#i hope it goes well i love her sm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr posted its first advertisements in May 2012 and subsequently earned $13M in revenue.

#i hope it goes well i love her sm

yuukimiyas · 11 months

Text

ପ૮๑ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ๑ აଓ it’s a fresh new week!! happy monday!! i hope you all had the best nights rest & are ready to make this week a great one!! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ꒱ა im making you your fave breakfast as we speak & sending all of my love to you!!

#i saw my friends new place last night & played mariokart on the switch!! it was so much fun!! (∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)#& omg her new place is so gorgeous!!! so so cute & so v her!!#i work today & then i’m off tmrw so i hope my day today goes by v well!! & i hope yours does too!! <33 #i love you all sm its insane!! im squeezing you all & holding you so close!! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა #ᕱ⑅ᕱ.* journals!

2 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 4 months

Text

undercover verstappen | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem verstappen!reader

get you a girlfriend who will threaten mutiny to get you a seat at a competent team

based on this request: HI BABES I HOPE YOU ARE WELL! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM! So basically I have an idea for a (possible?) Smau series, so basically it's Charles leclerc × verstappen!reader, she is a reserve driver for redbull but is also maxs race engineer (idk if you call it that? The person that talks to them that one) so she's very involved with the team and f1 in general. The public doesn't know that her and Charles are dating, and they don't even think it as Charles and max "hate" eachother (they are both doing this to protect readers and Charles relationship, they are actually besties) and basically, reader has enough if ferraris tractor, so she's like 'I will get you too redbull' and then checo retires at the end of the 2023 season, and instead of taking the job when she was offered it, she asks if Charles could have it (obviously not publicised) and Christian is like "Yes very good idea" so he asks Charles who is uncertain at first but is then OK with the idea (he is worried about becoming a second driver to max but there is lots of reassuring that he won't be nd so he accepts) and then he goes on to win 2024 wdc (and wcc but irrelevant) and he's sad that he couldn't do it with ferrari omg that's long sorry babes - @lillians-world-is-f1

MASTERLIST | TIPS | F1 SMALL BUSINESS

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen, yourusername and 1,390,887 others

tagged: schecoperez

redbullracing: checo has informed the team that he will be retiring from the sport at the end of the 2023 season. we thank checo for his service and all the good times, he will forever be a legend of this sport. VAMOS CHECO 👏

view all comments

user1: EXCUSE ME?

user2: they really thought they could drop this on a monday and we'd all be chill

maxverstappen1: i've heard tequila tastes even better when you're retired, congrats mate - we'll miss you

user3: wait does this mean it'll be double verstappen on the grid now?

user4: there's more than one of them?

user5: max's sister is the girl you'll hear on his radio and she's technically the reserve driver as well. so she might step up to the second seat now checo has retired

user6: idk about you but that spells trouble to me

yourusername: congrats checo! will miss you, carola and all the little ones x

schecoperez: you won't be able to get rid of them that easily, i'll be cashing in on some well earned babysitting hours

yourusername: can't wait !!!

user7: what i'm hearing is that there's a chance for a daniel return to red bull?

user8: double verstappen or maxiel i don't want to choose they're both my children

user9: i'm making an outside shout for a charles leclerc red bull era

user10: i am seeing the lestappen vision

user11: my personal headcanon is that both verstappens and charles are all besties and have always been besties

christianhorner: thank you for your service checo, first drink on me 👍

user12: i know christian is sweating having to make a choice between child no 2 y/n and child no 3 daniel

user13: idk i think daniel might have the edge

user14: if geri or max have anything to do with it we might have a team so dutch that the car will be orange next season

user15: christian punching the walls cause lando extended his mclaren contract literally last week 😭

EXCERPT OF RECORDING OF THE RED BULL GARAGE, ABU DHABI

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 892,309 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: verstappens take the city

view all comments

user18: i just know they are simultaneously the best people to party with but also the people you probably don’t want at a house party

yourusername: i’ll have you know i once plunged a toilet at a house party and disposed of a “sick sandwich” i am a DELIGHT

user19: and max?

yourusername: no comment

maxverstappen1: as if ! i don’t care if we’re blood im suing you for slander

yourusername: i watched you volley a vase at AD21

maxverstappen1: i paid for it !!! and you said it was a sick shot anyway FAKE

yourusername: you can say that cause personally i was not at fault of any of my actions that night x

user20: PLEASE MA'AM AT LEAST ONE SEASON OF DOUBLE TROUBLE PLEASE

user21: idk if i could deal with seeing jos verstappen every weekend tho...

user22: obsessed with how neither verstappen follow charles but here he be in her notifications again

user23: someone add it to the interaction spreadsheet i am CONVINCED it will one day lead to more

landonorris: lando norris erasure once again

user24: DID YOU WRITE THAT NOTE???

landonorris: hell no i'd rather peel my skin off than call the three raccoons disguised as a woman pretty

yourusername: good gosh we would've got the point without all of that

maxverstappen1: yeah lando only i'm allowed to call y/n the raccoons in a trench coat. know your place.

user25: so you do wanna tell us who wrote the note then?

yourusername: nope ;p

user26: only y/n and max have been spotted out so maybe it's just brotherly love

user27: LOL? MAX? BROTHERLY LOVE?

danielricciardo: invite seemed to get lost in the mail again

yourusername: either get a room or get out of my comment section

maxverstappen1: ???

user28: no maxiel red bull again. i don't think y/n's blood pressure can take it

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,544,924 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

f1: ready to see them as teammates? charles leclerc has signed a deal with red bull to keep him at the team until 2028.

view all commments

user29: excuse me *clears throat* WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

redbullracing: welcome charles!!! no inchidents please

charles_leclerc: will we ever hear the end of that joke?

redbullracing: we know what the girlies want charles

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while. no ice bath thirst traps here though

charles_leclerc: phew 😥

user30: this little hoe pretending he didn't love it

user31: wait ??? does this mean what i think it could mean? GIRLFRIEND?

user32: i can't take leaving ferrari and a girlfriend in one day sorry

yourusername: welcome to the team charles :)

user33: don't think we forgot about the recording babe... IS THIS WHO YOU RECOMMENED?

danielricciardo: it better not be because if you recommended your lil boyfriend over sexy ol' me i'm gonna be real mad 😭

this comment was deleted

user34: WE SAW THAT WHAT THE FUCK

maxverstappen1: daniel you are so fucking dumb

yourusername: MAX? IGNORE IT?

maxverstappen1: bro it's all over twitter you might as well take the moment to curse out daniel before christian confiscates our phones

yourusername: DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO YOU RAT BASTARD I'M GONNA RIP WHATEVER REMAINING HAIR YOU HAVE LEFT AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR SURPRISINGLY PERKY ASS. IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT YOU AND YOUR CHILD BEARING HIPS WILL NEVER GET CLOSE TO A RED BULL EVER AGAIN FOR EXPOSING A SECRET US THREE HAVE KEPT FOR SEVEN FUCKING YEARS

charles_leclerc: what she said

maxverstappen1: oop.

user35: well. can we keep going this is quite fun.

christianhorner: they're all in time out sorry

user36: okay well now that happened... when can we get "who knows me better my boyfriend or my brother" lestappen version 🤨

charles_leclerc: i would wipe the floor with him

maxverstappen1: of course you would you BIG FAT NERD

charles_leclerc: i thought christian took your phone?

maxverstappen1: as if he doesn't fall for the verstappen puppy dog eyes every time

charles_leclerc: you'll use them for me right babe, RIGHT BABE?

yourusername: idk charlie, this is family business

christianhorner: i've taken their phones again

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,304,555 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: my favourite men in the world doing what they do best

view all comments

user37: take me out back and shoot me already

christianhorner: interesting i don't see myself here and considering i pay your wages...

