Riddler/Ed Nygma Imagines and Stuff

here's another

(P/D) : Preferred Drink)

Eddie's phone alarm woke him up, six thirty in the morning. He snuck from your strong embrace, and booked it to the kitchen with one goal in mind. Making a surprise breakfast for his beloved.

He danced through the small kitchen, picking up the tools he needed to craft a feast fit for such royalty. Happy, loving thoughts flowed like a river through his head as he created a masterpiece; all for (Y/N).

His heart had begun to sing around a year ago to date, and he'd been trying so hard to find the perfect thing for the perfect person. To no avail he'd searched through stores, art galleries; even the jewellery vault hidden in the bank had nothing even close to a fit for someone as amazing as you.

Before him, once he'd finished, was a tray holding three plates and a glass of (P/D), all but the latter handmade. His work was far from finished, however. He'd yet to even scrape the surface, yet to him it was all off to a good start.

You awoke to the smell of Crepes, eggs and toast that was carefully cut to look like a heart. Off to the side sat a beaming smile dressed as the dork of your dream.

“I'm impressed,” you mused, unsure, really, of what to say.

The two of you sat in bed, the TV playing some show neither of you cared to watch. You occasionally shared a bite with each other, giggling as one of you drops a bit of syrup on the comforter.

“I'll clean it,” he grabbed a napkin. “I'm happy you enjoyed your breakfast.”

After breakfast you spent the day together and relaxed, binging on your favorite shows together and telling each other lame jokes. At the end of the day, you couldn't help but think about how much he'd done for you.

“Thanks,” you peered into the green eyes that so carefully looked back at you. “You're amazing, Ed.”

“No, my dear,” he grabbed your hand delicately, as if it'd break. “That's you.”