Hey, my lovelies, back with another Headcanon. I hope you enjoy it!
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
❀All it takes is one glance, Victor knows he has to have you. He’s fascinated by your every move, the way in which you go about your world. Victor keeps low while he watches you from afar.
❀From that moment. Victor follows you everywhere. Silently, discreetly, he’s watching you, taking out anyone who poses a threat. Another tally on his body, he doesn’t care; no one gets to touch you, to look at you, to interact with you in a way he doesn’t like.
❀Which leads him to do research in learning everything about you. He wants to know where you work, where you live, who's in your life, down to the smallest of details, favourite food, favourite colour, etc.
❀Once the information is gathered, Victor begins to work on a plan to induct himself into your life. Victor doesn’t make it abrupt; he’s subtle. A meeting, crossing paths in the street. It takes him weeks, but little by little, he begins to make your acquaintance. He keeps a book of information so he knows exactly where you’re at.
❀It’s also something to remind him of the progress you’re making. The day you first smiled at him. The day your eyes first met. It’s all documented. When he’s finished for the day, Victor likes to look at it, to remind himself of what he’s working toward.
❀Victor doesn’t tell anyone, keeping you his secret. He doesn’t want anyone to persuade him not to do it. He doesn’t want anyone knowing for the first time that he has a weakness. Perhaps it is why Victor makes sure he’s ready, ready to protect you just in case. He’s vigilant when he’s around you, checking to see if anyone’s lurking around. Victor becomes prepared for anything.
❀You consume Victor’s every waking thought, when he’s working, when he’s lying in bed at night. Victor cannot help it; you’ve overcome his senses, filled them in a new and exciting way. Victor doesn’t know what you’ve done to him, but he’s not going to let you go.
Also, I suppose you could also imagine Gotham riddler to this too, bc I honestly love him, but I'm just so obsessed with arkham Ed atm that I didn't know who to base it off of😭🙏
The door barely had time to slam shut before you were shoved back against it. Hard.
Your breath hitched, more from surprise than fear, as gloved hands caught your wrists and pinned them above your head. The impact echoed through the empty room; metal, cold, unforgiving, just like him.
“Careless,” Edward snapped, his voice low and razor-edged.
“Reckless, impulsive. Do you enjoy making my work more difficult?”
You tried to twist your hands free. It didn’t work.
Of course it didn’t.
His grip tightened instantly in response, fingers digging just enough to remind you who was in control here.
“Don’t,” he warned, quieter now.
Your body stilled, his icy eyes gleaming down at you.
There was something dangerous in the way he was looking at you. His eyes looked sharp, but underneath that… something far less composed, unhinged even?
“You weren’t supposed to be there,” he continued, leaning closer. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“And since when do I follow your plans?” You shot back, breath uneven but defiant.
His jaw clenched. In one swift motion, he shifted your wrists into one hand, freeing the other to grab your chin, firmly forcing you to look directly at him.
“Since your life started depending on them Y/N,” he said.
The room went quiet.
For a second, it wasn’t the Riddler standing in front of you. Not the showman everyone in gotham knew, not the ego maniac everyone saw, not the man who coated every scheme in theatrics.
It was just Edward. Frustrated, furious, yet also worried..
“You think this is a game?” he muttered, grip tightening just slightly. “Running into situations without thinking, drawing attention to yourself- god, do you have any idea what would happen if—”
His voice hitched, then he stopped speaking. He looked away from you momentarily, his eyes closing as his eyebrows furrowed.
You watched the thought die on his tongue.
“…if what?” you pushed.
His eyes flickered, something sharp cracking through the usual confidence.
“If someone else got to you first,” he finished, his tone lower now. Controlled again, but barely.
Your pulse jumped.
“Oh,” you said quietly. “So that’s what this is about.”
He scoffed but didn’t let go. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Edward,” you said, softer now, “you’re shaking.”
That did it.
For a split second, his grip faltered. Not enough to let you go, but enough for you to feel it.
You took advantage of it, tilting your head just slightly despite his hold.
“You don’t get to act like you don’t care,” you added.
He exhaled sharply and released your chin, but not your wrists. Instead, he stepped closer, crowding your space, his voice dropping to something quieter…more dangerous.
“I care,” he admitted, almost bitterly. “That’s precisely the problem.”
Your heart stuttered.
His gaze dragged over your face, searching for something, like he was trying to solve something that didn’t have an answer.
“You make it very difficult to think,” he muttered.
He paused.Then, he quietly spoke.
“And I don’t like things I can’t solve.”
You let out a small breath, tension shifting into something heavier, thicker.
“Maybe you’re not supposed to solve me,” you said.
His eyes snapped back to yours.
For a moment, it looked like he might argue.
“Next time,” he said, voice steady again, slipping back into that familiar control, “you follow the plan.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Or what?”
A flicker of something dangerous crossed his expression.
“Or,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “I make sure you don’t have the option not to.”
Your breath caught.
Then,finally,he let go.
However, the feeling of his hands lingered long after he stepped away.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
You slowly lowered your arms, wrists tingling where his grip had been. The imprint of it,firm and unyielding, lingered in a way that was almost distracting. You flexed your fingers once, then twice, like you were trying to shake him off.
It didn’t work.
Behind you, Edward moved across the room, the sharp click of his cane against the floor breaking the quiet in measured beats. Like the moment from seconds ago had never happened.
Like he hadn’t just done what he did??
You pushed yourself off the door.
“Make sure I don’t have the option?” You repeated, incredulous. “You hear yourself, right?”
He didn’t turn around.
“Perfectly,” he replied.
That annoyed you more than it should’ve.
You crossed the room toward him, boots echoing against the concrete. “You don’t get to just grab me, throw me around, and then act like that’s normal.”
He stopped pacing, and the clicking stopped briefly.
Then his shoulders stiffened slightly before he resumed walking, slower this time.
“You forced my hand,” he said lowly. “Your unpredictability required…correction.”
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Correction?”
“Yes.”
You stepped in front of him, cutting him off.
“Try that again,” you challenged.
