had picked up on one of your most endearing habits. The moment you had brought a book home, you could hardly contain yourself – you dove straight into its pages. He loved watching you read – not just the expressions you made, or how you’d try the dialogue in your own voice. No, what captivated him most of all was the bothersome realization that you had to put your book down. He would watch your head tilt back in frustration, then reach for just about anything to mark the page. Why, he’d ask himself, don’t you of all people have a bookmark? But truthfully, he loved the improvisation. It was more than entertaining watching you rip part of an envelope, or fishing for a receipt in your pocket. And when nothing was within reach, Edward would join your hunt. He’d scan the edges of his screen for anything – anything at all – that might serve as your savior. All within the narrow window of his stolen view.
That was why he was practically skipping to your bookstore today. Edward had bought you a gift. Something small, really, but the second he laid his eyes on the intricately patterned bookmark (bonus points for having it in a favorite color of yours), it was imperative that he present it to you.
His whole body vibrates with elation, weaving through the crowds of bowed heads. Some dare to look up, their pitiful jealousy souring their expressions because how dare he find some light in the dreariest of cities. Oh, how miserable it must be to not have someone like you in life.
He berates himself, quickly stopping his clammy hand from fidgeting with the plastic that protected the polished metal. In this moment, some part of him really believes that he would be the one to offer this gift to you directly. His shoulders sink, his steps faltering. He is foolish enough to believe he can face you.
Can he really look you in the eye and offer you this token without trembling? He stops just a few blocks from the building.
Does he – in good conscience – believe that he wouldn’t be sick with fear at the implications of giving you gifts? He thought of himself as a very stupid man in that moment.
The wind scrapes against his face as he stands motionless outside the bookstore. The thought of handing it to you – watching your fingers brush his as you took it, hearing your voice wrap around a thank you – was intoxicating enough to tip him over. But fantasy was safe. Real life was brutal. It would strip hope raw and bled it out under fluorescents and security cameras. So, instead, Edward does what he knows he does best. He observed. Adapted. Became invisible.
A very stupid man – yes – but one who will find a way.
He didn’t exactly need to give it to you directly. No, no – of course not. That was madness. He had no business being that close to you. He could barely even breathe in your presence.
He watches the doors, or rather, the faint outline of himself reflected in their glass. All he had to do was place the bookmark near the register. Not on it, but just beside the tray where people left receipts or coupons. The register would be momentarily unattended at opening. You’d arrive shortfly after. You would see it. You always place a novel there when you are reading between customers. Edward’s legs carry him forward before his mind catches up.
The air inside feels feverish against his skin and faintly smells cleaner than usual. He keeps his head down, letting his eyes adjust. There is a customer near the horror section and your coworker – the one who always lingered too close to you – has his back turned to Edward. Edward avoids eye contact. His heart nearly ripping through his ribs, sweat prickling behind his ears.
Now.
He moves slowly, casually, up to the register, and thumbs through the flyer rack beside it. He slips his hand in his pocket, letting the bookmark slide into his palm. He pictures your fingers on it – touching it. It would brush your lips as you absentmindedly held it while reading, and his stomach twists violently with pleasure and shame. It would touch you before he could, he realizes.
Just the faintest sound of plastic can be heard; it had made contact.
Gently… gentl–
“Can I help you with something, man?” your coworker snaps, suspicious from the jump.
Edward jerks his hand back like something had burned it. He isn’t even sure if he still held the bookmark as he stumbles and swirls to face the magazine rack beside him.
“No, he mumbles. “Just browsing.”
The man says nothing. Edward feels eyes on him still. His face flushes a terrible, blotchy red.
He flips through a gardening magazine he doesn’t even register. Sweat gathers on his upper lip. A full-body shiver overtakes him; goosebumps rise in its wake.
You were here.
He doesn’t need to see you, He feels you. The air shifts charged and warm. Your scent wafts toward him, and his ears ring with the effort not to look. He wants so badly to drink you with these starving eyes of his.
His body betrays him anyway.
He angles himself just enough to catch a flash of your hair. But your voice, like a magnet, turns his head all the way just to glance over his shoulder. The sound of you greeting your coworker folds him in half inside. Edward watches as your mouth curves, and the part of him that has been burning in anxiety just seconds before throbs with something else entirely.
