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Her hands gripped the dresser, desperate for some form of stability. Those perfectly manicured nails that he loved so much, with delicate French tips, were leaving tiny indents and scratches on the wood. The picture frame of y/n and a few of her friends shook and fell, the force of Riddler's thrusts proving to be just as powerful as she had fantasized. Ecstasy, lust, and carnal desire were the only things on his mind. Oh sure, he loved y/n from the bottom of his heart, but he couldn't afford to love someone, and if he pursued a relationship with her it would only put her in danger. He needed to fuck those feelings out of him, spill them deep inside of her gut, spread it all over her body so it could sink into her skin, and leave her ran through and defaced; just like an old piece of furniture on the side of the road. If he felt like he needed to rid himself of any resurfacing emotions in the future, he knew where to go. She'd most likely welcome him with open arms, spread legs, and soaked panties; ready to be broken by him once again...

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Edward walked on the cracked pavement, tripping over his feet occasionally. It was early in the morning, a few hours before he needed to be at work. Waking up early wasn't unusual for the forensic accountant. Whether it was the weekend or not, he usually got up at 6 A.M. He was far from a morning person, it was just that his mind wouldn't let him sleep past 6. It was strange. Usually, he left for work at 8 A.M, got on the subway, and made it to work 15 minutes early, but that could change with different variables. Currently, however, it was around 7:15 A.M. For some reason, he felt like going on a walk.

Music blared through his headphones, echoing in his head. Edward tended to listen to podcasts, but he liked to listen to music as well. The podcasts were what he listened to when he was working, doing chores around the house, etc. Music was what he listened to when he felt like winding down or needed to relax. Though his music choice was far from relaxing. It was loud. Edward sure as hell didn't look like a metalhead, but he was a huge fan. Man, he loved it so much.

'I wanna slit your throat and fuck the wound'

'Wanna push my face in and feel the swoon'

'Wanna dig inside, find a little bit of me'

He turned on his heel, hands tucked into his pockets as he yawned slightly. It felt like he was in a bit of a trance, sort of like insomnia. You're never quite awake, but you're never quite asleep. It was a blurred line between consciousness and unconsciousness. He felt like a zombie in the concrete jungle that was Gotham; trudging along with a limp foot, preparing to work for the higher ups in order to fill his belly with brains. Interesting. Did zombies have hierarchies, or did they practice egalitarianism?

Edward bit his lip, finding the question to be intriguing. He put himself against riddles, puzzles, and problems, but he also liked to think about things like this. Anything that challenged his brain, made him think, was something he liked; even if it was stupid. And there was no arguing about it. Trying to figure out what social system zombies used was not only stupid, but a total waste of time. But it still piqued Edward's interested. No question would go unsolved.

Looking down, he saw a dandelion. That was curious; it was growing in the city through the cracks of a sidewalk. He was careful to step over it, not wanting to crush the vibrant life. It was pointless, though, because he knew someone would end up walking over it, pulverizing it into a squashed yellow-green stain on the cement. But he didn't want to be the one to do that. After all, he had more important things to worry about.

Edward turned his head, looking up at the sign of the building next to him. It was a cafe. That was as good of a place as any to think about his question. Plus, he felt like he needed some caffeine. He wasn't a big fan of coffee, other than straight black, but he found himself getting a random craving for it. So he walked inside, his music still playing through his headphones. It wasn't too crowded, as it was relatively early still.

Ok, so what type of structure would the zombies live by? If it was a global take over, then it wouldn't be one specific country. Well, maybe each country with zombies had their own system? That could work. Would the zombies have a United Nations? Shit, I'm getting ahead of myself. Just go back to square one.

Hierarchy or egalitarian?

There are two question I need to answer first. Are the zombies intelligent, like TLOU, or are they typical zombies like TWD? Because it would be different for each type. Yeah, yeah ok, let's go with TWD. In the show and comics, I've seen them travel in herds most of the time. So, there could be a bit of a system in those. Maybe there is a leader in those groups. The one who's been dead the longest, maybe? Could you tell their age by how much flesh peels off their skin, like the rings inside of a tree? Ew, why the fuck would I think about that? I can't believe I just thought about that, that's disgusting. I mean, it's a good question, but it doesn't really apply to the question...

...shit, that person's talking to us. Is she? No. No I'm just seeing things. Ok, now she's looking at me. Now she's moving her mouth. She's talking to me. Oh shit, yeah, um...

Edward turned his music down a lot and then paused it. He hadn't realized that he had been standing in line. That was a bit embarrassing, wasn't it? How long had he been spaced out? It couldn't have been too long. Whatever. He cleared his throat, as if he was trying to get rid of the awkwardness that he knew would lace his voice.

"Um, sorry. Hi." He greeted softly.

