meowriddler
Meowriddler
⭐️She/her but u can call me whatever⭐️Age 18 requests : open
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PLEASE IM SOBBING THIS IS SO FUNNY
it’s giving that one meme
I am NOT a cocomelon parent, you gon sit down and watch the batman (2022) 4K HDR riddler scenepacks
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Hiiiiii loveee I wasn’t sure if ur valentines request were open or what- if they aren’t please feel free to ignore this
I’m in need for soft Eddie and just soft NSFW maybe fem reader takes care of him and just smothers him and just WOWBUWHE
BODYWORSHIP PLEASE I WANNA KISS THAR MANS THIGHS AND HIS CUTE TUMMY NEED HIN
ok sorry about that 😞
amour plastique - edward nashton x fem!reader headcanons (NSFW) ₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
{valentine's requests: three ♡}
{contains: anxiety/insecurity on edward's end, oral sex (male receiving), overall fluff and comfort. <3}
♡ Your words of encouragement and affirmation were thick and sweet and bubbled in his heart like drizzling honey, but Edward could not shake the chronic feeling that he was not enough.
♡ What does enough even mean, Eddie? you had asked him one night in the soft, quiet glow of the fairy lights strung around your bedroom walls. What do you mean, not enough? You always make me feel so good. You're so gentle with me. You make me feel special. What else could I want from you?
♡ It sinks its talons into his heart and twists his stomach into impossible knots, the thought that he could lose you. That you'd find someone better. That you could be lying about how he made you feel. He knew you'd never, but that's just what a mind plagued with blackened, grimy worry did to his thoughts. The idea of being naive enough to fall for a fake, plastic love ignited a great, fiery fear within him. You were all he had. He could not afford for it to be a lie.
♡ As soon as you noticed him growing distant, you decided to prune his fears. You could not afford to lose him, either. Edward handled your heart with steady, loving hands, caressing the veins with careful, gentle brushes. Where could you find another guy like that in Gotham?
♡ The lights in the room glowed dimly as your fingers tenderly brushed up and down his bare thighs. He laid before you on your bed, one hand petting your head and the other holding your free hand. Even with his dick out and throbbing, shimmering pearls of precum leaking down onto his skin, he was such a swooning romantic. You laughed at the juxtaposition.
♡ "What's funny?" he asked defensively. You shook your head as you unlinked your hands. "Nothing. You're just cute."
♡ Even in the gloomy, shadowy light of the dim bedroom, you could still see the broiling hot blush dusted across Edward's cheeks as you planted tender kisses on the plush thickness of his thighs. His legs were already shaking from anticipation. As you sewed more slow, mellow kisses onto his skin, your hand trailed up to his dribbling cock. He squeaked out a high whine as you gave his shaft a soft squeeze.
♡ "D-don't tease," he whined. You gave a chuckle as your hand pumped his cock loosely. The sticky, wet sounds lacing the air in the room were already making your cheeks pop with warmth and desire. "You're so pretty when you're being teased, though," you argued, a wide grin slathered across your face. "You buck your hips and grip the sheets and god..." you trailed off. "It makes me want to play around with you for hours."
♡ Edward squirmed and writhed, his body begging for just a little more contact, just a pinch more friction. Though you truly could've watched his chest shudder and his hips swivel for forever, you decided he'd been good. He always was, wasn't he? Always so ready to take whatever you'd give him, bleating out the sweetest little thank yous and more, pleases all the while.
♡ A high, crackling moan slithered out from his throat as you reached forward and your tongue found his drooling head. His hands flew to the back of your head. He was careful not to thrust his hips forward or push down too hard on your head. He was always so soft with you.
♡ The warbling whimpers that flossed themselves through the air went straight to your core. A familiar tingling warmth crackled through your body. It was hard to control yourself when the sounds he made were just so beautiful, beyond difficult to stop yourself from reaching down and giving your clit gentle, circular rubs. You instead focused your energy on your Eddie.
♡ It took a bit of strength not to chuckle when you looked up at him while continuing to bob your head. He was in heaven, his eyes squeezed shut and his round cheeks burnt a blistering pink as more blissed-out groans dripped from his mouth.
♡ "S-so good," he said. "You're so good to me."
♡ Not to say that sex put a band aid over every insecurity and problem, but you at least hoped that giving him this token of your appreciation made him feel a bit more loved. You adored everything that Edward was. The way he stuck his tongue out in concentration when solving a crossword puzzle, the way he'd slowly melt into your hugs, the sound of his high giggles when he was stumbling through telling you a joke, the smell of his body wash and shampoo trailing against his skin as your bodies pressed against each other in bed. Everything about Edward was bewitching to you. You hoped he'd recognize it completely one day.
