moved to @vexedingenue

he’s like basically six foot ok

and you l o v e it

it takes you a while to notice that he, in fact, does not love this fact about himself. he folds in on himself, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast

like he knew he was big, and he hated it

you make it your absolute mission to change this

you start with small things, like asking him to grab something from the cluttered top shelf of his kitchen cupboard. in those instances, he would look down at you with that blank expression, like he always knew what you were really doing, before turning and grabbing whatever you had asked for, handing it to you without a word

you smile and thank him, before insisting he go over his plans for the night again. whilst you were oddly intrigued by his early plans of being the riddler, you feared for him and for others. you just hoped he stuck to punishing people who deserved it

you love it when he stands behind you, just so that you can lean back into him. he dwarfs you, and you relish it

you are more than aware that he, too, enjoys these instances. he will press his chest to your back and his breathing will shudder against you, his fingers reaching forward to dig into your hip and draw you closer to him

sometimes, when he’s sitting next to you, you run your hand along his spine, pressing hard until he straightens his back and looks at you with that dark look that made your breathless

you know if he enjoys it - how small you are compared to his lanky form. there are few instances where you think you catch his enjoyment of it

once, he had worn his large green overcoat and special mask for you. he had crowded you, breathing echoing around the room. the coat made him bigger, achingly so, and he stayed like that, towering over you, his eyes dark and his breathing heavy, for five long minutes

he secretly loves spooning you. you’re so small in his arms. he feels, for once in his life, like he can protect you

other times, when he plucks up the bravery to kiss you, he will duck low to do so, his hands on your jaw and his other painfully gripping your shoulder, as if to keep you in place. he always gathers you to him, his mouth on yours and his arms slowly encircling you, and you wonder if he would consume you, were he able to

the first time you voice it, your love for his height, he is sans his riddler costume. it takes you a while to realise how much weaker he felt without his great overcoat and mask, so you choose your moment well

he stands in the street with you, waiting to cross the road so that you can grab a takeaway coffee from the diner near his. his shoulders are hunched and his chin is dipped low

you press onto your tiptoes and whisper in his ear, your hand flat against his back to press him straighter, ‘i love how big you are, edward. you shouldn’t hunch like that’

he looks sharply down at you, green eyes wide behind his framed glasses

and his throat jumps as if silencing a manic laugh (but you love them, too, but that’s a story for another time)

and his mouth tugs into one of those smiles that makes your heart swell in your chest

and he straightens up slowly, shoulders drawing lower

and you watch him, watch Edward,