#I wish I had something better to give you because you deserve better than my crappy art

[softtdaisy]

🌲 a found family l max verstappen

summary. you and max can't spend Christmas together but a trip to his dad and the love he has for you make him realize that he deserves better. a better life. a better love. a better family.

words count. 2,596

a/n. and this is the last piece for this Christmas series. Thanks to all of you for sticking me through December. and a massive thanks to my favorite person @monzabee for encouraging me and for giving me this beautiful idea to end the series 🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

You looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dress Max had bought you this year during one of your holidays. One of the many gifts he did to you this year, because if there were one thing that could describe your boyfriend it would be his generiosity. That man could buy you the world if you wanted it. 

And that was maybe what was making him the saddest tonight.

He could see you wearing it and neither could he offer you his gift. 

Because you were not spending Christmas’ eve together. But in each other’s family.

“You know this look is a great excuse to skip the diner at my dad’s?” Max asked which made you laughed. He was still sit on your bed, his shirt barely closed and his hair absolutely not styled. He was the closest to his place, compared to you who had to drive for almost two hours. 

He watched you as you walked to your phone, that you had put on your wardrobe to show your whole look. “You’re such a flirt, Maxie.” you kept laughing, specially when he started making his poutty face that you absolutely love. You always found it funny how most people saw him as this arrogant guy when he was such a sweetheart. 

“Ain’t I allowed to flirt with my girl?” 

“You are. It’s a shame you won’t enjoy the result of this flirt tonight.” 

This hasn’t been an easy decision for either of you. It’s was only your first christmas together since you started dating on january. And you really wish you could have spend the evening together. But you learn one thing through this past year: never go against Jos Verstappen’s plan. 

From the first race you attended, you got the feeling Jos didn’t really appreciate you. You tried to talk about it with Max without making a whole drama out of it but he didn’t really react. Or say anything, actually.

Not that Max didn’t care. It was even far from it. He just didn’t know what to do. He never talked about his personnal life with his dad and it wouldn’t be a first now. Specially not with these type of question. Max always assumed that his father only care about his racing career. It couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t interested in his son’s couple. Right?

“I have to go” you told Max, who was lost on his thoughts. He enjoyed for the last few seconds to sight of you before you had to hung up. “Call me if you need, alright?” 

“Even if I don’t need it.” he laughed before letting you go.

Every time he had to say goodbye to you, on the phone or because you couldn’t follow him for the next race, Max felt a little hole in his heart. He never thought one day he’ll met someone that could complete him like you did. 

That’s all he thought about until he arrived at his dad’s place. All the thing he wanted to do with you before the new season starts, where he would take you during the holiday, which races you could be there and what places he wanted to show you during these weekend. More than just happiness for your couple, Max realised how important you were for his anxiety. Before he met you, most of the time he had to drive to see his father, he was anticipated all the bad things that could happen. The critics, the disapproval, the yelling if they really did disagree on something. And the worst part was that, in the end, he was just living the nightmare before it happened.

And maybe it was the fact he didn’t think about all these things before arriving, but Max felt good when he arrived.

“Uncle Maxie!” And being around his nephew was definitely a good help.

For many years, Max never consider having children. The anxiety he developped because of his own childhood was a perfect argument to avoid trying. How could he give a child what he needs if he doesn’t know himself what a kid should have? He knew what he shouldn’t do, that’s all.

But these past weeks, from seeing his nephews and calling them, he realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

And maybe, you weren’t for nothing in this change of mind.

“You’re shinny, uncle Maxie.” 

“Shinny?” he laughed, still playing with the little cars that represent all the Formula one drivers.

“Yep. You’re happy.” 

Max didn’t know what to answer to that. But then he felt two hands on his shoulders and a kiss from Victoria on his hair. “He’s right.” He turned around to look at her. He guessed that the look she had was just another proof that indeed, he was lookier happier. “It’s for the toast, come.”

It was some kind of tradition. Everyone had to say what they were grateful for at the end of this year. Kids, health, career… each other always revolved around these subjects. Max was not going to break the circle. Not today.

“Well I’m grateful for the amazing year I spend. Winning the championship again was more than I could expect at the beginning of the season. So yeah I’m grateful for the team, for the work we did to win the races and create such amazing memories all together.” 

Max stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what he could be grateful for. There was one thing, obviously.

If he met his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t have continued. But he didn’t. He looked at Victoria and her massive smile. 

“And I’m grateful for my girlfriend. I couldn’t have go through this crazy year without her. She’s my rock, she’s my best friend, she’s without a doubt my soulmate and I’m glad I could finally found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Max heard all the lovely and loudly sound from his family. And before he could notice her, Victoria was already in his arms, telling him how proud she was that he finally found the happiness he deserved.

Again, he could have focus on the good thing, all the congratulations and excitement about this new family member that they all couldn’t wait to meet. But this time, Max did saw Jos look on him. One that he sadly knew by heart: disappointment. 

At first, Max decided to ignore the situation and spend most of the evening playing with his nephews, pretending to be a car himself to drive them around the house. But he couldn’t escape the heavy atmosphere forever.

Max saw that Jos was sitting by himself in the living room, with a whisky in his hand. He hesitated, did he really wanted to break all the good vibes for a talk for his dad? And then again, he was too nice to avoid him. No matter if he knew he would end this conversation with some broken feelings, Max couldn’t escape it. Because if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he never wanted to become like his father. A man that would rather ignore the people he love for the sake of disappointment. Silence was never the solution.

“So, how do we feel about new season?” Max asked, sitting next to him. If there was one subject they couldn’t really argue about was his career. Or at least, even if there was some disagreement, it wouldn’t end up badly.

“You have to leave her.” It was simple. Five words. Said with a hard tone. Like an order. “You’re already losing your man over that…stupid girl. You can’t let yourself fail for a woman, Max.”

Maybe he should have gone with the swerve, in the end. “What do you mean? I’ve been with her for a year and I still won.” He could have, maybe, understand if the season was a pure fail. But it wasn’t. The car was amazing and he won almost every races. There was not single doubt that not only you weren’t a burden but you were a motivation for him. It didn’t make sense. But still, Max knew where all of this came from. Because he knew his father.

“A woman is always a burden in a career.” 

“This is why you got married thrice?” It left his mouth without Max had time to notice it. Truth is, he got tired as he grow older of the need to think about his words. What could he say what he mean to his dad? Why should he still be afraid? “Trust me, you terrible at giving relationship advices.” 

“You should watch your mouth.” Jos replied, taking a stew towards his son. For many years, Max used to step back to avoid the confrontation. Not anymore.

Instead, he took at step towards too. “You should watch yours. I won that fucking championiship, again. And you can’t even congratulate me? All you think about is the woman that want to spend her life with me? Not you, me.”

He noticed the change, again, in Jos look. It was getting darker and darker, like his anger was taking over himself and he was close to not be able to contain himself. Usually, Max was scared of the moment he would explode. There was just one change in his mind. You.

Max could accept any criticism about his career or life choices, he didn’t care. It was his life. Sometimes he might be wrong and he could deal with his dad saying that he warned him. He was still young and could deal with some mistakes.

But there was one thing he could never let Jos critcize or give his opinion on it: you.

“I won’t let you ruin your career for some stupid woman.” Jos got the time to grab his wrist. Max hated feeling like a child, all over again. Looking for his dad approval. 

Expect that this time, he didn’t want it. “Fine. It’s my career. I don’t need your opinion.” he managed to free himself and was already leaving the room. He couldn’t continue this without letting it become some shit show. No matter the situation, his family didn’t deserve it. Specially not on Christmas eve. 

“If you don’t leave her, then i’m not supporting you anymore.” 

Max stopped in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of a glass falling in the kitchen sink. He heard the sudden silence in the children’s playroom. This was the results of year of fighting for Jos seeing him as an equal, as a real driver and not a child who wants to grow older and be consider an adult. This was the results of feeling like his dad loved him.

Max was hurt. But he couldn’t fight anymore. “Fine.” he didn’t turn around, didn’t want to look at his father. It wasn’t the idea of seeing him. It was the idea of Jos seeing how bad he broke him, again. “I’ll do better without you.” 

The silence was still everywhere when Max walked to his sister to kiss her and said goodbye to his nephew. It was for the better, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight if they asked him to stay. But Victoria knew his brother, and what he deserves was to be in a place where he felt loved. 

And there was one where he knew he would never be ignored and rejected.

When you opened the door, you imagined different scenarios. But never one where you would see Max on your doorstep. “Baby?” you asked with confusion, almost like you were sure he was real.

“I’m sorry, I should have called, I know i wasn’t invited but…” he didn’t need to continue. Because you recognized the look in his eyes. One you sadly saw before. When he argued with his dad on the circuit and you couldn’t do anything than holding him in your arms. Telling me it would get better. That he wasn’t alone.

That was the only truth Max needed. He was far from being alone.

So you offered your hand to him. “Come in baby.” you noticed the little hesitation in his look, on that sadden you. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to come in. It was a pur fear of opening his heart to you and losing you after. It didn’t last long, because he knew deep down that you were here to stay. But you were scared that this was a kind of thought that would never leave his mind.

You gave him a small and simple kiss on the lips, a kind of silent promise that you were supporting him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Max even asked for. He was so not used of being understood and loved, this simple attention was enough to light up his heart again.

“Sweetie, who’s th… Oh Max! What a lovely surprise!” 

You were interrupted by your dad who almost push you away to take Max in his arms. You weren’t surprised. First, because your dad was a very lovely and tactile person who couldn’t resist this type of greeting. Second, because he appreciated Max so much, he was probably the one praying every day for a wedding. Third, because he had been asking you all night why you didn’t bring him. 

But Max, on the contrary, was more than surprised by that. Was he really that happy to see him? “Come in, you’re getting cold. Did you eat? We have…” you didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence that your dad had already pulled Max to the living room. Your boyfriend just had the time to turn around and give you a curious look. To which you replied with a smile. It felt right to see him being appreciated and treated like he should.

All your family spend the night talking to him, asking questions and making him feel like he was home. That was the truth, actually: this place was also a home for him. It was yours. And your family already considered him as a part of it. There was no reason for Max to not be a full member. 

It wasn’t until you got to bed, in your bedroom, that he let his mind speak. You were laying on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling and caressing your hair. It was relaxing for both of you to stay in silence after the crazy night you had. 

“I’ve felt much more at home here in a few hours than in all my life with my dad.” Max said slowly, in a whisper.

You turned your head just enough to look at him while he was still focused on his thoughts. You were making a whole speech in your head to make him feel better. You had no idea how he felt about this. This must be such a strange situation to feel more loved by your family-in-law than your own. 

But then he put a kiss on your hair and started to smile. “Thank you.” he whispered, like he was scared to be heard by anyone else. “For finding me and for loving me.”

You could feel your heart melt at this confession. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” you replied. 

And you stayed like that for a good minute before you made a debrief of the whole evening here. When you both fell asleep, you realised you had the greatest gift you could ever dream of. Happiness in the arms of your loved one.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen story #max verstappen fic #max verstappen angst #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #my writing

[hearts4renaa]

OH MY, LOVE IS A LIE!

summary: it's all over now, but he's still thinking of you. featuring alhaitham, diluc, kamisato ayato, and zhongli. part 2 to you're losing me.

w/c: 2.1k in total a/n: i am really churning out angst for yall. inspired by hits different by taylor swift

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat. Curse the space that I needed.

“There’s no way you still have that.” Kaveh comments as he walks past Alhaitham in their little library of the home. Kaveh looks at the small crystal in the scholar's hands, cringing.

Alhaitham glares at the blonde. “Shut it.” He grumbles, twirling the gem in between his fingers. He intended to give it to you over dinner, as an apology for the stunt he pulled two weeks ago. The guilt took over his body like a fever. He was sleepless for a few nights, and you slept in the guest bedroom. Eventually, he drew to a conclusion. The two of you had been dating for quite a while; maybe it’s time to take it to the next step.

He invited you to a proper dinner that night, and you accepted despite the growing tension between the two of you. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize the two of you had very different plans for that night. He was there to take it further. You were there to end it.

Kaveh’s scoff takes Alhaitham out of the depths of his memory. “Don’t you have better things to do than nag me?” Alhaitham spit out. “Pay your rent, perhaps?” 

Kaveh rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “It’s crazy how you’re talking to me how you talked to them.” A glare made its way into his amber eyes. “Thought you would’ve learned to watch your choice of words after what happened.”

Alhaitham had no rebuttal. He knew Kaveh was right. He didn’t think his words or actions carried much weight until you were crushed under them. His words and actions chipped away at what he loved until eventually, nothing was there at all. How did he not notice? How did he not see the storms in your eyes? How did he not hear the tiredness in your voice? How could he let you fight for the relationship alone, while he stood on the sidelines as it withered to nothingness? His eyes redirect from Kaveh to the gem in his hands. It’s like he can still see your face in the reflection. Like the love was still there, shimmering and sparkling the same way the gem did in the afternoon sun.

“And yes, I do have better things to do.” Kaveh says, walking towards the entrance of the house. “I’m heading to lunch with a friend of mine.” A knock pierces their conversation, effectively saving Alhaitham from having to face the harsh truth from Kaveh of all people. “Ah, they’re here!” Kaveh leaves the library entirely, leaving Alhaitham in the room alone. He hears the front door open. “Y/N!” Kaveh greets. Alhaitham freezes.

What the fuck?

“Just one second, I forgot something in the study.” He hears Kaveh say, and footsteps are fast approaching. Kaveh retrieves his left behind item, but not before Alhaitham stops him. The grip he has on Kaveh’s forearm is almost painful.

“What the hell?” Alhaitham’s voice is bitter. Jealous, even.

Kaveh yanks his arm away. “Just because you lost the love of your life Y/N doesn’t mean I have to lose my friend Y/N.” Kaveh’s voice is firm. Soon enough, he’s walking away and out the door.

Alhaitham feels the sorrow truly kick in. All the times he asked for space from you. All the time he could’ve spent with you. Now, the space between the two of you was farther than ever before. And he can’t do anything but look at the gem in his hand, wishing he could run to you more than ever.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense, why the wound is still bleeding?

He won’t admit it, but Diluc’s hands were beginning to ache from the endless action of polishing the glasses. He insisted on working the bar tonight, letting the usual bar staff have some well deserved rest. Peering down, Diluc takes the time to examine the many scars on his hands. They were dotted on his skin, and they all held a story. A burn. A scab he kept picking at. An accidental cut. Either way, they all had an experience leading up to each wound.