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How I feel interacting with my mutuals 
( yall are crazy just like me 😘✊)
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I swear to god whoever said senior year is the best or easiest year… just lock ur doors tonight 🫶😘
And sleep with one eye open
#I HATE IT HERE#I SWEAR IT SUCKED ALL OF MY CREATIVE ENERGY MY GOD#I wish to be more active here but I just can’t 😔#And I work like a dog day and night living on coffee from a pot none of you want to touch!#sorry yall I needed to vent#zee talks#zee wants to end it all
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good eddie kissy spot... right between his neck and his chin, that little fat area... very good
#zee reblogs#cute art#I SWEAR UR ART ALWAYS SERVES#I NEED ME AN EDDIE NOWWWWWWWW#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#sorry
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So ur telling me I’ve been obsessed with the same white man for two years now….
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huge anniversary for annoying gays
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lover, you should've come over - edward nashton x gn!reader ₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
{contains: self-indulgent vent writing. descriptions of neglecting self care, nausea, breaking up, and emotional distress.}
He kept all the lights around the apartment off for the first week after you left.
Edward awoke each day in the late afternoon. The blinds were pulled so that a thick darkness swallowed his bedroom. He could see the outline of objects scattered around the room. There was enough light spilling in from the cracks in the blinds so that he could walk around without bumping into anything. That's all he really needed.
His eyes cracked open, slathered with thick, crusty layers of brittle sleep. He looked at the blinking clock on his bedside table. 2:20. Jesus Christ. He had slept until 2:20 in the afternoon. Then again, what did he have to look forward to today? What did he have to look forward to for the rest of his life? His puffy eyes fluttered shut again, and he tumbled back into sleep.
Edward woke back up feeling a cauldron of bile bubbling in the depth of his stomach. He pulled his covers, reeking of sweat, off of his damp skin and planted his feet on the carpet. The churning in his gut worsened, and he felt a warm heat pop and sizzle on his cheeks as the bile crept up his throat.
Edward chugged the old water bottle sitting on the floor next to his bed. It was lukewarm and tasted lightly of bacteria, but he felt the fizzling warmth fade from his face and slowly drag back down into his stomach as he drank.
What am I going to do without you? It's a question that kept ringing in his ears when you were gathering your things to leave. The voice that snaked out from his chest didn't register as his own. It warbled and flapped like a flag in bitterly chill winds. Snot bubbled from his nose and hot tears poured from his bloodshot eyes as you pulled away from him, your skin feeling cold and unfamiliar as a stranger's. What am I going to do without you? he kept repeating, his throat raw and his voice hoarse. I can't do it. I can't live without you. What am I going to do?
If you were at all fazed by his hiccupping sobs and the trembling hands grasping at you, you didn't show it. You're going to be okay, Edward. You shushed him like a hysterical child and looked down upon his broken, shattered pieces with a flavor of distain that made his stomach twist and his heart rip even more violently. You lived without me before, you can do it again. It's going to be alright.
You didn't seem to understand. Life before you was frosty cold nights spent shivering under pilly, frayed, unwashed blankets, praying for a sweet, warm dream to relieve the pain of the day. Life before you was ashen eyebags swept across the skin underneath his eyes, weariness that sunk through to his bone marrow and flowed through his veins. Life before you was hearing the old, horrific wails of his past play on repeat like a record with the grooves smudged. Life before you was not living. Life before you was surviving.
So he kept the lights off. The inky blackness that shrouded his apartment seemed fitting, the eerie onyx air an odd comfort. He did not have the energy to pick up the random items he had thrown around each room in a blinded anger after you had shut the door behind you. He had sat on the floor for a few minutes and let the tears silently flow, and when the faucet screeched shut, all he had left to feel was rage. A bubbling, red hot frenzy spread over him, enveloped him whole as he tore posters and frames from the wall, knocked items off of shelves, let the blood-stained, sharp-fanged darkness overtake him because that's the only thing he's never lost throughout his life.
When the shocking crash of agony and the frothing fury of violence both subsided, all he was left with was the emptiness. The ruins. The memories of you that he played over in his mind again and again. Even after all, he could only save the sweetest, most gentle thoughts for your memory. Make no mistake, the sourest and ugliest thoughts were reserved for himself.