Your eyes flick to him – a second, maybe less. You give him that smile.
And of course, that prick had to notice it.
“Can I show you something in the back aisle?” he asks you, loud enough for Edward to just barely hear.
Something coils in his chest. He watches, helplessly, as you follow him.
Edward drifts too – just a good few seconds after – toward the adjacent aisle. Close enough to hear but hidden enough. He strains to listen.
“Hey,” your coworker’s voice drops. “I don’t want to freak you out, but… I never see that guy outside your shifts. Like… ever. I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I-I could say something—"
Edward’s throat tightens so hard he nearly chokes.
His vision swims, an angry red seeping into the corners. He was sure his mind was fracturing – here, now, in the middle of the store.
The idea of you looking at him with revulsion – of you agreeing – of you going to some flat-faced Gotham police officer with trembling hands and a photograph of his face. Your coworker’s skull against the pavement, again and again and again.
Your voice.
“That’s sweet of you, but I think you’re overthinking it.” Soft. Dismissive.
Edward’s stomach drops in disbelief.
You laugh a little, almost embarrassed. “He seems harmless.”
The coworker seems to hesitate. “Still. If he’s making you uncomfortable—”
“I’m not uncomfortable.” You sound almost firm now. Not annoyed, but… resolute. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
If anything else is being said, Edward can’t register it.
You defended him. You defended him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, but they water anyway. A flush of ecstasy and confusion shoots through him. You can… you can understand him. You know he’s not like everyone else – that he’s not a threat. That he’s harmless, that he was—
Yours.
But—
No.
No, no, no. This isn’t right. It doesn’t feel right.
Because if your coworker had noticed how he lingered around you, that meant others could too. Maybe he’d point it out next time. His gift.
Oh God, the gift.
You’d find it. Your coworker would be right there.
”Didn’t I tell you?” he’d sneer, gesturing toward the bookmark. “Creepy little freak.”
And you… you would turn.
You would turn toward Edward with those eyes – those divine, hallowed, heaven-crafted eyes warped with fear. Revulsion.
The moment would stretch into something surreal, time crawling sluggishly. You’d stare at him; your hand clutched around the polished edge of the bookmark he chose so carefully.
Your face would contort, slowly – the muscles tightening, your lips parting in the shape of a scream he hadn’t even heard yet. And yet, he could already feel it tearing through his skull. His gift, meant as an offering, would fall from your hands and hit the floor with a clink that would echo in his ears forever. Your face – your beautiful, untouchable face – twisted in horror.
You’ve worked through this before, he reminds himself. Stop and breathe. Stop. Breathe.
He couldn’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
And in the present, Edward is already halfway down the block. His feet move on instinct, his coat whipping around his legs as he barrels through the crowd. He doesn’t care who stares, who he bumps into. His skin is crawling. The inside of his skull felt too hot. He was speedwalking like he could outrun the humiliation before it could catch up to him.
His legs burn, his vision blurring.
Edward doesn’t stop moving until the bookstore is miles behind him, and he is back in the dark stillness of his apartment. He is breathless and vibrating.
He slams the door and locks it three times.
His gift was supposed to make you smile. Instead, it might have destroyed him.
After drowning in his own thoughts, Edward peels himself away from his door. He makes it to the far corner, where he paces back and forth so furiously it makes his floorboards cry out. He’s crying – in waves, in jagged bursts of sound that catch his throat and sputter out. His hands won’t stop trembling. At one point, he grips the edge of his kitchen counter and almost wretches over the sink. He claws at his hair, arms trembling. His glasses hang crooked on the bridge of his nose.
He wraps his arms tightly around himself and whimpers softly, head dropping with the weight of self-hatred. He doesn’t think to take his coat off or his shoes. He just walks in uneven circles, his palms slapping the sides of his head one after the other. He stops short as his foot clips the wheel of his desk chair.
It sists waits innocently for him in front of his monitor. He knows that it’s still open to the window, still showing the last frozen frame of your apartment from when he’d checked earlier that morning. All he has to do is bring it to life – to bring your space to life. He stares at it. He sways on his feet. He’s spent hours in that chair watching you. Breathing to your rhythm; reading when you read, living when you lived.