He realizes how much of a hypocrite he is. Scolding you for wanting the adventure, for getting a minor injury as if he doesn’t do ten times more fighting than you did. Worried endlessly for your safety, as if he doesn’t risk his life on the daily. Diluc has faced many wounds over his life, but the worst one he’s experienced was losing you.

The breakup wasn’t dramatic. The two of you sat across from each other next to the fire, and you told him of how you lost the love. Of how the flame burned so slowly than it burned out. The two of you agreed to end things together; at least, that’s what you think. He didn’t lose anything. His flame still burns as brightly as it did in the beginning. Perhaps his flame burned so bright that it overtook yours. You packed your things and left Dawn Winery. He saw you off with a polite wave, but the moment the door shut, the dam burst and the tears flowed.

Now here he was, without you, repeating a stupid polishing action until the door opened. There you were, with the Traveler and Venti of all people. It’s awkward for a moment, both of your eyes darting around to avoid the other’s. Eventually, the three of you get a table to sit at. As your group passes by, he hears the Traveler quietly say something to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d be working today.” He hears you laugh. Oh, how he wishes he was the source. 

“Don’t worry about it,” You say. “I’m basically over him.”

Diluc feels a sting in his chest, and he has to stop himself from dropping the glass in his hand. That hurt. He certainly wasn’t over you. The night passes, and you are engaged in conversation. Diluc takes the chance to steal fleeting glances in your direction.

The weapon on your back has more wear and tear. Your bag looks heavier, more used. He sees minor scars on your skin. A few on your arm, one on your cheek, some on your calves. It takes everything in him to not fret over you, but he knows he can’t. You’re not his to lose anymore. But most of all, Diluc sees the way you exude light. Cheer radiates from you, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you more beautiful than you were right now.

You may bear more scars than when you were with him, but he’s never seen you happier.

You were the one that I loved! Don’t need another metaphor, it’s simple enough.

Ayato runs a hand through his hair while walking the streets of Inazuma City. He was on the way to a wedding attire fitting, for his wedding to another Inazuman noblewoman. The wedding isn’t for another month, so it’s crucial to ensure that all clothing is prepared and ready to allow ample time for unforeseen circumstances. On the way to his appointment, Ayato passes by a familiar restaurant. He softly smiles, remembering how he used to visit often. Then, his smile is replaced with a frown when he realizes he hasn’t been in two months. There was no reason for him to eat there anymore- he used to eat there with you.

He’ll never forget how puffy your eyes were when you broke things off with him. It was obvious you were crying, and with how the conversation was going, Ayato was about to cry too. “I can’t do this anymore, Ayato.” Your voice sounded exhausted. Ayato hated knowing he was the reason for your sleepless nights. He didn’t understand why he snapped at your skepticism over the arranged marriage. He couldn't, and wouldn’t ever imagine you marrying someone else. He understood. The problem is, he understood too late. Now, it’s been two months and he still doesn’t go a single day without thinking of you. 

Finally, Ayato arrived at his destination. The tailors was a quaint little shop in a less busy corner of Inazuma, but many of the locals purchased ceremonial clothing from the owners. They’re said to have a very keen eye, even when it comes to choosing employees. Ayato slides the door open, and he is greeted by a worker.

“Welcome! Are you here for a fitting or-”

He could recognize that voice. There’s no way. His eyes widened at the realization, and you did too, seeing how your words trailed off. 

“Y/N.” He breathed out your name as if he had been suffocating prior. You take a second to compose yourself before putting your professional facade back on. He is a customer. He is no more than that.

“Are you here for an appointment?” You ask.

Your formal tone throws him off. He remembers your cheery usual tone from back then, and he wishes nothing more than to go back to those times.

“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s…wedding attire.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. Of course, he’s still going forward with the marriage. After all, he made it clear that you have nothing to offer for the Kamisatos.You nod curtly before gesturing him to a fitting station. “Please allow me to grab my tools.” You give a small bow, ignoring eye contact. You turn away to head towards the shop’s tool drawer with measuring tapes and such. When you’re certain he cannot see your face, you allow your bottom lip to tremble slightly. 

Meanwhile, Ayato’s eyes stay trained on your figure. For the two of you to break up, then have you be the person attending to him during the wedding fitting? The Seven must be laughing at him as he experiences this cruel twist of fate. Suddenly, it hits him. The two of you are part of each other’s past. It’s over. You aren’t in each other’s present lives, and you most likely won’t be part of each other’s futures.

You might be a stranger now, but he will forever recognize your voice in a sea of people.

A wrinkle in time, like the crease by your eyes. This is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy.

“Who do you think the lucky one is?” The women of Liyue gossip. Their eyes are fixed on Zhongli, following him like a hawk. The man in question is shopping for flowers. However, he seems to be interested in the large bouquets of flowers, the ones far too large to be classified as “just felt like it” flowers. He takes his time to examine each flower thoroughly. He checks the stems, petals, if they’re fully bloomed. Uncommon than most men nowadays, Zhongli was truly looking at every factor while shopping for these flowers, which is why the women were so interested to know who they were for.

On Zhongli’s end, his senses were being absolutely bombarded with the signature floral scent. Zhongli’s taste in flowers only gets incredibly picky around this time of year. After all, the anniversary of your death is upcoming. He only wants the best flowers for you, since he couldn’t give you the best when you were still alive. If there’s one memory he’ll never forget, it’ll be how you still told him that you loved him, even in your final moments.

“Excuse me, are you looking for anything in particular?” A worker asks him.

Normally, he’d politely decline and continue about his day. But he can’t. Not when said worker looks identical to you. His eyes are wide, scanning the person up and down. Same hair, eyes, facial structure. If he didn’t know better, he’d think you were right in front of him. Unfortunately, Zhongli does know better. He knows that you are no longer alive. And he knows that he is the reason for your death.

He regains his composure. “I’m alright, thank you.” His smile is polite, but not sincere.

"Ah, alright. I’m sorry if this sounds weird but…” The worker started. “Are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to ask you. Gut feeling, I guess.”

For a second time, Zhongli was taken aback, but he answered nonetheless. “Yes, just trying to find some nice flowers.” The worker smiled. It amazes Zhongli how much they look like you.

“Are you buying flowers for someone?” They ask.

“Yes,” Zhongli pauses. “They’re for someone who is very dear to me.” 

The worker points to a bouquet. “How about this one, then? It’s one of my favorites.”

Zhongli smiles. They were your favorite too. He lets out a chuckle at the situation. He had always hoped to see you again, but he didn’t think you’d visit him like this. “That one looks great.” He responds.

He looks up at the sky, and he hopes you know that in every other universe, he would’ve chosen you.

#genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #ayato x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #morax x reader

[81folklore]

heaven - OP81 - part 3

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: oscars girlfriend attends her first grand prix and the public get to see just how proud she is of oscar

authors note: ive honestly missed writing for oscar and priv!reader so we are back in honor of oscars FIRST EVER WIN AND INCREDIBLE SPRINT RACE!! im genuinely so proud of oscar and im honestly in shock. i also follow ZERO wag pages so i have no clue what they are like, if people actually follow them etc.

authors note 2: short-ish and sweet for OSCARS FIRST WIN?? i started writing this about 30 minutes before the sprint race so i had no clue where this was going to go but HE WON!!

part 1 part 2 masterlist

f1wagupdates

liked by user5, user81, user9 and 7,289 others

yn entering the paddock for the first time today! she followed shortly after oscar, spoke to some oscar/mclaren fans and handed a few who were unable to meet oscar, on his way in, some signed things she had. we absolutely love her already!!

view comments

user81: omg she’s literally the sweetest thing😭

user17: I LOVE HER ALREADY

user61: the fact that oscar fans already love her🫶🫶

user9: oh she looks so cute!!

user72: i was one of the girls she gave something too! she said she had been following behind oscar and kept an eye on anyone who he missed to give them something after he left. she was very very shy, but she made sure to speak to everyone who oscar missed and was asking us questions about us, overall she was very sweet!!

user22: this makes me love her even more😭and congrats on the signed stuff!! do you mind me asking what it was?

user72: thank you! and of course, we all got something different! i got a signed polaroid of oscar (im still in disbelief?! and it must have been one she took herself bcs i couldnt find the photo online anywhere), someone a bit down from me got what looked like a drivers card and i saw someone else get a picture of his car!

user22: A POLAROID?? oh you won😭😭

user1: i wonder if we will see her again

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 9,619 others

first qualifying in the paddock was a rollercoaster of emotions, not the result we were hoping for, expected or wanted but its ok because oscars gonna smash it tomorrow and we’ll pretend today didnt happen!!

view comments

oscarpiastri: glad you had fun🤍

oscarpiastri: my goodluck charm wasnt goodlucking today

yourusername: dont say thattt☹️ill try and be extra lucky tomorrow promise!!

oscarpiastri: i love you

yourusername: i love you more🤭

user3: the photo difference😭

user14: loved seeing you in the garage today

yourfriend3: i love you but those photos😭😭

yourusername: stoooop i was so nervous all day😭

yourfriend7: wish oscar luck from all of us back home!

oscarpiastri: 👍👍

user81: u are so cute☹️

user2: so unfair how they told oscar during the interview!!

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,182 others

changed outfits but we are ready for the sprint!!

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri: love you lots and lots, thank you for coming🧡

yourusername: I LOVE YOU!! and you dont have to thank me, ill always stay with you🤍🤍

f1

liked by yourusername, mitchevans_ and 817,175 others

PIASTRI STORMS TO SPRINT POLE IN QATAR!🤩🔥

He just keeps getting better and better!

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mclaren: YESSSSSS!!!👏👏👏

user6: P1ASTRI

yourusername: INCREDIBLE🤩🤩

user18: more than deserved!

user73: absolute legend

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri and 6,289 others

user6: AHHHHHH

user81: LOOK AT HIM GO

oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 10,278 others

oh how i obsessively adore you.. today you took your first f1 pole position, hours later you became a formula one race winner (idc if it was a sprint you still won!!)

i have been on this incredible journey with you long before your first f2 race. i was by your side at your first f2 win and im still by your side now youve won in f1

i know how much this win means to you, i know how much you wanted to prove yourself to everyone and you have. you never fail to amaze me, especially coming back after the shit show that was yesterday

you are truly incredible and you are so so special🐨

i love you so much, congratulations🧡

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

user61: WHAT IF I STARTED SOBBING

user11: THE KOALA😭😭

user72: so deserved🧡incredible drive!!

user68: the f2 race winner picture😭😭the f1 race winner picture😭😭THE SMILEY INTERVIEW PICTURE😭😭

oscarpiastri: my favorite goodluck charm🧡

oscarpiastri: thank you so much for sticking with me through it all

oscarpiastri: i appreciate you so much my love

yourusername: you are so special, lovely🩵

landonorris: usually i hate your sappy posts but ill make an exception this time..congrats mate!!

oscarpiastri: you too mate!

yourusername: knew id get you to love these posts eventually🤭

formula2: we’re so proud of our aussie🥹🐨

oscarpiastri and yourusername added to their stories

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 722,519 others

*text on first photo reads: my favourite thing is when i open my phone after a race and i see the photos yn sent me during the race🧡* *text on second photo reads: i love seeing my boy do what he loves*

oscar’s replies:

user52: shes so cute☹️

user12: tell me that was when you won the race and not before

user61: where can i find someone like her😭

yourusername: babyyy i didnt know youd share these😭😭

oscarpiastri: just had to show everyone how grateful i am for you🤍

user49: get yourself someone who supports you the way yn supports oscar!!

yn’s replies:

user17: oh i love you guys so much

yourfriend2: we are all so proud of oscar!!

oscarpiastri: i love you so much more than i can ever express

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ i hold so much love and adoration for you

oscarpiastri: wait when did you take this photo??

yourusername: i watched the final lap in the bathroom so i could sob in peace😭

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #private!yn!oscar

[adiraargent]

He doesn't deserve you - Mattheo Riddle

Synopsis: Mattheo is your best friend and doesn't like your boyfriend Warnings: swearing, suggested toxic relationship

Requests are open :)

The Hogwarts corridors buzzed with students rushing to and fro, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Amidst the bustling crowd, you tried your best to navigate your way through the bustling crowd, feeling a weight on your shoulders that wasn't just from your bag full of textbooks.

"Hey, Y/N!" A voice called out, and Mattheo Riddle appeared at her side, a small smile on his face, one that he pretty much reserved for only her. The two of them had been best friends for years now, trusting each other more than anyone else

"Hey, Theo," you replied, trying to match his enthusiasm, though your smile faltered slightly. Thoughts of your boyfriend had been weighing on your mind for the last hour after one of the Slytherin girls had muttered a few words under her breath at the beginning of potions class.

You hadn't heard what she had said word for word, but you did manage to make out the part where she had said 'why is he even with her, he could do so much better?'

"What's wrong?" Mattheo asked, his voice holding a joking tone "Someone take a shit in your coffee this morning?" but his grin faltered a little as he caught the sad glimpse in her eyes, "hey? What's wrong?"

You hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was listening before you spoke in a hushed tone, almost like you were embarrassed or ashamed. "It's just… I don't know if I belong where I am."

Mattheo's gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, an intent yet confused look in his eyes. "What do you mean?" His earthy eyes flickered over her face, switching between her pretty eyes, her slightly chapped lips which he could tell she had been gnawing at (something she did when she was anxious) and her cute freckles.

"It's just… my boyfriend, you know," you began, your voice filled with uncertainty. "He's in the year above us and he's so smart and popular, and… sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for him. Like he's too good for me, ya know what I mean?."

You forced yourself to look up at your best friend, curious as to what his reaction would be. You felt your cheeks flush red in embarrassment as you noticed the unreadable look on his face. Maybe I'm just over thinking? You opened your mouth to say something, hoping to put it behind you and escape an awkward situation but Mattheo cut you off.

"Too good for you? Don't be ridiculous. They don't deserve you." Mattheo's expression shifted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and disbelief.

You chuckled weakly, feeling lucky to have someone like Mattheo as your friend, but you know he was only saying it because he felt like he had to. "You're biased, Mattheo. You're my best friend."

"I'm not biased," he insisted, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I know you, love. You're kind, smart, and one of the most genuine people I've ever met. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

You met his gaze, feeling a mix of gratitude and doubt. "I wish I could believe that."

"You should," Mattheo replied firmly. "You're worth more than you give yourself credit for."

As they walked, you couldn't shake off the doubts that lingered in your mind, wondering if you truly belonged with someone like your boyfriend. He was a year older, had beautiful green eyes and nice brown hair too, plus he was one of the smartest Slytherins in his year.

Mattheo, on the other hand, couldn't fathom why she would ever doubt her worth. He hated that she didn't see what he saw.