His eyes snapped to yours, something sharp flashing behind them again, like before. You were clearly pushing him and he was trying so hard to control something inside of him.
“You’re pushing your luck,” he said.
“And you’re dodging,” you shot back. “Why did you actually react like that?”
His gaze didn’t waver, but you could feel the shift. That careful, calculated mask of his slipping ever so slightly.
“You compromised the plan,” he repeated.
“Not good enough.”
His jaw tightened.
“Edward.”
Your voice softened, not in a weak way, just steady.
“Why.” You asked again.
The question hung there, heavier this time.
For a second, you thought he might brush it off again.
“You were outnumbered.”The answer came quietly.
Like he hadn’t meant to say it.
You blinked.
“…what?”
He exhaled sharply, clearly irritated, with himself, more than you.
“I calculated the variables,” he continued, words more clipped now. “Four armed men, limited exits, no backup. You walked into a statistically unfavourable situation.”
“That’s not—”
“—a situation you would have survived alone,” he snapped.
The room fell silent, the ambience slightly dimming.
That… wasn’t what you expected.
Your expression shifted, something softer creeping in before you could stop it.
“…so you lost it because you thought I was gonna die?”
His grip tightened around his cane.
“I don’t 'lose it'.” He said stiffly.
You tilted your head, studying him.
“Edward..”
He didn’t respond.
“You panicked.”
“I did not—” He retaliated.
“You did.”
His voice cut off.
You stepped closer, slower this time. Not challenging. Not pushing, not anymore.
Just..there.
“You didn’t care about the plan,” you said softly. “You cared about me.”
His gaze flickered away from you.
That was all the confirmation you needed.
“You’re making assumptions,” he said, but it lacked his usual bite.
“And you’re bad at hiding things when you’re stressed, Ed.”
That earned you a look.
Not a mocking look, but an intense one.
“Careful,” he murmured.
But he didn’t move away.
Neither did you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
His voice then picked up quietly.
“You’re not expendable,” he said.
The words landed heavier than anything else he’d said.
“That’s your big confession?” you tried lighter,but it didn’t quite land.
His eyes narrowed faintly, like he knew exactly what you were doing.
“You’d prefer something more dramatic?” he asked. “A grand declaration? Should I draft a riddle about it my dear?”
You huffed a small laugh despite yourself. “God, no.”
“…but you could just say it, ya know...”
Those pale eyes fell onto you again as he leaned on his cane.
“I just did,” he said.
You held his gaze.
“Not really.”
Silence filled the room once more.
His body shifted off his support and he walked towards you.
His hand caught your wrist again.
It wasn't as rough as before but it was still firm.
He pulled you a step closer, just enough to close the space between you, not pinning, not trapping...just there, like you were before.
“You have an extraordinary talent,” he said quietly, “for demanding answers you’re not prepared to hear.”
Your heart picked up.
“Try me.”
His thumb brushed over your palm lightly. Brows furrowing together once again. Lips open, yet no words came out. For once, Edward Nygma hesitated.
“…you’re a variable I can’t control,” he admitted, voice lower now. “And I don’t like what happens when I can’t account for something.”
You swallowed, your lips parting slightly after doing so.
“And?”
His gaze dropped briefly to where he was holding your wrist; then back to your eyes.
“And that makes you…” he paused, like he hated the word before it even left his mouth.
“…important.”
The word wasn’t dramatic. Hell, It wasn’t even poetic, but coming from him? It meant everything.
You didn’t pull your hand away.
“Was that so hard?” you murmured.
He scoffed lightly, but there was no real edge to it this time.
“Immensely.”
A small smile tugged at your lips.
"Will you listen to me from now on then?" He asked, even though he wasn't going to take no for an answer this time.
"Yes Mr Nigma sir." You say, quietly laughing at the end.
He released your wrists, but he stepped even closer now, his voice low and pathetic.
"Y/N.... I'm being serious."
His hand came up to your jaw as his lips crashed against yours.
Heated, desperate and passionate.
A few seconds passed and you broke the kiss.
"If this is what I get for pissing you off Ed, then Im gunna do it more often." You say quietly.
He grinned, his thumb grazing over your red flushed cheek.
"You'll get a lot worse than this if you keep doing it, dear." His tone slipped between playful and warning.
"I was kidding.. but I have been wanting you to do that for a while." Your cheeks lit up even more, and your eyes darted away from his.
His other hand came up and turned your head to look at him and he placed a small kiss on your lips, then your forehead.
"I didn't know you felt the same way..." His eyes filled themselves with doubt.
Your head tilted into his large hand and you looked up at him.
"I thought it was obvious when I was flirting with you months ago when we first met." You laughed, smiling at him.
He let out a small laugh in return.
"Yeah, well, you kept sabotaging my puzzles and jesting me, so forgive me if I got the wrong impression."
"Well, when you put it like that, then maybe I was a bit of an asshole.. but if I hadn't done any of that, then we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"
He let out a slight laugh again and he started walking out the room.
"And don't call me Mr Nigma in that tone missy."
You snorted to yourself.
"Sorry, Mr Nigma, sir." You said as your grin grew.
Edward half turned to look at you and he shook his head grinning.
"Such a minx." He mumbled under his breath.
----
Ts had me GIGGLING MAN😭😭
I might write a Smut part 2 for this because honestly I love this whole scenario.
I'll draft it for now but if anyone likes this idea feel free to just drop random ideas for me to put in the oneshot :P
Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.
Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.
A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.
“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.
“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”
“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”
“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.
“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.
He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.
“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.
“Why is that?” He asks.
“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”
“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.
“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.
You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.
Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.
“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.
“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.
“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.
“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.
Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.
“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.
“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.
“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”
“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.
“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“
“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.
“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.
When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.
You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.
You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.
After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.
“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.
“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.
“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.
“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.
You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.
“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.
“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.
“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.
“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.
After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.
When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.
“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.
“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.
“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.
“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.
“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.
“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.
“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.
“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.
“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.
“Thank you.”
Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.
“How do you do it?” You ask.
“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.
“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”
“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”
“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”
“You think so?” He asks.
“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.
“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.
“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”
“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.
The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.
Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.
“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.
Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.
“When will what stop?” He asks.
“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”
“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.
“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”
Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.
“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.
“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.
“Is this helping?” He asks.
“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.
“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.
“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.
“It was nothing.” He smiles.
“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”
“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.
“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.
“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”
“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.
“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.
“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.
Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.
“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”
request: hi I’m new to tumble and was hoping you could write a yandere victor zsaaz general headcannons @jpmswife
synopsis: zsasz as the possessive, obsessive, protective little shit he is.
warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence/gore, stalking, unhealthy relationships
• despite being a stealthy assassin, victor is very forward with what he wants
• and what victor wants, victor gets
• he may have spotted you on a job, at the iceberg lounge, walking down the street
• regardless of where or when he saw you, the moment he spotted you, you were his
• i don’t think he’d waste any time in approaching you, i don’t think he’d have the self control to hold himself back
• he’d maybe have the self awareness to hold back, just enough, to not scare you off completely
• but the second you showed ANY interest in him he’d go balls to the wall in making sure you were his, and his alone
• you’d often open up your door to flowers, chocolate, jewellery, the severed hand of the barista who made your coffee that morning
• we all know that zsasz is a sadist and stalker extraordinaire, it’s what he does for a living
• so i feel like he’s take sick pleasure in seeing the fear and submission in your eyes, created solely by and for him
• i think he’d create a twisted love game out of it, pushing and pulling, hurting then comforting, bringing you to tears at your knees before pulling a 180 and worshipping you where you stand, just to keep his hooks in you
• zsasz is a sneaky guy, silent but deadly, you’d absolutely walk into your room to see him shuffling through your drawers, shoving a bra or a pair of your underwear into his back pocket with 0 shame
• or he’d scare the absolute shit out of you as you walk back into your kitchen to find him perched on your benchtop, sucking on the butterknife you used moments ago to make a pb&j (and you were sure he was not there when you made it)
• if you ever fought back or lashed out, he’d obviously be devastated, but i don’t think he’d let it slip to your face
• “victor, you’re creeping me out! i don’t want to see you anymore, get the fuck out!”
• “awh darling, you always know what to say to make a man weak at the knees”
• *goes home and punches several holes into the wall*
• he’s like the stray cat that finds it’s way into your house and pisses on your bed, and you’ll kick it out again and again, but somehow, at the end of the day, you always end up leaving out a saucer of milk for the little bastard anyway
Warnings; mentions of death/ murder, threats, crime
Theo bowed his head down as his maniac eyes stared into your eyes, attempting to intimidate you. But that wouldn’t work, it never did, you’d have thought he’d have grown wise to this now. He only came here when he wanted something, all you had to do was await for him to reveal what that was.
“The Maniacs.” At the name, you began chewing your gum, unbothered by the title as you sat behind your desk. It was the same old, psychos on the loose in Gotham. “And I want you to write an article on them, showcasing how threatening they really are to the society.”
“Your band of idiots are already feared Galavan, they don’t need any more press. They’re already on the news, surely that’s more ideal than appearing in a paper.” At the quirk of your brow, Theo gave an airy chuckle, as though he was humoured by your perspective.
“Miss (Y/L/N), I don’t think you understand how this works.” It was no secret to you that the politician was rotten, there weren’t many men in positions of power that weren’t corrupt in some way. The only one that had denied any illegal terms was the detective, Jim Gordon. He was a good apple, almost too good for what the streets of Gotham deserved. “The roles are, I tell you what to do, and I won’t get Tabitha to shoot you in the head.”
It was a threat, however it didn’t make you tremble in the slightest. This wasn’t the first instance in which he came here and threatened you, but your new employer would not have taken kindly to his raging behaviour. Not everyone got what they want, and this mentally disarmed man had to realise that.
“Look man, I don’t work for you. Falcone is my boss, and I’ll give him a call, see what he says about me writing a segment. But I’m not making any promises, and if that is a problem for you, Victor can be here in a minute to ensure you keep your hands to yourself.” Giving a bite to the end of the pen that was in your hand, Theo huffed out his nose, clearly unhappy that this time he didn’t hold the upper hand.
“Fine.” He eventually agreed, tugging at his tie as he impatiently waited for you to pick up the phone. This was a way to spread their wrath, through the beautifully crafted words of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in the Gotham Gazette. His plans always worked, this one must. If not, and you could see it in his expression too, he would perform a tantrum. And that was something that nobody wanted.
The day had come to go to the secret criminal’s apartment, Falcone had gave her the all clear, deciding to up her salary after making a joke about Greenberg taking a bite out of her flesh. And so Theo called a meeting in the dining area, requesting each of their attention.
He himself was distracted, Barbara kept giving him sultry eyes. Her cause of action was to distract him, to overpower him with her sexuality. It was no secret that the woman that murdered her parents had control issues, she was a freak for it. But that said, all of the convicts in this room were freaks. Madmen who obeyed him in exchange for their freedom and his protection. It was a win win, and would be a much larger one once you had written your account and published it in the newspaper.
Walking into the space, you felt all of the crazed eyes on you. Some pairs were analysing how you stood, what your weaknesses were and how to use them against you. Others, particularly male ones, but not all, were inspecting each dip and dive in your body, thinking about how sweet you’d taste of the bones.
However one of those sets of eyes were a memorable emerald, they belonged to the redhead, Jerome Valeska. You had heard about how he had killed his mother, brutally, for the nonstop whining, shagging and beating, you had even wrote a small piece accounting the crime. At the time, you had felt a tad of sympathy for the boy, understanding that he must have gone through a difficult start. But you didn’t deposit all of your pity onto him, murderers would only use that against you to make you their next victim. It was common logic.
“This is (Y/N), she works for the Gotham Gazette, she is here today to collect information that can be used to help your reputation. I am trusting none of you to kill her, she is our guest, and an ally if we can prove that we will be good for her business.” Theo’s hand came to rest on your shoulder which you kept relaxed. Your reflexes wanted to tense and brush his grip off, but you refrained from doing so. It would not be wise to show that you were uncomfortable, it was duty to pretend that you weren’t affected by the contact or scouring eyes.
