#riddler imagine

Eddie had you laying on your back, his arms around you as his hips rocked against you, cock pushed upwards and into your body as he moaned and groaned in your ear. You hated to interrupt his unique brand of gentle lovemaking, but you'd been desperate to ask a little more for him, and you'd finally mustered up the courage to do so.

"Eddie… Could you… Maybe you could be a little rougher?"

His face shifted into an expression of shock, surprise consuming his features as he gazed at you with intrigue.

"My, my. How interesting. It seems you're a little bit more adventurous than I might have given you credit for. What an intriguing reveal. Layers reveal layers with you, don't they? A little puzzle to solve, a conundrum to unravel."

You blushed at his words, enthralled by the way he saw you, projecting his very nature, his fixation, onto you felt like he was bestowing you with the greatest honour. And yet, despite the praise and his obvious interest, he remained as firm around your body as he had been before your revealing request.

"Perhaps, my dear, if you want something from me, then I can get something from you."

He looked exceptionally mischievous, a sneaky grin that told you nothing of what he was thinking of, so you had to agree in order to find out more. You remained silent, knowing that Eddie would prefer to explain himself without interruptions, and that any pauses were to increase the drama, the tension, in what he was saying.

"How about, for every riddle you can answer correctly… I will get a little more intense. My grip will get tighter. My hands will get firmer. And, contrary to the traditional values of a prize, I will get a little bit crueller, since that's clearly what you want."

The threat of getting exactly what you were desperate for rendered you almost completely stupefied, but you managed to nod, clearing your throat to verbally confirm that it was indeed what you wanted with a shaking 'yes' before falling silent once more.

"Very well then! Here's your first one… I protect by sitting atop a bridge. Only on person gains protection from me at any time. What am I?"

More silence followed. You were sure you were capable of getting the answer. but you were flustered by the way Edward had picked up, his gleeful excitement and smug little smile overpowering your sense, stealing all of your focus.

"I… Um… I don't know."

"Oh, I am sorry, my dear. But, I'll be kind enough to give you another chance, ok?"

Another silent nod.

"Next riddle! I am always old, but can sometimes be new. I am never sad, but sometimes I'm blue. I am never empty, but am sometimes full. I will never push, but I always pull. What am I?"

You were so sure that you'd heard this one, but again, the answer just wouldn't come to you, and Edward could see you were beginning to struggle.

"Let's try a different one then. I know you're better than this, and besides that, I'd hate for you to leave empty handed."

You tried to push a convincing smile onto your face, hoping that his kindness would see you through.

"What can speak, but has no mouth. It can reproduce, but has no organs with which to do so?"

"I… I don't know, Eddie."

"Guess!"

"S…Silence… No… A River?"

"Not quite the right answer, unfortunately."

He watched as your face fell, only briefly, before you picked your mood back up when he continued to speak in a lighter, more gentle tone, the one that seemed to be reserved for you and you only.

Pacing his shabby little apartment that you somehow managed to make a little brighter, tidier, something close to home, closer than he'd ever got before. But now, it was cold and dark and empty, painfully quiet, apart from his uneven, staggering breaths that Edward tried in vain to swallow down.

'Breathe.'

It was a simple job. Too simple. Sneak into the Penguin's rooms at the Iceberg Lounge, plant the bug, slip out again, unnoticed. And you would either be very much unnoticed, blending in perfectly with. there's of the deceptively beautiful girls and boys who danced and flirted and drank at the bars and around round tables and tall, glossy silver poles stretching up into the high ceilings of the club. Or you would be pulled aside by some pervert that thought you were as pretty as Edward himself did, maybe by the Penguin, or that pig Falcone.

He shouldn't have set you. Too risky. Send a follower? No, too complicated; not enough of them yet, everything still growing and finalising, piecing together in a lovely puzzle crafted by his mind. You might well go unnoticed, but if he dared go himself, it would be a horror show.

This was a baadddd idea.

The smooth click and glide of the lock twisting and opening up the heavy front door made him flinch out of his thoughts, murky green eyes jumping to the short hallway with hope and fear in his gaze. The same hope a puppy gets when its owner comes back home, the same fear a madman harbours in a dizzying craze, living off the what-ifs and obsessions their mind feeds them in the darkness.

When he speaks, it's in a rush, words tripping over each other and his voice catching, stumbling forwards to grip onto your shoulders with his soft but firm, trembling grip.