Days passed, and you found yourself spending more time with Mattheo, seeking solace and comfort in his conversations. He was always there to lift your spirits and now that exams were coming up, the two of you could help each other out with study.

One afternoon, the two of you sat by the lake, the sunlight dancing on the water's surface as you sighed, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you. You played with the hair tie on your wrist, your head slightly sore from the ponytail that you had your hair in the whole day, happy that you could let your hair down now.

"y/n/n," Mattheo began, his tone gentle but firm, "you need to stop doubting yourself."

"I'm fine Theo," you sighed, letting out a soft sigh as you gazed out at the lake in front of you, your eyes lighting up slightly as you watched some fish jump out then back in, playing around.

"You're not," Mattheo insisted, he bumped your shoulder softly, making you look over at him, his eyes locking with yours. "Your boyfriend is a dick and you're sitting here wondering if you're good enough for him? He stands you up all the time, laughs at you and doesn't stick up for you when his friends say shit about you."

"Theo..."

"I know you wont listen to me cause you're stubborn as shit, but believe me when I tell you, you're better off without him," Mattheo sighs

The conversation lingered in the air, but before they could delve deeper, footsteps interrupted their moment. Your boyfriend approached you both, a smirk on his face as he greeted you.

"Hey, babe," he said casually, barely acknowledging Mattheo's presence.

"Hey," you replied softly, feeling a twinge of discomfort.

"Ready to go?" he asked, already turning to leave.

You glanced at Mattheo, who met your gaze with a subtle look of concern. You winced slightly as you subconsciously bit the inside of your cheek, going to stand up

Mattheo looked up at him, a blank look on his face, "Actually, mate we were kinda in the middle of talking about the potions assignment we're working on together."

Your boyfriend scoffed, "cant you talk about that shit later man? My mates and I were gonna go down and grab some food and shit from the kitchens and the elves always give us more when y/n is there since they like her."

"Well as I said, we're kind of busy," Mattheo snapped, his voice dangerously low.

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and looked at you, "get up, lets go," he grumbled waiting for you to stand up, but you didn't move.

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance crossing his features. "Fine. Suit yourself."

As he walked away, you felt a mix of relief and uncertainty wash over you. She turned to Mattheo, a silent question in her eyes.

"You deserve better than that," Mattheo said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. "You deserve someone who sees your worth and values you for who you are. Plus he's just a dick overall"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your stomach. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," Mattheo replied firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're one of the best people I know, and you deserve someone who sees that."

You nodded, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions as you watched your boyfriend disappear into the castle. Mattheo's words echoed in your mind, a voice of reason amid your doubts.

*

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself reassessing your relationship. Mattheo had been consistent with his whole 'I hate your stupid ass boyfriend' thing, which didn't really help any of your doubts.

However it had seemed to have opened your eyes a bit. You began to notice how close your boyfriend would get to other girls, picked up on his snarky remarks that he would mutter under his breath when you would say stuff, the way he'd just sit there and even sometimes laugh when his friends would say something about you.

One evening, as you sat in the library, your boyfriend approached you, his expression plain and care free.

"Hey, Y/N," he began, a note of hesitation in his voice. "I've been thinking… I'm not sure this is working out."

You felt your hear skip a few beats, a mix of emotions flooding through you. She looked up to meet his gaze, surprised yet oddly relieved

"Okay," you replied softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. In all honesty, you saw it coming.

"Okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at you, "that's it?"

"What? Did you expect her to beg you to stay?" a voice spoke up. You felt your eyes widen at the familiar tone

"Theo?" You asked in shock, turning in your seat to see Mattheo standing behind you, glaring at the boy who was standing in front of you

Your boyfriend ex-boyfriend scoffed, rolling his eyes, "fuck off Riddle," he sneered, taking a step forwards. Mattheo took a step closer to him, not cowering in the slightest as he dug his hands into his pockets, a cold look on his face

"You said your point, you can leave now," Mattheo said plainly. Your ex rolled his eyes, huffing a 'whatever' before turning around and leaving.

You sat there, feeling a sense of freedom mingled with uncertainty.

"Are you okay?" Mattheo asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I think so," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It's just… unexpected."

Mattheo's hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Sometimes unexpected things are for the best."

They sat in silence, the weight of the moment hanging between them. You found yourself feeling a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and a tinge of regret. You glanced at Mattheo, feeling grateful for his unwavering support.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "For everything."

"Always," Mattheo replied with a small smile, his eyes filled with understanding and support. He had been there for a long time, stuck by her side through everything.

And all he could do was hope that one day, she would love him just as much as he loved her.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #slytherin x yn #slytherin imagines #harrypotter #harry potter imagines #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x hufflepuff #mattheo riddle x Ravenclaw #mattheo riddle x slytherin #mattheo riddle x gryffindor #fluff #fluff imagine #drabble #adiraargent

[azure-cherie]

𝐏𝐀𝐂 : 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅.𝐒.

Hello love's for this reading i channel a love letter from your future spouse , i really have a lack of fs readings and ik I don't do that enough but here's it because I feel so called to do this todayyy. Take what resonates and leave the rest , you can choose multiple . I hope you guys like this and feedbacks are always always appreciated !!!!!

Pile 1 :

Mon Amour ,

The sweet river of my life, the reason I live , the reason I thrive , I've been seeing you in my dreams since past lives and I can't fathom the beauty in your eyes . Ever since we've been together and the day i met you my life has been absolutely the one I dream of . Thank you for always being the shoulder I can learn on thank you i think i don't say it enough, you deserve the world and I'm trying everyday to bring in the world for you . I love the way you make art and love the way you make me your muse if I had the talent you had i probably would sing for you . I love your sweet kisses like candy and i hate every moment i argue so I'm happy to be sorry first kidding I know you're always right kinda bad on my part right , I wanna give you the world and there's so much to be done yet , so much to achieve , so much to heal but i know with you by my side i will heal. So i steal the thunder from heaven to make a souvenir of my love even when i am dead the way i tell you about my love won't be enough.

- yours completely

Pile 2 :

Dear love ,

In my darkest days you're the light I turn to , my heart is so full even when my brain is in shambles because I have you . I'm so in love that I can barely eat so I soak up your sunshine and I'm all fine and better under your holy light . We are a pair and we will make history and all these people that think we're too young too naive will be left in misery, they don't see you like i do, we both see each other . They say love is a big thing but I'd like laundry and taxes with you . Plain bread with you tastes like heaven , even tho I'm a heathen i pray the heavens for you may the paradise we make last forever, may i always keep jewellery in your altar , may things never be forbidden in our diary and in all of the things that are may I know one thing for sure that I don't wanna spend a moment away from you anymore . I burn for you I'm human for you .

- your lover

Pile 3 :

Hey Miss,

Springtime your time my time I look at you my beautiful flower fuller than poppies , more abundant than a lotus , like a burning rose with desire , you set me on fire , yet you cool me like running water how do you do , how do you put me in this state . I wanna love you don't you think it's getting late for even a while to wait , meet me at the garden gate . I don't know much but I know I came into earth to be with you i could be a tree but I'm a human to love you like humans do . How could you know me so well i almost lose myself when I'm with you and that's what I want when I'm with you to be free like a child . I wanna devote all my evenings to make coffee for you and i wanna spend all my breaths being high because I love you so much my thoughts spin out , you're moon herself you grant wishes so please grant mine goddess divine .

- always yours

Pile 4 :

Hey sweetheart,

I've been on a quest to find you , since I was young I've always felt that I was meant for more than just I saw what other couples around me had I knew I needed to be drowned and insane when i like someone , but the way you lift me up gave me all of it together , you're all the bright colours at once , yet you're a mystery , I love that i figure out something beautiful about you each day I know life with you can never be boring, it's always fun always worth living , thank you for holding me when the world discarded me , I know angels are real because i have seen you . Sorry for the times i mess things up , i never want that . we need to be together to explore this world without this bond this earth is mere ground with fire at the core , I wanna love you more . How do I explain this love where do I put all my love for you you're growing into me with each day I place your name in my heart like a sweet melody , i live to love you , I love to love you.

- only yours forever

Thank you so much for reading, have a great day/night ❤️

#god this felt so god #this was the pac i wrote fastest #pac readings #pac tarot #tarot pac #pac reading #pac #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #future spouse pick a card #future spouse reading #future spouse

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening

[suiana]

yandere general x traitor reader

"..why?"

"how could you expect me to love an empire who took everything away from me? even moreso the guy who made my life a living hell?"

being the sole survivor of a fallen kingdom was a hard thing to accept, especially when you had been forced to become a slave to the monstrous empire who did this to you. you, a member of a royal family had been forced to become a slave in a matter of five days.

it was shocking at first. in fact, you refused to accept it. you still believed that your family was alive, that you were a cheerful and happy royal member of a prosperous little kingdom. yet the constant beatings, insults and mockery from the victor empire dragged you out of that delusion.

the embarrassment, shame, and guilt you had to bare was insulting. to think that a royal member would be reduced to such a status of cleaning horse shit... death would've been a much better option.

he should've killed you. he really should've. why did he even spare you? it made no sense at all. because why would a war general, known for being heartless and cruel, even spare a member of the royal family they were sent to kill?

the emperor wouldn't even question it! just accepted the general's actions and went along his merry way! fuck, you were honestly looking forward to getting beheaded at the possibility of getting killed off... but the general just had to be so trustworthy that the emperor would allow him to do as he pleases. and the fact that he was from a powerful duchy didn't help either.

and so, you had to clean up shit for a while, sleeping in rags and getting beaten up by people of the opposing nation. it was humiliating. you had considered ending yourself on multiple occasions, yet the cautious eyes of the general you had been forced to work for prevented you from doing so.

whenever you tried something dangerous, he'd always be there to stop you. it was as if he were watching you, carefully monitoring you like a specimen. worse of all! he didn't beat you up or berate you for attempting suicide! he did the exact opposite! gently tending to your wounds, kissing your forehead while washing your now frail body... he treated you more like a lover than a slave.

initially, you were confused by his caring actions. didn't he spare you just so he could torment you? but when you observed how his eyes would soften, how you had preferential treatment, you couldn't help but feel the need to use him.

he did whatever you wanted him to. getting rid of those who bullied you, giving you the status of a servant rather than a slave, money, information. he gave you everything you asked for. all he asked in return was your love. but how could you give it to him when he was the one who changed your life for good? luckily you were an amazing actor.

you played him like a fool, dancing around him like this were all but a silly show for your entertainment. and it truly was. for you were secretly gathering a rebellion against him and the empire. thankfully the empire had lots of enemies, so many were willing to join you. it took lots of effort and patience but you had finally done it. and now it was time for the final act to begin.

fire, murder, death. the plan was simple enough. give the empire what it deserved. you had to attribute majority of your success to the general, really. for if it weren't for his foolishness this plan would've never worked out. I mean, who would in their right mind fall for the one who ruined their life? the general had too much of a fantasy that you'd willingly accept him. so much so that it was a little pathetic.

the night hadn't gone as smoothly as you wanted it to be but nonetheless, the main goal was accomplished. murder the royal family and tear down the empire. sure, it was cruel. but they had it coming for them. after all this was the kingdom who did as they wished. starting wars for no reason, invading lands that did not belong to them... this was merely retribution.

you laughed heartily, staring at the destruction around you as you prepared to leave. yet, one person stood in your path. the general who wanted nothing but your love.

tear stricken and heartbroken he stared at you like you had committed the worst crime. but you couldn't really care. you tried getting your horse to speed away from him. however, he wasn't the most feared general for nothing. within a few seconds the positions were reversed and he had the high ground.

you laid on the cobblestone streets, his sword beside your neck as he cried silently while the empire burnt to ashes. no! you couldn't fail! not when everything had gone smoothly! you tried squirming away only for him to stop you by caging your body in between his body. his sword had been discarded and he had resorted to using his body to keep you with him.

and you couldn't stop him. not when he was twice your size with strength rivaling a god's.

"I... I am very disappointed."

you rolled your eyes at his sentence. however, you remained completely still in his arms as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck. whatever, you'll just run away when he stands up and things will be all back to plan. you just have to deal with his antics for a little while longer.

"I never thought you would act out. not when we were so in love. I guess... I'll just have to teach you."

you sighed. what was he onto now? he had lost his duchy, his empire and-

"let's die together, shall we?"

he smiles at you, tears completely dry as he brings a small dagger up to your cheek. your heartbeat started to race, eyes widened as you shook your head in fear. wait was he serious?!

"don't worry darling. I'll kill myself after I kill you. then we'll be together for all eternity..."

he continues smiling as the sharp dagger caresses your neck, threatening to draw blood.

"I love you so much, my dear. It's just a shame you had to act out like this. I truly wanted to live a happy ever after with you! if only you hadn't brought ruin to the empire...."

he mumbles sadly, pressing the knife against your throat harshly, drawing small beads of blood that stained the dagger red.

"I'll see you in hell in a minute."

slice!

and the world fades to black.

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere knight #yandere knight x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #suiana brainrotting #suiana rambling #yandere oneshot

[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #like there's no tomorrow au #daredevil and firecracker #the-slumberparty #eight types of love challenge

[auras-moonstone]

HEAR ME OUT! Tara and Y/n has been together ever since the massacre in Woodsboro but Tara (like that bitch she is) treats her like shit while drunk at a party, ending up in a breakup. Ethan steps in and takes her home and it ends up in Smut/fluff.

stars around my scars — ethan landry

word count: 1,174

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: after witnessing the way tara mistreats y/n at the party, ethan takes her home to take care of her.

warnings: toxic relationship. fluff.

Y/N ALWAYS HAD ALWAYS KNOWN TARA DIDN’T LIKE HER AS MUCH AS SHE DID. She had always known deep down that the petite girl had feelings for Amber, but she had been too scared of ruining their friendship so she settled for the second option—her. And call her masochist, but Y/N never cared as long as she could call Tara hers.

And then, there was Amber’s betrayal and death. It sent Tara down a rabbit hole. She had never been in love with Y/N, but at least she used to care about her. She was sweet and attentive despite her heart belonging to someone else. Now, Y/N was simply the person she kept at arm’s length as a distraction from pain. Parties and alcohol were also things that helped her with that.

The party the group was currently at landed on a very convenient day—it marked one year from the Woodsboro killings, and Tara made it her mission to get as intoxicated as possible, trying to get her mind off things.

“Tara, please stop. You’ve drunk way too much.” Y/N said to her girlfriend, who was frenetically searching for another bottle of vodka.

“Jesus, leave me alone, Y/N.” the girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do than suffocating me with your clingyness?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m just taking care of you. You’re going to regret drinking so much in the morning.”

