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cl3fairyyy · 2 months

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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

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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.

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