Holding your head high, your sight caught a glance at the redhead, who wore a grimace that assumingly was supposed to be a smile. He was different from the rest, not only by age, but by his mental capacity. It was visible that he had sustained childhood trauma, and that he thought that every adult, not only the ones in this room, misunderstood his vision. He was a fanatic, he could monitor a ticking clock and care no less if it was the timing remaining on a bomb. The world was a cog, the maniacs, whether it be the ones that he was forced to reside with, or ones that followed him on the street, were the ones that tipped the scales and controlled the workings of the machine.
“Do we have any takers to go first?” At Theo’s enquiry, three hands shot up into the air, clearly desperate for recognised attention. The first was well manicured and struck, belonging to the blonde woman with a crooked yet alluring smile. A gap parted her front two teeth, it was as though from her menacing look of interest, she wanted to sink them into you, however not to devour your flesh which was the reasoning behind Greenberg’s raised arm, but to devour you sexually. That thought sent a stinging shiver up your spine, wanting to delay your time alone with her for as long as humanly possible. She was a killer, hell they all were, but her face presented it to be too sinister for your likening.
As said, Greenberg had his grubby palm upheld towards the spotless ceiling of the Galavans’ penthouse. His chubby fingers wiggled in a crude wave as he caught your unsettled glance reach him, as though he was attempting to hide the hungry monster inside of his body with a faux politeness. It was a part of Gotham knowledge to be aware of his crimes, somehow magnetising the interest of women and biting chunks of meat from off of their bones. He weighed no regret for his appetite, if anything, the time he was exiled into Arkham, the more he happened to crave the supplements of his cannibalistic diet, desiring the blood from within the feminine bodies to run delightedly through his lips. His carnal habits were beyond unnerving, reinforcing your preference to stay comfortably away from the beast.
Last was the handsome redhead, whose body was lounged carelessly atop of the furniture, his face perceiving boredom, his eyes interpreting a newfound curiosity. Jerome Valeska, the boy who killed his nagging, abusive, circus freak of a mother. There was nothing particularly special about his act of violence, mothers of unstable children had their lives ended all the time, however a legacy of potential had surfaced from his first stolen life. He was performer, a man to reckon the stage with his maniacal antics, to force the crowd to applaud him in the wake of his deadly tricks. A cog, he would turn the tables for the future, succumbing Gotham into madness, revealing his vision to those who thought of him as nothing above the average criminal. For some unknow purpose, his exterior drew your intrigue in; you wished to map out the insides of his impulsive brain, understand his methods, fornicate from the wisdom that his revelations gifted you. There was a lesson that you could learn from the convicted clown, you weren’t sure what it was, but his motive made you believe that he could open your eyes. To the truth, to his reality.
“I’ll take the Joker.” That nickname spiralled to your head, it was possible to imagine him with a stretched Chelsea grin and whitened face, the thought made the corners of your lips upturn in the slightest movement. It was hardly noticeable, but no matter, Jerome’s all seeing eyes caught the flicker of amusement.
The grin that you imagined sprawled upon his lips at the name, clearly recognising that it was he that you were describing. His cheeks must have hurt from the harsh usage of the muscles in his face, but he cared nought. He was just pleased, as the showman of the terrible crowd, that he was the first choice, he was the boss. Finally, someone from the outside could see it, as though they were a prophet of the insane, having categorised all three from least threatening to most.
“Very well.” Theo replied, holding no issue against (Y/N) using Jerome as a object in the public’s eye, he was doing the exact same thing to the boy. And soon enough, the benefits of the boy would be reaped to a complete end, he may as well be getting other advantages before that heroic time came to.
Jerome was quick to let out a laugh in the face of Greenberg, who snarled at the resident comedian. (Y/N) was hardly surprised by his actions, until he walked by her dragging her by the hand through the apartment, abandoning his groupies and the man that had him extracted from the asylum. “Good luck.” Theo bid her, visibly understanding why he had earnt no reply. She was swept away, literally, by the GCPD’s most wanted, there was hardly a second of breath that she had to catch.
The feeling of Jerome’s hand guided upon her own made (Y/N) flinch, it had sent an exhilarating spark through her palm that transcended through the rest of her body. She wasn’t sure whether she liked the feeling or not, but alas she had no choice to disconnect from him, his grip was iron like, it felt as though he would never let her go. A part of her resented that idea, but she was here for a job, not to let loose and become infatuated with a sociopath.
“This is my room, make yourself comfortable.” He released her from his clasp, shutting the door behind (Y/N) as she walked suspiciously into the murderer’s confines. It was fairly an ordinary box, there was a katana thrown discarded on the floor, open with its silver side shining up at the ceiling, but that was it. The sight was kind of disappointing, she had expected more life to be within the walls, like a body or such.
Shaking away the cycle of her imagination, (Y/N) sat in the desk chair, whereas Jerome dived onto the bed as though he were a child. It was such an infant like act, but it showed that he was in tune with his inner self, he hadn’t let his wretched hag of a mother force him to grow out of his temper tantrums and amusement.
(Y/N) pulled a notepad from the inner pocket of her coat, holding it upon her knee as she awaited Jerome to situate himself. He stared back at her, taken aback from the beauty that Theo had brought to his abode. She almost had him drooling at her feet, but if he were to do so, she would have to prove herself, prove that she wasn’t the average woman that walked the streets at night with a can of pepper spray.
“How do you feel now that you are no longer in Arkham?” It had the reputation of being a madhouse, even the staff weren’t sane. They were either corrupt or crazy, it hardly seemed like a coincidence that such men and women were hired to monitor the life behind the bars.
Jerome didn’t take long to answer, it was an easy question. “Like the machine continues to turn, my purpose is returned, I am restored to the streets to cause a wreaking of havoc, no one is capable of putting an end to my legacy.” He was quick to jump back into conversation as he himself wanted to enquire about the maiden before him, he had his own stack of questions that were piling up to the ceiling. He’d go insane if they weren’t answered, although he digressed himself as the epidemy of sanity itself. “Now tell me, how did such a lunatic end up working for a newspaper?”