The barista, who's name he didn't know yet, gave a warm smile back to him. She raised her hands up, pointing to her ears. Each of her nails were well kept and clean. It looked like a manicure, maybe gel? Edward really didn't know a lot about nails, so he was just assuming. But he did recognize one thing about them. They were French tipped. It looked really nice on her.

"I tried to get your attention, but I guess you were listening to something." She chuckled lightly.

His heart raced upon hearing the sound. Was that weird to say about someone he only knew for 10 seconds? Probably. No, not probably, it most definitely was. But he couldn't help it. Her laugh, albeit a little quiet, sounded so genuine.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that..." He trailed off, pulling out his wallet.

She waited patiently, as there was no one else in the shop. There was no rush at all. Edward pulled out his debit card, holding it between his pointer and middle finger as he mindlessly tapped it against his thigh. He sighed, tutting quietly as he thought about what to get.

"Just um, just a black coffee I guess." He finally decided.

The barista raised an eyebrow, a little amused at his order. When people came to coffee shops, they usually got something a little more "creative". She rarely ever had a customer come in and order a black coffee. It wasn't weird, just uncommon for her to see.

"What size?" She asked, hand hovering over the different sizes of cups.

"Shit, sorry. Um, the smallest is fine." His voice was hoarse, hinting that he either woke up not long ago, or smoked.

Both. It was both. He smoked every now and then. To be fair, he was trying to cut back on them. And he was doing pretty well about it. The last cigarette he had was yesterday during a break at work. In the past, he would have smoked at least five cigarettes a day. Now he was down to two. That was a pretty good accomplishment. It was a little ironic that he was trying to take better care of his health, because he knew he'd end up in Arkham eventually, if his plan went smoothly. But hey, it's never too late to quit, right?

"And what's the name for the order?"

"Edward Nashton." He answered.

He watched in silence as the barista wrote his name on the cup and started to make his coffee, which wouldn't take long at all. It was fairly quiet in the cafe. No one was in there other than him, the barista, and anyone else who was working the shift. But he wasn't really focused on the amount of people that were there. He was focused on the nameless barista. Edward was not one to feel attracted to others, but he most definitely was attracted to this person. Everything about her screamed "perfection" to him.

His cheeks heated up as she turned her head, giving him a radiant smile. Those glossy lips shone in the light, reeling Edward in like a fish to a hook. He didn't care if he had just met her, or that he didn't even know her name, he just wanted to kiss her. God that was so weird to think about. And as soon as he thought about that, other thoughts were quick to follow.

I wonder if she's dating anyone? God, I hope not. It's not like I have a chance with her anyways, but still. Knowing she's dating someone might kill me.

Fuck, she's stunning. How the hell does someone look that good? She's so nice, too. My hands are getting clammy, damn it. Stop thinking about her. She's just making my coffee. She's doing her job. Of course she's going to be nice me, I'm a customer. Don't go and get a big head...

Head. Oh, I bet she gives fucking amazing head. Just look at those lips. I bet her tongue would feel so good against my dick. No, stop. Stop it. She's a fucking person, I barely know her, I should not be thinking about her like that.

Edward snapped out of his lewd thoughts, checking the time on his watch. It was 7:22 A.M. He still had around 40 minutes before he had to head to work. At this point, he'd regret coming out this early, because now he had to sit and wait around for while longer, but he didn't regret it. He didn't regret it because he got to see y/n.

"Here ya go, Mr. Nashton!"

His head whipped up, looking at the counter. The barista was at the pick up counter, holding the cup of coffee. He walked over there, trying not to tremble as he took it from her. The way she said his name, his last name actually, made him itch underneath his skin. It was an itch that only she could scratch. It was so vulgar to say, but he needed her. He wanted her. It was insane to say that about someone he barely new, but he didn't care. It was the truth. Edward craved y/n, even if all he could do was look at her at work.

"Th-Thanks..." He trailed off, looking at her nametag.

"...y/n."

The name felt like pure honey dripping off of his tongue as he said it. So sickeningly sweet, it might give him a cavity if he said it again. Each syllable, each letter, every movement his tongue made to say it was perfect. Edward felt like repeating it over, and over, and over again until his mouth went numb. And even then, he'd still chant it.

There was no way he wasn't going to tip her. He was always a strong believer in tipping customer service workers, especially the food industry. Even if they didn't give the best service, he still tipped. But y/n, oh, she definitely deserved a tip. She deserved a big tip. In fact, Edward had a tip he could give her. Well, at first it would just be the tip, but he wouldn't be able to hold back from giving her all of it...

"Um, have a nice day." He murmured, dropping a generous tip in the jar.

Y/n looked up, wanting to say something to him, as she always thanked customers who tipped, but it was too late. Edward had already made it to the door, walking out onto the sidewalk, back inside the concrete jungle. She let out a breathy laugh, looking in the jar to see how much he tipped. Her eyes widened, seeing the $10. Since she was working with another coworker, she'd have to split the tip with them, so she'd really only get $5. But still, the fact that he tipped $10 baffled her. What did she do to warrant such gratuity?