Edward grips the back of it, jaw trembling.
It sails backward as he throws it violently across the room. It hits a wall with a dull smack and topples onto its side. One of the wheels must have cracked, but he doesn’t even flinch. He only stares at the darkened screen instead.
His hands twitch, as if heading toward the mouse, but he retreats. The proximity burns him more than the cries from his throat. Like his own desire is made of acid.
“No,” he weakly says aloud, shaking his head.
He can’t watch. Not tonight – you weren’t even home yet. Not after your coworker opened your mind to his behavior. You would find the gift, and you’d know. You’d hate it.
Don’t look at the computer.
Don’t check the time.
Don’t even touch the box.
The box.
Edward’s entire frame jolts violently at the reminder. His box of mementos hidden behind a second cardboard box, next to his mattress, and beneath stacks of useless tax papers. He itched to touch it. He wanted so desperately to lay everything out and just look.
His hands continue to claw at his scalp. He drags his fingers down his face, leaving hot smears of moisture down his neck. He can’t tell if it’s tears or sweat or both.
His body can’t hold the tremor anymore. His shoulders collapsed inward as he stumbled toward the mattress like he was drunk. He can’t even make it.
He tries to sit on the floor, only to end up collapsing instead. His knees hit the wood hard first. He clutches the hem of his coat, mouth open and gasping. His forehead drags forward until it bumps against the floor. He’s on his side, knees pulled in, fists jammed against his lips. His sobs go muffled in his palms.
The crying didn’t even sound like him anymore. It came out ugly and desperate – a choked keening. It mixed with the shaking apologies under his breath, over and over, to no one. His voice is thick with snot, the whole front of his face wet.
I just wanted to give you something, just something nice, I’m sorry.
He rocked back and forth, pressing his forehead into the cold floor. His ribs cramped with the force of the crying, his back heaving. It had never been this bad. It had never hurt like this.
He’d panicked before – sweating through shirts, shaken all night at the thought of you catching him on the feed. But this… this was something worse. He was mourning you – someone still alive and breathing. He wasn’t sure what he was weeping for – the possibility of his dying fantasy, or the punishment.
He hated himself.
He hated that he couldn’t just stop this, and his lack of control. That even now, even as he curled into a pile of his own tears and mucus, he wanted – needed – to see you.
He needed you at home. He needed you to be here and telling him it was okay. That he wasn’t a monster, and not as disgusting or useless as even he believed himself to be.
So, he stays, knees folded up to his chest, snot dripping from his nose. He doesn’t move even as his face is raw, and his voice is down to a rasp. Time to him became meaningless. Outside, the sounds of Gotham leak in – sirens, the low bass from a passing car, someone screaming a name in the street. The sky outside has long since blackened. The city hums through the walls, and Edward lies in the center of it all like a dying thing.
But, from the floor – barely able to lift his head – Edward’s eyes drag toward the blank screen. He can feel it calling to him, he really can. Like a hook, dragging through his ribs.
His palms slap the floor as he drags himself on all fours. Every breath comes out as pants, his knees scraping the floor. He doesn’t spare a glance toward his chair – he doesn’t deserve the luxury. His fingers scratch against the floor like he was trying to pull himself through a war zone. He knocks his knee against something hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t feel it.
He slaps a trembling hand against the keyboard until the light from his screen nearly blinds him. Sitting back on his legs, he types out the commands to your feed. His hair sticks to his forehead, and he quickly wipes away the drool escaping the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t know what he expects.
Maybe nothing. Maybe you hadn’t bothered to read tonight. Or maybe you were reading, just somewhere out of sight. He could view that as a mercy, or maybe it would kill him.
But when the feed boots up, every pixel seemed to move into place slowly. Pixelated black, then movement. Your movement.
Edward’s breath catches in his throat so fast it cuts off a noise that had started to crawl up from his chest. He jolts like he’s been shocked, his pupils flood with black, his lashes wet and clumped together. He crawls closer to the monitor, still on his knees.
You’ve changed into your sleep clothes – making you look soft and warm. Like you’ve been kissed by the golden light of your lamp. Then he sees it, tucked neatly seemingly a chapter away (which he assumes must be your reading goal for the night). It gleams in the yellow lighting – silver filigree, and the small silk ribbon trailing from its top.