At his return in discussion, the woman’s eyes widened, as though she had been caught in a crime. That had never happened, being caught she meant. “I’m afraid that question is invalid, I wouldn’t consider myself anything but normal. An average muck in the mud, a critic to the public eye, for which I only am for payment.”
“She’s a liar as well, how intriguing.” Jerome’s cheek came to rest on his fist as he stared amorously at the woman. “I thought you were nothing more than a thief and a killer. There was a story that reached my ears, whilst I was in Arkham, regarding an employee of Don Falcone. She had a cover, a job to pass the time, but during the night, she had hobbies. Ones that Jimbo Gordon wouldn’t approve, she studies the crimes of other villains, upstaging them remotely. She perfects their crimes, there is no fault in her method, only perfection and precision. You look quite like a perfectionist to me…”
Air had left (Y/N)’s lungs, as she sat entranced by Jerome’s tale of tongue. He had heard of her doings, she was criminally famous, a figure of excellence and preciseness to those behind bars. And if they knew, it would be no difficulty for her boss to be aware of her free time activities, and he still hadn’t fired her or thought of casting her into the hands of the authorities. That must have meant that Falcone held some respect for her extraction of crimes, and their committed corrections. This left so many thoughts, a publishing of possibilities at her type writing fingertips. She had already made an introduction to the underworld of wanted men and women, there was more that she could accomplish. Perhaps she could tidy up her own personal doings, fixing every tiny detail that she thought could have improvements.
“It’s an art.” Was the simplest connotation that she could give the arising villain. “Nothing can’t be improved, if my mother was still breathing on this planet, I’d have the opportunity of defying everything that got you here, but better of course.” A sprawl of amusement crossed Jerome’s face at his victory, proud that she would even consider such a terrible act so openly; she was as crazy as him, however she’d kept it contained for the public eye, holding a cover over her face so that nobody would suspect her of being a professional at the conflicts against the law. “That’s sort of my signature, but you already knew that. And whatever Gallavan has planned, well, I’ll eventually upstage that too, causing him obscene jealousy and self-hatred for how he could have done so much better.”
“You’re not planning on recreating an act out of Greenberg’s book, are you?” It would be a delight to listen to (Y/N) refuse the idea, and from the quirk of her hitched eyebrow, he realised that he was right. That wasn’t the way that she swam through the tides of crimes, she’d select some that she saw promise in, rather than picking one that lacked logic, and was spurred by a fetish of hunger. At his humorous words, (Y/N) belted out a laugh of bellowing insanity, Jerome thought it was the most attractive thing that he had ever heard. Her job was dismissed as her pen and pad tumbled from her lap and unto the pristine carpet, long forgotten, and neither of the older teenagers could have cared less, not even if the ink spilled on to the material and Theo threatened to have their heads delivered to the GCPD to pay the bill.
“God no!” Her hand clapped down upon the meat of her thigh, noises of amusement still escaping her mouth and nostrils. “That buffoon thinks that he’s all that, in reality however he is no better than a lowlife going to extremes to feed himself. His hunger isn’t insatiable like ours, there’s nothing that interest me in that disgusting cockroach, he’s not unique. If anything he misses some lacquer to the routine in which he presents himself, he thinks he’s the boss, but each media that has captured his intentions can quite clearly see that he’s not the boss. You and I both know who takes that role in dominant position.”
Leaning forward, Jerome planted his pale hands upon her thighs, pulling her in less distance towards his face. His breath fanned across her lips, she could feel the tingle that was making her wanting to press their lips together in a collision, however she remained aboded, still as a statue as she allowed the suitor in crazy speak his mint breathed mind.
“Me.” At his simple, yet effective admittance, (Y/N) reached up, twirling the loose strands of his eye catching hair around her index finger. It was softer than she thought it would be, like silk between the curl of her skin. “I’m the boss.”
“You should remind Galavan of that sweetie, I agree with you. But that man is not to be trusted, he’s a shrew, hiding under a rock that is your little squad. His intentions are never clear, they’re not visions, potential and well adorned visions that you have J.” He liked the name that (Y/N) had dubbed his persona, it was simple yet memorable. She was unusually alluring, perhaps it was because she saw the possibilities that rendered his mind into a haze of a night, or because of her attractiveness. He wasn’t sure himself, but he was not complaining in any way or right, she was unique, her eyes weren’t blocked by the visor of the common perception of normality.
“On one condition.” It was a compromise that he was proposing, a revolutionary, incombustible idea that would benefit them both. (Y/N) hummed as she let her hands slide down his face, teasingly tracing his jaw with the lines of her fingers, until her held them tightly in his grasp, bringing her entire focus onto his intentionally forceful dialogue. “I will be the only one mentioned by name in your article, it will be about me, am I understood?”
“Crystal.” A smirk crept over (Y/N)’s face, completely and utterly okay with his structure to an independent reign in Gotham. It needed control, it needed somebody to open its misty eyes to the reality that it was evading. Everyone had a bit of madness looming behind their overall frontage disguises, and all would be revealed in time. Their true selves would shine through the eye opening light, until a dark night decided to crash the parade and cover the sky once more, protecting it from any farther eclipses.
As she began to raise her body to be standing, Jerome trailed his calloused, circus working, elephant dung picking hands up the expanse of her legs. They felt like rolls of silk under his fingertips, a material so fine and able to make disguises so divine. She ignited a keen interest from the young man, and so he stood beside her, clamping his hand upon her hard as steel hip, as though to refrain her from abandoning him.
“Where are you intending on going?” His tone sled seduction towards her, and so (Y/N) grabbed it with his teeth, or more so the lobe of his alabaster ear shell, blowing cool air upon the flesh once she pulled away. There was something sinister about the flash of mischief that was upon the writer’s face, but it was a gift, a beauty to behold.
“I’ve got an article to put together about a sociopath with mummy issues, so if you don’t mind...” A wink sent her on her way, no longer was she plodding in fear through the halls, confidence was apparent in her stride, and it left Jerome wanting a taste of it.