yourusername: dads go in different categories?

christianhorner: don't use my paternal instincts against me y/n

yourusername: say goodbye to your father's day card

christianhorner: NO I'M SORRY

user38: the way this proves that second red bull really was y/n's ...

user39: for real imagine loving a MAN so much you give it to HIM 🤮

user40: she also said in that recording at jos made it so bad for the two of them when they did compete that she no longer wanted to give the fans and the media the chance to do it either

charles_leclerc: oh wow that's crazy, you're my favourite woman ever

yourusername: don't be so rude to mama pascale

charles_leclerc: well other than mama obvioysly

yourusername: so i'm not your favourite, i see how it is

charles_leclerc: I AM SO CONFUSED SO I'M JUST GONNA SAY I LOVE YOU

yourusername: awww charlie i love you too

user41: okay i've known about them approximately two weeks and i love them your honour

maxverstappen1: i'm so much better than him y/n be real

yourusername: don't be such a sore loser maxy

maxverstappen1: don't get it twisted, i still won on track

charles_leclerc: not for long

yourusername: okay girlies leave the trash talk for the weekends this is being normal for the sake of y/n's mental health time

user42: good lord this trio is so dear to me

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,043,788 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: best thing about winning is choosing the restaurant after - closely followed about the worst thing: third wheeling them.

view all comments

user43: max coming through with the y/n and charles content as he should

user44: i need him to open the vault cause i have not forgotten that y/n said this relationship is seven years old

yourusername: i think i had a wet dream about this sushi spread last night

maxverstappen1: as long as that's it, good.

yourusername: i don't need to have wet dreams anymore, the real thing is so much better

maxverstappen1: BLOCKED.

user45: i know y/n is elated to be able to publicly terrorise max with her relationship

user46: so does this mean that this is a system they've had for a while?

yourusername: room service is our middle names

charles_leclerc: maximilian can you please send the last pic to the shared album

maxverstappen1: on it 🫡

user47: SHARED ALBUM? I MIGHT DIE

yourusername: you two are such cutie patooties

maxverstappen1: but for real no being so cute on my jet again or just wait for me to go for my nap

charles_leclerc: heard and understood

yourusername: or maybe just get a life and stop being so lonely

danielricciardo: can i join for sushi or am i still banned?

maxverstappen1: eh, you could take y/n in a scrap

danielricciardo: she read my ass for filth on main i'm scared of her

charles_leclerc: she had you gagged

danielricciardo: and this litlle guard puppy agrees with whatever she says :(

yourusername: as he should !

maxverstappen1: don't try and fight it daniel, i've been in this losing battle for seven years

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,834,903 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: life in blue could never be blue with you. i love you baby, thank you for giving me this opportunity, every trophy is for you x

view all comments

user48: GOD PLEASE SAVE ME PLEASE GOD SAVE ME FROM THIS SINGLE LIFE.

yourusername: i love you too charlie, i'd do everything and more for you. i'm happy you're happy x

charles_leclerc: you can't get rid of me at this point

yourusername: seven years strong, i'm stuck to you like glue

charles_leclerc: you'll have my last name (or i can take yours) next

maxverstappen1: you can give her a ring but you'll NEVER TAKE THE VERSTAPPEN NAME AWAY

yourusername: you good?

maxverstappen1: yeah but we must always be double trouble. not even THAT man will come between that

user49: this is the trio of my dreams i need a whole drive to survive ep or even spin off just following these losers around

danielricciardo: see how could you be angry that i would want to talk about all this cuteness ?

yourusername: we are cute, correct.

charles_leclerc: i'd use the words incredibly sexy but okay

danielricciardo: are you guys still angry? I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOU

yourusername: we forgive you daniel.

charles_leclerc: i was also kissing her on my first podium REGARDLESS

yourusername: you're so romantic 🥰

maxverstappen1: GAG.

user50: convinced that max will still be the biggest big brother asshole until he is in the retirement home

alexalbon: flexing the alex albon and lily mun he photography i see

yourusername: thank you for your service

lilymunhe: we can also keep a secret 🤫

danielricciardo: I SAID I WAS SORRY

charles_leclerc: we're gonna hold it over you forever buddy

danielricciardo: was taking the red bull seat not enough?

charles_leclerc: until i win a championship? yes.

fin.

note: I'M BACK!! hope this was what you were looking for xx also, if you guys ever want to support me in any way i have a tip jar on kofi and also my small business @badlydrawnf1cats that has a sticker sheet available right now - love you all xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc social media au

2K notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Note

hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

1K notes · View notes

midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Note

Hello :) please could I request headcanons of the hashira having a crush on a hashira!reader who’s very motherly to the younger demon slayers but shy and secretly craving affection from the other hashira 💙💙

demon slayer hcs: motherly hashira!reader x the hashira pt 1

characters: fem!reader x giyuu, rengoku, tengen, shinobu, kamaboko squad (mentioned)

AN: some of these are platonic instead of romantic.

pt. 2 with mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, and muichiro is HERE

stop because i love this

you don't talk to the other hashira much

but its not because you don't like them!

they're just a little intimidating

and you want them to like you so bad

but what if you accidentally embarrass yourself in front of them

would be my biggest fear tbh

GIYUU

this guy is just as shy as you are

awkward asf too

but seeing as you're one of the few hashira that are kind to him..

he really likes you

also really appreciates the way you take care of the younger slayers

especially the Kamado siblings

i mean he did literally put his life on the line for those two

you guys don't talk much when in each others company

really its more of a dead silence lmao

like thats a surprise at all lol

but he enjoys being in your presence

he thinks you have a very calming aura around you

and he never feels any hostility from you

if you guys are paired up on a mission?

my guy is glued to u

no way is a demon going to hurt someone as pure and kindhearted as u

not on giyuu's watch

even tho he's goin to be protective of u during missions

he knows that despite your sweet nature, ur a hell of a fighter

respects you sm

thinks of you as his only true friend within the corps

RENGOKU

i can never get enough of him i swear

he absolutely adores you

goes out of his way to talk to you every chance he gets

ur all the way on the other side of the butterfly estate?

sunshine boy is hunting you down

ur on a mission a few miles away from his estate?

he's alrdy otw

also very oblivious

you get shy when he starts talking to you

maybe you start blushing

"oh are you sick? your face is all red. i hope you don't have a fever..."

and hes putting his hand on ur forehead to check ur temperature

if he touched me id faint

admires how you genuinely care for the younger slayers

the way you encourage them to get stronger

the way you help them train

the way you make sure they're eating and drinking enough

you remind him of his mother

TENGEN

when him & his wives finally have children..

ur designated babysitter 100%

being the sound hashira he has a great sense of hearing

so he hears your interactions with the younger slayers

you're not afraid to talk to the kids

you comfort them. laugh with them, scold them, etc.

wonders why you act so differently in the presence of the hashira

makes it his mission to make you comfortable around him

u don't have to worry abt affection when tengen is concerned lol

compliments you 24/7

"you look very flashy today!"

"you are a great teacher!"

"You should become my 4th wife!"

no bc that lmfao ^

SHINOBU

you two are very familiar with each other

it's very often that you're dragging inosuke or genya by the ear to the infirmary to be treated

mostly inosuke

so she is well aware of how motherly u can be

she's a regular witness to the many scoldings given out to the younger slayers

you also asked her to train you in basic first aid

your red face and stuttered words were so cute she acted like she couldn't understand you

just so you would repeat it

loves to tease you

nothing too bad!

and never mean!

just thinks you're so adorable

really appreciates when shes sent on missions and you help out in the infirmary

wants to be better friends with you

5K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

hi lovely!! i love your writing sm, was wondering if i could request poly! marauders x shy! reader!! like they try to fluster her whenever they can, maybe leading to smut? totally okay if not, just thought i’d ask, hope you’re well <3

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 625 words

“He-llo, gorgeous,” Sirius says as you walk into the boys’ dorm, and you know instantly that it’s going to be a trying afternoon. “Who gave you permission to look that good on a Tuesday, huh?”