“Are you deaf or something? I said leave me the fuck alone. I just want to drink and forget about everything.”

“I know, T. But you’re very drunk, and you keep mixing drinks. It’s gonna land you in the hospital.” Y/N carefully grabbed her girlfriend’s hand, but the girl shoved it away as if the touch had burnt her.

“You’re not her, don’t you get it? You’ll never be her. I just wish you’d leave me the fuck alone. I don’t love you, stop trying to make me love you. It’s not going to happen. Ever.” Tara spat, voice loud enough to make people look.

Y/N stood still, not knowing what to say or do. Her brain couldn’t formulate any words, she just felt a gigantic knot on her throat and tears blurring her vision. The pity glances were overwhelming, and she wanted to get away from them so badly, but her feet wouldn’t cooperate.

Ethan, who had witnessed the harsh words from a few feet away, rushed towards them as soon as he noticed her friend’s frozen state. “You’re a fucking bitch.” he glared at Tara, and silently added ‘and you deserve everything that’s coming to you.’ “Let’s go, Y/N/N. I’m taking you home.”

Y/N followed the boy without a second guess. Ethan didn’t utter a single word on the way home, he just tucked her under his arm and affectionately rubbed her arm. And as always, his presence was comforting.

He was always there for her, lifting her spirits up and offering his ear whenever she needed someone to talk to. Even though Y/N could sense what his thoughts about her relationship with Tara were, Ethan had never judged her for her questionable and stupid choices.

Ethan had tried very hard not to spill every thought he had about it, because as much as she wanted to open Y/N’s eyes, he knew she hadn’t been ready for the truth. And deep down, Y/N sensed that. But that night, she felt it was time to hear his opinion.

“Thank you, Eth. For everything.” she finally said once they reached his apartment.

Ethan sat beside her on the couch with a glass of water in his hand. “Anytime.” he replied, giving her the glass. “Y/N…” he said after a few seconds of dead silence.

“I know, Eth. I’m the most idiotic person in the world.” her eyes were glued to the floor, completely embarrassed by the fact that Ethan had to witness the way Tara had talked to her.

“Don’t do that. Don’t put the blame on you.” he kneeled between her legs, forcing her to look at him. “You’re so amazing, and I’m sorry Tara didn’t see that. You deserve so much better, Y/N/N. You were such a great girlfriend to her, and she took you for granted.”

“I should’ve ended it so long ago… but I don’t know, we’ve been through so much and I was scared that if I broke up with her, the group would put distance between us. I don’t want to be alone.”

Ethan grabbed her by the cheeks and caressed her face softly. His touch was so relaxing that it made her close her eyes, and before she knew what was doing, she started pressing kisses on his palm and wrists.

The boy’s heart was beating so fast that it felt like it wanted to escape through his chest. “I’m never leaving you. You’ll never be alone. Keep me close and I promise I’ll take care of you and make you feel loved.”

Y/N opened her eyes at that statement. Surprised vulnerable eyes met his determined and loving ones, and for the second time that night, she was left speechless. In the best way, Ethan took away her ability to speak.

“Since the very first night, you have been living free rent in my mind. Realizing you were taken was like a punch to the guts, but learning that your heart belonged to someone who didn’t appreciate it? It pierced my heart. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner, maybe you needed someone to help you open your eyes.”

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t know if I would’ve taken your advice, to be honest. I was blind. But Ethan, you’ve taken care of me from the beginning. You would break your back to make me break a smile, Eth. I want nothing more than to try something with you but I just got out of a relationship, I don’t know if my mind is in the right space to start something new.”

“I’m not saying we should start a relationship right now. I can wait, and in the meanwhile I can make you feel good, be whatever you need.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, Eth. I can’t use you like that.”

“Y/N, I’m begging you to use me. Fuck, I sound like a attention starved puppy, but I want you—whatever way you want me, whenever you want me and as long as you want to.”

Y/N searched for any sign of hesitation or reluctance, but the boy was determined. He really wanted this, and to be honest, so did she. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Y/N nodded, the sides of her mouth lifting. “Right now, I need a kiss. You think you can give me that?”

Ethan grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her towards him, lips meeting aggressively. “Your lips taste so fucking good, baby. I think I’m already addicted.”

“Good, cause I think I’m addicted, too. I’ve never been kissed like this.” she said in between kisses.

“Then I guess we should never stop doing this.” he gripped her waist as he straddles her thighs.

Y/N’s hooded eyes connected with his and they both smiled. “Guess we shouldn’t.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry angst #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jackchampion #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

[dilfl0v3rss]

boxer!todo who trains almost every damn day. always wanting to be at his top physique at all times.

boxer!todo who lets you come with him to every training session or workout at the gym so you don’t get lonely.

boxer!todo who is undefeated due to his raw strength and ability to adjust to anyone’s fighting style. he’s beaten men bigger and faster than him because he’s just that good.

boxer!todo who doesn’t allow you to come to some of his fights. not wanting you to see how gruesome it could get in the ring.

“papa why notttt” you whined, feet stomping on the ground as you followed your boyfriend around the house. “cause i can tell how it’s gonna go. ion want you seeing all the blood and bruises ma.” he said calmly as he bent down to grab a water from the fridge. “but he was talkin so much shit at the press conference. talkin bout how he’s the best and how you never gon amount to him. wish i could fuck that nigga up myself.” you mumbled your last sentence, making todo chuckle as he watched how upset you were getting. you took the insults worse than him, and he was the one getting them. “don’t worry mama ima whoop his ass. jus need you t’stay here when the day comes while i go handle my business, aight?”

boxer!todo who spends his day offs taking you out or chilling with you at home.

boxer!todo who spoils you rotten with most of his money. if there’s was something you liked, expect it to be at your doorstep within the next week.

boxer!todo who makes sure you always have a good view of him at the fights he lets you attend. loving how you scream for him when he does a move he’s been working on or how you’re quick to lift him up when he takes a particularly hard hit.

“cmon pa we eat those”

“you got it baby hit him in the body”

“focus todo! you not done yet!”

“uhh huhhh he can’t fuck wit you baby”

he loved hearing your pretty voice.

boxer!todo who made sure to give you a reward for keeping him in check during ever match.

“you my good little motivator ain’t you mama?” his thrusts were quick, large hand pressed down lightly on your stomach so he could feel himself moving inside of you. “mhmm. you d-did so good daddy” you moaned. todo smiled as he began fucking you deeper, making your back arch off the bed as he caressed your cheek with his other hand. “did good ‘cause i had you there to cheer me on. love makin my pretty girl proud. you proud of me ma? lemme hear you say it.” todo didn’t care about how anyone else felt about him, but you. always seeking your validation after a good fight. “m’so proud of you. there’s n-nobody better papa.” “uhh huh. nobody.”

boxer!todo who also fucks you so good when he’s not happy with his performance after barely winning a fight that should’ve been “light work” for him. feeling that since he couldn’t give his all in the ring he’ll make up for it in the bedroom.

boxer!todo who never went out partying after his fights. always choosing to relax at home with you rather than be in a room with a bunch of drunk guys and bitches with their asses out.

boxer!todo who has you wear his chain during every match. you bought him the chain as a gift when he won his first fight as a pro boxer. it wasn’t the most expensive, but it was still worth a lot. you saved up for months to get it for him and he almost cried when you showed it to him.

“you didn’t have to-” “yes i did. you been working so hard and you deserve it. gon be the best there ever was baby” todo’s eyes began to water as he let you put the chain around his neck. it fit nice, sitting right over his strong pecs. “cant wear it while i fight so ima need you t’keep it safe f’me. that okay ma?” you nodded your head before giving him a passionate kiss on the lips. “i don’t mind wearin it as long as you continue to think of me” todo smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled your head into his broad chest. “always.”

boxer!todo who keeps a level head for most of his fights, never really letting the trash talk at the conferences get to him. he saw no point in trying to get a rise out of his opponent and felt that they should feel the same way, but they never did. there was only one time he let his anger take over and it nearly got him disqualified.

“a.t how do you feel about your ability to win this fight” the reporter said. todo kept his face serious as he thought about his answer. “well i been training real hard, learning some new skills. i feel like if i keep my head straight and fall through with my plans i should be able to win this thing.” he toyed with his chain as he spoke, not really thinking anything of this little event and just wanting to get home to his pretty girlfriend. the reporter asked his opponent the same question, and while he answered he noticed todo wasn’t paying attention to him at all. still playing with the gold around his neck. he noticed that it was the same chain he’d see you wearing when he would come to scout todo’s matches. a smirk planted on his face before he uttered something he’d come to regret. “yea i know ima win. and after i do, ima bring me a honey home. might even give his little girlfriend a taste since i heard she got a thing for winners.” loud gasps immediately filled the room as well as your living room while you watched the whole thing live on the edge of your couch.

everyone waited for todo to retaliate, but he didn’t. he kept calm as a small chuckle flew from his lips. holding his head down as he began to crack his knuckles. “we’ll see.” was all he said before the press moved on with their next question. everyone thought he was fine. his opponent even slumped down in his chair a little more as he thought his insult did absolutely nothing, but you knew the truth. todo only cracked his knuckles when he was angry. really angry. usually only doing so to keep himself from punching or breaking something. when he got home that night he acted as if everything was fine, but you could tell he thought about it all the time. by the way he’d hit the punching bag with a little more force than usual or how he nearly sent his trainer flying out the ring before walking towards his locker room. todo was pissed.

when the day came he made you promise not to come to or watch the fight. the seriousness in his tone made you worry, but you fell through with your promise because it meant so much to him. when todo came home it was a lot earlier than you’d imagine. his fights usually took thirty minutes to an hour, but at this rate his opponent couldn’t have lasted longer than the first round. “you win?” voice small as you watched your boyfriend quietly walk straight towards the bedroom. “mhm…” he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. you scrambled to your phone to see what could have him acting like this. a quiet gasp left your lips as you watched clips of the very short fight. like you thought, the poor guy didn’t last the first round. receiving blow after deadly blow from your boyfriend before eventually getting punched so hard in the face that he flew to the other side of the ring. “mama get in here! need you right now.” you smiled before taking a deep breath and skipping your way to your bedroom.

boxer!todo who fucked you the best when he was hot and jealous after a fight.

#aoi todo x black y/n #aoi todo x black reader #aoi todo x black!reader #aoi todo × black!reader #jjk aoi todo x black reader #aoi todo x reader #aoi todo × black reader #aoi x black reader #jjk aoi todo x black!reader #aoi todo smut #jjk aoi todo smut #jjk aoi todo x black y/n

[gucciwins]

birthday blues

Y/N doesn't celebrate her birthday. Harry wants to change that.

Word count: 9381

A/N: it's my birthday! and I thought you deserved something nice. I feel sometimes birthday can be very up and down. somehow tears come by every year. I always wanted to write a birthday story and what better day to post it than on my birthday.

warnings: mentions of a parent death

happy reading!

+

365 days

That’s how long it took the sun to rotate the earth. That was also how many days it took for Y/N to turn a year older. 

Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with family and friends. Where they shower someone with gifts cake but mostly love. It’s something Y/N hasn’t felt since she was young. Her mother made sure Y/N was reminded that the sun shined bright for her. She made all her dreams come true until she couldn’t. Y/N lost her mother, Isla, to cancer. She fought a long battle, but it seemed losing her mother meant losing her father as he lost the love of his life. Her older brother, already close to eighteen, understood loss but didn’t realize how grief could change a person because as soon as Caleb turned eighteen, he was gone. Only calling during the holidays but never coming home. 

Y/N saw how others were celebrated on their birthdays as she grew up, from being invited to birthday parties to the grand gifts they would receive, primarily knowing that her friends had someone show up for them. That never happened for Y/N. 

She moved away from home for university, and there was no argument from her father. She began her life where she hoped to create a family of her own, and with time, she had. Y/N never believed in having a large group of friends, but wherever she went, she made a friend along the way. 

Aurora is Y/N’s best friend. She met her at a book club, their local bookstore hosts. Y/N complimented her fiery red hair; Aurora took one hard look at Y/N and claimed they would be best friends. Y/N brushed her off instead asking her out for coffee, and well, it seemed Aurora was right. She always is Y/N had come to learn. 

With Aurora in her life came new friends; she was invited to dinner parties, coffee days, and to join in on mundane errand days. Y/N had never felt so invited and loved by her friends, but she made sure to give it right back. When it was Suki’s birthday, Y/N knew she wanted an ice skating day with all their friends but could never convince everyone to go; well, Y/N turned on the charm, and off they went. At Edward’s graduation party, she brought his favorite cake from the bakery across town. For Tina, she found a vintage sweater she had been searching for since she was seventeen and learned who Vivienne Westwood was. Y/N was the friend who went above and beyond for everyone because she knew they deserved it.

Year after year, they would ask Y/N to celebrate her birthday or accomplishments, but Y/N always promised them she didn’t like celebrating her birthday. After two years, her friends decided not to fight it and respected her wishes. She’d start her day the same way each year: head to Heart Coffee to buy a croissant and an oat milk vanilla latte. She’d head to the park, where she’d sit by the lake, seeing all the people run by. Then she’d cook herself a small meal and stay home to watch her favorite show (Parks and Rec). It’s a simple plan, one she liked and her friends respected. Her friends would get her gifts, sometimes books, kitchen supplies, or even the sweater she had been eyeing and saving up for, but that’s as much as she allowed to be celebrated. 

Then Harry came into her life. 

Aurora was having a bonfire to celebrate the start of Summer. Y/N loved the beach, searching for shells, and mostly, being in the water. Y/N had offered to help set up because she wanted to maximize her time in the water. Her mum always told her she was born a mermaid in another life for how much she loved water. Y/N spent her time in the water, and once she felt the sun begin to set (Aurora yelled for her to come in), she took a final dive and dashed to her car to change into warmer clothes. As she was closing her car’s trunk, Y/N bumped into someone. She quickly apologized, knowing she was in a hurry to return to her friends because she was hungry. 

“My fault,” a strong voice responded. 

It sent chills down her back. She looked up to meet his eyes and found mossy green eyes staring at her. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve got to go.” Y/N pointed behind her to signify she had people waiting for her, and before he could stop her, she ran off. 

Y/N tried to brush away his pretty face, but her brain seemed frozen. She’d never seen someone so pretty. He had curls peeking out behind his hood, and his long eyelashes were something she’d forever be jealous of while she’d dream of what his pink lips might taste like. Y/N, with a drink in her hand, allowed herself to escape to her thoughts. 

“Babes, you’ve got a pretty tan going,” Aurora commented as Y/N set her bag down.