Edward’s hand flies to his mouth and clamps over it as a sob yanks out of his chest. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, and he doesn’t think he ever could. He’s past knowing what his body is doing anymore. But the bookmark is there – and you’re using it. You’re using it.
His knees spread further on the on the hardwood as he gets as close to the monitor as he physically can. His eyes are wide and soaked, breathing so fast it could kill him. He pants against his own palm, and when his hand drops, it leaves behind a streak of spit and tears across his chin.
You shift a little to scratch your knee, and the book rustles. The bookmark slips out just slightly and you reach for it, your fingers pinching the top edge to tuck it back in.
He lets out a shuddering noise, his eyes flutter like it pains him to even see you. His fingers tremble as they press against the desk in an attempt to steady himself. His whole body has gone hot, not from shame, but from something so full of pressure and longing he feels like it might burst straight from his skin.
You touch it. You touched it. You held it. It touched you. You accepted it.
His chest swells with something far too big for one man to hold. He’s sobbing again, mouth hanging open like he’s never seen something so divine.
His hands move fast as his shaky fingers pull the zipper down to free himself. His cock is already half-hard and aching, but there’s nothing sweet or erotic in the way he handles it. It was purely compulsive – so clumsy. His eyes never leave the screen, and fresh tears slid down his cheeks.
He wraps his hand around himself with a broken noise in his throat. “Oh—God—”
The first stroke is so desperate it nearly hurts.
The monitor glows white-blue across his skin – illuminating every fragile, pitiful inch of him as he jerks himself with wet, frantic movements. His breath hitches so high it sounds like a whimper, and in all but name, it is. His pale belly trembles with every shaky breath.
He watches you intently, keening. You’re mouthing something to yourself, acting out like he’s seen you do a hundred times – and his hand starts to move faster. Each time your lips form new shapes he can’t hear, his hips buck. His body jerks in pitiful little thrusts against his own hand, a grotesque parody of connection.
“I’m sorry—” he chokes.
And he is – he is.
But your fingers brush the bookmark again, and his mouth trembles to let out a soft moan. His hand moves faster, frantic and ugly. He’d never done this – gotten himself off to your feed like you were some cam girl.
“I’m sorry—I’m so—sorry—” he sobs, the words hitching and falling from his mouth.
He catches his bottom lip in his teeth, like he’s scared someone might hear him. Not that it mattered, his mouth fell open again when he saw you playing with the ribbon.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean—I just wanted to—I just wanted you to touch it—I just—"
He weeps harder every second, but your skin just looked so soft. His body shudders, thighs trembling beneath him. You have no idea how close you are to being worshipped at this moment.
He tips forward, his free hand catching on the edge of the desk to brace himself. His body curls tighter, his knees pressing onto the floor hard enough to hurt. He watches the monitor like it’s the face of God – and in that moment, you are. Your very presence absolves and damns him at once.
Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. Have mercy.
The sound of skin against his palm fills the room – a slick, fast rhythm accompanied by sniffling and the occasional whimpering of your name. He can feel it building in his stomach already – shameful. Edward moans when you almost reach the bookmarked page, shaking so badly he nearly topples over. He strokes harder, every muscle in his body working against him.
He doesn’t dare whisper your name now – not when he’s turned the sacred into something so vile. His ears are ringing from shame, and his knees burn from the floor. His chin trembles violently for the apologies he can’t even bring himself to make.
It was miserable. It was like his body had purged it, right on his floor. Some of the warmth had hit his stomach and cooled in seconds. His body spasms as his hand keeps pumping long past the point of sensation, like he doesn’t know how to stop.
Edward feels just as hollow as he has been for the past few hours, if not worse. His hand drops limply from his lap. He looks down at himself, disgust curling in his gut. He stills with his seed cooling on his skin. He can’t breathe – not from exertion, but from how heavy the silence hangs over his desecration of you.