You feel blood rush to your face, but you put all the severity you can into one word as you sit on Remus’ bed, far as you can get from your smirking boyfriend. “Quit.”

You should have known it would only encourage him. Sirius arches one eyebrow, smile spreading like a blight across his pretty face. “Oh I see. Feeling bold today, are we? Wanna repeat that, pretty girl?”

You don’t, actually. Your daily quota of boldness has hit its limit.

Sirius is downright gleeful at your silence. “Aw, come on. I love it when you boss me around, sweetheart. Moony, isn’t she cute when she tells us what to do?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Remus’ voice is quiet behind you, lilting in that way it gets when he’s particularly amused. “She never does it with me.”

James laughs from where he’s digging through his wardrobe, fishing out a pair of sweats to change into from his robes. “Only you, Pads. You’re the only one who pushes her that far.”

“Mm, but she gives up too easily.” You can hear the pout in Sirius’ voice, can feel his stare boring into the top of your head, but you don’t look up from where you’ve begun picking your nails.

“Hey.” Remus’ hand wraps around yours, shielding your fingertips from one another. You tense. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say, but the word is barely audible, barely more than breath.

“What was that?” You can feel him shifting around you on the bed. When you still won’t look up, he slides to the floor, crouching in front of you to capture your eyes. “Look at me, darling.”

You do, for the half of a second it takes for him to smirk, and then you realize his game, the sneaky bastard. You can feel your heartbeat in your face. You know you have to be red as a stop sign, but neither Remus or Sirius will heed you.

You look to James, your softhearted angel, for help. Remus chuckles, hand flattening against the side of your knee to rub soothingly, but you know better than to fall for that now. After a few moments of silence, James glances over. His eyes soften into warm brown mush when he sees the plea on your face.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, forgoing his search for a shirt and opening his arms as he comes your way. “Are they being cruel?”

You’re not ready to commit to slander, but you accept his hug readily. He steals you from Remus’ grasp, taking you into his hold and scrubbing a hand up and down your spine while he laughs.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he teases the other boys, palm steadfast on your back. “Ganging up on our poor girl like that.”

“Hey, I just wanted her to know that she looks nice,” Sirius says, and without removing your face from James’ neck you can picture his don’t-shoot gesture. “Anyway, it seems like she got what she wanted in the end.”

James’ laughter starts up again, a low rumble in his chest that has you tensing warily. “Ah, I think I understand,” he says, voice turning smooth as velvet. “You just wanted to feel me up while I’m shirtless, is that right, sweetheart?”

You make a quiet, miserable sound, slumping against him despondently as his shoulders shake underneath you.

“You little pervert,” James goes on, teasing tone at odds with the steady patting of his hand on your back. “Lucky for you I’m willing to be objectified, you freak.”

1K notes · View notes

maplesyrupsainz · 21 days

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙a long time coming | CL16˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: charles leclerc x famous!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, childhood friends to lovers

warnings: none just some angst literally minimal

summary: in which, after setting you up with another man, your childhood best friend finally realises that you're the one

a/n: lovelovelove this plot idea hehe ty for requesting

request!!!: famous reader who also happens to be Charles Leclerc's childhood friend, she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with another driver but then he realizes he actually likes her so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together.

fc: mathildartg

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, gracieabrams, and 1,026,716 others

yourusername night out 🌙🍷

tagged: yourbff

view all 13,715 comments

user1 omg she's so cool and pretty

user2 i dnt get how she's single 😭

user3 same i still ship her & charles sm

user4 omg me too thought i was the only one

user5 nah there's basically a club atp

user6 ppl always bring up charles on her posts this isnt even abt him 🙄

charles_leclerc where was my invite?

yourusername must've got lost in the post

charles_leclerc and i thought we were friends!

yourusername & that's on u

yourbff love u sm

yourusername love you more

messages ->

txts between your bff & you !!!

instagram ->

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by yourbff, carlossainz55, and 621,876 others

yourusername ❤️❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

user7 omg she's sooo hot

user8 gf vibes 👀

user9 go off photographer

carlossainz55 she's hot

charles_leclerc 🤔

messages ->

txts between charles & you !!!

txts between your bff & you !!!

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 827,913 others

carlossainz55 hermosa 😻

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc wag era?

yourusername lollll shut up

user10 DATE? WITH WHOOOO

user11 omg i hope with charles 👀

user12 so beautiful omg

user13 i wish i was u

twitter ->

instagram ->

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 784,327 others

carlossainz55 unexpected surprises

view all 13,748 comments

user19 OH MY GOD

user20 that's y/n...

user21 IT WAS CARLOS

user22 WHAT THE HELL

user23 charlesyn shippers found dead everywhere

yourusername ❤️🍝

liked by carlossainz55

user24 OMGGG HI Y/N

user25 she's so gorgeous

user26 obsessed with this duo actually

user27 world's sexiest couple award goes to....

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, zendaya, and 1,274,026 others

yourusername lace

view all 26,375 comments

user28 omg omg are they dating or what

user29 soft launch hmmmmm

user30 no charles anywhere to be seen

user31 she traded one ferrari for another 💀

user32 downgrade much

user33 hot girl af

carlossainz55 photographer creds?

yourusername hmmm 👀

user34 omg so cute

user35 they must be spending a lot of time tgthr!!!

lilymhe cuties ❤️❤️

yourusername ilyyyy

user36 awww fellow wags omg??

messages ->

txts between your bff & you !!!

txts between pierre & charles !!!

instagram ->

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by pierregasly, lilymhe, and 827,163 others

yourbff well hello

pierregasly ????? an update would be nice

lilymhe this looks sus

user37 URMMMM????

user38 charlesyn shippers everywhere cheered

user39 ARE WE BACK

user40 omg we are so back

user41 the way she's looking at u....pls say u finally bagged her officially

messages ->

txts between pierre & charles !!!

txts between your bff & you !!!

txts between carlos & you !!!

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, francisca.cgomes, and 1,012,633 others

yourbff Y/N

francisca.cgomes oh my god

pierregasly fucking finally

gracieabrams 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

yoursister call me back

yourmother y/n/n is that charlie? you are dating?

oliviarodrigo y/n🥰

lilymhe AHHHHHHH

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, and 1,625,018 others

charles_leclerc a long time coming

tagged: yourusername

view all 31,211 comments

pierregasly creds to me

yourbff no me

carlossainz55 no me

charles_leclerc shut up

yourusername no let them speak

user42 omg i wish i knew what happened

user43 URM HELLO

user44 IT'S REAL OH MY GOD

user45 FINALLYYYY

yourmother i already have my dress picked out for the wedding!

charles_leclerc can't wait to see it 😉

yourusername 🤦‍♀️

user46 AWW SO CUTE Y/N'S MOM

user47 everyone is a charlesyn shipper even if they arent

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername

yourusername i love you oh my god..

charles_leclerc je t'aime mon petit ange

THE END ❤️

818 notes · View notes

allysunny · 6 months

Note

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear?

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck – it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

glassrowboat · 2 months

Text

Daydream in a Nightmare

Authors note: I read a soulmate au where with dream sharing. Everytime you fall asleep you and your SM would meet in a world that would reflect your consciousness and who you were. So down below are the boys and what I think the places their dreams would depict.