"You were gone too long," Edward insists, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, searching for your warmth and reassurance, his eyes trying to take in every part of your face at once. "Too long... and I was worrying, and I felt sick, and I- you can't do it again, please, please, because-"

"It's alright, Eddie," you cut him short gently in amusement and sympathy, your arms fitting snugly around his neck as you embrace him. You easily fill him shiver at the contact, starving, aching, as he hugs you back with enough force to make you breathless, digging his face in your neck needily with a soft whining sound.

It's almost funny, how desperate and childlike he can be, all big green eyes sparkling with joy and awe at how readily you give your affections to him, his skin bare of any sweet touch from another being in Gotham other than yours. But he doesn't want anyone else's now, anyway. The rest of Gotham can sink into its corruption, and his hope incarnate can dance above the waves.

He gazes up at you in a slight daze, speechless, and you smile at him the way you do, the way that makes him smile back in giddy wonder, his thoughts spinning around and around like a carousel, all bright, pure lights and ethereal tunes.

"I miss you," Edward mumbles, half to himself, his stare wandering to study your eyes, your nose, your lips. "Always."

"I missed you too," you reply earnestly, "but it was worth it. I did what you said."

He blinks at your words, his attention circling back as he looks up into your eyes in curiosity and a sweet, almost innocent light, one that doesn't at all match the moment.

"I bugged his office," you clarify, nodding, "in and out. No one saw my face, and if they did, they won't remember it."

Edward lets out a slow breath, his expression loosening from intrigue and thought to the depths bubbling to the surface, his eyes spiked with venom and his words hushed with a small smirk.

"Oh," he mumbles, before giggling slightly, blinking up at you in pride and unhinged malice. "I love you."

You beam at his words, your fingers stroking down the plump curve. of his cheek, an action that makes him shudder and his breath catch in his throat, his eyes round and adoring.

"I love you too, Ed."

"I- I'll give you everything," he promises, his words rolling into lovestruck rambles between repeating your name, "everything I have. Every... everything."

There's that strange but familiar feral hunger in his eyes, not violent, but full of untethered passion and obsession, of love and lust, of everything he's never experienced before. And now that he is, he wants it all, wants it now, to feel everything at once and lose himself in endless spirals of pleasure and ecstasy that rakes up his spine and makes his voice crack and break-

"I'll never," Edward continues in a whisper, tugging you deeper into his arms, walking back and down onto his couch and pulling you with him, "never let you go. Everything will happen as it should, and I'll be there to get you... again, and again, and again, and again, and-"

You let him keep rambling on, his cheek rubbing against yours and ducking into the hot curve of your neck like a cat, his damp lips skimming your skin mindlessly, hanging onto you with his surprisingly strong grip, even though there's nowhere else to go. Tonight, there's nothing but the Riddler, his arms trapping you inside all that he is.

Black and green screens of computers running code down their displays absently fills the night with an eerie but almost comforting glow, polaroid pictures of his targets, red ink scribbled harshly in question marks and accusations over the glossy print. For you, there's a separate case of shots, most taken with you knowing, across the room in his apartment, with Edward grinning and giggling when you glare at him weakly in amusement and protest at the constant flashes and printing of pictures and mugshots.

No escape. None at all. You're with him for life, because you let him in, and like a virus, he ran through everything that makes you, you, drinking it in and fantasizing up until this very moment. A moment where Edward forgot about the blood he shed and the streams up for his cult following, the big board pinned with pictures and news clippings and rage in the form of black and white. He just clung to you fiercely, inhaled you, to do it all again the next morning, still trembling with the warmth and tremors of raw desire and love.

I am there, but cannot be seen," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling impossibly closer to you, his fingers lacing with yours, "to have me costs you nothing. To be without me costs you everything. What am I?"

You've heard this one before. It was in one of the little notes he left you during your first few meetings with him, and every one of his riddles seemed to have something to do with you, with how he saw you, absolutely angelic with no flaws, no blemishes, gorgeously unharmed by the wicked world of Gotham.

"Hope?" you guess correctly, glancing up at him expectantly, and he giggles again, his fingers tracing over your lips boldly, caught up in the moment and his own wonderful world of puzzles and clues.

"Or," Edward smiles brightly at you, resting his forehead against yours... and answering with your name.

✧༺ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ༻∞ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

"You... have something for me?" he asked while you were walking towards him. A blush appeared on his cheeks as it usually did when you showed him any kind of interest.

"Yeah, just a small thing," you answered with a shrug. For all he knew, you meant something completely insignificant.