She was crazy, and he loved that, because they matched to all the extents. Nothing would hold them back from ruling the cold and dreary streets of Gotham, they’d manage it, it was to be a fact rather than just a dream of a couple of simpletons.
Edward Nygma (Pre Riddler) x Fem!Reader || Oneshot
Title: Blind Double Date
Plot:
You and your friend Mia have decided to have a sort of blind double date thing together where you find a date for her and she finds one for you. You’ve decided to ask Ed; The harmless, cute forensics guy at work.
Warnings: FULL FLUFF
~~~
“Good morning Ed!” As you walk into the forensics lab, you quickly find your target in the corner eating his breakfast with gloves and his goggles on. An amused smile struggles to find its place on your mouth but you try to hide it- funny guy, Ed is.
But that doesn’t mean theirs anything wrong with him. You honestly have never understood why anyone would bully him- all he does is his job! And he bares riddles, too! What’s not to appreciate? You happen to like listening to his riddles and giving them a go, even if most of the time the answer evades you. It still tickles you when he tells you, and it makes him happy to get to ask them, too.
Plus, he isn’t bad to look at, and he’s very sweet.
Which is why you’ve chosen him to ask as Mia’s date tonight. Yes tonight. You’ve left it, in pure homework-style, to the last minute to find a guy and ask him. But you’re pretty sure she’s done the same thing, so you don’t feel too bad. You just hope you can butter Ed up enough that he says yes!
“Good morning Miss L/N.” Ed smiles, giving a little waive as he sets his McMuffin back down on a little plate of glad wrap on the corner bench so he can talk to you.
You’re aware of his unfortunate feelings for Kristen -unfortunate because she doesn’t share these feelings, -, which of course could prove an obstacle… but like you said! You plan to butter him up plenty before popping the question. “Any riddles today?”
He beams. “Yes, I do, in fact. Would you like to hear it?”
“’Course!”
“If you drop me, I’m sure to crack. But, smile at me and I’ll be sure to smile back. What am I?”
With only a moment of thought, you set your fists on your hips and peer up at him with a good, humoured stink eye, squaring up to the beanpole. “Ed, are you dumbing down your riddles for me? A mirror!” A tiny grin tugs at the corners on his mouth, avoiding eye contact with you.
“Figured you prefer to get them right.”
“Psh.” You roll your eyes, grin stretching into something wider. Then you cross your arms and lean forward. “I have one for you, now.”
“Oh, really?” He looks a little excited, and its adorable especially behind the goggles he’s still wearing. You resist the urge to giggle, though, and nod. “Fire away, then.”
“Okay, hold on, let me remember.” Pausing a moment, you look at the counter to remember the words. You have to get this right, to provide the perfect jumping off point for asking him out. “Okay, you see a boat filled with people, yet there isn’t a single person on the boat. How is it possible?”
Ed’s eyes shine and you know he’s heard it before; His eye sonly look like that when he’s about to give the right answer and feel smart doing it. Taking off the goggles and replacing his glasses over his eyes, he grins. “All the people are married couples.”
“Exactly, and Ed! Wouldn’t you like to be one of those people?” I’m going for it. No need to be shy- shoot your shot like a used car salesperson.
Immediately, the forensics guy looks completely flabbergasted and he stutters like he really is confused, for once. “What- what??”
Having the humility and poise to look a little moor mellow, you lean my lower back on one of the benches stretching across the wall and focus on the table in the middle of the room. You’ve seen many, many dead bodies on this table. “Well, my friend Mia and I are setting up a sort of… blind double date, I guess. She’s finding someone for me, and I’m looking for a guy for her and we’re gonna go out as a group. Safer than online dating, right? Well I was looking around the precinct for a guy, and… “ Turning to look across your shoulder and up at Ed, who looks curious but still hesitant-and ready to be more hesitant, - , you set him with a mischievous look. “Ed. Edward.”
“This doesn’t sound like a good idea… “He starts to refuse, looking away from you and back at his McMuffin, but you’re not giving up that easily. You haven’t put all your cards down on the table yet! But still, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you know this isn’t his thing, so you force yourself to stay in one spot and not look too desperate. Which, quite honestly, you are. The date is tonight!! You’ll end up having to take Harvey, and as sexy as he is, he isn’t your friend’s type.
“Ed, you’re perfect! Safe, for one; You’re a sweetie. And that’s not something I can for sure say about whoever Mia’s got for me- she works at the paper. And Mia loves riddles!” Well, ‘love’ might be a stretch, but she does have an appreciation for them like you. “And you’re the best-looking guy in the precinct.”
That seems to shock him, and he looks up again to blink behind his glasses. “What?”
“Well, yeah.” You shrug; Is it a secret? Dark hair, dark eyes, tall- what is not to like, here? “I mean, you’re on parr with Gordon, but that guy’s damn near married!” You grin, biting your bottom lip as you continue to look across the room rather then at Ed- but then turn and wink at him. “Besides, I like you better. Would much rather spend a night hanging with you then with Jimmy, he’s a bit of a workaholic you know?” Smiling genuinely, you give him an almost-awkward thumb up.
“Uhh… “Hesitant and full-awkward, Ed actually looks to be thinking about it now, looking away from your gaze once again. You don’t mind if he doesn’t keep eye contact- makes you feel like you’re being interrogated when the cops around here do that. Very weird. “I’m- I’m not sure. I’m not… very good… with the opposite sex… “
“You’re great with me!” You exclaim encouragingly, watching a tiny flicker of a grin pass over his lips as he looks down at the ground. “Come on, I’ll be there with you the whole time. Unless of course my date goes really well,” He looks up and you wink, grinning cheekily. Then an idea occurs to you, and you gasp. “I’ll even come over a bit early and help you prepare!”
Letting him think to himself for a couple minutes while you get out your phone and check for messages and periodically watch the door for other cops and forensics people. Finally, Ed lets out a deep breath and turns to face you again. You hold your breath, chewing on your bottom lip. “… Okay. I’ll go with you and Mia on this date. But you have to come over before.”