Mondstadt

Diluc: The cathedral. His mom, back when she was alive, used to play during service and afterwards Diluc ran over greeting her with the biggest smile, asking her to play him one more song. She never failed to. Maybe that's why there's always a gentle melody playing whenever you see him as he rests his fingers over the same white tiles, simply trying to remember how to play.

Kaeya: The Dawn Winery. Or at least parts of it. Behind closed doors there's the scent of grass, of dirt, and the faintest smell of ash. He says it's simply the vineyard that in the real world would be right outside, but he knows well as he pulls your hand from the doorknob that it's ruins of a fallen nation haunting him right on the other side.

Albedo: Glass walls. A maze of mirrors and reflections. If you ever have stopped to bother to count between Albedo’s musings as he shares with you the secrets of the world, you'd notice that for some reason he always has more reflections in the walls around you than of your own figure. Like there's more of him than there is of you.

Venti: Old Mondstadt. Back before the revolution, back when there were people in the streets wishing their God weren't so unjust, but in his dreams that wall of spiraling wind is never there. A warped perception of a life he wished to have lived as he sits in your lap not as Venti the bard, but a wind sprite trying to bury into your clothes for warmth. Just don't call him pipsqueek or he'll try and bite your fingers. Playfully. You think.

Liyue

Zhongli: A place that no longer exists, one torn away by this world during the archon war. It's unlike him not to comment on a place, a trinket, an item, as you pick something up and fiddle with it, but this place he never goes into full detail on. However, he will tell you all about the artisanship of the table you two are sharing tea over.

Baizhu: His home back in Chenyu Vale, back before the illness hit his village, back before his parents passed away. Just a modest home that shows signs of being truly well lived in and loved. Mindlessly while you two talk he'll be cleaning the place, just the way he always does at the pharmacy. Though it does help give him something to fill the silence. It turns out he's a lot more used to Changsheng chiming in with comments than he thought. He just hopes you two get along when the time to meet in person finally comes about.

Ga ming: A festival. There's water kicking up at everyone's feet, up to everyones ankles as people with their face covered in all manner of masks walk you both by. Ga ming would pull you along from booth to booth, trying his best to win prizes despite the fact you both know they'll be gone by the time you wake.

Xiao: A Chinese pavilion in the sky. You walk among the clouds as you follow the path of the street, looking over the accents that seem somehow both rich in color and dull, muddied all at the same time. Something you've noticed from his dreams compared to yours, his always have a lingering black fog creeping in at the corner of your eyes. It makes you feel like someone else is in this world with you, like there's eyes waiting to do more than just watch.

Inazuma

Kazooha: A meadow. The wind passes you both by, stirring up pages of books you two sit reading in silence. You can't help but wonder if these are all books he's read before, especially the ones that wax poetry or something else. His thoughts, perhaps? Maybe Kazuha's very own writings? But that matters little as his head is resting on your shoulder as you try to catch words between the fluttering sheets of paper.

Itto: A kabuki play. It always ends up in you two hiding away in the back room where the performers would get ready before getting back out on stage for the next act. You would see the brightest of colors, richest of fabrics, and practiced movements so fine tuned that you can't understand why Itto is so focused on taking the makeup on the vanity in the back simply so he can paint your face with red marks just like his. To each their own you suppose, and who are you to complain when it means drawing hearts on his arm when Itto isn't paying attention?

Gorou: A tea house. It's a small place, simple, but certainly not lacking charm as Gorou pours you a cup. At first the fact you could actually taste the rich herbs on your tongue in this dreamscape threw you off, but now it's just another part of this odd reality. But saying that, the first time you spat out the drink he offered as soon as the bitter taste hit you. Apparently he never expected you to not already be used to green tea. The poor fella was apologizing for the rest of the night, ears laid flat on his head and tail tucked between his legs. It's okay though, you made it even by trying to give him dog treats. It was you having to beg for forgiveness then.

Thoma: It was different this time. No glowing blue flowers and a forest that you two would stroll through mindlessly while chatting for hours. No, this time Thoma was sitting on a wooden platform below a giant stone statue. Intriguing, yes, but mattered little compared to the rope burns around his wrist. He tried to tell you not to worry about it. That it was an accident. But that mattered little as your lips pressed to the red, irritated skin and he gave you a strained smile. You knew better than to ask about it more from there.

Ayato: It's ever changing. It's like he is constantly thinking of something whenever He falls asleep and it reflects in his dreams. Once it was a Japanese styled room the next it was some room in Fontaine's architecture. But it's always a bedroom. A place of relaxation as Ayato buries his head in your lap like it was a pillow. He'll whine about being overworked until you're tempted to pull on his hair just to make the man shut up for once, but last time you did that it led to the bed being used for a lot more than just rest. For now just pat his head and let him vent, the man needs it.

Sumeru

Kaveh: A sketch brought to life from his mothers blueprints. One he saw his mother sketching back when Kaveh was a boy and she would let him sit on her lap, let him comment on the drawings. She would always find some way to incorporate his addictions into the sketch. Nowadays he knows the building that was actually constructed in the end to be simpler, duller than the one his mother wanted, but in his dreams with you it stands tall and proud.

Al Haitham: An attic. It's dusty and it clearly had a hole in the roof that was covered over by some wooden planks and nails. A patch work job that needs to be fixed but if you ever take the time to bother with it while Al Haitham sits in an old rocking chair covered by a quilt reading the night away it will only be there the next dream cycle. It pisses you off. He pisses you off. All nonchalance and an apathetic look even as you plop yourself in his lap and take that book away. And what pisses you off even more? How he dares to call you needy as he holds you close. It's best to ignore the fact he started reading over your shoulder.

Tighnari: Pardis Dhyai. He'll sit on the walkway watching you kick the water of the ponds around, paying no mind to when you splash at him. Not anymore at least. He's learned quickly if he makes a snarky comment you'll give one back and it'll go on and on until somehow it ends in him getting dragged into the pond with you. Both dripping algae filled water as he wondered what gods made this numbskull his mate.

Cyno: Lambad's Tavern. Everytime he would come back from treks in the desert he would go there, get a drink, and play a round of cards with whoever was willing. It was a pattern. Work, work, rest, and more work. But now he didn't have to constantly be on work mode as he sat with you in the old booth shuffling cards as he tried to explain to you how TCG works. So far everytime you lose you've thrown those elemental dice and him, and with a smile he lets them hit him in the head despite being fully able to dodge them. His soulmate is such a sore loser.

Wanderer: Shakkei Pavilion. He hates it. Hates that this is the place his unconscious has chosen to sink onto so stubbornly. His wooden fingers would slide over the paintings depicting Scaramouche’s past that has now been severed from him in everyone's eyes but Nahida and the Traveler. If you knew, would you still hold his hand? Would you still trace the details of his joints and comment that you find his pretty face such a stark contrast to his sharp words? He's afraid to find out, the idea that you might be his fourth betrayal always lingering in the back of his mind.

Fontaine

Neuvillette: Under the water where the currents would carry stray bits of seaweed and fish swimming past. The first time you shared a dream with him here he had to calm you down as instinctively you held your breath, taking your hands in his and assuring you if he can talk like this, you can suck in air just as well. It took some time getting used to, but now he watches as you grab starfish off the ocean floor and bring them over to him like a prize to be presented. This is what humans must be like Neuvillette tells himself as you braid them into his hair.

Worcestershire sauce: A home. A nice one at that. Big, had decent furnishings, pictures of kids hung up on the wall. If you listened closely enough you could even hear children playing outside from the cracked open windows that showed the brightest sky outside. Wriothesly would walk behind you as you would watch the grass blowing in the wind, not saying a word as he rested his chin on top of your head. He never thought he'd be back here again. The very place made him feel sick to his stomach, but with you? It was bearable. Even as you tried to grab his handcuffs from him.