Before Ed had an occasion to question you further about the enigmatic, if not elusive, gift, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. You could still taste the root spices from the pumpkin pie he and you ate.

Eddie froze. His mind was about as blank as it could physically get. You were kissing him and he definitely wasn't asleep. Lacking experience in that department, he tried to kiss you back as best as he could manage. He was probably going to overthink that beautiful moment when he gets back home, yelling at himself for being so awkward but at the moment no coherent thought could form in his mind: there was only you and the way your soft lips moved against his. A faint aroma of vanilla entered his nostrils - your lipstick must have been a scented one.

When you pulled away, the chill night air made his face feel unbearably cold. "Nearly forgot to give you a kiss," you whispered. Then you pecked the corner of his mouth and went inside your apartment building. The click of the front door locking shook Eddie awake.

Whenever Ed, the lovesick loser, invariably fell head over heels with some woman who hardly knew he existed, he could never pinpoint precisely what quality or action had made him trip in the first place. In Riddler’s opinion, that was because Ed was so desperate he went tumbling skull over ass after any girl who made eye contact. The behavior was revolting, all the more so because Riddler was stuck watching it happen over and over again.

Riddler, however, knew the exact moment he felt attraction switch into love with you. In the murky peripherals he so desperately stared out of while Ed focused on everything unimportant, he witnessed you nonchalantly steal Desk Sergeant Murphy’s sandwich—the whole kit and caboodle, complete with napkins, pickle, and chips—and deposit it all on O’Reilly’s desk, all without breaking stride. It wasn’t until Murphy discovered the sandwich on O’Reilly’s desk, resulting in a brawl that disrupted the whole precinct and had the inmates in lockup howling, that Riddler decided it was imperative that he meet you.

Two weeks later, he managed to wrest control from his weaker self and immediately made it his first priority to find you. Much like Kristen, you were stuck in a back room with one grimy window and overhead lighting sure to deteriorate your eyesight. Two overhead fans spun in lazy circles, pushing about the humid air but offering no relief.

Glancing up as he approached, you offered a wary smile. “May I help you?”

The question almost stymied him. With a start, Riddler realized he hadn’t decided on what to say or how to approach you. Now that he was physically in the room with you, in control of everything, he found himself hopelessly lacking it where it mattered.

“Hello,” he greeted, flashing his pearly whites at you. Thrusting out a hand, he introduced himself, “I’m Edward Nygma.”

You glanced from his hand to his lab coat and back again, hesitating. “You don’t work with the bodies, do you?”

“Oh, I assure you, my hands are quite clean.”

Skeptical, you shook his hand quickly and repeated, “May I help you?”

Riddler checked to make sure the door was shut before he said, a smile curving his lips, “I saw what you did two weeks back.”

“What did I do?”

You liked to play. His smile widened. “You caused that riot.”

Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms over your chest, raking your gaze over him. The thrill of finally being seen nearly made him shout in triumph. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“You know, at first I thought it was random,” he continued, striding around the corner of your desk and sitting on its edge, forcing you to look up at him, “but the statistical probability of you choosing the right lunch to steal and placing it on the right desk is incredibly low for just random chance.”

Your face remained impassive.

Undeterred, Riddler forged ahead. “Then I recalled overhearing James and Loughlin the day before discussing the tension between Murphy and O’Reilly. It seems the latter had his hand caught in the cookie jar, if you know what I mean.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer. “He’s getting to know Murphy’s wife in the biblical sense. The sandwich was the last straw.” He laughed. “I have to say, superbly done, and with such subtlety! I prefer more theatricality, but the resulting chaos more than made up for the quiet setup.”

Your gaze shifted past him, checking the door, before returning to him. Preening, Riddler all but physically shook on the edge of the desk as he waited for your response.

“It was very gratifying, wasn’t it?” you asked, a wicked smile baring your teeth.

Fire burned hot in Riddler’s chest. “Please tell me you’ve done other things like it and I just haven’t borne witness.”

“Nothing with such fantastic results, but I have plans.”

“I love a woman who plans.”

You arched an eyebrow, your smile sharpening. “Care to make some together?”

~~

It became easier to steal control from Ed and sneak off to join you. At first, all rendezvous occurred in your office, the place being a neutral zone you weren’t yet comfortable leaving. Though impatient, Riddler tolerated your reticence to extend your partnership outside the precinct, biding his time to finally ask you out to dinner rather than merely sharing lunch. Ed would have offered to make dinner, but Riddler had no intention of hiding you from the world when all he wanted to do was shout from the rooftops that he had found a woman worthy of his attention.