Edward doesn’t know how he can bring himself here after his atrocities the other night. The thought alone makes his gut twist. He shouldn’t be here, at his table with his view of you. He told himself that before he even got off the train, again when he climbs the steps to the street level, and a third time when he catches sight of the faded green awning across the street. It pained him, greatly, to be in your presence. If he could apologize without the embarrassment of explaining, he would. His face burns when he remembers the feel of his cock in his hand – how quickly he’d unraveled at just the sight of you using the gift he left behind. After what he’d done, and what he’d said – murmuring to himself like a deranged priest in a perverse confessional. After he came with his face lit by the glow of your lamp through his screen. He hadn’t even bothered to clean the mess off his floor until the morning sun had begun bleeding through his blinds, making the dried stickiness on his skin feel even more grotesque. He had wept again as he wiped it up.
But he had thought, If I can just see you again and not give in, then I’m not a monster.
Because he had restraint before, he had shown you and himself that – more or less.
So here he was, returning to his shrine. He had arrived with hand buried in his pockets, eyes downcast, like a coward’s pilgrimage.
That’s why he hadn’t heard you approaching.
“Hey, you,” you say.
Edward startles hard enough to drop his book, and he immediately hates himself for it. So weak. His mouth goes dry, his throat locks. He slowly raises his head, already feeling the heat crawl up his neck.
There you are standing beside him. Close enough that he can see the stitching on your name tag. Your eyes are as kind as usual. Pitying, maybe? Did you see him freeze? Did you know?
Your hands are empty, like you came here just to speak to him.
His breath goes shallow, his brain feels like it will melt at any second. You shouldn’t be here, and you shouldn’t be talking to him. This is a trap, it has to be. It’s a test, a punishment. You know. You have to know. Why else would you come up to him?
He wants to disappear; he wants to rewind time and never set foot here again. He wants to look at you forever.
“Hi?” He cringes as it comes out.
You just smile like you’re trying not to laugh, and that’s when he notices the bags under your eyes. We seem to be matching, he wants to say about how sleepless you both look, but he’s not sure it’ll make much sense.
“What’s gotten your attention today?” You tilt closer to inspect the book he was gripping tightly.
“Um, it’s not—I just picked it up—”
“‘Plants That Kill.’” Your eyes gleam with something as you peer up at him. He’d never been this close to you. “Hm. Who are you killing?”
You smelled like nothing he’d ever had the pleasure of smelling before. His head feels as though it would swell if he truly realized how close he was to you at this moment. He could see every detail, each one fueling his heart to stutter. Since when had you worn that flower pendant? The chain wrapped around your neck, the petals glinting faintly under the lights. Your brow twitches, and he realizes—
Edward begins to sputter out, his eyes widening. “Kill? No—no! I’m not—not killing anyone. No, I’m just—it—work research! I swear. It’s just for, just for work—”
Your laughter stops him immediately. You take a step back, needing to brace yourself on a book rack beside you.
“I’m sorry,” you exhale, laughter still lingering as you rest a hand over your heart. “The question was a joke, but I think I’m now complicit in something.”
“No! Never! I wouldn’t—” His snaps his jaw shut, letting you laugh and praying you didn’t catch on to what he was saying. “No, of course… I knew you were, uh, joking.”
He forces a chuckle for good measure.
“So, it’s for work?” you ask after your laughter dies down. “That sounds really interesting.”
“Yes. Work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a forensic accountant.”
You blink.
Oh.
Edward realizes his mistake a second too late, and he hopes all the color didn’t drain from his face. That wasn’t his job’s research – it was his research. The other work, the real work.
He spits out the first lie he can think of. “Money laundering flower shop. Research for it. Money laundering… it’s what I do—uh, what look into.”
He tries to laugh again, but it comes out thin and strangled.
You smile anyway, mercifully, and his stomach knots at the way you tilt your head. It’s not condescending, and it’s not even confusion – just amusement. As if you were already used to his weirdness, and maybe a little fond of it.
“Well,” you say stepping back, “I guess I’ll steer clear of any flower shops with suspicious plants.”
He forces another laugh. “Yeah. Probably wise.”
You glance back toward the front desk, maybe to the pile of books you still need to work on. You let out a soft sigh. And then, you yawn. He sees the way you try to stifle it into the crook in your arm, how your eyes water just a little. Your shoulders curl inward, and his heart clenches. First the shadows under your eyes, now this?
“Rough night?” he asks, voice low and his brows knitting.
“Rough week, actually.” You give a soft laugh, rubbing a hand over your temple.