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The day went by agonizingly slow for Edward Nashton. Work wasn't difficult, not at all. In fact, work was never hard for him. Well, his coworkers, especially his "boss" sure as hell made it hard, but not the work itself. It was pretty easy for him, almost second nature. What made it difficult for him today, truthfully, was y/n. That beautiful barista from the coffee shop. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get her out of his head. She was all he could think about all day. From the second he started working, all the way up to him currently finishing his dinner. She never left his mind.

Edward groaned, cleaning up his dishes and putting them away. It smelled like dish soap, but all he could smell was coffee. The interaction with y/n still lingered in his mind, even the smells and sounds. The swishing of the ceiling fan, the rumbling of the coffee machines, and especially her voice. Oh Lord, her voice...

Here ya go, Mr. Nashton!

He finished cleaning, gripping the edge of the sink tightly. His knuckles turned white, music blaring in his ears through his headphones. No matter how loud it was, he could still hear the thumping of his heart in his chest. The blood pumping in his ears drowned out the drums of the song. It was as if his body was trying to add on to the music.

Swallowing thickly, he turned the water off and dried his hands. With a flick of a switch, the overhead kitchen light turned off. The entire apartment was enveloped in darkness, all except his bedroom. Edward had already put on his pajamas, which consisted of his boxers and a plain white t-shirt, when he got home from work. And after he ate dinner, he brushed his teeth before cleaning up. Why did he make quick work of all those things? Well, ever since he saw y/n, he wanted to do one thing...

Edward got in his bed, the cool sheets comforting against his skin. But it didn't take long for him to push the blankets down a bit. They were pushed all the way down to his mid thigh, revealing the his plain white boxers. He sighed, resting his back against a few pillows, and closing his eyes.

He had been horny all day long. Throughout the day, he would get a boner, but he wasn't able to do anything about it. He had to sit at work, tent in his pants, and focus on doing his job. No matter how much he wanted to jerk himself off, he couldn't. He had to wait till he got home. And now, he was.

Ok, just think about her. I'm definitely going back. I have to see her again. I need to see her again. I need her face to be burnt into my eyes. I know I can't have her, I have to focus on my plans for Gotham, but I can't get her out of my fucking head.

Edward opened his eyes and looked down with slitted eyes behind his glasses. A tiny bulge had formed underneath his boxers, and it was growing bigger slowly but surely. He bit down on his bottom lip, cheeks slightly flushed as he created a fantasy in his mind. Masturbation was no stranger to Edward. He never watched porn, he never got magazines, he only used his imagination and his hand. But to be honest, he never really had anyone to fantasize about. So he usually just jerked himself off to...nothing, really. But now, he did. He had someone to think about. He finally had someone to put into his depraved, carnal, and erotic scenarios. For such a shy man, Edward Nashton had bold desires and even bolder kinks.

I can't even imagine fucking her gently. I don't even think I want to. She seems like the type who likes it rough. At least, I really fucking hope she does.

The tent in his pants was now huge. His dick was painfully erect, poking against his boxers in a desperate attempt to get out, and he was not going to resist. With a quick movement, he pulled his dick out. The fan that he had on in the room sent a breeze against it, making him hiss as it twitched. Edward brought his hand up to his face, spitting onto his palm. A crude image of it landing on y/n's face crossed his mind, but he welcomed it with lust. Delicately, he wrapped his hand around himself, spreading his saliva up and down.

A low moan left his lips, eyes instantly squeezing shut. Maybe it was the fact that he now had someone to jerk off to, but it felt better than any other time he had done it. He had barely moved his hand and he was already making noise.

"Holy shit..." He gasped.

Edward imagined y/n in his bed, face first into the mattress. One of his hands on the back of her head, the other holding tightly onto her hip. Each thrust he gave would make her body move in synch, smudging any makeup she wore onto the bed. He'd make her scream his name, letting everyone in the building know that he was rocking her world.

His hand tightened around his cock, hoping to mimic the sensation of her tightening around him. Edward had had sex before, believe it or not. Was it good...no. Was he good...no. But he was young. Now, he was older. He knew more about it, he had gone on dates with people, and he had had sex a few more times. But sadly, it never led anywhere, even though he wanted it to. People just lost interest in him. But he didn't even care about that anymore. It was their loss, after all. He was going places. Not necessarily good places, but he was going places.

Fuck, I need her so bad. I wanna fuck her pussy so much. I could make her gag on my cock and have her crying on it, use the tears as lube to fuck her.

The visual of that happening, sadistic and humiliating, made his chest tighten. It wouldn't be humiliating for him, though. Only for her. He could imagine her, so vividly, all teary eyed with her lips wrapped around the base of his dick. They'd fall down her face, he'd catch them with his fingers, and then smear it on her clit. Even if it didn't actually prove useful, he'd still want to do it. The act alone was erotic, and he wanted to see how she'd react. She'd probably be mortified, pitiful, and hopefully aroused.