In the meantime, you both plotted little schemes to implement around the precinct, trying to create the most unobtrusive plan with the biggest results. It became a game, stretching both your abilities for execution. For Riddler, it required toning down the theatricality and sensationalism; for you, the intended extent of damage.

The precinct cracked down hard on loitering youth, blaming them for the sudden surge in pranks.

Riddler finally worked up the nerve to ask you to dinner, brimming with nervous energy that had him buzzing. He strode into your office, your name rolling off his tongue in a sing-song inflection.

Then he was Ed. No, he was shoved into the back, Ed emerging in his place.

NO!

Riddler watched in horror as Ed glanced around the room, trying to orient himself, a deep frown scoring his forehead.

“Hiya, Edward,” you greeted, flashing that wicked grin that made Riddler want to kiss you breathless.

“Hi,” Ed answered back, hesitating. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember why I came in here.”

Frowning, you rose from your rolling chair. “We had plans.”

“Oh. Did we?”

Riddler shoved against Ed’s control, screaming with rage as he failed to budge him.

“Edward…”

“Um, you can just call me Ed.”

Confusion clouded your face. Riddler bellowed obscenities, dread striking him cold as he watched you withdraw, your expression pensive.

You OAF! His shouts went unheard in Ed’s skull.

“I just realized I don’t remember your name,” Ed apologized. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Eyebrow arching, you repeated it, scrutinized his reaction.

Ed glanced around the room, eyes narrowing as he placed his location within the building. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in the Crime Analyst’s room.”

“Sure you have, probably more than you can remember,” you quipped.

Riddler froze, his attention fixated on you. The corner of your mouth tipped up into a sly smirk.

“Really?” Ed thought it over. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re…different than what I was expecting. Or maybe not at all, now that I think about it.”

“I’m not following.”

You stepped into Ed’s space, startling him. No one ever violated his space, only the other way around.

You peered up into his face. “Even your eyes are different somehow.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Snorting, you said, “It’s kinda adorable, actually.”

“Uh…what is?”

You pointed a finger at him, drawing a vague outline around him. “This whole shtick.”

Riddler seized within Ed. Adorable!? He’s adorable!?

“O…kay, you know what? I think I’m needed back in the exam room. This was very…weird.”

With that, Ed scuttled out of the room, taking with him an irate Riddler.

Behind him, your laughter echoed.

~~

When Riddler finally wrestled control back, he dragged Ed’s body out of bed at one in the morning, threw on whatever he could find, and stomped off to confront you. He had hacked into HR’s records to find your home address, so he knew where you lived.

Pounding on the front door, he stormed around the small patio, pausing only to slam his fist harder against the wood. He had just decided to break out his lock picks when the door opened and you peered blearily at him through the screen.

“Edward?”

“The one and only,” he declared, baring his teeth. “Open up, will you?”

To his surprise, you didn’t hesitate. Opening the door, you stepped aside in time to avoid him barreling through you.

He didn’t have the poise to wait until the door shut fully behind you.

“You think Ed is adorable? That directionless oaf!?”

Chest heaving, Riddler stood waiting for your response, prepared to shiv you with words, if not a real knife, assuming it was necessary.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you answered, “Yeah.”

He blinked. “Really!?”

“Like a hapless puppy.”

“More like a sniveling worm,” he sneered.

“He’s like everyone says.” You met his gaze pointedly. “And you’re not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that when you walked into my office and sat on my desk, I was expecting him, not you. He’s the one everyone talks about.”

Jealousy abating, Riddler scrutinized you, an insidious thought pushing through his confusion. “You knew the whole time?”

“No, I just thought everybody else was too stupid to appreciate you. It wasn’t until I actually met him today that it made sense.”

“Oh.” He tried to avoid focusing on the embedded compliment in your words. “But adorable, really?”

“You are too eloquent to keep repeating the same question. Yes, I thought he was adorable. Does that mean I prefer him to you?”

Riddler froze as you hesitated, his stomach an icy ball.

“Of course not!”

Relief coursed through him.

“You’re more my speed,” you said, stepping into his space and running a finger up his shirt. “You shouldn’t doubt that.”

Your finger left a trail of fire in its wake. He stared down at it. “I have no reason to believe you.”

Hooking your finger through one of the gaps between buttons, you gently tugged on it, pulling him down to meet you. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”