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cvrnelians · 6 months

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my sweetest friend (one shot)

dark!ed nygma x reader: And then one day, he got it. He finally got it. If he couldn’t earn admiration in the way he wanted, in the way he deserved, the most obvious course of action was to demand it. To take it. To steal it. By any means necessary.

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, violence, non-con themes. minors DNI.

music

There is a threshold for pain. Chronic or acute, it doesn’t matter.

Everybody has their limits.

Ed knew this better than anyone. He was always made very aware of his limitations, for as long as he could remember. In spite of his intellect (and sometimes even because of it), he felt like an alien all his life. To understand people and to simultaneously be so disconnected from them was a confusing way to live. He was clever obviously, but too awkward to fully embody it, to carry that sharpness. Handsome in his own estimation, but not enough to distract from his quirks. Cheerful and friendly, but a massive pushover. A punching bag. A coward.

Pathetic.

Long before all of this, deep down he knew that he had to make some changes if he wanted to be happy. He had to stand up for himself.

But here was the kicker: it seemed like the more he tried to tap into his strengths, the more disdain people had for him. Now that he presented himself differently, viewed himself differently—now that he stopped underselling and underestimating himself, now that he embraced who he truly was—people seemed to despise him even more. But he wasn’t just an annoying little fly buzzing around in the periphery now. No. Not this Ed. Not anymore.

Now people saw him as more of a rattlesnake than a fly. The idea really did amuse him. So he robbed a few banks and made a couple of bomb threats. Big deal. If only all these moronic locals that saw him on the news knew what he was like before The Riddler started coming around. He supposed it was better this way, though. Being maligned felt a lot more empowering than being mistreated.

Not to mention, he had you now.

But he was also losing you. This was not unlike before, and yet it was also radically different. This situation with you...it was quite the conundrum. Confusing. Confounding.

Infuriating.

Before he kidnapped you, he had you in a different way. He had your friendship. He had your support. He had your love and attention. He had your adoration and affection, even if it was strictly platonic. But that was just it. Year after year, your relationship began as and would continue to remain platonic. He rolled his eyes at the thought, just as he’d done so many times before. Friends. You used to say it all the time.

“I’m so glad we’re friends, Eddie.”

Bittersweet was the most fitting word for it. A warm hug followed by a killer punch to the gut. Ed loved that you made it a point to include him in your life (and more importantly, that you showed interest in his). But he didn’t want to be your friend. He never wanted to be your friend. Still, you were there. He may not have had you in the way he truly wanted, but you genuinely cared about him. For a while, that was enough.

But again, everybody has their limits.

“I can be cracked. I can be made. I can be told. I can be played. What am I?” he mumbled to himself, fumbling around with the glow-in-the-dark rubik's cube you had gotten him for his birthday all those years ago. He could recall solving it in a matter of minutes back then, but now for whatever reason he was struggling to piece it together. This was also infuriating. He blamed it on his nerves. The past few days had been nothing if not nerve wracking. He turned to stare out the window, trying his best to quietly kill time as he waited for you to wake up. It was the one window in the house big enough for him to sit comfortably along the window seat. The others were way too small to accommodate his height. Rain pelted down against the windowpane in thick sheets, blurring the gloomy image of the city down below.

Ed wasn’t completely void of empathy. He understood why you were upset with him for not letting you go outside. But it was kind of funny, really. You weren’t missing out on much.

Well, that wasn’t technically true. It was Gotham. There was always some madness going on.

Nothing safe or enjoyable, though.

As the years dragged on, Ed’s resentment grew. “I must just have a punchable face,” he would say, given how he managed to alienate most everyone in his life. His strangeness became particularly evident when he got his first (and last) job working in forensics. His coworkers at the GCPD were about as fond of his riddles and sparkling personality as his classmates had been growing up. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was it really so hard to give credit where credit was due? Was it really that difficult to show a little appreciation to someone that proved to be so useful, to give somebody a bit of positive reinforcement or encouragement every once in a while? Was he really that unlikable?

And then one day, he got it. He finally got it.