As Edward's thoughts got filthier, he got closer to his high. The head of his dick was red with stimulation. It wouldn't be long before he came. While thinking about y/n riding on top of him, digging her perfect nails into his shoulders, he grabbed tissues off of his nightstand. The pace at which he was fucking his hand was brutal, nearly painful, but he didn't care. He was so close to his climax and he wanted it so bad. But instead of cuming into a bundle of tissues, he wanted to cum inside of y/n. He wanted to fill her up and watch it seep out of her. But he also wanted to cum on her body. He wanted to use his seed to paint a filthy picture on her tits and face, take a picture of it, and hang it on his wall.

Thinking about her all filled and covered with his cum sent him over the edge. He never relented his pace, continuing to pump himself in his hand as he climaxed. Edward's chest heaved heavily, eyes tightly shut, mouth agape, as he shot his load into the napkins he held over his tip. He had never came that hard in all of his life. Now he wondered how hard he'd cum if he could actually fuck her.

"Fuck..." He groaned.

Even though he caught the cum with the tissues, some still trickled down his dick. It was like icing on a cake. As he fucked himself through the high, he imagined y/n licking all of it up. He'd have her swallow every last drop of it. Having his seed inside of her, even in her stomach, was such an alluring thought. Even after he fucked her, he'd technically still be inside of her. He wanted that so fucking bad.

After a few more moments, his heart rate went back to normal. His cheeks were still flushed, but other than that he was ok. He discarded the soiled tissues into the small trash can next to his bed. People always talk about "post-nut clarity", but Edward never got that. Or, at least not the kind that people referred to. He did gain clarity on one thing. It was as clear as day.

"I need to see her again."

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Oh, he saw her again alright. He went to the cafe the next day and got the same order. And then he did that the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and so on and so forth. Edward quickly became a regular at the cafe. Sometimes y/n wasn't working, but that was ok. He had to learn her schedule. And he most certainly did. A month of going to the cafe had passed, but that's not the only thing that Edward did...

He had become a stalker.

In those four weeks, Edward had figured out where y/n lived, what times she worked, and her full name. He knew where she went to school, he knew that she was around the same age as him, and he knew that she took the subway to and from work. It sounds impossible for him to learn all that information, but he's Edward Nashton; The Riddler. He's a fucking genius. If he wants to find out about something, he will. And y/n was a puzzle that he wanted to solve.

And although he already knew a lot about y/n, there were still some questions he wanted answers to. It wasn't likely for him to figure them out without directly asking her though, but he couldn't do that. All of the things he wanted to ask were inappropriate. There were so many things he needed...wanted...to know about!

Do you prefer kinky or vanilla sex?

Are you a dom or a sub?

What do you think of BDSM?

Do you like pain?

Will you let me hurt you for please?

Can I fuck you against the brick wall in the alley?

Would you like it if I spit on your face?

Do you like to be degraded? Praised? Both?

Is it ok if I fuck you like a cheap toy?

How the fuck could he ask her those questions? He couldn't! Well, he could, but he'd get slapped right across his face more than likely. Plus, as much as he wanted her, he didn't want to belittle her like that. At least, he didn't want to belittle her outside of the bedroom.

But he ended up figuring out the answers. Well, he figured out a few answers, not all. Still, it was a huge discovery to him. With that information, he could make his fantasies about y/n much more realistic to her liking. And he could feel more confident in knowing she'd like it...

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Edward walked into the cafe, seeing it empty once again. But to be fair, it was Halloween. People were probably out and about, trick or treating and pulling pranks. Actually, it was a pretty dangerous holiday in Gotham. A lot of crimes were committed on Halloween, so everyone was extra vigilant when it came to be that time of the year.

Since he was so quiet when he walked in, the staff didn't notice him. That staff consisted of y/n and a coworker Edward didn't know the name of. But he had seen him work with y/n multiple times. Y/n was sitting at a table, facing away from Edward and towards the storage area. That must be where the other coworker was. Business was pretty slow, so they were just chilling out. They probably weren't going to get any business at all, actually. Lots of business's in Gotham closed for Halloween for safety. It surprised Edward that they didn't.

"Are you fucking serious, y/n?" The coworker asked loudly, wanting his voice to project since he was in a different area.

Edward watched silently as y/n nodded, laughing slightly.

"Yes! I'm serious, Parker! You don't find Ghostface hot?"

"No! He's a serial killer in a horror movie that wears a mask. How the hell is that hot to you?" Parker asked.

Y/n scoffed, taking a bite of her salad. It was silent, apart from the fan above them, as she chewed and swallowed. Edward wished he could see her face.

"I don't know, I like a scary masked man who can...possibly hurt me. Preferably fictional, of course, but..."