Y/N felt her face warm, knowing tomorrow she’d be more burnt than she liked, but being in the water was worth it. 

“So the mermaid has legs,” Frannie teases Y/N as she sits in the sand. 

“So it seems. Got any gummy worms?” Y/N plays along, knowing her friend would understand the significance of the candy from one of their favorite movies.   

There was a lot of chatter going around. She patted Frannie’s thigh, telling her she was getting another drink, but before she could do that, Tobias, Aurora’s boyfriend of two years, called for her. 

“Y/NNNNN!” She giggled because it was clear he was a few drinks in. “My sweet baby, I want to introduce you to my friends. We’re in a band.” 

“Were.” A man with an Irish accent answers. 

“Shush, Niall. Y/N loves musicians.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “only if they play the piano,” she corrects. 

She turned to look at the people Tobias wanted to introduce her to, and she took a deep breath when she recognized the guy with the gray hood, a smirk on his face.

“Right, whatever. My good mates from left to right are Niall, Sarah, Devon, and Harry. Mitch is off getting drinks. He’s the dude with really long hair. You’ll see him,” Tobias assures her. “Now, this is my best mate Y/N.” Y/N giggles. “Don’t tell Aurora, she’ll fight anyone who calls Y/N her, and I quote “bestie.””

Y/N hums in agreement. “It’s lovely to meet you all.” She shakes their hand in greeting. She saved Harry for last. Y/N tries to hide she’s looking at his long fingers, but when she looks at Harry, he’s staring at her with a wide smile. 

“Piano hands.” 

Y/N feels her face flush because he’s referring to the comment she made a few minutes ago. She takes a step back and excuses herself. “Off to get a drink. It was lovely to meet you all.” 

Harry steps forward as if to follow her, but Tobias stops him with a shake of his head. Always protective. She looks over her shoulder and finds Harry already staring at her. She laughs to herself. Maybe she’ll get the courage to talk to him after two more drinks. 

One drink later, Y/N was watching the waves crash in when she heard someone coming closer. She thought it was Aurora who was escaping the loud music for a moment, so she patted the seat next to her, but to her surprise, it was Harry. 

“Hi,” she greeted softly. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry smiled at her. “You’re hard to get alone.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “That’s Mum and Dad for you.” 

“They’re protective of everyone like that?” He asks.

“Yes, but more so me.”

“Is it because you’re too sweet?” Harry asks curiously.

“Or to mean,” she counters. 

Harry laughs, “I doubt that.” 

Y/N turns her body to look at him, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “You don’t know me.” 

He shrugs, “I don’t, but you shook my hand when we met. Don’t think that’s happened in such an informal setting.”

Shit. 

Y/N lets his words sink in. So it was weird to shake hands, but her mum always taught her to be polite, and she'd shake their hand if she couldn’t be a hugger. Were handshakes weird? Did that mean Harry thought she was strange? Well, there goes her chance with him.

“Y/N, Sweets? Where’d you go?” Harry calls for her attention, seeing her lost in her head. “I’m that boring, huh?”

She’s quick to shake her head. “Sorry. That was so rude of me.” 

“Only teasing.” 

“Don’t like the party?” Y/N gestured behind them, knowing that was much better than sitting with her. 

Harry scoots his hand closer to hers, only an inch apart the slightest movement, and they’d be touching. “I meant it when I said you’re hard to get alone. Aurora asked me fifty different questions, and one was about my car insurance.” 

Aurora was odd, but she always had her best interests in mind. 

“Think she’s scared I might get taken away from her.”

“She did say something about 60/40.” 

Y/N lets her head fall into her lap, “that’s embarrassing.” 

“Take it everyone’s sweet on you, Sweets.” 

Y/N feels herself melt at the moniker. Harry is too charming for her, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a chance.

“Are you?” 

Harry takes it in stride. “Definitely.”

“Hmm…”

Harry takes her silence as rejection. “Take it, it’s not mutual?” 

“I’m afraid you never asked me a question.” She feigns innocence. 

Harry grins, “would you like to go on a date with me?” Y/N stays silent. “How’s that for a question?” 

Y/N stands up, brushes away the sand, and offers her hand to Harry. He takes it, careful to not pull her off balance. “Yes.” 

She walks back to her friends, leaving behind a stunned Harry. 

“Did you say yes?” He yells, hurrying to catch up. 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

Y/N laughs, confused. “Was I supposed to say no?”

“Tobias assured me you would say no, so I thought no harm in trying.”

Y/N steps close to Harry, removing any space they head between each other. “Listen here, Harry. As much as I love Tobias, he doesn’t speak for me. So, if you ever have a question for me, just ask.”

Harry nods. 

“Good. Now I’d love a s’more, care to join me?” 

Harry, enamored by Y/N, is quick to agree.

He spent the remainder of the night glued to Y/N’s side. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to know everything about her, from her birthday to her favorite number. She asked him about the pets he had growing up and who his three favorite female artists were. Y/N told Harry his answer could change her response to their upcoming date. Harry named Stevie Nicks, Kacey Musgraves, and Megan Thee Stallion. Y/N told him she approved. He sighed in relief, telling her that his heart was close to beating out of his chest. 

Harry’s friends began to pack up to leave, but he noticed Y/N didn’t, so he stayed put Y/N tucked against his side and said it was time for him to go, sensing all the looking Harry’s friends were directing at him and he was ignoring.  

“Don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ve got my friends, Harry. I was fine before you and will be fine once you leave.” 

Harry frowned, “fine isn’t good enough.” 

“You’re a tough cookie.” 

Harry makes no move to get up.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

He perks up, “I’m listening.”

“You text me when you make it home.” Harry nods eagerly. “I’ll text you when I make it home. If you’re awake, I’ll let you call me to wish me goodnight.” 

“I’ll be awake,” he promises.

Y/N doesn’t know how true that is, but it does get him to finally follow his tired friends to their car. She watches him walk away when Aurora comes up behind, resting her head on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Tobias bet me $50 bucks he could keep Harry away from you.” 

“What did you do, Rora?” 

“I offered him a blowie if he let you be,” Aurora laughed, “I saw the sparkle in your eye. Don’t love him more than me is all I ask.” 

Y/N giggles, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. I told him 60/40, but 70/30 is a better deal for me.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She changed her outfit three times, restyled her hair twice, and messed up her eyeliner for the first time in months. Her date with Harry was tonight, and while she had a massive crush on him, her nerves were getting the better of her. 

Before she could change her outfit another time, her phone rang, notifying her of a knock on her door. The security camera she had installed was a significant help. She pulled up the app on her phone and saw Harry wearing a black knitted sweater with two swans kissing. A bouquet of flowers in his hand. He kept pacing the front door, and Y/N felt settled, knowing he was nervous, too. 

First dates can be awkward, and small talk is boring, but as soon as she opens the front door, Y/N knows it’s different. Harry shows her a bright smile, telling her how beautiful she looks. Y/N lets Harry open her car door; for dinner, Harry decides to take her to his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s ten minutes from the beach. It’s a family-owned establishment where all the dishes are made from scratch. Harry promised Mama D’s offers a pink sauce that’s to die for. Y/N let Harry order for her, and she was not sorry; the food was delicious. She knew she would return, but that wasn’t the best part. No, it was spending time with Harry. 

She learned how smart he was. He is constantly reading a new book, whether poetry or history books; he always has his hand on something new. Y/N proudly told him she loved her romance books, that she had only recently begun to get into fantasy, but that her favorite series growing up was “The Hunger Games.” She went on a slight tangent explaining what the books meant to her and how, from time to time, she would pick it up to read it all over again. When she realized she had probably said too much, Y/N felt her face burning and wouldn’t dare to meet Harry’s stare.

“Sorry,” she apologized. 

Harry shakes his head, “no, don’t do that.”

“What?” Y/N asks confused. 

“Apologize for what you’re passionate about. It’s a part of you; don’t make it seem insignificant,” his words settled deep in her heart. “I could write you a ten-page essay on why The Notebook is one of the best romance movies to exist.” 

“With citations included?” Y/N teased, easing the tension she was holding. 

“Well, of course,” Harry plays into her banter. 

It’s clear by the end of the date that Y/N is head over heels for Harry, and the feeling is mutual. Harry sat across from Y/N at the start of the meal, but after their dinner and a glass of wine, he slipped into the seat next to her. He played with her fingers that rested on the table, his entire body turned to her, giving her his undivided attention. Y/N and Harry stayed at the restaurant until they closed. Their waiter, Devin, told them he didn’t want to rush them, but they did need to clean up the outside patio. Harry knew it was time to go but didn’t want the night to end. 

“Fancy a walk?” Harry asked Y/N as they stood by the car, pointing toward the beach where she could hear the waves crashing on the shore.

“Lead the way.”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand, but Y/N was the one to intertwine their fingers, keeping a tight grip on him. Harry gave her a squeeze to assure her he liked it. The moon shone down on them as they walked towards the calm waves. They walked in silence; there was no need to fill the void with talk. Simply being together was enough for them. 

He was aware this was a first date. Yet, Harry knew what he was feeling was something he would never experience again, entirely because of Y/N. 

“Harry?” 

“Yes, Sweets.” 

“Can I confess something to you?” 

Harry stops walking, hearing the tremble in her voice. “Hey, of course you can. Anything you want.” 

“Well,” she takes a deep breath. “When we met, I thought you might be a little cocky because you have this larger-than-life personality, but truthfully, you're the sweetest person I have ever met.” 

Harry feels his cheeks turn red. He did not see this coming. “Sweets, you mean that?” 

“I do. You make me feel safe and cared for. I-I know we don’t know each other too well, but I would like to keep seeing you if you’re interested,” she whispers the final word as if all her confidence was sucked away. 

“Y/N, look at me.” She lifts her gaze to meet his. Y/N can see how bright his eyes are with the moon's light. “I would love to keep going on dates with you. You called me sweet, but Y/N, you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person I have met in all my years of life. I’d love to keep spending time with you even if it was simply to go grocery shopping.” 

“Good,” she whispers. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

“Come one, Sweets. The night is still young.” 

Harry and Y/N spent the remainder of the night sitting on the cold sand, telling each other everything they could think of because while neither would say it out loud, they knew they had met their soulmate.

+

Y/N loved playing dress-up. She loved exploring her fashion, knowing she’d get suitable and horrible outfits, but each one would be a story for her to tell. Y/N loved going to flea markets on the weekends and went to her favorite thrift store every time the kind worker shot her a text, there was a large donation that came in. Her mother once took her to an estate sale, and Y/N got to see pieces of someone else’s story. Y/N loved visiting the homes but also because she got to find some of the most insane items. Y/N had found a vintage baby pink Chanel sweater and a never-worn pearl necklace. It was her most precious piece of jewelry. 

When Harry learned that Y/N loved going to vintage and second-hand stores, he planned a date night to take her to all the hidden spots his mother had shown him. It had been a few weeks of dates, Y/N and Harry being exclusive, enjoying their time together. Harry had planned a few dates, but so had Y/N. With final exams looming close, he wanted to make sure that Y/N knew that spending time with her was his priority, so he wanted to take her to one of her favorite activities. 

Harry had specific tastes, loving to wear vintage shirts, sometimes paying too much for one he couldn’t live without. Harry loved being able to share this passion with Y/N but mostly enjoyed spending time with her. He understood they both had schoolwork and needed to make time to study, but Y/N was great at making time to see him, so he decided he could do the same. She stopped by for breakfast after her morning pilates class. Harry would send her flowers to arrive at her office. It was a simple gesture, but Y/N appreciated it each time.

“Did you know Dee can’t stand Prim?” Y/N tells Harry as she looks through the rack of skirts, trying to find a velvet skirt. 

Harry frowned. “Prim the cat?” 

“Mhmm…the very one. Says she’s demonic or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“Prim is the sweetest little baby. Always curl up in your lap for a nap.”

Y/N looks back at him with a big smile, recalling the memory of them over at Sasha’s house for game night. Harry sat to her right as they watched Frannie and Brandon try to beat their score in charades when the small black cat came right over to her with a tiny meow and settled in her lap. Y/N ran her hand through Prim’s black coat, coxing her right to sleep. Harry made sure to capture photos for her. Even made it his new lock screen.

“Yeah, told Dee she probably needs to bring Prim a snack to befriend her.” 

Y/N pulled out a black skirt; she looked it over, trying to decide if she wanted it, when Harry spotted something over her shoulder. It was a maroon velvet skirt with a split on the leg, and he knew it was exactly what she was looking for. 

“How about this?” 

She turned around to see Harry holding up a skirt. It looked in perfect condition, not a tear in sight. “What if it doesn’t fit?” 

“We can always alter it. I’m amazing with a sewing machine,” Harry shares. 

Y/N grabs it from him, adding it to the pile of clothes she’s already holding in one arm. “Fine, I’ve been convinced.” She giggles, knowing she would have taken it no matter what because Harry was the one who found it for her. 

“Did you find that knitted cardigan here?” Y/N asks him, exiting the shop, the bag of clothes in Harry’s hand as he uses his other hand to hold hers. 

“No, my Nan made it.” 

Y/N’s eyes gleam in excitement. “That’s amazing. Did she teach you?” 

Harry laughs. “No, I'm really bad with needles. Nan says I’ve got too big of hands.” 

Y/N lifts their intertwined hands, looking down at his black nail polish contrasting her red. “I think you’ve got perfect hands.” 

Harry kisses her temple. “Thank you, sweets. Are you up for a coffee?”

“And a croissant?” She asks excitedly. 

“Well, of course. Only the best for you.” Harry pulls her close and leads them to a coffee shop up the street. 

Harry knows he’s never been happier. He’s glad to have Y/N in his life.

+

Y/N had spent the summer falling in love. Harry had been the perfect gentleman. She had never met someone as kind as him, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend, there was only one clear answer. 

Yes.

She held back from screaming it. Her excitement was hard to hide, but thankfully, so was Harry’s. They spent that night back at Y/N’s apartment kissing. Harry had the sweetest lips, and Y/N always wanted more after one taste. He brought warmth into her life, which she would always be thankful for. 

Now, in Autumn, she spent her time with her studying, going on dates, and sharing lots of kisses. Y/N got to meet Harry’s family: his mother, who has a big love for cats; his older sister, who’s a lawyer and the best baker to ever exist; and his step-father, who is heaven-sent. Y/N shared she was nervous to meet them all because of how much Harry talked about them, but he assured her they’d love her. 

