❤️ oakley • 22 years old • previously ziggy/tatum • non binary self shipper ❤️ Current fixations: riddler, postal series (p4 and brain damage), scarecrow No minors!
Howdy! I’m Oakley (previously ziggy), I’m a 22 year old self shipper/insert maker lmao. I’m mainly into Batman, the postal series (4 and brain damage), portal 2, and tf2.
I mainly post artwork, clips of roleplays I’ve done, and shitposting. I also happily draw self ship art, I don’t suggest following if that’s not your thing.
I do post suggestive posts, I recommend no minors interact with my posts or me.
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I love making friends!! And mutuals!! Please don’t hesitate to talk to me/send me asks. I’m a social butterfly a lot of times when my mental health isn’t crap, hah.
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CARRD (needs to be updated): https://postaldood.carrd.co
Chapter 29: also on AO3
Masterlist Here
Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2k
this man can fit so much angst and self-loathing in the guise of egotism in him 💚
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst and pining
It was almost noon by the time you woke up. Everything felt more casual now. Like you’d passed a point in your relationship with Eddie, if that’s what you could call it. Perhaps a better term was arrangement. But either way, it felt like you could be yourself a bit more, stand up for yourself. If you wanted to take the morning to catch up on sleep, then you would. What was Eddie going to do? Dislike you more? Insult you more? Maybe he’d apologise again like he did the other day.
As you remembered that moment, you replayed it in your head. Had he meant it as a genuine apology? A statement of regret, for how he had made you feel. Or for how he had made you react to his words. Was he sorry that you had gotten angry with him? Uttering the word in confusion and shock at your sudden ability to speak up. Or was he simply excusing himself? He left the room immediately once he had uttered that one word, so there was every chance that he was just making a polite exit from a situation he either no longer wanted to be in or felt he was above, or both.
Stepping out of your room, you entered the living space, shocked to find Eddie sitting at the table with his breakfast. Obviously, in your absence, he would have had to prepare his meals for himself. He did it all the time before he knew you, so it wasn’t entirely ridiculous to assume he could do it himself, but it felt like you had been replaced, almost. That one of the few things you could, or did, do for him was no longer needed. Trying to avoid any awkward or confrontational conversations, you poured yourself a coffee and sat down at the table across from him.
“I’ll make lunch today.”
“Yes. That would be a good idea.”
He didn’t look at you, he didn’t even look up, and you couldn’t contain your irritation with his flippant attitude.
“You know, you could just say thank you.”
“For what? The bare minimum? You haven’t even done it yet, why should I thank you in advance for something you might forget to do, or make a disaster of.”
Slamming the coffee mug on the table with, liquid spilling over the edges at the upset, you leaned back in your chair with your arms now folded.
“I could just as easily leave again, Eddie.”
You watched him continue eating after the briefest of pauses, where he might have been considering a retort, or a snide come back, but chose to sit in silence instead. Sipping at your coffee, you stole glances at him, waiting to see if he would decide to speak, if he would apologise again. It was a one-off, though, you assumed. Or at least resigned yourself to believing. Until he placed his fork down, wiped his mouth on his forearm, and finally decided to speak.
“I have always been the smartest man in the room. Forced to endure the suspicions and mockery of those whose meagre mental facilities prohibited them from appreciating that fact. It has not been easy, to suffer fools. And I don’t suffer fools gladly. But then, you appear, dressing up your cognitive abilities, marginally superior as they are to that of the average hoodlum, in the guise of admiration. Although, I realise now, that it isn’t just a guise. You are… patient. Tolerant of my… less admirable qualities. And for that I…”
Eddie swallowed hard, sighing as he gritted his teeth to get through the next part of the sentence, unavoidable as it was if he wanted to at least attempt to see himself gain even a tiny iota of what he assumed was going to be genuine happiness.
“… I am thankful. And I am sorry.”
Knowing that it wasn’t the moment to push or to prod, or to try and get anything else out of him, you forced a gentle smile on your face.
“Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate that. And I’m proud of you for… trying to be a bit more…”
“Kind. Nice. Human?”
“Well, you said it.”
He offered you a smile back, oddly self-effacing, toned down and genuine. Warmth behind it that you hadn’t really seen before. He appreciated being praised, clearly. Almost as much as he loved being complimented. So you decided to keep stroking the ego in the hopes that you could nurture this fresh, and perhaps feral, ability within him.
“You’re really a wonderful person to work for, Eddie. As difficult as it can be, sometimes, I do appreciate the opportunity to see how your brain… functions, how it creates.”
“And it’s only difficult sometimes? My dear, you and I both know that’s an understatement.”
It felt like a trap. Eddie had never been this down to earth, this open about his own nature and often problematic personality. Agreeing with him felt like it might be suicidal, but it might also open up a dialogue of honesty and vulnerability. The opportunity to joke, to critique, to be equals. So you took the risk.
“Maybe, but I like you enough that I’m willing to overlook the more challenging aspects of your… general being.”