It was the loss. The crumpled hope. For a minute there, he had actually thought he could be somebody's first choice. You're going to need to stop that if you want to keep moving. Because truly, this felt like death. It felt like a smoldering black blight wrapping its thorns around his tender heart and latching on, his blood spraying out with each wild beat.
There would never be another you. Edward laughed at the idea of anyone even attempting to come close. You were a blindingly bright supernova, a shimmering, glittering crystal ball, the rolling grass hills painted by a golden horizon, the present, the future, the world, the universe.
The only pain that came close to watching you walk out the door was the pain of losing another small chunk of you with each day that passed. Monday. I forgot what their shampoo smelled like. Tuesday. You really liked this movie. I can't remember your favorite line. You told me about its significance once. Wednesday. What was their favorite soda flavor again? Thursday. I wish I could hear your laugh right now. Friday. I would kill for you to hold me one more time. Saturday. I'd do anything just to see your face. I would make myself be anything, be anyone. Sunday. Please.
He thought about turning his bedside lamp on and instead got back under the covers.
#zee reblogs#eli my love why do this to me#SOBS#NO MY BABYGIRL I WOULD NEVER 😫😫#Amazing writing as usual
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elijah’s anniversary celebration! ｡･:*˚:✧｡
when march 19th hits, i will have officially been on tumblr for a year! wow, that went by quick. to celebrate my time here and to say thank you for sticking around…i am going to feed danonation well. below there are a list of prompts that you can bedazzle with your own details as you see fit, as well as which characters i will write for! i will take requests from now until march 19th! feel free to request as many prompts as you’d like…i cannot guarantee i will write all of them, but i will try my best. any questions? send me an ask! thank you so much for supporting me for a whole year! (reblogs are especially appreciated on this post; i want to write a wide variety of pieces!) 🩷
prompts ｡･:*˚:✧｡
☆ glitter: give me a character, and i will write a piece on how they celebrate a special event with their partner.
☆ sparkle: give me a character, and i will write a piece on how they comfort their partner after a bad day.
☆ glitz: give me a character, and i will write a nsfw piece for them.
☆ shimmer: give me a character, and i will write a piece on how they would handle having a crush.
☆ shine: tell me about you, and i will match you with a character from the list!
characters ｡･:*˚:✧｡
☆ edward nashton (the batman)
☆ eli sunday (there will be blood)
☆ calvin weir-fields (ruby sparks)
☆ ruby sparks (ruby sparks)
☆ pierre bezukhov (bbc’s war and peace)
☆ joby taylor (for ellen)
☆ jay (okja)
☆ burt fabelman (the fabelmans)
☆ mitzi fabelman (the fabelmans)
☆ klitz (the girl next door)
☆ louis ives (the extra man)
#zee reblogs#CONGRATS ELIII#ur literally carrying this fandom right now 🫡#I love these prompts#u bet ur gonna see my butt requesting something…#danonation#paul dano
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˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗
summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.
warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!
word count // 4.5k
notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues.
His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine.
But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.
Edward is lonely.
His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs.
He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with-
He pauses.
The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword.
The routine is disrupted.
His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections.
The routine is disrupted.
"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.
Back to the routine.
After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job.
To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that.
For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?
The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.
"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice."
She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk."
You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone.
She smiles sympathetically at you.
"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you."
She snorts at your expression and continues.
"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?"
You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat.
"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway."
All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk.
You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.
"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."
Silence.
You giggle nervously.
"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you."
You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second.
Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so.
"Likewise."
With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink.
Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink.
He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction.
He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day.
The routine continues, and he is happy with that.
The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action.
Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.
He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him.
When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton.
But he can't.
He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment.
When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you.
Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon.
Oh no.
Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you.
You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously?
But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.
Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.
He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.
He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time.
Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you.
All of your coworkers, except one.
The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you.
You certainly like him.
You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent.
You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).
It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you.
You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you.
You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!"
You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor.
"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday."
Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!"
His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly
"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..."
You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried.
Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.
The routine is disrupted.
The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave.
You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.
You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell.
You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..."
You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great.
"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you."
He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win.
Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away.
You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross."
It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him.
This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead.
You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection.
Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk.
"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to."
You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are."
Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him.
"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?"
Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker.
"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early."
He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly.
"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.
You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink.
"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice."
You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."
After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate.
"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-"
You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music.
You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?"
Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever.
He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps.
Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him.
"Want a hand?"
You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm.
Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you.
It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette.
The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly.
"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to."
He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt."
You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it.
"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise."
Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows.
"You mean, like a date?"
The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm looking forward to it."
With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago.
The routine is disrupted.
#zee reblogs#ooooo I’m actually obsessed with this#I’m a sucker for coworkers to lovers tropes 😩😩#can’t wait for part two 🫶🫶#dano riddler#dano riddler x reader
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she was so normal ab paul dano riddler
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do u cherish this snowpuff
reblog if u do
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this could build us a home - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
{contains: very mild religious references, descriptions of stalking, and mentions of smoking.}
{note: this piece was a paid commission, and i have permission to share it publicly. find out more about commissioning a piece from me in my pinned post.}
☽ What if Edward Nashton wasn’t alone in his suffering? What if the pitch black, grime-infested hellscape he spent each day zombie-stumbling through was also the sunshineless wasteland that you shivered and wandered through, too? What if his stomach wasn’t the only one glazed over with a thick, slimy, goopy layer of churning, crawling disgust and disdain for everything he saw? What if you saw through the same cloudy, weary eyes? What if there was you?
☽ You’d wake each day with a throbbing headache and aching bones. Your body was tired, your soul was weeping, your heart was heavy, your eyes were red from crusty sleep scratching at the whites–but there was work. There was always work to be done, something to check off the to-do list.
☽ At first, Edward feels bad for watching. For internet stalking. For trailing a few concrete slabs behind you while you walked home from work. He really can’t explain what drew him to you. It was like a magnet. Like there was some pheromone in your weakly glimmering aura that he couldn’t get enough of. You smelled like something familiar, you tasted like something irresistible. You carried with you the same tired, fed-up ambience that he had lugged behind him for his own entire miserable life. There was something cracking and crumbling apart inside of you. It was something only another broken person could recognize.
☽ He justified the nights he’d spend with his stomach in knots, wishing he had the courage to follow for just a little bit longer before turning the street corner and avoiding suspicion. He had no malicious intent coursing through his veins as he got up early to watch your morning commute to work from his own apartment across the street, this you must understand. He’d calm the guilt coiling and knotting in his gut with this: I just want to make sure they’re safe. That’s true, in his own odd way.
☽ What he didn’t know was this: you’d also had your eyes peeled, your teeth sharp for any scrap of Edward you could get your hands on.
☽ You hadn’t been working together for long. Your desks were across the office from each other. You didn’t even live in the same apartment complex. But Edward Nashton was some missing remedy for your water-logged, disintegrating life, you were simply sure of it.
☽ You weren’t sure how to describe it. A crushing schoolchild, scribbling your first name with Edward’s last in a notebook, surrounding the words with sparkling gel pen hearts? Maybe a dying sinner, weeping at the blood-stained cross for mercy. However you spun it, a spell had been placed over your everyday life. You wanted to share each moment with him, let him see all that had been stomped and spat on. As if what, he could heal it? Well, it sounded idiotic, but your heart scratched and clawed at your chest for any piece of him you could get.
☽ Maybe you didn’t know that Edward followed you home after work or stalked your social media each day, hungry stomach growling for another post. But he didn’t know that you looked out your window and watched him smoke outside the complex, tripping and falling deeper in frothing obsession as you watched him stamp out his cigarette and walk back inside. He didn’t realize how superglued your eyes were to him as you should’ve been working, the pile of papers on your desk growing inches with each look you stole.
☽ Edward Nashton had lived through hell, this was certain. But you…you had walked across the same broiling coals, flames licking at your skin. Perhaps you could create a shelter from the lake of fire together, if only either one of you had the courage.
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Also happy new years guys……..I hope I’m not late
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I like to think when it comes to touch, he pretends he doesn't want or need it until suddenly all of it comes crashing forward and he needs it every single day, at the same time every day, and you're part of his schedule. He's happy to sit on a chair, you in his lap, arms around you while he schemes on how to chip away at Falcone. Your acknowledgement of his existence and personhood is both beautiful and terrifying to him, and he's not sure how to handle that.
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I can’t believe I’m 18 now… I might start writing u know what 😜
NAH FR THIS DOESNT FEEL LIKE REAL TO ME WTH
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Ok ya’ll ik I’ve been away for a while…..
Turns out being a senior sucks ur soul out 😭
#zee writes#FR THO I MISSED U GUYS#I NEED WRITE FOR OUR BOY THE RIDDLER#if the fandom is still alive…
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