The forensic accountant's eyes widened. He wanted to ask her to repeat that, to make sure that he hearing things right. But if he did, it would give away his position and he might not hear the rest of what she had to say.

"There's a but!?" Parker exclaimed.

Edward's obsession took another bite of salad as she thought about how to respond. It pained him to know that he couldn't see her face as she spoke. He loved her face so much. It was his favorite feature about her. Of course it was really the only "feature" he ever got to see, but still. He loved it.

"Y'know that guy on the news? Um, The Riddler, I think his name was."

His heart fell into the deepest pits of his stomach. The mention of his persona, the one he put on while exposing the darkest parts of Gotham, shocked him. His second name on her lips was intoxicating in sound. He wanted her to say it again, and again, and again as he fucked her on that table she sat at.

"Y/n...what are you trying to say?" Parker asked from inside the storage room.

She sighed.

"I'm not saying I agree with what he's doing! I mean, the people he killed are pretty shitty so it's not like anyone's grieving. But what I'm trying to say is...I don't know. He sounds hot. Like his voice, the mask, and uh...he looks tall." She admitted, a little shyly.

Parker let out hearty laugh, wheezing a little at the end.

"You're actually so fucking insane, y/n. You're my friend and I love you dearly, but what the fuck? You'd straight up have sex with 'The Riddler', are you for real?" He asked, baffled.

Y/n nodded frantically.

"Parker, I'd let that man ravish me. Like, we're talking 50 Shades of Grey, but hotter and less cringe. Well, actually, I'd probably be too fucking scared of him. But he's still hot!"

Edward felt a fire light in his belly. She had no idea, but she just called him hot. She just said that she wanted him to ravish her. And what excited him most of all, for some twisted reason, was the fact that she'd be scared of him. It was weird, for sure, but that tidbit of information excited him. The thought of her trembling underneath his touch, eyes rolled back, clawing at his back, all the while knowing he could kill her...would that turn her on? Of course he'd never kill her, fuck no. But he could hurt her if he wanted to. And holy hell, he wanted to, but only with her permission.

Deciding he had been eavesdropping enough, he cleared his throat. Y/n's head whipped around, eyes widening as she saw a customer. But then she noticed it was Edward and felt a little more relaxed. She was still utterly embarrassed though. Knowing that he most likely heard her say all those things, fuck, how humiliating.

"Oh, um, sorry! One second!"

Y/n quickly stood up from the table, putting on her apron and work visor. Even from across the room, Edward could see the blush on her face. She was so embarrassed and he loved it. He could make her cheeks red for a whole different reason, though. And it seems like she'd want him to. Well, not him, but sort of him.

"Dumbass, you just said that shit in front of a customer..." Parker bit back a laugh as sat where y/n was previously sitting, taking his break.

She shot him a glare, making Edward bite down on his lip to prevent a chuckle of his own. It was pretty amusing, he had to admit. But he was more aroused by it than amused. He just found out that y/n wanted to be fucked by his persona. That was the best news he had gotten in his entire life.

"Hey, Edward! How's your night going? Not having any Halloween parties?" She asked, propping her chin on her palm as she looked at him from across the counter.

He shook his head.

"I don't do parties, y/n. Plus, I never get invited, so..." He trailed off, picking at a hangnail.

Y/n frowned, a little disheartened upon hearing that. She really liked Edward. He was polite, tipped her very well, and was never grumpy. Plus, he always ordered the same thing, and it was a very simple order.

"...anyways, how's your night going?" He asked, wanting to hear more about her.

She shrugged.

"Oh, well you know, work. I get off at 9, though. It'll be too late to give out candy to the kids in my complex, so I'm a little sad about that..."

Edward nodded, feigning understanding. He never really celebrated Halloween in the orphanage. And when he left the orphanage, he was "too old" to partake. He dressed up a few times, sure, but it was all for nothing. There were no kids in the building that he lived in.

"Sorry to hear that."

Y/n smiled, but just shrugged her shoulders once again. Clearing her throat, she adjusted her apron. It was tied snuggly around her waist, accentuating the curves of her body. Edward couldn't help but stare, trying to be as discreet as possible. If he could get away with stalking her for the past month, he was certain he cold manage to steal a few glances.

"So, what can I get you? I imagine it's not coffee, right? It's already 7!" She chuckled.

He nodded.

"Just a small hot chocolate, please, it's cold out and I wanted a hot drink."

Edward was always so polite to y/n. He said please and thank you every single time, as well as tipping. Every single time he came, he tipped. In his mind, he was rewarding y/n. It was the only way he could do it. In his fantasies, he rewarded y/n for many things in many different ways. But in reality, all he could do was give her a couple bucks. To y/n, it was a gesture that said "your service was good!", but it wasn't like that to Edward. To him, it was his way of saying "thank you for letting me nut to the thought of you", even though she had no idea.

"One hot chocolate for my favorite customer, coming right up!" Those words were genuine and pure.

What did she just say?