Snezhnaya

Childe: His childhood home. Back before the renovations he bought for the place with his money as a harbinger, back before the redecorating of rooms to fit more children, and back to what the house was like when he was just a boy yet to fall into the abyss. Back when everything was simpler. He would pick up toys that have gone missing, never to be seen again and stare in wonder how it all is exactly how he remembers it. It makes it so much easier to be Ajax with you, rather than Tartaglia.

Dottore: The hospital he was working in when trying to help Eleazar patients. For the life of him does he hate it, being back in the desert always having to tip his shoes out of sand that never seems to fully clear off. It doesn't help you try and pour sand down his shirt, but in a way he supposes it's better you two stay out here under that blistering sun than you going inside to be met with the smell of death. No, you don't need to know about that side of him just yet.

Pantalone: His office. It always makes it hard to tell at first if he's awake, not when the same scene greets him either way. You always joke about him being married to his work and you're the mistress in this relationship. At this point he counts on the comment as soon as his eyes flutter open and he's greeted with the sight of you sitting on the desk he's been using as a pillow. Still, he can never help the genuine smile at seeing you once again.

Captain: A flower field. The snowdrops peek out from under the fluffy blanket of white powder, crunching under every step he takes. Even in his dreams the cold of Snezhnaya is ever present, ever biting. It only makes sense you are shivering behind him even as he lets you steal his cloak that is more of a blanket on you than anything. This field, he knows it well, knows that what waters these flowers is more blood than anything else, but that matters little as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe he can find a way to dream you a proper jacket.

Pierro: A grand hall. It reminds you of the way ballrooms are described in romance stories as the couple depicted would dance the night away. Columns so high you have to tilt your head back just to see where they meet the ceiling covered in paintings you've never seen before. That is until Pierro steps into your view. He always offered his hand to you before you could ask, and as your fingers interlocked he would tell you about them. Always ready to answer your questions. It meant someone was curious about a part of his long lost nation. So, of course, he was always happy to share.

Scaramouche: A never ending fire. It's a small shack, engulfed by flames that never seem to dwindle or burn out the wood it feeds on. Like this place was stuck in time in his mind. He doesn't talk to you, not any more than a sharp shut up. The only time that glare he showed you disappeared is when you pulled your hand back from the curious fire with a hiss, not expecting it to actually hurt in this fake reality. For a moment you could have sworn he took a step towards you, but he never came any closer than that as he hissed at you to be careful. Dumb mortals should at least know not to burn themselves.

657 notes · View notes

all444miles · 11 months

Note

can you do miles with and earthy black girl! Like I can see him wanting her nose rings, and accessories but don’t get me started on how he SIMPS for her waist beads. He loves seeing her at school with her hair wrap and locs and her lavender and coco sent, she’s a calm person to!

thank you so much for your AMAZING work God bless❤️❤️❤️❤️

— DOWN TO EARTH

— pairing: both miles' x black!earthy!fem!reader — genre: fluff — summary: what its like for both miles' to date an earthy girl ‹3 — a/n: quick note, the reader calls 1610 miles "bambi" as a nickname becuase he reminds her of a baby deer ‹3 (credits to my pookie for that !!) — a/n 2: I didn't know which miles you meant, so i just did both 😭 also pretend that brooklyn visions academy doesnt have a uniform.. i was tired writing this so im rlly rlly RLLLY sorry if this is bad but, i hope you like this, and enjoy !! ‹3

E-42 MILES

Miles loves being in your room. the smell of burning coconut incense, the look of your fairy lights, the small plants, it felt so chill, so peaceful. he liked that.

he always knows which incense you've used, and will pick up if you've changed them. He'll buy you some if you need any more.

"You got rid of the coconut incense? Mami, that one was my favorite." "Baby, I only have one pack left." "Oh? Aight, i'll buy you some tomorrow."

he'll never tell you, but if he misses you, he'll listen to your favorite songs that you'd always hum to yourself when you two are alone.

does he like Erykah Badu? Yes, yes he does. he'll listen to Green Eyes on his missions with his uncle whenever he gets the chance.

his uncle caught him once; one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

"Kid, you listenin' Erykah Badu? Ian know you into allat." "Yo chill, it's only cuz my girl like her." "Mhm. You sure you my nephew or am I trippin?" "Tio, let's just roll."

he's loves to cuddle with you, especially cause you always smell like lavender. he won't let you go either.

"Miles, I gotta get some food." "Nuh, in a minute." "Hun, you done said that 2 minutes ago." "Exactly, in a minute. I like being here."

absolutely in love with your waist beads. he loves the jewllery you were (you both have matching necklaces), but your waist beads? goes absolutely crazy whenever you wearing a crop top and you have them on.

one time you two were at a beach and you wore them with your bikini, he might as well have fell in love with you all over again. bro has his hands on your waist the whoooleee time.

"Princesa, never take off your waist beads." "Why? You like 'em?" "¿Gustarme? Chica, Dios mío, estoy enamorada de ellos." (Like them? Girl, my god, i'm in love with them.) "Miles!" "What? I'm just appreciating my queen n her style, ion see no problem."

E-1610 MILES

Miles is obsessed, like, obsessed, with your style.

if you two live close, he'll style your locs and do your head wrap for you before school.

if not, he'll come to school excited to see your ootd. that is, as if you don't send them to him everyday before school.

"You look gorgeous in your outfit, amor." "Thank you Miles. You do know i already showed you it before school, right?" "So? It's always better to see my wife's outfits in person." "Bambi, you so corny."

he draws you, all the time. look through his sketchbook and you'll find drawings of his friends from the spider society, his uncle, and thousands of you.

Instead of doing what his twin does, when he misses you, he'll draw you. He misses you a lot.

"Baby, can I see your sketchbook?" "..Uhm, yeah! Sure." "You draw me? Awwe, that's so cute."

he loves how calm you are, he actually thinks of you as an angel the way you're so peaceful.

he thinks your nose rings are so gorgeous. if you let him pick which nose ring, he'll be so honored.

adores the fact you smell like lavender. he'll always lay his head into the crook of your neck because he loves your scent sm.

like his counterpart, he's so fascinated to your waist beads. like, he just thinks you look so beautiful with em. One time, you put his hands on your waist, he honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mami, did you know I love your waist beads?" "Yes, bambi, i know." "Nah, but I loooovvveeeee them!" "Baby, i know!" "Like, I looooooooooooovvvvvvvveeeeee them!" "Love, please."

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

1K notes · View notes

crispin-kreme · 4 months

Text

the fear of loosing you ; zayne (love and deep space)

synopsis: you are rushed to the emergency room after suffering from a fatal injury from your mission, and this is not how zayne wanted to see you– not in the emergency room.

genre: angst, fluff at the end

pairings: zayne x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of blood and hospital setting, cursing (not so sure), grammatical errors

note: this is so rushed-LOL AHSHHAHA ok enjoy this is so ass but i love zayne sm THIS IS LONGER THAN I EXPECTED SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE WILLING TO READ THIS 🥹

tagging : @shikamiru <3

"clear!"

"page dr. zayne!"

"should we really- he'll not be able to handle this professionally seeing that his partner is the patient here"

"he's a professional! what do you mean?!"

the nurses whispered around, contemplating if they'd page dr. zayne. they weren't sure if he was going to lose it if he saw you in this emergency room. the room was filled with tension and stress. dr. greyson now raises his voice "just page him now! y/n's heart will fail at any moment now. they're losing a large amount of blood." he commanded.

dr. greyson needs to stop the bleeding as well but he needs zayne to take over with compressions.