You let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Ed! Sure thing. I’ll see you at yours at 6, the dates at 7. I’ll get your information outta the database- thank you so much Ed!” With a quick hug, and one last smile, you leave him back to his breakfast. “Enjoy your brecky and have a good day Ed! See ya!”
Ed just smiles a little smile, watching you leave before switching his glasses for the goggles again and goes to continue his breakfast. “I wonder… did I say yes for the right reasons?”
Through the corner of his eye, he catches his reflection grin smugly and shake his head.
He tries to ignore it.
~~~TIME SKIP: Later that day, at Ed’s apartment~~~
When Ed had answered the door in a plain t-shirt and sweat pants, you had been worried for half a second that he had changed his mind and that you had forced him to say yes to something he didn’t want to do, but then he quickly explained that he didn’t know what to wear.
Which was such an easy issue to remedy!
“There!” You exclaim when he comes out of the bathroom in the outfit you two came to an agreement on. You’re sitting on the end of his bed, munching on pretzels and smile encouragingly at your friend. “You clean up even nicer, Ed.”
“Thank you… “Grinning with pride, like a bird ruffling his feathers, Ed looks once more at his reflection and flattens out his emerald tie-his favourite colour, as you’ve come to realise. Its all over his apartment, and his wardrobe, - then he comes over to sit beside you and tie up his shoes. “Uh- Miss L/N, question? If you don’t mind.”
Swallowing 3 more little pretzels and picking out 2 more, eating like a marathon runner… if by running one meant eating. “Fire away.” Still bent over his knees tying up his laces, Ed does so.
“Why are you eating? I thought we were meeting up with the others for dinner.”
Waiting to finish the latest 2 pretzels, you cover your mouth and look embarrassed as you chew away quickly so you can reply. When you’re done, you laugh nervously and set the bag down in your lap. “Oh. Haha. I don’t want y’all to see me gorging myself when we’re out. Also, if I’m too full when I’m there to buy an actual meal, I save money on a potentially terrible date by just buying a bowl of chips or something. On the 3rd date, I might buy myself a proper meal.”
Ed sits up, setting his hands on his knees. “I don’t think anyone would mind seeing you eat properly, Miss L/N.”
“Uh… yeah, I don’t really think so either… Hah, but, I’m still a lil’ insecure you know?” Its nothing to be embarrassed about- you’re insecure! Everyone is about something. Besides, Ed’s easy to talk to. You know he wont judge you. Picking out another pretzel, you pop it in your mouth and enjoy the salty taste, offering Ed the bag in case he wants some.
“Oh, thank you.” He’s temporarily distracted from your confession by the snack, making your grin at how cute he is as he politely takes a singular pretzel. For a moment, you two just sit there and eat in companionable silence, and its nice. You look at him for a second, in his date pants and sweater, before looking around his apartment. Its pretty nice, you have to say. A little grungy looking, but in a fashionable way unlike the rest of Gotham. You can imagine the sporadic helicopter search lights that are normal in Gotham city probably look really cool flashing in through the full wall of windows. “Well I have leftover potatoes from my dinner last night that I could have now,” Ed finally wonders out loud, and when you look at him he’s ready to get up and go get them. Quickly, you put a hand on his arm to stop him, causing him to look over at you and wait for an explanation.
“Oh, Ed! No, I didn’t mean you had to as well!”
“But if it’s considered impolite to eat on a first date- “
“No! Ed, that’s just my silly thing. Mia and the other guy’ll eat like King’s. I promise you.” Encouragingly, and half apologetically, you squeeze his arm. “You need to eat a proper meal. As your friend, I won’t have it any other way.” You say the last part sternly.
“Hah. Well in that case I have to insist that you, Miss Y/N, have the same.”
Your jaw drops when Ed takes your bag of pretzels, zips it up again and gets up to put them away in the kitchen. Watching with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile on your face, you see him use his height as a weapon, get on his tip toes and put the bag away in the back of a top shelf. When he turns around, he grins evilly at you. You throw one right back at him, albeit less superior and put your fists on your hips. “Edward Nygma!”
He finds his place sitting next you again, this time a little closer and facing you, leaning on his hands that are on the bed between you so he’s sort of leaning toward you as well. For a second, you suffer a small heart fluttering stroke, but quickly push it aside and sigh in surrender, rolling your eyes. You look forward again, then turn back and smile at him.
“Do you have another riddle for me before we get going?”
Maybe you’re putting off leaving this apartment. A little.
His eyes shine, like they always do when you ask him for a riddle. “Of course, I do. What question can you never say yes to?”
“Ed!” You exclaim immediately, exasperated. “Another easy one! We’re gonna have to have a conversation about my IQ, sir. I assure you it’s larger than what you give me credit for.”
“I don’t doubt that Miss L/N.” He smiles, a bit bigger than his usual little grin. “I just like how happy you get when you can answer a riddle correctly- Don’t worry, I’ll adjust my criteria for riddles for you to make them more challenging from now on.”
How… how can he be so bluntly sweet and not even realise it?
Sighing deeply in frustration at yourself, you look away from Ed’s handsome, sweet, smart self and momentarily hate yourself. Sorry Mia. I can’t do this. “Oh Ed… I’ve made an awful mistake.”
“Oh?” He adjusts his glasses, confused. “About what?”
“Uhh… “Time to escape!! Go home!! Contemplate your total and utter hopelessness and misery on your own, Y/N! You get up from the bed and pick up your bag and your coat, backing up to the door out of Ed’s apartment. He gets up to follow you, but you hold out a hand and gesture for him to sit back down. “I just can’t go out tonight. I have, uh, cramps. So, um… I’m really sorry for ruining your night!” Bumping into the door, you whip your head around to look at it and flash a nervous smile back at Ed before turning to it. “So sorry… “What is wrong with you, Y/N?
“Miss L/N!”