Oh, he heard her loud and clear. He knew exactly what she said. It was just overwhelming. Truthfully, it wasn't that big of a deal. Any normal person would have just nodded and moved on. But Edward was not a normal man. He was abnormal, he was obsessive, he was psychotic, and he was a murderer. So to hear the woman he had been fantasizing about, stalking, and drooling over say that he was her favorite customer...

She's being serious about it, I could hear it in her voice. And of course I'm her favorite, I tip her like she's a stripper. But I'm nice to her, as well. I doubt any of her regulars are as friendly as me. Damn fucking right I'm her favorite. She's my favorite too. In this city of disease ridden rats, she's a delicate mouse. She's the one I don't want to see harmed.

The smell of chocolate filled the air and he reveled in the scent. It was warm and gave him a sense of nostalgia that he knew he didn't have. Perhaps it was just the smell of chocolate that made him think of comfort. But now that he smelled it in this cafe, he'd associate it with y/n for the rest of his life.

"Oh, do you want whipped cream? I can put some sprinkles on it too! Or is that too childish? I like sprinkles on my whipped cream, bu-"

God she talks so fucking much. It's cute though, I don't mind it. If she was quiet, well, it'd be boring. She's spunky, she's got personality, and she's very interesting. Fuuuck, I could make her shut up real fast if I wanted to. Shove it down her throat, make her choke. I bet she'd like that, though. Dirty little thing...

"Edward? Whipped cream and sprinkles, or no?" She asked, waving at him to get his attention.

He had tuned her out, not because he didn't care, but because he was lost in thought. Edward could listen to her talk for hours, and hours, and hours on end. But he became a victim to his desires, spacing out while fantasizing about her.

"Um, sure, why not. Thanks, y/n." He said, his voice hoarse from a cigarette not too long ago.

She nodded, swirling some whipped cream on the top of the drink. His eyes were fixated on her as she dusted the fluffy delicacy with sprinkles. The heat from the drink was already started to melt it, but he didn't mind. Since she put whipped cream on it, there was no lid to place on it. But she did put a sleeve on the cup, so Edward could hold it with ease. He also noticed her scribble something on that very sleeve she added, but he couldn't tell what it was from where he was.

"Order for Mr. Nashton!" She called out jokingly.

He playfully rolled his eyes, admiring her humor. The dirty boots, the very same he wore while killing the mayor, scuffed against the floor as he walked. He paid for the drink at the pick up counter, grabbing the drink. And that was when he saw what she wrote. In hot pink sharpie was written "Happy Halloween Edward!" with a little heart drawn next to it.

Edward's heart nearly burst out of his chest. A personal message, albeit short, just for him? And the little heart was the cherry on top. A smile spread on his face, feeling a warmth spread through his body. He knew that he couldn't risk falling in love with someone, but he couldn't help it. How could he? Y/n had shown Edward a kindness that no one else had ever shown to him. How could he just ignore that? He could love her, he could jerk off to her, but he could never pursue her romantically. It would put her in danger and that was the last thing he wanted. The only danger she should ever have to worry about, is him. Not what might come as a consequence from being with him. Regardless of Edward's love for her, he was still a criminal, and his sexual desires bled into his crave for violence quite often.

"Happy Halloween to you too, y/n."

Y/n bit back a smile as he dropped a $20 in the tip jar. A $20? What was he occasion? Was it because of what she wrote? To be fair, she rarely ever wrote messages for customers. But Edward was different. She liked Edward a lot. Y/n hoped that writing that little message would bring a bit of happiness to him and it seems that it did just that. But she had no idea about what other things it made him feel and think.

"Edward, that's too much!" She scolded gently.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the hot cocoa. A bit of the whipped cream stuck to his upper lip, his tongue darting out to swipe it up. It was no use in telling him that the tip was too much. Every time he tipped a large amount, y/n would tell him, but he dismissed it. He was such a gentleman in y/n's eyes. Hilarious. If only she knew how he really was: a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Have a good night, y/n. Get home safe."

She told him goodbye, waving to him as he left the cafe. As soon as he was gone, Parker let out a chuckle. Y/n shot him a glare, holding a hand on her hip. One of her eyebrows was quirked at his odd behavior.

"What's so funny?"

He gave her a "really?" type of look.

"You're so fucking into him."

Her eyes widened, a blush immediately creeping onto her cheeks. If Parker wasn't sure about her crush, he definitely was now. It was so obvious with the way she acted around him. She was never that talkative with other customers.

"Shut up! He's...he's cute. So what if I like him?"

"Just ask him out at this point." He suggested.