"what seems to be the–"

his eyes, filled with shock. his breath hitches. zayne, for the first time, maybe in his life, he goes blank. he feels faint. he sees you on that hospital bed bleeding out. he sees dr greyson doing the compressions and other nurses helping him.

"zayne, get in here now!" dr. greyson grunts out. "i'll stop the bleeding. take over first with compressions" he adds. zayne rushes to take over "she needs a blood transfusion." zayne says, trying to keep calm. he grunts as he presses on your chest harder, trying to resuscitate you. zayne watches how your pressure is going down through the monitor.

he tries to keep his tears in "c-come on now." he grunts. zayne does his compressions harder until he feels your ribcage breaking from it. this was normal- he felt this most of the time but it was disturbing for him to feel it when it came to your body. that's when his tears fell. "hold on please" he whispers.

dr. greyson is able to prepare you for surgery. "zayne, can you do this operation?" dr greyson asks. but zayne kept going with compressions. "zayne, you'll break her ribcage even more." dr greyson says.

"zayne, snap out of it!"

he stops the compressions as they hook you to some life support. zayne looks at dr greyson, teary eyed. this was the first time someone has seen him like this. he was stressed, he was scared to lose you. dr greyson sighs "you're stressed. you won't do this srugery." he tells zayne. zayne feels his stomach churning as he sees you almost covered in blood.

zayne stays silent and there was no time to lose. dr greyson goes to the bed you lie at and readies you to go to the operating room. "let's go!" dr greyson commands. zayne watches them bring you to the operating room. he stays silent as he stood in place. he felt tears coming out of his eyes. he was deeply frustrated, he couldn't lose you.

zayne was pacing around his office. as it was already in the middle of the night, he wonders why the operation is taking long. suddenly, the door of his office opens and he stops at his tracks. it was dr greyson. he looks at the dr greyson, hoping for good news.

"how did the surgery go? are they well?" zayne asks hastily. dr. greyson sighs "it was complicated- they lost a lot of blood but they're alright now." he explains. zayne's eyes were filled with worry when he heard that it was complicated.

"what about their heart? their lungs?" he asks again, voice filled with worry. he remembers your injury from fourteen years ago, where you suffered a fatal injury as well. it affected your evol and your lungs (and so as your heart). dr. greyson sighs "zayne, they're alright. y/n's alright, okay?" he says.

dr. greyson speaks once more "i was hoping that you would do their post operation check." he says. zayne nods with no hesitation. "but may i see them already?" zayne asks. dr. greyson nodded "yes but- you have to rest. you've been up all night." he tells him. zayne shook his head "i'm used to it." he says and hurriedly leaves his office.

zayne walks to your room where you're confined. he feels his stomach dropped when he sees you. you were still unconscious, under the influence of the anesthesia and your body recovering. he rushes to the seat next to the hospital bed and he sits down.

he only stares. until tears fell from his eyes.

"i told you not to attend that mission. it would be bad for your health." he mutters under his breath. he wipes his tears. zayne stands up and leans in to give you a kiss on your forehead. "i shall be here when you wake up. get some rest, my love." he whispers, trying not to cry again.

did he go home? no. he stayed at his office, waiting for a page from the nurses that you've woke up or waiting for the sun to rise so he can check up on you.

his morning rounds came and he didn't get the slightest blink of sleep. zayne enters your room and you were still unconscious. he does his usual work. he checks the iv drip, he checks the heart monitor, and he checks your vitals.

zayne only sighs and sits on the chair that was beside your bed. he strokes your hair slowly, "you seem to be having a good sleep." zayne remarks. he couldn't help but tear up again. he sighs and takes his glasses off as his tears fell down again. he gently grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek.

he sinks into the warmth of your palm. his tears were still cascading down his face. "please wake up." he says, almost pleading. he stays in silent sobs. "i don't think i can handle a day with you like this." he says in between sniffles.

you feel his tears on your palm. you stirr in your sleep like state. zayne notices this and puts your hand down but still holding onto it. he watches your eyes flutter.

everything was a blur to you but you see zayne beside you. you squint your eyes for a bit "z-zayne?" you called out. zayne is overjoyed, he really is.

and he shows it- this was rare of him. he wanted to burst out in tears again. "oh god- y/n? you're awake" he says. you nod at him. zayne comes closer to observe you. "i-it hurts." you stuttered out. he nods at you "i know, i know. but you're okay now. everything's alright." he says in a hush tone.

you noticed how puffy his eyes were and how tired looking he was. "zayne, i'm alright." you said to him with a smile. your hand went to zayne's cheek once more. your thumb brushes his face. he feels this again "i thought i would loose you." zayne says as he closes his eyes, feeling your warmth again.

"i'm not going anywhere." you tell him "i love you." you blurted out.

he opens his eyes and looks at you lovingly, "i love you too."

#love and deep space #love and deep space imagines #love and deep space imagine #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space fluff #love and deep space angst #love and deep space zayne #zayne

664 notes · View notes

xxzlushiez · 1 year

Note

Can you do tom x f!reader who's in the band and they were always like bestfriends no feelings for eachother or anything but as they get older like around 2007/08 he starts to realize he's totally in love w/ reader and tries to get rid of his feelings by sleeping w/ a bunch of girls but nothing helps because he can only think of reader? And they end up going to a party together and having fun and shii and then they end up on a balcony outside just drinking out of solo cups totally plastered and tom confesses to reader and kisses her but reader is super shocked and surprised and doesn't really know what to say so she doesn't kiss him back and just stares at him, and he doesn't take it very well he's just like "...oh.." and then gets up and reader tries to stop him and he's like "no, no I'm just gonna go back to the party" and stumbles out w/ a broken heart but in reality reader liked him back too but didn't know she did until he confesses so over the next few weeks she realizes how much she's in love with him and she goes to his room to tell him all romantic and shit and they end up having soft sex (or not wtv you're comfortable with) ty sm!! I love your writing btw!

EEEHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE IM SO EXCITED TO DO THIS (and tysm for the compliment❤️)

Miscommunication

T! Kaulitz x F! Reader

Synopsis: you and Tom have always been good friends, but he realizes he wants to be more..what’ll happen when those feelings don’t falter?

Notes: 18+, Name is in the band, flashbacks to ‘Devilish’, drinking, getting drunk, concerts, parties, jealousy, talks of unrequited feelings, Tom being a attention whore💀, insecurities, platonic! Bill x reader, oral, soft sex, underlying sub! Tom (I hate using that word but idk how else to describe it???)

A/N:tysm Anon for requesting and I hope this lives up to your expectations, I decided to right this in normal style instead of bullet points, I hope you don’t mind. This is was frustrated I wanted to get it out on the 3rd😭 bro this is a few days later and it took so long because i just hate the way it turned out im so pissed at myself rn

“I act like I don’t care, that’s cause I don’t care”

For as long as you’ve lived you and Tom have stuck together like glue, you lived a few streets away but being one of the only kids their age in the neighborhood it was hard for you to not gravitate towards them.

You guys weren’t exactly alike, but more like you complimented each other, he was all brash and broody like almost every other boy going through puberty and you were kind and sweet always helping whenever it was needed.

Soon you were invited into a band that consisted of two other troublemaking kids you hadn’t met yet, you traveled around to small talent shows and state fairs to perform music. It was a rough start; you weren’t popular by any means and were made fun of for what you liked to do.

It didn’t get to you like it got to Tom yet you let him rant and yell about it to you because you knew, along with everyone else, that it was just a matter of time before you five would be praised for your talents instead of bullied.