Before you know it, Ed’s crossed the room and basically trapped you between him and the door. For a second, apology and nerves cross his features but then he moves on. “Miss L/N, are you okay? I, I can make you some herbal tea to help soothe- “
“No, no, Ed, its okay. I just need to sleep- “
“Y/N.” His eyes darken unbelievably for a second and the forceful way his voice bends around your name, your first name, causes you to stop talking and look properly at him again, waiting for what he has to say. As quickly as that dark, forceful look came, it gone again though and Ed drops his forward a bit as if exhausted. “Miss L/N forgive me for my vigour. Um, I just… I wanted to say… uh, before you leave, that um, uh, I… “Your heart lifts as he stutters through gibberish, and you tilt your head to side to try and see his face. “I want to admit something.”
You’re nervous about what he’s going to say. “You don’t have to… “
“I disagree. Um,” He looks up at you again finally, and you see shyness in his eyes, but determination also. “I want to admit, to you, that… my reasons for agreeing to go on this date, were uh… biased. I have little to no interest in your friend Mia, I’m sorry. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”
Eyes widening slightly, you watch Ed look down again and take his hands off the wall on either side of your head, letting them sit stiffly at his sides as he looks idly around the room as he waits for a response. Because of this, he misses the way your lips turn up in a smile. Relief washes over you, and happiness. He likes you, too!
“Uh, Ed?” You whisper, leaning back on the door now. You’re not leaving. “Look at me?”
“Yes?” He looks at you again, finding your eyes and your smile and breathing in deeply at the sight, surprised. Relieved.
After a moment, you give in to the urges that have only become stronger today then they ever were before - in fact, before today you didn’t even know they were there. But now you can safely identify all those weird smile you couldn’t help when you looked at the forensics guy, - , you pull him gently closer to you and lean up, kissing him gently on the lips.
Almost instantly, this boy presses closer so you’re on the door again between it and his, kissing you back tenderly so when you stop, there are bright beams on both your faces. Grinning, you adjust your grip on his sweater. “I think you're going to have to start calling me Y/N, now.”
“Yeah, that would be appropriate, wouldn't it?” Then Ed’s eyes widen. “I should make you the herbal tea. Your cramps.”
Lying very transparently, you bite the inside of your cheek guilty and tell him “They’re cured.”.
“This is going to be awkward for you to explain to your friend.”
1) Shy Edward would be terrified to make his move on you, so he would start leaving subtle hints. Like making sure you always have your morning tea or coffee or making sure your desk is nice and organised.
2 )Edward would also leave riddles for you around your workplace. He watches on as you find them and then try to work through them. Such a small reaction to his gesture brings joy to his heart.
3 )An average conversation throughout the day is another way in which shy Edward uses to try to get you to comprehend his secret message. Shy Edward is just appreciative that you've noticed him in the first place.
4)Shy Ed would stand up for you if your colleagues or anyone were bothering you. Edward would much rather them bother him then upsetting you regularly.
5) Lastly, one a day where the criminals of Gotham had been causing havoc on the people of Gotham. Edward's worried that one day you would end up hurt, so in a moment of sheer panic, he confesses his feelings to you.
6)As Edward develops into his confident and psychotic self, Edward begins to have a unique style of confidence. He's unique persona allows him to be honest and open about his feelings.
7)Even now Edward has a touch of the dramatics as he very quickly works on a unique way to let you in on his secret, one he hopes you will reciprocate.
8) There is a series of gifts and riddles to accompany each other as he leaves puzzles and clues to his confession. He's well aware of how smart you are and knows your going to understand his clues.
9)He observes you gathering everything up and studying it closely. It's one of the things that attracts him to you most, your intuitive to try and work on things rather than give up.
10) When Ed finally confesses his feelings to you. Your the one who approaches him, it allows him to know that you've worked everything out yourself. Nothing can stop the grin that appears on his face as you take a hold of his hand, admitting your own feelings.
He was out on a job when he first noticed you. You weren’t from around, obviously. One could clearly see it in your behaviour and the way you smiled. A nice smile. No one who grew up in Gotham had a smile like that. This city tainted its citizens.
Sad that you came here with the wrong guy. Your boyfriend - one of Maroni’s men - was a real pain in his back right now. He had caused the Don enough trouble as it was. He had sealed his fate after he overstepped the last time. Don Falcone wanted him out of the way and Victor would gladly get rid of the scum, but what would happen to you then?
Maybe Maroni would look after you after your boyfriend died but he was a bad influence already. No, that just wouldn’t do.
He had enough time to get the job done and he took this time to study your daily routine. It was easy to notice that your idiot of a boyfriend let his guard down whenever he was around you. Oh, he didn’t deserve to call you his. It didn’t take the assassin very long to have your schedule memorized - including a lot of details about your likes and dislikes that he’d normally wouldn’t care about - and the locks were easy to pick. This was child’s play.
The bald man was sitting on the living room couch when you came back home with your boyfriend. You didn’t notice him at first but you did notice how your partner tensed when he spotted the other and turned around to see what had him so on edge. Your boyfriend stepped protectively in front of you. “You’re Victor Zsasz, aren’t you? Falcone’s hitman.” You tensed and took some steps back. A hitman? Here? What for? You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.
“Hm, better informed than I thought, aren’t you? Too bad I’m not here to chat.” Everything happened so fast. The loud bang when the stranger fired his gun and then your boyfriend fell to the ground, a bullet stuck in his head. You couldn’t even scream, so you only stood there and stared at his lifeless form on the ground. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder and you flinched away, backing up against the wall.
That man had just killed your boyfriend. Shot him right in front of your eyes and now he stood in front of you and … smiled? You inhaled deeply and tried to scream but he was faster and covered your mouth with his hand. Instinctively you grabbed it, failing miserably to get him off you. “Calm down, sugar. If you behave yourself I won’t hurt you.” He let go when you stopped pulling at his hand.
“Why did you do this?” you asked, voice shaking. Finally, now he had your attention. “You - you killed him. Murdered him in cold blood. For what?” Tears streamed down your face. You didn’t really care. It was most likely that he would kill you soon anyway. “Well, you call it murder, I call it a conversation starter.” Shaking your head slowly you looked at him with a blank expression. “You are a psychopath.”
He let out a deep sigh, then he knocked you out. It was almost cute, how you fell directly into his arms. You would change your opinion on him. He was sure.
After all, you didn’t have much say in the matter.