Y/n shook her head, wiping down one of the counters. There was no way she was going to do that. Sure, she was pretty chatty sometimes, but confessing feelings? Hell no. No. She'd just push her feelings down. She focused on cleaning up, completely unaware about what her favorite customer had planned tonight. It was a decision he made out of the blue, completely unscripted. It was Halloween, people were dressed up in costumes on the streets, and all the creeps came out to play. In a way, Edward was one of those creeps. For upon his discovery about y/n's...penchant, if you will, for The Riddler, a wicked idea came to his mind. What better night to act on it, than Halloween? What better night to play a game of cat and mouse. He, the feral cat. Her, the weak mouse. Soon, his jaws would be clamped around her supple throat, eager to drain the life out of her.

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The time was 8:30 P.M. Edward had gone back to his apartment, finishing his hot cocoa as he did so. But he didn't toss it out after he finished it. Instead, he kept it, placing it on a shelf in his bedroom. It was like a trophy. Like a hunter mounted an animals horns on the wall, Edward displayed the cup y/n had written on in the same nature. He hadn't hunted her yet, no, but he was stalking her. She was his prey and she had no idea. All those times Edward watched her from her bedroom window, undressing in front of him, she had no idea. She had no idea about the polaroid of her he kept in his bedside drawer. Some of them were normal, while others were explicit. But if she didn't want someone to see her so exposed, then she should really close the curtains. Any creep could look in and see her. Any creep could see what belonged to Edward. To the Riddler. Y/n was his, whether she knew it or not. She'd find out soon enough.

He had gathered all of the materials he needed. Tonight was the night. There was no more silent stalking. He was finally going to take action. Y/n would finally meet the man she had been thinking about, despite the fact he was a murderer. The man she had fantasized about, regardless of his actions, was going to be in her apartment. And she wouldn't know until it was too late.

Edward, in his Riddler attire, climbed up the fire escape that led to y/n's bedroom window. He had made sure to scope out the area beforehand, making sure he wouldn't get caught. But the streets were empty. It was Halloween, no one dared to be out past 8. All except for Edward Nashton, the Riddler. He knew that he was one of the reasons people were afraid. He went after the corrupt and Gotham was chock full of those types of people.

But killing was not on his agenda at the moment. He lurked in the dark corners, gloved hands grabbing the ladder tightly. His footsteps were light as he approached her window, the sunset over the skyscrapers behind him illuminating his figure. It created an amber aura that radiated and pulsed around him. He was a fallen angel, banished from heaven. Everything about him was heavenly, but there was a fire behind those eyes. The downfall of man: lust. Oh how it could break even the strongest man. But it didn't break Edward, no, it fueled him. For some reason, he thrived more than ever before. It seemed as if the obsession was good for him, for his motives, and for this very reason...he chose to indulge himself. Edward chose to give into his carnal desires, his biological nature, and his perverted love for someone so precious. He could never have nice things, for he always broke them.

Edward carefully grabbed the window, trying to raise it up. He expected it remain still, not budge, but he was wrong. It slid up easily, causing his eyes to widen. Why, she was practically inviting him in at this point. How irresponsible of her. Such a lovely young lady, living in a cruel city, she should know better. Was she as stupid as she was breathtaking? It wouldn't bother him if she was. He loved being the smartest one in the room and he always was. The dumber she was, the better, for it made him feel powerful. What an egocentric maniac. Was his ego not already inflated? Yes, it was. But that wasn't going to stop him from making it bigger.

He slid into the apartment, having come to the conclusion that she lived alone. But she did have a best friend, Allie, that came over every now and then. Edward had managed to look up a layout of her apartment online from when it used to be up for rent. After studying the layout for hours, he knew it like the back of his hand. One bedroom, one bath, no roommates. Just her. Just how he wanted it.

Edward kept the window open just slightly, enough to let in a light breeze. He wanted her to pick up hints that he had broken in. It would make it a fun game for him and all of Gotham knew how much he loved games. This would be his favorite one so far and most likely would remain his favorite for the rest of his life.

The roll of duct tape hanging off his utility belt softly hit his leg as he walked towards y/n's dresser. He already knew what he wanted to do. All of the things he needed were with him. It was time to put his plan into action. It was time to play a little game with y/n. He just hoped she was dumb enough to play along...

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Y/n opened up her apartment door, closing and locking it behind her. She kicked off her shoes sluggishly, hanging up her keys on a hook. Her eyes were heavy as she blinked, rubbing them with balled fists. When she opened them back up, she flinched a little bit. Before her, covered the peephole of the door, was a green sticky note. She picked it up, looking down at what was scribbled on the paper.

"Knock knock!"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes before crumpling up the paper. Y/n tossed it in the trash can. The first thing that came to her mind was her best friend. Allie. She liked to pull pranks a lot and this definitely seemed like something she would do. Y/n sighed, dropping her purse on the ground randomly, too tired to care.

"Very funny, Allie! Where are you? Why can't you just say hi like a normal person?" Y/n called out.

There was no response to her question. It unsettled her a little bit, but she shook that feeling off. With a tiny yawn, she covered her mouth and walked to her bedroom. She swore she felt a tiny little draft from behind her, but she ignored it. Y/n entered her room, trudging towards her dresser. The need to get out of her work clothes was an ever growing one. But when she opened up the drawer for her sleep shirts, she narrowed her eyes. There was another green sticky note.