With bated breath you waited to be cursed out, for the newly built bridge between you to fall apart, the dynamite stuck to it’s fragile and trembling beams to be detonated, to watch it collapse as quickly as it was constructed. But he let out of a soft chuckle and leaned back in his seat, picking up the newspaper from the table and reading it with a smile. It was casual. It was… normal.
And it killed Eddie to be normal. Everything in him fought against the desire to tell you he was not difficult, despite knowing very well that he was. But he had been reasoning with himself, while you were gone, since you came back, even when you had been with him in the first place, that allowing himself to be normal would be the only way he could see a future with you, in any capacity. It made him feel nauseous, to consider that he wanted a future, even one where you remained as his obedient assistant let alone anything else, but that feeling of dread was good. It might mean he was doing the right thing, for a change.
Each day, each moment it seemed, he was closer to letting the softer side of him win. And every day he woke up, he was hoping it would. In the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul, there was something growing. Something that longed to be adored, and to be deserving of that adoration. Not to win it through aggression, or cruelty, or his intelligence. But through offering it back in equal measure. True. Equal. Vulnerable.
He was pulled from the thoughts by your sudden interruption, speaking again as you tried to see how far the line had been moved, toeing it, testing the waters.
“It is a shame what a pain you are, Eddie. You have the potential to be very sweet, and you are handsome. You could easily have conned someone into marriage and then they’d be sort of contractually obliged to look after you.”
“Much like you are?”
The curt, almost factual way he insinuated the dynamic between you shocked you into a stunned silence, and all you could do was look at him, stupefied, mouth open in half-shock, half-amusement at the way he had so casually implied your unspoken marriage. In the face of the ridiculousness, he stammered at an explanation.
“I mean… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the implications when I suggested… or implied… insinuated? When I said that. I… n-not that it would be wrong, I mean you would do well as a… for someone else, although, I mean I wouldn’t want you to because then you’d spend less time with me, uh, for me. Although! You’re allowed to spend time with other people it’s not… it’s not like we’re in a relationship. We, uh, have a relationship of course, not a… which I would like, or… no… wouldn’t mind. But I would date you first not just… I’m not asking you… just explaining that it… you know what I mean? I mean… I don’t know what I mean. I am talking a lot. Big, bulging, genius brain and it can’t figure out when to stop talking to feel free to step in at any point and do your job, save me from- ”
As was now your standard, you interrupted him by placing your palm softly against his cheek. It silenced him, caught him breathless. A motion so tender, unlike most other times people had reached their hand towards his face. But, interestingly at least to him, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t expect you to react violently. He trusted you in close quarters. It felt so natural, so warming, that he didn’t even realise he was instinctively leaning in towards you, closing the gap, until he snapped back to the real world and pulled away.
“Ok, well… thank you. That’ll do it.”
As you dropped your hand to the table with a smile, he was quick to place his on top of it, watching it with a confused look, as though he weren’t in control of it. As if his body had decided to bypass his brain and start making decisions for itself, taking what it wanted. Touch. Comfort. But there was no silencing his mind, always there to assert its dominance over his heart and soul. So he snatched his arm back and placed it under the table, scowling before shifting his face to a more calm and neutral expression, not wanting to seem angry when he spoke to you.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t do that. For the sake of… the feelings involved. It might be simpler to focus on returning to our working relationship, especially so soon after your return.”
With a heavy heart, you couldn’t help but agree with him, but it stung nevertheless.
“I do agree that it was a bit awkward, before. But does that mean we just live with the tension now? We ignore it? Until it swells up again? Is that what you want?”
With a defeated smile, forced onto his face to keep the mood as light as possible, Eddie looked int your eyes, longer and deeper than he had ever done before.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how I feel. And that is terrifying, because I know everything. The only thing I am certain of is that my ego would be satisfactorily bruised if I get something wrong. Getting it wrong would be admitting there’s something I can’t do. So I would rather not… know. I’d rather have nothing than risk being disappointed… or… disappointing… anyone else.”
You reached to grab his hand, but corrected yourself. You wanted to comfort him, to congratulate him. This was enough, this was all you needed at that moment. The fact that he had opened up, told you his feelings, confessed to his fears. It was plenty to live on. It gave you hope. And he seemed to appreciate your restraint, taking what he needed from your comforting smile at least for now. The day could begin. It would be like normal. You’d make lunch. He’d tut when you hummed and distracted him from his work. You would eat dinner and go to your separate rooms. It would be the same as always, until he was ready to find more. Or to go after it.
But as he watched you stand up, he felt a painful pang of regret in his stomach. How long could he really wait? He’d spent so much time already trying to figure out the correct answer. It might be possible that there was no definitive solution here. A risk might be the only option.
ah, to wrap your arms around a lover from behind, sneaking a kiss on the cheek, suprising them, but think how quickly a pleased hum builds in their throat as they turn to face you.
Imagine you and your f/o always being there for each other whenever you’re feeling sad, stressed, anxious, etc. Both of you have the utmost trust in each other, doing whatever you can to support and comfort the other.