They settled on brunch together, which went as well as Harry expected. Y/N shared what she was studying, where she was from, and how sweet Harry was raised. His mother, Elise, was over the moon with her kind words. When Y/N excused herself to the restroom, his mum could not stop gushing about how perfect Y/N was for him. His sister, Aaliyah, was more challenging to win over. She seemed to think she could read everyone perfectly. It was her job as a lawyer, but sometimes Harry wanted her to simply be his sister. Y/N spent the breakfast sharing stories asking about Harry growing up. His stepfather shared his favorite memories of Harry growing up. How Aaliyah tried to always sell Harry away or ship him off in a box. It never worked, but she tried so hard.

It took a slight turn when the conversation shifted to Y/N’s family. “Has Harry met your family?” Aaliyah asked. 

Y/N felt her hands begin to sweat, and as if he could sense her nerves, Harry reached down and intertwined her hand with his, letting them rest on her lap. 

“No, uh, he hasn’t.” 

Aaliyah frowned, “Now that doesn’t seem right. Are you ashamed of him?” 

Y/N jumps back as if she had just been slapped. She knew his sister cared for him, but being accused of being ashamed of Harry was not something she ever wanted to happen. Y/N took a deep breath and decided to share the deepest parts of herself with Harry’s family, something she did not like to talk about and only mentioned to Harry, never giving him the whole story. 

“My mum Isla passed away when I was ten. She was my hero and my biggest supporter. It’s not something you ever really heal from; grief lessens, but you’ll always miss them.” Y/N wanted to look away. The look of pity on their face was not something she wanted. “My—my dad loved my mum. He always said she was his other half, and well…when he lost her, it’s like we lost him too. My older brother is eight years older than me. So when my mum passed away, he was getting ready to leave for university. Once he left, he never came back. He calls on the occasional holiday but loves life in America.” Y/N is surprised she’s not crying yet but pushes on. “It’s hard living in a house when you’re the one who essentially raised yourself. Dad worked, came home and mourned, then went back to work. An endless cycle. I had family members try to help him, but they knew it would be better if I left.” Y/N could feel her hands shaking and her knee continuously bouncing, but she did it; she made it through her story. “Sorry if that was an overshare.” Y/N excuses herself, needing a minute. 

She walks out front, and that’s when her tears fall. 

“For fucks sake,” she groans, knowing tear stains are hard to hide. 

“Y/N,” Harry calls for her softly. “Are you okay?” 

Harry. Her sweet angel. Y/N’s sure her mum put him on her path because her love for him is something she’s never felt before, but it makes her feel whole. Y/N lets herself collapse in his arms, no longer caring about her tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “They must think I’m a mess.” 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” 

“It’s true,” she defends. 

Harry lifts her head to have him look at her. “You don’t have to be perfect or have to have your life together. You just need to remember you’re not alone. You’ve got so many people that l–adore you.” 

Y/N takes a moment to let it all sink in. Harry’s right. She’s simply overwhelmed and thankful to have him here. 

“Is your family upset with me?”

“Not at all, baby,” he assures her. “I think Mum was reprimanding Aaliyah, actually.”

Y/N laughs at his excitement, “let's go back.” 

“Are you sure?” He checks one final time.

“Mhm. Do you think your mum will share photos of you?” 

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N let him lead the way as she felt her heart calm down, knowing she was in safe hands.

+

Y/N could not be prouder of Harry. He had passed all his exams with flying colors (Y/N did, too), all while getting promoted at work. It was a campus job that paid decently. He did it for the scholarship offered but had come to love his role in helping other students. Y/N had done well, too, but that didn’t matter to her, not when she wanted to celebrate Harry. She planned a special night out for him with all of their friends. Harry loved a good party, and she wanted to give him precisely that. She had told him to prepare for the night, claiming it was a surprise. 

Harry didn’t think much, knowing her surprise ranged from a bouquet of flowers to getting dessert and the occasional new clothing she found for him. He didn't know what to expect tonight because when she showed up at his apartment in a little black dress, he was close to pulling her into his apartment and not letting her go. As good as that dress looked on Y/N, he knew it would look better on his bedroom floor. Harry noticed Y/N’s excitement and knew he couldn’t keep her locked up, but it did not stop him from pushing her up against the wall and happily messing up her lipstick. 

Once he noticed it was getting hard to control himself when he pulled away. “Look beautiful, sweets.” 

Y/N giggled, pressing a kiss to his stained lips. “Thank you.”

“Should we head out?” Harry asked, grabbing his coat and helping Y/N slip hers on. 

“Mhm…”

The car ride was short, driving close to the university. He noticed they were outside the bar they come to for karaoke some nights. He loves belting out an Adele song from time to time. Y/N hurried out the door, her excitement unable to be contained. Y/N waited at the door for him, her hand outstretched for him to take. He kissed her wrist and gestured for her to go on. 

Walking in, everything looked normal. People were sitting around at the tables, not a seat in sight at the bar. Y/N offered Grady, their favorite bartender, a wave. The crowd parted for Y/N as if she were an angel walking by. He was always mesmerized by how her presence caught the attention of everyone around her. 

Y/N led them to the back room, which was reserved for large parties. Harry was confused; she had said the surprise was for him, but it didn’t make sense when there was nothing to celebrate. His birthday wasn’t until February, and she knew that. Made a clear point to add it to her calendar as Harry Styles’ Birthday with a yellow heart next to it. A simple gesture that made his heart skip a beat. When they entered the room, Harry noticed all their friends gathered around. Mitch was laughing with Niall while Sarah approached them with three drinks in hand. She quickly passed Harry a vodka cranberry while Y/N got Sprite. 

“Your girl sure knows how to throw a party,” Sarah raises her glass in a cheer. 

“I-I.” Harry has no words. 

Sarah laughs. “Did you really not know? I thought she would have told you. Y/N was so excited she thought she might burst,” she teased. 

Y/N smiles, leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s for everyone,” Y/N reminds her. 

Sarah clicks her tongue. “You said, and I quote, ‘Harry aced every exam. He had the highest grade in each class. It deserves to be celebrated.’ Or am I wrong?” 

Y/N feels her face heat up because Sarah’s words are true. She said it because it was true. He deserves all his accomplishments to be celebrated, from acing an exam to turning in an exam. Uni isn’t always fun; if she can make good days for him, she feels like she did something good for someone she loves. 

Harry excuses them, pulling them to the corner of the room. A few people try to get his attention, but he’s on a mission to get his girl alone. Harry corners her, his emerald eyes locked with her soft eyes. “You’re an angel,” he whispers. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

Y/N has no answer because she feels the same way. “I feel the same way.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” he gestures around them. 

She nods, “I wanted to. You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Harry can no longer hold back. He connects his lips with hers. His hands settle on her waist while Y/N fists the front of his shirt. The passion was burning him; he craved the feeling. Y/N was lost in the feeling that she had forgotten they were in a room with their friends. She jumps back when she hears a loud holler and a yell of Harry’s name. Y/N lets her head fall on his chest, her cheeks burning while Harry tries to coax her to look at him. 

“Y/N, love. You’re amazing.” 

A large smile splits on her face; before Harry can kiss it away, Y/N holds his hand and pulls him to the dance floor, their drinks long forgotten.

“Let’s celebrate, baby!” Y/N shouts, laughing as Harry twirls her into him. Her laugh rings loud, and Harry knows she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. As Y/N dances in front of him, one thought rings loud in his head. 

He is completely and utterly in love with Y/N. 

+

Y/N didn’t enjoy her birthday, but it didn’t mean she didn’t celebrate her friend's special day. Frannie loved spending time with her friends, so with the help from Aurora, they planned a dinner party at Aurora’s shared apartment. They set up two long folding tables with chairs and pushed the couches back for extra space. Y/N decorated the apartment with streamers, balloons, and banners with the help of Harry, who got on the ladder for her when she couldn’t reach something. 

The dinner was set for 5pm. Thankfully, Frannie’s birthday landed on a Saturday, so everyone will be free from uni for the week. Y/N had place cards made for everyone. Harry even had a little heart next to his name. He would be sitting right next to Y/N, with Mitch to his left. They were his two favorite people because while he was good at having Y/N’s attention, it seemed when she was in a large group of people, she always became the life of the party.  

At 4:30, everyone began to arrive one by one. Aurora was set to get there at 5 with Frannie. They had told Frannie it would only be dinner with the three of them, but she was in for a big surprise. The door opened at 5:01, and everyone screamed, “Surprise!” 

Frannie dropped the flowers she was holding in shock. 

“You did this!” Frannie pointed at Y/N, who was leaning against Harry’s chest. 

Y/N brushes her off, “it was all of us.”

Harry knew she didn’t like all the attention, yet Y/N always went out of her way to show everyone how much she loved and appreciated them. It made him wonder how her friends would celebrate Y/N this year. He knows he tried but sometimes never can’t measure up. He loves buying her flowers, always treats her to coffee, and gives her kisses tenfold because he knows it makes her smile. 

He sees Frannie, gives her a tight hug, then settles down at the head of the table. Harry likes how easy conversation falls around him. He talks about a new album that recently came out with Mitch. Y/N jumps in, saying the closing song is her favorite. Sarah shared how the campus job is giving her 40 percent off on all merchandise, so send her a list of what they want. 

Y/N rests her hand on Harry’s thigh as she slips into conversation with Aurora and Brandon, talking about the lab Aurora did earlier in the week. Y/N jumps in every few minutes to show she’s listening. Harry selfishly wants to pull her away, wanting her attention back on him. 

Harry traces random shapes on her hand, letting Mitch talk his ear off as he picks at Y/N’s chipped nails. He makes a mental note of painting them for her tomorrow. 

“I love you, Harry,” she whispers in his ear. A soft kiss is placed on his cheek as she goes to pull away. Harry reaches out and sets her in his lap, not caring that all their friends are watching.

“Say it again,” he begs in a husky voice.

“You've heard me say it before,” she giggled, thinking about their midnight walk when Harry confessed under the stars how he had fallen in love with her. Y/N kissed him, not needing him to beg her to say she loved him. She’d say it over and over again for as long as he asked. “I love you” had become his favorite phrase. 

Y/N sits in his lap for a while; Harry knows she’s tired and close to falling asleep as he feels her settle deeper in his lap. She jolts up when Aurora asks for help with the main dish. Y/N kisses his lips, promising to be back quickly. Being at the apartment all day getting everything ready took a toll on her, and he knew that after eating, she would want to sleep for a long time, but Y/N would not leave because she would see it as rude. Harry composes an idea as dinner continues. 

The meal is enjoyed, and he has the perfect idea when dessert is passed around. He feigns a yawn, making sure Y/N is watching him. He apologizes, giving her a brief kiss. 

“Do you wanna go, H?” Y/N asks. “I know we’ve been here all day.” 

He shakes his head, “no, you can stay.” 

Y/N frowns, not liking that option at all. Harry has been staying over lately, and she’s gotten used to him in her bed. She debates on what to do because she knows cleaning up will be a bitch and would hate to leave it all to Aurora. Sarah notices her mood change and asks her what’s wrong.

“You alright?” 

“Ready to call it a night, but worried about the mess,” Y/N looks around mentally, trying to see what she can throw out and save. 

Sarah waves her off, “go home, babes.” 

“But–”

“Nope. We’ve got this. You set up, we take down,” Sarah tells her like it’s obvious. 

Y/N reaches forward, tugging her friend in for a hug. “You’re the best.” 

Y/N begins to make her rounds, bidding goodnight, sharing her fair of I love you before landing at Harry’s side, her hand in his. Harry quietly thanks Sarah and walks out with his tired girlfriend. She sinks against him as they walk down the steps leading them to the street where they parked 

“Remind me to never set up a party,” she groans as she throws herself into the passenger seat. Harry bites back a laugh instead, leans in, and helps Y/N buckle up. She gives him a tired grin. “You’re the best.” 

“Do you want me to set up a bath for when I get you home?” 

Y/N perks up. “Does that mean we’re going to yours?” 

Harry has the bigger bathtub, so he knows what she’s asking. If he’ll be joining her. “Text Mitch to stay with Sarah.” 

“Oh, are we using the citrus one?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

Y/N sighs against her seat. “Oh, how I love you, Harry.” 

Harry’s heart fills with warmth. This love is everything he’s ever wanted in life.

+

Y/N loved her friends. She loved seeing them smile, helping them out, and, most of all, celebrating them. All her friends took care of her, but Y/N always seemed to go above and beyond for each of them. It was something her Mumma taught her. “Give graciously because it will come back to you.” She likes to think it’s come back in ways she never imagined. 

Brandon had always been an excellent friend to Y/N. He had her back when she failed her first exam. He held her hand when she got lost at the pumpkin patch the year prior. Y/N was thankful for everything he did, from helping her set up her first tattoo appointment to taking her to the mechanic and ensuring she wasn’t being ripped off. He was a good friend, and she wanted to celebrate this new opportunity that had opened up for him. He had started a new job in IT a few months back, and Y/N knew how much he enjoyed it. It was better than biology, but soon, his job offered him pay for his education under a different major: IT Security Protection. It was the easiest, yes, but the only problem was that he’d have to go to a college in the States. This was a celebration and an early goodbye because he wasn’t set to leave until the New Year. 

This time, the event was at a club. Everyone was ready to let loose after a hard week, and the celebration was a perfect opportunity. Harry promised Y/N he’d watch after them, only limiting himself to two drinks and ordering them an Uber home when it was time to go. Except for the fact that Y/N was making sure her friends were enjoying themselves. It seemed Samantha got into some drama with Frannie, and they’ve been butting heads. Harry knows Y/N is a great mediator, but he wants Y/N to be able to go out without worrying about fixing problems. His girlfriend is heaven-sent, but he wants her friends to be there for her like she is for them. 

Harry hoped they would prove it on the most important day for Y/N. 

+

Harry takes note of all the grand gifts and events Y/N goes on to plan for her friends. It’s something he knows Y/N loves doing, but what does she get in return? Harry knows her birthday is soon and wonders what her friends have planned. 

A few friends gathered to go out for drinks. Harry had not left his seat beside Y/N except to buy their drinks. Y/N leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth, promising she’d be gone a second, needing to use the restroom. Harry made sure she made it safely before getting everyone’s attention. 

“What are you planning for Y/N’s birthday in a few weeks?” Harry asks, popping Y/N’s cherry from her Shirley Temple in his mouth. Y/N stated she hated them but always ordered extra because she knew Harry would eat them.

Aurora frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“Her birthday. December 3rd. How do you want to celebrate? Was thinking of renting out the backroom of her favorite restaurant, inviting some friends, drinks all night, and cake. You know we’ve got to take care of her sweet tooth.” 

“She doesn’t celebrate her birthday,” Frannie tells him. 