And you were, your band became a hit, Devilish became Tokio Hotel, garage performances became studio practices, and backyard shows slowly became country-wide concerts. Tom also changed, from a little boy who would yell at anyone who messed with his friends to a teen that couldn’t even bother with people hating.

It was different, you were all different, but it was a good difference. Bill became confident, Tom became more open, Gustav wasn’t shy, and Georg was well…Georg was amazing to begin with, it just doubled. The few fans that consisted of you guy’s parents and a few old neighbors became thousands, girls and boys alike paid to come and watch the five of you perform live.

When 2009 rolled around you were known across all of Germany and a few other countries. You couldn’t have been more successful, as the years progressed Tom morphed into someone completely different. Everyone knew of his reputation, a boy who had a new girl in his car every day.

You guys didn’t drift per se, but you didn’t talk about all the things like you used to. That was okay, some things are better left unsaid, but it was weird. You both used to talk to each other about everything and it just changed so suddenly it left you confused for a while.

But you learned to accept the fact that he wasn’t the same and took advantage of that time to get closer to the rest of the band, especially Bill. He became your number 1, always there with you whether it be shopping to helping you get ready. This was one of those instances where you ended up in your shared hotel room with him and Tom.

“This is going to look really good on your Name I promise!”

You let Bill practice his makeup skills on you, a little hesitant at first because of the particular style but when you saw how his face lit up when you agreed you couldn’t say no. Bill also said the style suited you perfectly.

Tonight, was particularly special compared to other nights. It was a large party hosted by a company in celebration of Tokio Hotel’s rise to fame. Bill made it a goal to doll you up in fancy lipstick and glittery eyeshadow before leaving, which Tom wasn’t too keen on.

“Bill hurry up the party starts in like 20 minutes.”

You looked over a Tom from the corner of your eye. He was sprawled out on your bed flicking through the channels on the hotel’s tv. He was already ready and had been ready for at least an hour now.

“Be patient Tommy not everyone can just wear whatever they find on the floor.”

Bill let out a laugh when he saw how offended his brother got at your insult before turning back and applying pretty shade to your lips.

“Tom wah wah hurry up the party starts in 20 minutes blah blah blah!”

He mocked his brother in a high-pitched voice before pulling his brother from the bed and onto the hard floor with a thump! grabbing your hand and running out of the room leaving him behind as you laugh.

“What the fuck you two! Get back here, I’m literally your ride to the party!”

———

The party was boring if you were being honest. But that was probably just you. There was no one you knew except the band and some celebrities and they were all doing their own thing so you were stuck lying on one of the many plush sofas the company had lying around.

Your eyes trailed over to Tom as he walked towards you, handing you a vibrant red solo cup while he settled himself next to you on the couch, moving your legs to lay comfortably over his lap while you stared at the contents of the cup.

“What’re you doing just sitting here? You’re always in the mood to party.”

He was right, you loved to party. It was one of the only times you could let loose when on tour. Today you just weren’t feeling it like you usually were.

“I don’t know, I think it’s the fact that I ordered a Pina Colada and got vodka. But who knows.”

He hummed as he absentmindedly observed the area. Tom had an unusual habit of wanting to be around you but never talking, preferring silence, it never bothered you so you let your head lay against the armchair swirling the drink around in your hand as you observed him.

He was never really good at taking your compliments, always avoiding them in some way with a “What’re you talking about?” Or the “Name just shut the fuck up”. You figured it had to do with the whole ‘I’m too cool for compliments’ thing he had going on, but it never stopped you from slipping up and saying something every once in a while.

“You're so beautiful Tom” and he was, honestly. His eyes reflected the neon lights that flashed above giving him that euphoric effect, the curves and dips of his face were perfectly sculpted to him. His true smile was so unbelievably cute, one that only you and the band had the pleasure of seeing, and his laugh…oh my god his laugh. You were definitely drunk. Whatever.

He gave you a quick side eye at the sudden praise before getting up and grabbing the cup out of your hand successfully spooking you.

“Let’s go smoke.”

‘Let’s go smoke’ was usually his way of saying “you're being annoying, let's get high” but you nodded and took his waiting hand as he led you through the busy crowd and out some double doors.

When out on the fairly sized balcony he grabbed a joint from out of one of the side pockets on his pants, while you flicked open your lighter that you had found stuffed under some gum and candy wrappers in your handbag.

He always enjoyed it when you smoked together, the delicate flame illuminated your face just enough to see the features that he’d always admired. Maybe that’s why he hated it when you complimented him, because he always wanted to do the same but couldn’t.

Nervousness wasn’t something he felt. There was no reason for him to be nervous. Nerves were for insecurity, anxiousness, that was bullshit to him, well until it came to you, and that oh so familiar feeling bubbled up in his stomach when you looked at him under the dim light.

He concluded that he had a thing for you pretty early on, when he was about 16. One time you pulled a fan on stage that you told the band you found particularly attractive. Bill teased you and Georg and Gustav laughed as you all made your way to the bus, but he stayed back. Deciding that the pit in his stomach wasn’t jealousy like he thought it might be and just that natural protective feeling for a friend.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that he liked you. You’d always been best friends and that was how it was supposed to say. He remembers how Bill would always tell him “Being best friends with someone like Name isn’t a good idea” because he wouldn’t wanna be just friends. Bill was right and that scared him.

After that realization he took notice of who he gravitated towards in hookups, they all looked in some way, like you. He thought it was weird. It wasn’t like he selectively picked out the ones with similar features as you…right?

“-Tom, are you listening? Pass the joint you hog”

You plucked the blunt from his hand and he stared as you inhaled some of it, releasing the air into his face, looking at him with a weird expression. You watched him stride forward and suddenly his lips were pressed against yours.

You pulled away after a few antagonizing seconds and hesitantly looked at him. You saw the way his face dropped, probably realizing what he just did. Shit.

“Tom I... you're drunk. It’s fine, okay? You won’t remember this in the morning let’s just...let’s just go home, okay?”

That nerve quickly turned into frustration as he rolled his eyes turning towards the entrance and muttering something under his breath before pushing through the doors back into the party, leaving you alone on the cold balcony with a burnt out joint and heart.

———

It had been a few weeks since the incident on the balcony, and you concluded that he did remember it the day after as he wouldn’t talk or even be around you alone. It was fine at first, but by the time the second week rolled around it was starting to affect everyone else.

His performance was slower than normal, and he brought more girls to the hotel who unsurprisingly leaked where he was were staying and crowded around the hotel to catch a glimpse of the five of you.

He was being so unprofessional; he didn't give you time to voice your feelings about what happened and just up and left you in the dark. Like how do you even bring that up?

“Hey Tom, yeah I know that I didn’t kiss you back even though you totally unexpectedly pounced on me and it looked like I rejected you because I thought you were full-on plastered but like I’m in love with you so could you stop ignoring me?”

Yeah, that’s a no. So, you just endured it for a while until he decided to lay off. That point happened around the 3-week mark when the band was on a small break from tour.

He made it his goal to stay inside his room the whole time, sulking as Bill told you. You were at ends meet, if he couldn’t just talk to you about it like adults then you would have to do it yourself.

This leads up to the moment where you’re standing in front of his door contemplating all your life choices.

Crrrrrreeeakkk

Are you serious, the one time you were hesitant about your decision he just had to open the door and make it for you?

“Name?”

“Hey, Tom uhh..can we talk about the party?” This is so awkward. What the fuuck.

He stood there hesitant for a second before opening up the door for you to come in. You ducked under his arm and situated yourself at the edge of his bed as he stared at you from the doorway.

“Okay um..so I’ve been thinking a lot about that moment and I just wanted to ask you something.”

He gave you a small nod of acknowledgment and you continued.