If he couldn’t earn admiration in the way he wanted, in the way he deserved, the most obvious course of action was to demand it. To take it. To steal it. By any means necessary.

That resentment continued to grow, but not only towards his coworkers. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he also began to resent you. Yes, you. The only person who once upon a time, supplied him the steady stream of the validation he had been so desperately pining for.

His anger towards you was really pretty simple in its origins. You didn’t view him as an option romantically. You hadn’t even thought about it. He could see it. And in Ed's eyes, this was completely ridiculous.

It was just so illogical. He was clearly the best option for you. He was the option. Why wouldn’t he be irked by you for failing to recognize something so blatantly obvious? You were so much smarter than that.

But looking at you now—bruised and battered, tied up tight in his bed—he was becoming increasingly aware of the pain his faults and limitations had caused. Not only to him, but to others as well.

He still had you, but only in proximity. In possession. He didn't really have you. Not mentally, not emotionally. He didn’t have your heart anymore. Not even as a friend.

Although he promised himself he wouldn’t, he was beginning to slowly force his affection on you. Perhaps that was what kicked this all off in the first place. Tying you up and cuddling you, kissing you, playing with your hair, “accidentally” groping you. Admonishing you with the threat of withholding basic necessities if you ignored or upset him. Screaming at you, taunting you, slapping you in the face when you refused to say or do what he wanted. Just a few hours prior, he had done all of the above.

“You think I want to do this? You think I want to hurt you, that I’m some horrible monster?” he mocked, his voice cracking. He felt like he was jumping out of his skin, shaking from the adrenaline as he trapped you underneath him. As angry as he was, he still hated seeing you so distressed. "Distressed" was putting it pretty mildly, actually.

Petrified. You were petrified. And it made him sick to his stomach.

He had seen you upset dozens of times before, but it was an entirely new feeling knowing he had been the cause. Equal parts powerful and devastating. Was it sick that a tiny part of him liked that he could affect you emotionally on that level?

It made him a little afraid of himself.

“Please say it. Please say it. I don’t care if you cry while you say it, just say it!"

This had been a lie, of course. He did care when you cried, which you did an awful lot of lately. He cared very much. You never smiled at him anymore. Not once since he brought you home.

Not once.

He clamped his eyes shut, willing his mind to go blank, to shake the memory away like an etch-a-sketch. His own words echoed around in his head, punctuated by multiple slaps to your face.

“Just tell me you love me and I’ll stop. Tell me you love me and I’ll stop!”

He hit you six more times before he finally gave up and collapsed on top of you. There was a moment of silence as you both caught your breath. And then finally, finally you spoke.

But it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

Your voice was strained from crying so hard. “I trusted you.”

Ed realized he had lost a little piece of himself that night. He thought he already arrived there long ago, but he was wrong. He had finally, finally reached his threshold. Evidently, so had you.

You cried together. He wondered if the pit in his stomach would ever go away after that.

“A joke.”

"Jesus Christ!" Ed jumped and knocked his head against the wall, nearly dropping the rubik’s cube in the process. He turned to face you, all dark circles and glassy eyes. Your voice had come out just as raspy as it was the other night, only this time it was due to a deep and much needed sleep. “You startled me.”

“A joke,” you repeated.

His brow furrowed, confused.

“I can be cracked, I can…I don’t know,” you sighed. “Your riddle.”

His heart swelled. You were willing to indulge him, even after all of that?

So he did have you.

He smiled, an earnest, warm little smile. “Correct.”

Oh, how correct you were. A joke. The universe was playing a joke on him, and a very cruel one at that. You hated him, and yet some small part of you still loved him. Not to mention, you owed him. He had been single handedly taking care of you for weeks now. So what if you were tied up in his bed? What did that mean in the grand scheme of things, so long as you two were together?

“Well, sleepyhead,” he cleared his throat, trying his best to appear composed. He stood from his spot along the window seat and began slowly walking towards you, setting the rubik’s cube on the bedside table. “Are you ready to talk?”

💌

“The less of me you have, the more I am worth. Treat me with care, as I will you, and both of us will share our time on earth. What am I?”

(a reupload)

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