Something about the way you say it hits him directly in the chest; the honesty of it, the exhaustion. You’re always so patient with customers. You’re always smiling, always attentive. But you’re just a person, aren’t you? You get tired, you get overwhelmed. You come to work despite it all.
Just like me, he thinks, wildly.
“But,” you continue, waving a hand vaguely toward the scattered carts and stacks. “Still gotta keep going. Justice doesn’t take a day off, right?”
You laugh again, like you know it’s a silly thing to say. But to Edward – it sticks in his head like a knife in wood.
Justice doesn’t take a day off.
His breath catches in his throat. You hadn’t said it with any kind of seriousness. It was just meant to be tossed off, something people say when they’re running o caffeine and muscle memory. But it doesn’t feel like that to him.
To him, it feels pointed. It was something divine filtering through your mouth without you even realizing it. It was meant for him.
You begin to walk away, but you give one last comment over your shoulder.
“Anyway, let me know if you take down that flower shop. I’d like to read your expose – preferably before I accidently buy any deadly daisies.”
He can’t speak, only nod. A faint smile twitches on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
His body feels like it’s locked itself here, your words echoing through him with a strange kind of weight.
Justice doesn’t take a day off.
He came here to prove something to himself – that he could see you and not give in, watch you and not want your hands on him. But here he is, already unraveling from the smallest kindness.
And worse than that – he’s wasting time.
There’s work to do. Real work. He has names, faces, and systems to dismantle. He has messages to craft. The city still festers with filth and rot, and he’s been holed up in his apartment, mourning his own depravity like a fucking child.
What good is guilt if it only paralyzes?
What good is remorse if it doesn’t become something useful?
His leg begins to bounce, adrenaline kicking up behind his knees. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
You believe in justice; he had heard it in your voice. Even if you didn’t act like someone like him, even if you think you were just being funny. You believe. That means something, it has to.
He needs to feel it again.
Not you – not your lamp-glow, your sighs, or the silver glint of that bookmark. He needs the mission. He needs the cold thrill of a new target, a new puzzle, a new thread to pull until it all comes crashing.
He presses the book shut, rising stiffly to his feet.
Edward blinks rapidly, swallowing the last of his cold cup of coffee. The blinds stay drawn, his lamp the only light. The pages bloom across the table like fungal growth. Scribbled notes on ledger paper, blueprints with no real scale. Headlines clippings. Threads connecting threads with slashes of green ink. Something ugly has begun to take its shape.
He circles a name, then a number, then a date. “False charitable write-offs,” he circles that too.
A page crumples.
Another gets pinned to a wall.
Red pen. Green pen. Circle. Arrows. Numbers.
He scrawls it across – big, messy, centered:
JUSTICE DOESN’T TAKE A DAY OFF
He maps a route through the building. He redraws it. The again, shorter this time – cleaner. He starts diagraming light fixtures.
A sticky note with “left elevator = slower”
A second note with “Janitor ID?”
A third with a doodle – an abstract bloom – petals shaped like razors.
He stops and stares at it. His hand trembles, his breath hitching.
He draws it again, this time a little neater. Silver pendant – exactly like the one on your throat.
Okay hear me out.. How would the Riddlers react to slowly realizing that they’re in love with someone?
a/n: asdghj these green beans will be in denial for A LONG TIME but there will be signs you can count on!
Riddlers Realizing They're in Love
Arkhamverse Riddler
Oh, please, like a genius like him has time for such…such matters.
But even a mastermind like Eddie knows the tell-tale signs and he greatly tries to ignore them.
Clammy hands, elevated heart rate, stammering and stuttering his words…like some kind of buffoon.
The small elation of hearing your name or hearing your voice, to have you next to him when he'd sneer and push everyone else away.
Edward shrugs it all off—this…this can't—isn't happening—
Every time you leave, he finds himself missing you more and more…that warm feeling of love rising and lingering longer than the last time he saw you…
It's getting more difficult to say in denial.
Dano/Reevesverse Riddler
Eddie contemplates the notion once he realizes he's been thinking about you…a lot more than he should be.
His mind should be focused on his reformation of Gotham—following Batman's lead for justice—
Yet his mind can't help but wonder about you: what you're up to, how you're feeling, are you safe…
Which is another sign that he's falling for you, he finds himself worried about you—almost an obsessive amount.