“Do you like me? Like I don’t know if the reason you kissed me was just heat of the moment and you just got upset because you were drunk and your feelings were all mixed or something but I really want us to go back to normal…I miss you a lot and it's weird not seeing you at our practices”

You watched him closely for any signs of discomfort but his face was unwavering except for a light smile at your words easing your nerves only a little.

“I like you; I’ve liked you for years And Scheiße I miss you too but don’t wanna be just your friend anymore and if that changes things between us just forget about this whole thing”

You smiled softly walking towards him and cupping his face with your hands, bringing your lips to his feeling him relax into you.

His breath caught in his throat when you grazed your fingers against the front of his pants, slightly palming him through the jeans when he abruptly pulled your hand away.

“Name I wanna do this with you…but I don’t wanna have sex like I normally do. I want it to mean something because you really mean something, I just don’t know how”

“Let me show you, Tom.”

——

Tom groaned when your lips pressed against his pelvis, muscles flexing underneath you at the feeling. You hummed in contentment before coming back up to him and giving him a quick kiss and taking off his boxers.

He’d never had someone take their time on him, it was foreign, different, you looked so pretty as you toyed with his cock. Seeing what made him shiver and what gave him goosebumps.

Laying your tongue flat you licked a thick strip up the underside of his dick watching the way his eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Mhm…just- just like that Name please mhm…keep going.”

Voice slightly weak, he begged you to continue, not like you’ve ever heard and it encouraged you to continue, hands slick with his precum you stroked him at a controlled pace, squeezing slightly at the head hearing his soft curses get louder.

“Let’s empty that brain of yours ‘mkay?”

While you made yourself comfortable on top of him you felt his hips shift under you, his hands finding place on your hips. You align yourself with his cock, sliding down and listening to the way he mutters your name like a prayer as his cock disappears inside you.

“Shit this is much better than I ever imagined… s’much better...” his eyes raked your body seeing his hips met your thighs. You push down on his legs to keep him steady and use them as leverage to grind against him. Not even minutes later did his quiet concealed groans turn into gasps and random obscenities.

Seeing your pace begin to slow he flips himself over taking you with him, letting your legs rest flush against his shoulders next to his ears. He experimentally rocks his hips finding a comfortable rhythm, laying his hand flat on your stomach feeling at the bulge.

Now it was your turn to be a noisy mess, covering your face with a pillow in an attempt to muffle yourself but it was quickly discarded somewhere on the floor by Tom.

“Don’t- don’t do that- you look so pretty writhing under me like that, I could stare at you all day…shit shit shit.. if you keep tightening around me, I won’t last long...”

You smiled as you looked up at him. His eyes were closed tight and his jaw was clenched tight, focused on how you squeezed around him. You let your hand travel to his face tracing his features. His eyes opened at the touch and he sucked in his breath, feeling his high approaching.

You were glowing, your hair fanned out on the bed, your eyes slightly glassy from his pace, sweat collecting on your hairline, suddenly every part of him felt so sensitive and his lips connected with yours before his hips stuttered letting out a guttural moan making sure you had ridden through your orgasm.

You cried out in his neck holding him against you as he continued for a little longer before coming to a halt, collapsing on top of you. Holding you against him in a vice grip.

“I love you Name, a lot”

1K notes · View notes

halucynator · 10 months

Note

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle angst #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez

843 notes · View notes

maximotts · 1 year

Note

i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face

Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos

18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy

Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.

But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.

You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."

And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."

Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."

You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."

—

She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."

It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"

"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.

And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."

The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."

You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."

"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.

Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."

Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.

The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."

"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.

"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."

Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."

"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.

"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.

If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"

Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."

"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.

You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"

"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."

"That's not fair—"

But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."

Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.

Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"

"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.

Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."

Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."

"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.

—

When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.

The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."

"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."

"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"

Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."

There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.

For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.

Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."

"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.

You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"

"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.

"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.

Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."

"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"

After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."

In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.

#lets ignore that I have yet to make the au post #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #cowgirl!wanda #maximotts #motts writes.

1K notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

Note

Dude, imagine something like: TADC x Mime! Reader. Reader usually stays quiet most of the time, but sometimes they suddenly talk startling everyone around them. At the same time, they are like, very expressive, using exaggerated gestures and facial expressions, and usually communicates solely through their miming skills. And if you wanna go extra crazy THEY COULD ALSO HAVE SOMETHING LIKE MR. MIME FROM POKEMON, where they like, do a mimic of a wall, and then a invisible wall appears out of nowhere or something like that

I hope you understood what i meant, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language 💖💖

TADC cast x mime!reader !

eueueu i totally understand what youre saying and i love the idea sm!! i love it when mime characters have mime physics, or when clown characters have clown physics!! love it so so so much!! sorry if this is a little short, ive been writing personal stuff all day and the back aches are starting to creep back in already </3

CAINE:

his jaw drops the first time you speak, he genuinely thought you were totally incapable of speech thanks to your whole theme going on... i think he would love your little mime tricks with the invisible walls and barriers and... did you just no clip through the floor while pretending to walk down some stairs...? where did you go?? where? was there another no clip glitch issue thing going on? he thought he fixed that...!

POMNI:

ah, a jester and her mime.... not the weirdest pairing... though granted pomni doesnt commit to the bit of being a jester and doesnt do tricks or jokes.. while you do commit... i think she would grow frustrated if you put a barrier up and made her slow down... calm down.. chill.. sure you understand the whole "finding the exit" thing going on with her, but rushing things probably wont help.... to time out she goes... probably gives you a side eye if she sees you just randomly walking on some invisible platform to just. leave in the middle of an IHA

JAX:

tries to coax you into using your powers for evil... i have a feeling jax doesnt like people who arent talkers... like being incapable of speak is one thing, i think at most is that he would make decisions for you (ie wrap an arm around your shoulder and be like "oh well me and (reader) were just thinking about......." yk? like in a joking way) but i dont think he likes quiet people... tries to coax you into speaking more... imagine you never spoke before in front of anyone and you finally reveal that you can talk, to jax, and he tries to tell everyone but no one believes him. psychological torment 101

RAGATHA:

i like to think she plays along with your mime antics, pretending to also be putting up invisible props and such... though her actions and movements are noticeably more sloppy and not as... fluid...? afterall, ragatha hasnt spent time practicing to be anywhere near your level! is a little surprised when she finds out your stuff is at least somewhat tangible within the digital world... thinks your emoting is cute..

KINGER:

so you know how he gets startled by gangle simply standing next to him? its like that with you, but he jumps when you randomly start talking next to him.. ponders... invisible safe square/cube/whatever... though i think part of the comfort of a pillow fort is that hes out of sight... but i think he would enjoy it at least a little if you created something like that for him

ZOOBLE:

enjoys that you dont talk much, zooble doesnt like chatty people i dont think... though they are willing to listen to you on days where you do feel like striking up a conversation... you actually get a laugh out of them when you banish jax to time out (aka putting up 4 see through walls around him for whatever length of time to atone for whatever crime he committed that day)

"he took my arm off.. give him an hour.."

GANGLE:

art kid meets art kid, you guys are both a little silly... okay sure your stuff is more performative, and while gangle does have a comedy and tragedy mask her thing is more so in drawing and painting imo, i love me artistic gangle... loves doing your makeup, if its not just a permanent part of your digital face, and can be customized... not much to be said here... theres comfortable silence between the two of you when you hang out since you dont talk often and gangle doesnt know what to talk about and may or may not fear ruining the dynamic between the two of you

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

447 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

karamelek43

Ayşegül

thors39-blog

Sin título

ljussangen

ljussången

princessmeril

My HyperFixation And Me

ping1n

goblin