Harry frowns; that doesn’t make sense. Y/N had told him all about how she celebrated with her mum when she was growing up. How her Mum would wake her up to breakfast in bed and slip in next to her, telling Y/N her favorite memories from when Y/N was an infant to her current age. It filled him with so much happiness that she got to experience it. That she had that much love in her life, and while he knows she has lost it in some way, it will always be with her. Frannie’s words ring over and over in his head.

 Y/N never mentioned not being a fan of her birthday. 

“What ya mean?” Harry needs a clear answer. 

“She refuses to celebrate her birthday with us. It’s been like this since I met her, Harry,” Aurora tells him, but he’s not so convinced. 

“Have you asked her? She’s got fond memories of her birthday, and if we let her stop celebrating, this day will mean nothing to her. Y/N makes all of you feel special every chance she gets, from celebrating graduations to the newest tattoos. You mean the world to her, but what does she mean to you?” 

Harry is getting heated, so he excuses himself. He was going to find Y/N and hoped to convince her to let him take her home. He’s too frustrated to keep sitting at a table of their friends who refuse to do something kind for Y/N simply because she said she didn’t want to celebrate once a few years ago.

“H, honey? You okay?” Y/N asks, concerned when she finds him leaning against the wall beside the restroom.

“Got a headache, Sweets. Wanted to see if you wanted to stay, and I’ll suck it up to keep you company.”

Y/N is quick to disagree. “No, no. We’ll go back to yours. Let me take care of you.” 

Harry loves his girl. She deserves the universe; if he can try to give it to her each day, he knows she will always feel loved. 

+

Harry woke up bright early, under purple covers. Y/N curled up into his chest, almost her entire face hiding under the covers. He hated moving, knowing she might wake up with any wrong move, but he managed to settle her and went outside. He did his morning routine quickly, then headed to the kitchen, where he made sure he had everything for French toast, her absolute favorite meal last night. 

While cooking the French toast, he ordered her iced vanilla oat milk latte to be delivered. He hated delivery fees, but today was a special occasion, and he would do anything to make her day memorable. 

As he placed the French toast on a plate, Harry noticed the front door camera and hurried over before the person could knock. Harry received the drinks with a giant smile, giving the guy a ten-dollar bill in thanks. He found the tray Y/N told him she likes to use under the sink. He put the French toast and a cup of water on the tray. Grabbing the flowers, he rushed out to get up the street from Lady Silvie and her coffee. 

He saw her beginning to stir, her hands moving around as if searching for him. His heart tightened in his chest at how much he loved her. Softly, he began to sing “Happy Birthday.” Y/N, in confusion, froze before shooting upright. Harry walked closer to the edge of the bed until he knelt on the corner, placing the tray over her lap. 

Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears at the sweet gesture her boyfriend did for her. She mentioned her birthday in passing, hoping he wouldn’t remember, but her dear Harry remembers everything she has ever told him. She had told him stories of how she celebrated with her mum growing up, the only person Y/N has confided in since moving here. Not that she didn’t trust her other friends but because he was patient with her and broke down every single wall she had. Y/N had never felt she could truly be herself with anyone, and thenHarry came into her life. He helped her begin to love every part of herself. 

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Y/N!” 

Her tears break free. 

She can’t even get a word out because her tears keep coming. Every birthday after her mum passed, she dreaded waking up. Most of the time, she slept the day away or treated it as any other day, but today, she woke up with a full heart as she woke up to her boyfriend singing. It’s something Y/N will always hold close to her heart. 

Harry is her best friend, the other person who knows her inside out. With a single look he knows what she’s saying. 

He crawled onto the bed, carefully moving the tray to avoid spilling anything, and pulled Y/N into his lap. It’s one of his favorite positions to be in.  

“Happy tears?” 

Y/N nods. 

“I have a nice day planned for us. Are you up for it?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing circles in her back. 

“You do?” She asks, surprised. 

Harry chuckles, “of course, it’s my favorite person’s birthday.” 

Y/N’s smile is bright. She lets Harry wipe away her tears and then gives him a chaste kiss. “I’m very lucky to have you in my life.” 

They eat breakfast with Y/N in Harry’s lap as she feeds him bites of her fruit. It was very domestic and everything he looks forward to with his future with Y/N. Harry cleans breakfast, asking Y/N to meet him in the living room. She comes out, hair brushed and wearing his hoodie. He has a few gifts sitting on her coffee table. 

Y/N jumps on the couch as she waits for Harry to give her the go-ahead with the presents. She opened her gifts and found items ranging from silk scrunchies to glitter bath bombs. Y/N thanks Harry with a kiss after each present. Harry hands her an envelope, promising it’s the last one. Y/N looks at him suspiciously but opens it slowly. It’s a piece of paper, and she can’t believe her eyes when she unfolds it. 

She reads it again and again.

“Is this real?” Y/N inquires. 

Harry laughs, “very much so.” 

“You got us tickets to SZA,” she says slowly, as if she’s waiting for Harry to tell her it’s not real. 

“It’s our favorite album. I-I thought it would be special. Something to look forward to,” he promised. 

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry spends the rest of the morning showing Y/N how much he loves her.

After spending a lovely morning in bed, Harry convinced Y/N to get ready and took her to her favorite bookstore, where he helped her pick a few books from her “tbr,” of course paying for her.  They took a stroll by the lake before deciding it was too cold. Then Y/N decided it was time for an early lunch, and they ate tacos from Y/N’s favorite restaurant. 

It was a perfect day. 

One that helps one final surprise for her. 

+

Harry had requested that she put on her favorite dress and get ready. There was somewhere he wanted to take her.

Outside the restaurant, Y/N asked Harry what they were doing as she saw a full parking lot and a familiar car, but her gaze didn’t linger long as Harry captured her attention.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“With all my heart,” she answered without hesitation. 

“Then follow me. No questions.” She took his outstretched hand and let him lead the way. Harry told the Hostess the name of his reservation and was told to go down the hall to the right. 

Harry felt his heart pounding as they neared the door that would lead them to all of Y/N’s friends, who were ready to surprise her with a party. Something in him stopped a few steps away. Y/N frowned because something was wrong. Harry seemed like he was going to throw up. 

“H, what’s wrong?” 

Harry lets go of her hand and brings them to rest on her cheek, needing her sweet eyes on him. “I-I-I love you, Sweets. I love you so much. Behind that door are all your friends, ready to celebrate your birthday with you. Selfishly, I want to steal you away, but they’re excited to spend this day with you. If it’s too much and I crossed a line,” his voice cracked. “I apologize. So if you don’t want that, we can go right now.”

“You planned this,” she whispered. 

Harry sighs, “yes, they told me not to, but you shower everyone with your love, and you deserve the same, if not more.” 

Y/N feels her throat close up and knows she’s going to cry as soon as Harry leads them to the party. 

She steps closer to him, with no space between them. Harry looks at her with so much love she knows he’s honestly her other half.  Y/N pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him with everything she has. Y/N spills everything in the kiss. All her love wrapped in a kiss for Harry. He gives her back the same energy; both lost in the taste of each other don’t pull apart until they’re fighting for a breath. Y/N laughs against his mouth. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Harry kisses her again. “I love you, Sweets.” 

“Let’s go in.” 

He leads the way, knocking on the door three times, telling her that was the code for her arrival. Harry lets her in, and that’s when her friend's screams ring in her ears. Everyone Y/N considers a friend is here. The room has balloons and streamers around. There’s a cake that looks so yummy and a table full of presents all for her. Her friends stare at her with smiles. Y/N is so overwhelmed she doesn’t even know who to approach first. Aurora chooses for her, pulling her in for a tight hug. 

”Happy Birthday, bestie!” Y/N laughs as Rora twirls her around. Rora pulls her back in, wiping away a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

Y/N shakes her head, “no, no.” 

Rora brushes her off. “You’ve been there for me since I met you. I’m sorry I didn’t always do the same.” 

Y/N appreciates her friend’s apology, but she was partly to blame. She never fully let anyone in, afraid they’d leave her just like everyone else, but Harry showed her that wasn’t the way to live.

“You’ve got a good one,” Aurora told Y/N, pointing at Harry, who was talking with Mitch and Brandon. As if he could feel his eyes on her, he turned around, sending her a dimpled smile. 

“You okay?” He mouthed.

“Perfect.” She replied. She blew him a kiss and continued around the room, talking to her friends.

As the night continued, Harry ensured Y/N always had a drink in hand, whether a vodka cranberry, or water. He ate dinner with her and helped her cut the cake when she asked for his help. All the cameras were on her, and she had gotten overwhelmed. Harry slipped his hand on top of hers, and together, they cut Y/N’s slice of cake. 

No one had left yet, but Y/N needed a breather, so she stepped onto the patio overlooking a beautiful lit-up forest. Y/N heard silent footsteps behind her. She turned around to find Harry with his coat in his hands. 

“Don’t want you to get sick, my love.”

Y/N smiles, stepping close to him and letting him help her put it on. She was staring at Harry with so much adoration. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have him in her life. Y/N leaned in close. The music flowing out of the room had her wrapping her arms around his waist. His hands settled on her waist as he held her tight, that familiar feeling that if he didn’t hold tight enough, she might disappear. 

Harry leaned his forehead against hers, letting each other fall in love all over again.

“This was the best birthday,” she whispered as they swayed to the music in the distance. 

Harry lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair back. “Just wait until next year,” he promised.

Y/N looked forward to it. 

+

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[so-mordor-itis]

Eye on You

“give peace a chance, let the fear you have fall away, i’ve got my eye on you. say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

if you go, I’ll stay.. you come back, I’ll be right here. like a barge at sea, in the storm I stay clear, cause I’ve got my mind on you”

I told you I'd write a drabble but uhhhhh this ain't no drabble- @unhealthy-leon-brainrot

1998.

Leon loved differently back then. He loved in a way a 21 year old man freshly graduated from college could. He was giddy whenever the person in his interest would smile at him, would give him any time of day. His hands would become clammy, and his heart would race as if he were still a teenager. Sometimes, he truly felt like one at heart. That his soul was trapped in that time period, and it wouldn't ever leave.

It's why when he met you for the first time, and when you smiled at him as if nothing could go wrong, his face burned, and his heart almost burst right then and there. You were a brilliant flame, and he felt like a small candle stick awaiting to be lit.

He asked you out in a sputter of words, hating himself immediately after listening to them tumble. Leon didn't want his nervousness to show. He had been practicing for weeks in front of bathroom mirrors and sometimes in the Officer's Academy shower, hoping nobody overheard him. He wanted it to be perfect because that's what you deserved.

You giggled, and somehow, his heart both fluttered and sank. Your eyes glittered with an emotion that made him slightly hopeful. "You want to take me out on a date?"

"Yeah," he replied, all too quickly. "If you'd like to that is--only if you'd like to." He wished he could stop himself from talking, but he couldn't.

You smiled at him, and dammit there went the last of his coherent thoughts. "You know what? Sure. I don't have anything interesting going on." You laughed again, looking away shyly. "I can't say no when you're looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Leon asked, though he fully knew what you were talking about.

"Like I'm the only thing on your mind," you responded. You were fidgeting with your shirt, and Leon wanted nothing more than to grab your hands and hold them.

You weren't incorrect, either. You were on his mind a frightening amount. This affection for you was a buzz in the back of his mind, a throb in his chest.

You still said yes.

"So it's a date?"

"Yes, it's a date."

He swore he grinned from ear to ear, and he saw you return it.

--

The day he was supposed to pick you up, he never did. You were more worried than disappointed. Leon didn't seem like the type of guy you ask you out, gazing at you as if you created the sky and the stars, and then drop you like a hat. Despite the bitter part of you wanting to think he ditched you, the rational part knew better.

He called you hours later, apologetic and broken. "I'm so sorry. Something... something came up."

"Forget the date," you quickly muttered, surprised at how swift the words left your mouth. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a bit. "Not really."

"Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"No, wait," Leon called your name almost in a plea. "I don't want you to drag yourself into this."

You weren't backing down without a little bit of a fight. "Leon, please."

He paused before stating he was in a hospital outside of Raccoon City.

--

Leon knew he loved you after that. He never admitted to himself until he was sure, but he couldn't prevent that innocent crush from growing into something more powerful.

You became a firework, blazing in his lonely, starless sky. You had always been.

2004.

He liked to believe he still loved the same. Wanted to love the same as he did all those years ago. His heart pounding and his palms becoming clammy, blue eyes full of innocent love.

He knew he didn't.

Leon was reserved now, awkward with his affection, hesitant with his touches yet still craved it. He hated that you had to watch him develop--no, perhaps devolve was the better word here--this trauma response. This training, this work, it all collapsed on top of him, and sometimes he felt as if it would eventually crush him.

Yet, some part of you still saw his old self. That stupid, lovesick boy who craved your attention the way a puppy would a scrap of food. You still gave him love, still kissed his scars, still told him sweet nothings when he broke down crying because the pressure was too much.

He once asked you if you were okay with all of this still, okay with him. You gave him your usual smile, the one that made him weak and touched that lovesick boy deep down. "You're stuck with me, Leon. I gave myself to you the day you asked me out. I'm staying. No matter what happens, I'm here."

He kissed you hard that day. Harder than he ever had. Placing a promise against your lips that he would always come back to you. No matter what.

--

You often wondered what he would do without you. If he would crash and burn the moment you turned around, if the night terrors would claw at his throat and suffocate him.

It was hard, watching him suffer mentally when all you could do was give him words of affirmation. Reassure him that the nightmares weren't real and that you were truly there with him and not bloodied up and dead.

Those moments made the good ones feel like precious gifts. Not just for you, but also for him. You carried them in your heart and held on to those when the bad days would storm over his head.

You remembered one of those good days so clearly, so vividly it never failed to make you smile. One day, while looking over some files, Leon had fallen asleep. His glasses--the ones he usually only used whenever he was reading important work files--were scrunched against his face, pushing up against the bridge of his nose. You remembered walking into his office, snickering a little at the sight. You sighed, shaking your head. "What am I going to do with you?"

You approached him quietly, as if the smallest movement would ruin his peaceful slumber. You grabbed the rims of his glasses carefully, pulling them off his face so he'd be more comfortable. As you did, you caught a feel of his soft locks and couldn't help but lightly smooth between your fingers. You took note of his facial features; his cheekbones were more rigid, and the shadows of his eyes were sunken in. His hair was even a bit darker, looking dirtier blond than it had when you first met. Still handsome, that would never change.

The urge to kiss his forehead had you twitching, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Especially since he had probably been staring at documented words for who knows how long.

You moved to quietly nudge yourself away before his sleepy voice mumbled. "Gonna go so soon?"

You blinked, looking down to see his eyes were now open. Still hazy from his rest. You practically beamed at him. "Didn't wanna wake you."

Leon sat up, stretching a little before putting his glasses back on. "Guess I must've passed out. These reports practically put me to sleep. I can't believe this is part of what they pay me for."

You attempted to catch a glimpse of whatever was on the document, but he placed them flat on the table when he caught you.

Leon snickered. "Classified. Sorry, baby."

You pouted a little. "Can't I help my boyfriend out a little?"

He stood up and stretched more, popping his back. "Not if it means you getting in trouble by seeing the reports. I'd also get in trouble, and we definitely wouldn't want that."

"Man, and here I thought I'd be able to see the famous missions Leon Kennedy goes on," you teased.

Leon just rolled his eyes as if you two had had this discussion before. You have. You just like to see him smile. Distract him as much as you could.

"Become an agent, then we'll talk." He took off his glasses and put them back on his desk. He placed his gaze upon you, and you could feel the adoration in his eyes. He still looked at you as if you had created the sky, the moon, the stars. As if you were his sun and he orbited around you and only you. You would never get over it.

Leon mimicked the action you were doing earlier and parted your hair from your cheeks so he could kiss your forehead.

His work phone rang loud, interrupting the moment. Leon sighed and kissed you quickly against the lips before the obligation to his duty forced him to go answer it.

"Kennedy. Yes, sir."

You observed his body language as he discussed with his superior. His shoulders went rigid, his eyes focused as if he were already on the field. He was prepared for whatever they were about to tell him because he had to be.

He hung up after a minute of giving affirming hums and a variety of yeses. Leon plopped his phone on the documentations and gave you an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head. You knew what he was about to say. He didn't even need to tell you anything out loud. His eyes told the whole story.

"I really don't deserve you," he mumbled. "Makes me wonder how you do it."

"Because I love you." You said simply. "I'm here to stay, remember?"

--

|Tags:|

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#resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon x reader #my writing

[roosterforme]

roosterforme's Bradley Bradshaw one-shots masterlist (Rooster x Reader)

roosterforme masterlist

Rooster x Reader one-shot fics:

A Nice, Big Rooster Rooster is surprised to run into you on North Island. He's not, however, surprised to find that he still wants you as much as always.

I Still Want You Bradley had been an idiot when it came to you. He still wanted you, but did you still want him?

I Like Your Voice You and Bradley recognize each other by your voices.

Benefits Bradley spends a long weekend in Mexico, enjoying the beach and your body.

I'll Take You There Bradley's best friend is moving to San Diego, and she asks him for a little help.

Why Do They Call You Rooster? When another girl asks Rooster how he got his call sign, you make sure she knows how big he is and who he's with.

Go Slow When you tell Bradley why you're nervous, he makes sure to go slow.

Couches, Floors and Beds You had reached your boiling point with your roommate, Bradley Bradshaw. 

Frustrated Rooster is kind enough to help Hangman's ex-girlfriend when she's feeling frustrated. 

Stay on Your Knees When Bradley messes up again, he’s more than willing to beg.

Hot For Teacher  You knew it was against policy. You wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone else. But when it came to Rooster Bradshaw, you threw all caution to the wind.

Red Flags, Green Flags Hangman complains about his date’s red flags, but Bradley thinks this girl sounds amazing. 

Can I Have My Shirt Back? You didn't usually invite guys home with you after a night out, but this one was always going to be an exception. 

You Deserve an Overachiever Bradley is forced to come to terms with the fact that he wants to replace your boyfriend with himself and give you proper orgasms. 

Want You Bad When Bradley realizes his girlfriend isn’t as innocent as he thought, at first he’s surprised, then he’s on board.

All I Want For Christmas Is You Bradley returns from deployment just before Christmas and immediately falls for the new bartender at the Hard Deck. 

Good Boy Bradley is more than happy to give up his dominant ways whenever you demand it from him. 

Take Two When Bradley got you pregnant, he blew his chance at a relationship with you. He loves his daughter, but he never stopped loving you too.

Champagne Lips You and Bradley both try to claim the last bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve.

I Would Never Hurt You Bradley saw the bruises and knew what was going on, but he also knew you didn't need him the way he needed you.

Hello, I Love You When Phoenix signs Bradley up for speed dating on Valentine's Day, he is skeptical. But after he meets the woman of his dreams, he's not afraid to admit his best friend was right.

Do You Wish It Was Me? When Bradley returns from deployment and finds you engaged to Harvard, he knows he needs to get you back. 

The Purrfect Storm Bradley inadvertently becomes a pet owner after he hits a stray with his Bronco. When he meets a lovely vet tech who is willing to help, both Bradley and the cat fall for her instantly.

Make It Messy, Baby Anytime Bradley has a rough day, his perfect wife is there to make it all better. Sometimes that means getting a little messy.

Daddy Would Say Yes After you manage to embarrass yourself in front of Rooster, he still makes it clear he wants you to ask him out.

Cockpit Love When you jokingly told Bradley that you would be jealous of him spending so much time with his Super Hornet, he decided it was time to let you stake your claim on him in the cockpit.

Something to Talk About Bradley knew the rumors were circulating. He knew his friends were talking. But he had known you for such a long time, and you were just friends. Because if something was going to happen between the two of you, it would have happened by now. Right?

When Tomorrow Comes Four months is a long time to go without Bradley. When you tease him a little bit the night before his deployment starts, he reminds you that he's always worth the wait.

You Want Me Anyway Bradley wasn't your boyfriend. He didn't owe you anything. But after months of hooking up, you expected more from him than what you were getting. It was time for you to move on. But Bradley has other ideas.

Earning His Rank Bradley knew you wanted to make his promotion night special for him as he got his new pin. He could tell by the teasing way you asked "What are you going to do to me when we get home, Lieutenant Commander?" He had something in mind.

Midnight Confessions It's getting harder and harder for Bradley to hide his feelings for you, especially when you offer to drive him home on his birthday. Before he knows it, he's drunk in your passenger seat, confessing everything he's kept to himself. He may not remember all of it in the morning, but you certainly do. 

How Could I Forget? When Bradley met you in a dive bar in Virginia, he just knew he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about you. Even a year later, he still remembers your laugh and the way you kissed him.

So Fresh, So Clean At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Feelings Involved After months of dancing around your feelings, you're about to leave San Diego and Bradley behind. But on your last night in California, you realize you're not the only one with your heart on the line.

Sufficiently Surprised Bradley loves dirty quickies with his wife. Between his work schedule and yours, that's often all there's time for. But when he rushes home from work on his birthday, ready and raring to go, he's in for a bit of a surprise.

Don't You Want Me, Baby It was like a fairytale, the way you stole Bradley's heart with your gorgeous face, retro denim jacket, and karaoke skills. But when you disappear into the night, leaving only one small trinket behind, he's left wondering if he didn't just dream you up.

Do You Wanna Touch Me? You had been working at the bar for six months. And you'd been crushing on Rooster since the first night he handed you his credit card, called you Babydoll, and asked you to start a tab for him. And it only got worse from there, until one night you asked him about more than just his drink order.

On My Terms Bradley didn't seem to notice how broken you were inside. When he looked at you, there was never any hesitation in his eyes. He was the first man in a long time that you wanted to trust with every part of you. If only your body and mind would start working together. If only you could get the words out.

Wrong Number Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Don't Waste Another Minute When you finally recognize that you have been hanging onto your relationship for all the wrong reasons, you end things. You knew there would be someone better for you, and it was a welcome realization to see that he had been right there in front of you the whole time. 

Stateside Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Deployment Sucks but I Swallow Bradley was used to having your undivided attention when he was about to leave for a long deployment, because you'd been spoiling him that way for years. When you spent the day with your friends and got home late instead, he wanted to be annoyed, but everything you do is just too sweet. 

Whole Lotta Love Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfic

[allysunny]

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve?  You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so –  after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar –  something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <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 reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[stayinlimbo]

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak. 

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you. 

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week. 

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah. 

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people. 

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone. 

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date. 

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.  

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved. 

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom. 

You didn’t even look sorry. 

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had? 

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends. 

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better. 

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us. 

…I wish I could hate you. I really do. 

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to. 

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me. 

Because I still want you. 

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho. 

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

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[moonstruckme]

Burnt Out

summary: when you're overworking yourself trying to please everyone, Remus wants you to take some time for yourself

cw: mention of not eating, exhaustion 

Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is reading in your bedroom when he hears the door open, screaming on its hinges, and slam shut. Just that noise lets him know what kind of day you’re having, but he gets up and moves towards the sound anyway, eager to see you.

“Dove?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, where he finds you already surrounded by sandwich supplies, slathering jelly onto a piece of bread you’ve placed directly onto the counter in your rush.

You turn around at his voice. “Remus, hi!” You beam, surging toward him. 

He catches you as you stumble, clipping your hip on the corner of the counter, and a soft, sympathetic hiss escapes him. “Careful,” he murmurs, covering the spot with his hand protectively as you press yourself to his chest, your arms winding around his neck. Remus brings his other hand to the center of your back, squeezing gently, and he wishes he could pour his affection into you this way, through the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” you say into his neck, though he’s unsure why you’re apologizing to him. It’s your poor hip that’s been slighted. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“I haven’t been here long,” he assures you. 

You pull back, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that feels like it’s over before it’s begun, and he tries in vain to hold onto you as you move away. You resume rushing around the kitchen, letting cabinets and drawers bang shut behind you. Ordinarily you move almost silently, always easing the front door shut behind you and moving around the apartment on socked feet, much to Remus’ amusement when he comes into the living room to find you curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and dinner already in the oven, and he wasn’t even aware you were home. But on your busiest days, you turn into this—what he’s affectionately dubbed your Tornado of Productivity—and the time it takes to be your usual quiet, careful self simply doesn’t serve your goal of functioning at maximum efficiency. You’d been in this state for the last few days, never seeming to have more than a few minutes’ break between work and school and the myriad of social obligations Remus suspects you only agree to because of the guilt you’ve associated with the word “no.”

“How was your day?” Remus asks probingly. 

You blow out a breath that answers his question before you do. “Crazy,” you admit, washing a tomato in the sink. “I had a test at noon, and I didn’t study yesterday because I thought I’d have time this morning, but then I had to go in to work.” 

He feels his brow furrow. “Didn’t you work last night?”

“Yeah, but—” you absentmindedly grab a knife from the drawer, then another, until finally you find the one you need “—Mia didn’t sleep well last night, so I told her I could take her shift.” 

“Dove.” Remus tries to keep his reprimanding tone gentle. “You barely slept last night either.”

“I know,” you sigh again, and you sound so exhausted Remus wants to seize you and swaddle you in blankets so you have no choice but to rest. Get you in bed and kiss the crease between your eyebrows until it fades away. Give you the cosseting you deserve. “But she asked for my help, and—anyway, I don’t feel great about the test since I only had a few minutes to study right before.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure it went better than you think.”

You flash him a kind, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks.” You’ve just finished the sandwiches, of which Remus now notices there are three. Three completely different sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, and something involving lettuce and tomato. He can’t imagine what you need that variety for, but he rarely understands what you’re up to when you’re this scatterbrained. Your mission nearly complete, you seem to be short-circuiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing with your hands raised as if prepared for your next task and your features scrunched up bemusedly. 

“Plates?” Remus suggests gently. 

“No, sorry—I need, um—” You shake your head as if chastising yourself. “Tupperware. I need tupperware.” You roll your eyes, seemingly at your own forgetfulness. It makes Remus feel defensive, though to defend you against yourself seems like a conflict of interests. You open the cabinet above your microwave, reaching for the containers. “Marlene and Mary want to meet, but I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast…” You appear sheepish at Remus’ exasperated look, but he doesn’t interrupt. “...so I said I’d make us all sandwiches.” 

You’re struggling to reach the tupperware, and Remus nudges you out of the way, passing them to you. “Dove,” he says, using his new proximity to set his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from dashing off again, “don’t you think you need some time to rest? You’ve had a long day, I’m sure the girls will understand you wanting to meet another time.” You bite your lip, anxious at the idea of canceling on your friends. “And,” he adds lightly, “I wouldn’t mind getting to spend some time with you too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen, so instantaneously guilty he wishes he could take it back. “I’m so sorry, Remus, you’re right. I, um.” Your brow furrows, gaze moving over his shoulder to some faraway place, and Remus can see your overworked gears turning again, your fatigued brain struggling to solve this new dilemma. “I have class in the morning, but I shouldn’t be home too late tonight if—or, I actually have about fifteen minutes before I’m meeting Mary and Marl, do you want to hang for a bit now and then maybe walk with me?”

“I want you to take time for yourself,” Remus says firmly, though not unkindly. “I’m not trying to give you another task, love, I promise.” He lets his hands drop from your shoulders to where your fingers are fidgeting anxiously, easing his own between them. “But you’re spreading yourself too thin. Marlene and Mary love you, and that’s not gonna change if you don’t always have time to meet when they do.” You slouch slightly against the counter, beginning to resign yourself unhappily to the idea of staying in, and Remus kisses the top of your head sympathetically. “You can put your sandwiches in the fridge so they stay ready for you, and I’ll make us whatever you want for dinner. Pasta?” he asks, to sweeten the deal. 

Your gaze meets his again, your interest piqued. “That sounds amazing.”

“Alright, pasta,” he says decisively, smiling at you solely so you’ll smile back. It works, and he’s pleased to note that it looks a bit less strained than before. He begins herding you towards the living room, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he imagines he can see the guilt in your eyes slowly fading away as you let them droop slightly, giving into the relaxation Remus is peddling so persuasively. “And we can watch a movie, and cuddle, yeah?”

You hum assent, releasing a little sigh of contentment as you sink into the couch cushions and giving Remus your sweetest, most adoring look as he settles in beside you, covering you with a blanket. “Thank you,” you say, packing the words with enough sincerity to make Remus’ heart ache. “I’ll try to…cut back, a bit.” 

“No one will hold it against you,” he promises, knowing you need to hear it, “and if they do, send them to me for a scolding.”

You grin. “That would be a cruel punishment, I’m not sure I could do that to some poor soul.” You tilt your chin upwards, and he meets you halfway, the kiss lingering and sweet. You brush your thumb tenderly along Remus’ jaw as you pull away, and he knows what you’re feeling before you open your mouth. The same sentiment echoes through his chest. “I love you,” you whisper, like it’s a sacrament. “Promise you’ll still love me back if I meet up with the girls tomorrow and pencil you in for after?”

Remus huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, love, I promise.” 

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