Did you make it home okay? Are your doors locked? Windows shut? Are you sure no one's followed you home? (well, besides himself anyway)
Once he's accepted the fact that what he feels…can only be described as love…
Eddie feels more invigorated than ever to go through with his plans…after all if anyone deserves a better Gotham…it's you.
Gotham Riddler
Definitely one of the few Riddlers that's well aware of when he's falling in love.
It makes him anxious as one might expect, but not for the same reasons as most…
For Eddie, when he realizes he's falling in love again, he's anxious that something will happen to you as a result of it…after all everyone he's previously been in love with is now dead.
Eddie will try and push the feelings down, but remain cordial, kind, and friendly—even if it kills him not to admire you.
Meanwhile, Ed, thinks…no he knows, you'll be different! You can handle him—both sides of him—you wouldn't run away.
It is Ed that eventually pursues you, behind Eddie's back.
Eddie can only hope that Ed is right and that you won't be afraid of him…or become a target…
BTAS Riddler
Edward is smitten almost immediately.
He tries to stay…calm and collected…not let this—sudden fondness get the better of him…but to no avail.
He can tell it's love when he thinks about you after finishing a new project.
Among it's completion, he wonders what you would think about his new puzzles or toys he designed…how you'd like his new riddles.
The signs of infatuation only get more obvious as he begins blushing and stuttering over his words around you. Especially after you praise him for his latest invention~
He finds himself almost wanting to impress you more than outwitting Batman…almost…
But he definitely begins seeking your approval more so than his investors~
Zero Year/Capullo Riddler
Edward scoffs at the idea…
Sure, it's a sweet idea…an ideal outcome for most to find love.
He figures it's just not in the cards for him—already deciding no one out there could ever meet up to his expectations.
If (and it's a big if) he does start falling in love, he will take notice—and urgently try to ignore it.
Ed will still be condescending, rude, and blunt towards you—but he actually feels dejected when you get frustrated with him and walk off.
He doesn't get as annoyed with you as others, finding the banter between you two amusing.
Edward wants to keep you around…he can't deny enjoying you presence, and surely this feeling will subside once you inevitably bore him…right?
Gotham City Sirens Riddler
Well, for starters, he must really think highly of you if he goes out of his way to set up dates with you—
Often times, Ed gets sidetracked with work to call back for a second date or found the first date to be underwhelming.
But he put forth the effort to be with you, unless it was an emergency or he was caught in a snag and he couldn't make it…but even when that happened, you always understood.
Which just made him appreciate you even more.
You knew to an extent who he was and what he does…and when you didn't pry when something occured…it made him want to tell you everything.
Something else that was unlike him, to feel this desire to be vulnerable with someone…especially after getting burned before by so called "friends".
Edward continues to make the effort to keep you around and slowly comes to terms that he may indeed be in love with you.
Telltale Riddler
Edward believes he's far too old and past his prime to pursue such endeavors.
It's not even so much that he thinks no one is good enough but that…he didn't want to put someone he cares about in harm's way…given his colorful and infamous past.
For Edward, there was no point to love…not anymore, but he knew himself well enough to know the signs.
The way his shoulders slump slightly, his voice isn't so heavy with intimidation or condescension, and the way his walls open up slightly.
Hearing your name…brings a small pleased smile on his face, as he quietly hopes to see you soon.
Edward has no contention admitting to himself he's in love…it's whether he'll ever tell you…is the true enigma.
Young Justice Riddler
Oh boy...oh God…oh geez…
It's…painfully obvious early on that he's head over heels for you.
Eddie can't stop thinking about you—what to say the next time he sees you, how to impress you, to get you to notice him…
You're a fairly big distraction much to the chagrin of Eddie's teammates.
He goes out of his way to try and spend as much time with you as he can…
Even while simultaneously being a nervous wreck about being near you for an extended period of time.
Unlike the previous Riddlers on this list, when he's in love—even if he desperately tries to hide it…he fails miserably at hiding it.
i have not stopped thinking about this image since it dropped. it haunts my thoughts 24/7. i have to pay tribute to it before bed every night. i have a shrine in every room of my house dedicated to it. i will never be the same again.