"Who's there?"

Y/n, once again, crumpled up the paper. She was growing annoyed very quickly. Work was boring and slow, so she spent most of the shift cleaning the cafe. It was exhausting and all she wanted to do was relax. But no, her friend had to be a pain in the ass. She wasn't even sure if she was here, or just left these notes for her to freak out over. Either way, it wasn't very funny.

"I'm not laughing, Allie! I'm too tired for your jokes."

Y/n removed her work shirt, tossing it over her head in the dark apartment. The only light being provided came from the street lamps outside. It outlined her body with orange as she put on a new shirt, wearing nothing else except for a pair of lacy panties. Eventually, she was in her pajamas, letting her hair down from the ponytail it was in. She turned on her heel, walking towards her bathroom, and turning the light on. Another...no...wait...

On the mirror, right above the sink, were multiple polaroid pictures. She stepped closer, eyes widening as she realized what they captured. Each one, whether blurry or clear, were pictures of her. Some of them had her completely naked in them, or half naked at the very least. They were all taken from outside her apartment.

"What the fuck is this!?" She murmured to herself.

She was stunned, unsure of how to react. Her gut instinct told her to leave the apartment, but it was as if she was stuck. Then, suddenly, she heard a mechanic whir. She whipped her head around, seeing nothing. But now, she was on edge. There was someone in her apartment, no doubt about it.

Y/n, carefully, tiptoed out of the bathroom. Her hands were primed, ready for action if necessary. She doubted that she would win, but she was ready if need be. Though she sincerely hoped that she wouldn't have to do it.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she looked around at her surroundings. There was no one in sight. It wasn't like it was a huge apartment, so what the hell? There was nowhere to hide, so the fact that she couldn't find the intruder frightened her even more.

Then she saw it. It was on her bed. Multiple sticky notes, bright and vibrant green, were scattered on the blankets. A few polaroid pictures were thrown in the mix as well. Y/n swallowed nervously, approaching the bed like a wild animal. Each of the sticky notes had a certain picture that was paired along with it.

A picture of her brushing her hair, taken from what looked to be on the fire escape outside her bedroom window:

"I wonder what noises you'd make if I pulled it?"

A picture of her at a park, getting ice cream from an ice cream cart, taken a disturbingly close radius:

"You should be more aware of your surroundings."

A picture of her with a towel clung to her wet body, zoomed in and a bit blurry:

"What limits can your body be pushed to before you break?"

A picture of her sleeping in her bed:

"I bet you dream of me."

A picture of her at work:

"You're entertaining to watch, like a pet goldfish. You're as smart as one too."

Various sticky notes with different vulgar saying:

"Do you touch yourself while thinking of me?"

"You seem like you want to be used."

"When is the last time you got fucked?"

"I bet you look adorable when you can't breathe."

"You make me hungry. I want to devour you whole."

"I could sense the submission as soon as I met you."

"You just want to be fucked like a whore, I can tell."

"Pretty girl in an ugly city, hoping to get ran through by a wicked soul."

A picture of...of her in the bathroom, not even a minute ago:

"I can smell your fear, y/n."

After she read and looked at every picture, she discarded them angrily on the floor. Now, she was paralyzed, frozen to the floorboards. Her body would not move, not matter how hard she begged it to. And that was when she saw it. It was out of the corner of her eye, but she saw it. A helicopter passed by the window, doing a survey over the city. Its floodlight bled into y/n's apartment, illuminating the room and accentuating any shadows. Y/n's shadow appeared to be larger than it should be, but that's because it wasn't her shadow. A figure stood behind her, tall and broad in the shoulders. Her blood turned cold, frigid like ice, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of her chest.

She wanted to ask "who are you?", but words couldn't leave her lips. Y/n could hear the breathing of the intruder, low and muffled. It raised goosebumps on her body, making her hair stand on end. The anonymous person frightened her. Then, she saw a flash, a mechanic whir following soon after. After a few seconds, the polaroid was dropped from above her, falling lightly onto the bed. With trembling hands, she picked it up.

A picture of the back of her head, a gloved hand holding up a knife behind it, words written on the back in sharpie:

"Should I kill you?"

A pitiful whimper left her throat and she shook her head desperately. The sound nearly drove Edward up the wall. He had longed to hear her make that noise, and now, here he was.

"P-Please, no...I-I...I don't know wh-who you are! I d-don't know what you want f-from m-"

Another flash, a mechanical whir, and a falling photograph.

A picture of a man's torso, in murky green attire. A hoodie, a jacket, and dark grey pants. The hand that hung limp at his side, gloved, clutching the knife. Duct tape, a rag, pieces of rope, all items that were attached to the utility belt around his waist, writing on the back of the picture: