#Pls don't get delayed again

[icycoldninja]

The struggle is real.

#Meme #Ffvii rebirth #I was disappointed #Still waiting #Pls don't get delayed again

[allysunny]

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

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

Words: 15k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

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

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

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

He was better off without such people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All but you, though.

Never you.

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

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

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

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

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

That's when he first saw you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

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

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

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

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

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

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

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

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

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

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

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

Just a random guy.

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

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

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

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

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

Just a random guy.

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

And you were funny too.

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

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

“Please, just Bruce.”

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

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

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

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

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

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

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

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

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

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

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

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

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

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

“Wait – why?”

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

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

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

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

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

“She doesn’t?”

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

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

“Oh really?”

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

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

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

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

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

“That’s impossible.”

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

“Name one thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reasons? Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

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

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

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

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

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

You pondered your choices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce shook it and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

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

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

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

Bruce nodded.

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

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

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

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

“Come on,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

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

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

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

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

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

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

“Are you alright?” he asked.

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

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

“About two hours.”

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

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

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

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

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold?” he asked.

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

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

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

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

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

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?” he murmured.

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

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

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

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

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

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

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

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

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

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

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

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

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfred shook his head.

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

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

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

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

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

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

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

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

“Is…”

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

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

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

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

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

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

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

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

So, you tried to move on with your life.

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

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

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

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

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

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

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

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

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

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

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

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

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

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

But that was it.

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

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

He was just a good friend.

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

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

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

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

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

So why were you so heartbroken?

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

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

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

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

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

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

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

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

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

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

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

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

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

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a while, you broke the silence.

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

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

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

What?

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

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

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

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

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

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

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

“But – Tom –“

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

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

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

He could give up the love of his life forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

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

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader

[prismuffin]

May i ask for a one shot pls.

Can it be where the reader and miles is dating, but she's been acting weird and mile finds out there is a new spider man, and its really the reader.

A/n: wow It’s been a minute since I’ve written a full fic no? Pris is almost back babyyy~

Coincidence

Miles Morales x fem!spiderman!reader

( summary: being the new Spider-Man is hard, but hiding it from your boyfriend is harder )

!-!more under the cut!-!

You groaned as you walked through the hallway, stretching and rolling your shoulders to loosen the aching pain that spread across your entire body. You were sore, though after a night full of training how to swing around the city and stop crime you weren't the least bit surprised that it was so.

“Ayo Miles!”

The sound of your boyfriends name pulled you away from your mind as you turned towards the direction of the shout. There he was, Miles Morales, your boyfriend who you’ve been promptly ignoring for the past week and a half. You feel like shit for it but not too long ago you got bitten by a radioactive spider and became somewhat of a new Spider-Man, a Spider-Woman if you will. You’re still getting used to the new gig and the powers that come along with it and in your conflicted state you’ve been ignoring not only Miles but the rest of your friends as well.

You turned back around, not missing how his eyes barely caught yours right before you did and started walking towards your final class of the day.

Just one more class and then you could go....fight crime- after homework of course! Once again, you've been so swamped with this new Spider-Woman gig recently it's really had a terrible impact on your life. Your stress shot up after you scrambled to get your work completed so that you could train to help save the city that never sleeps. You never took that nickname more seriously in your life. It also sucks that your social life has dropped immensely. No more after school hangouts with friends let alone your boyfriend who you feel so bad for blowing off. Sometimes you think life would be better if you just cut everyone around you off but you don't want to lose them it just seems like the easy way out.

—TS—

You bolted out of your seat as the bell rang, dashing through the schools halls before the mass of students could begin to overwhelm them. You needed to get to Mays, do some calculus work, then suit up-

“Y/n!”

You shoes screeched against the floors as you stopped yourself from crashing into Miles, who stood in front of the main entrance, arms out ready to catch you if you tripped. You stopped in his arms and he firmly held you from falling forwards. You breathed heavily as you pulled back from him. "Why are you-" looking up, you winced as your senses skyrocketed, your "Spidey-senses" were activating as you looked at Miles, a sense of familiarity filled your mind.

"You're just like...-" Miles started, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer but you quickly remembered where you were supposed to be. "Miles! I-I gotta go-" You moved around him and dashed out the door, ignoring his calls for you to come back. With your backpack in hand you ran into the subway station, ready to head to May's house. She had found you initially after you'd been bitten, recognized the symptoms and took you in under her wing. She got you web-shooters and a suit and allowed you to train in the confines of the Spider-Lair.

Today was meant to be your debut! You were gonna go out, save a few civilians, meet the Spider-Man that had appeared after the original had died and make your name as Spider-Woman. But that's after you help May with her banana bread recipe.

Knocking on her door you smiled at the sight of the older woman as she opened it. She greeted you, beckoning you inside after introductions were done. The rest of your afternoon was spent finishing that calculus work and making banana bread.

After finishing both tasks were completed, you were ready to make your debut, but the doorbell had delayed that. You looked at May in confusion as she smirked and stood. "There's a slight change in plans," "what?" You wondered aloud as your eyes followed her across the room. "I wanted you to meet Spider-man first, get yourselves acquainted before I sent you out on patrols for the first time." She said as she closed in on the front door, grabbing the knob, she cleared her throat a bit before opening it. You could hear her greet someone, you could see the side of his suit so you knew it was the Spider-man. You turned away to calm yourself as the reality truly sunk in that you were about to meet spiderman, hero of New York!

May cleared her throat, "Y/n this is Miles, or Spiderman and Miles this is-" "Miles?" "Y/n?" You turned around quickly, noticing Spiderman's shocked expression as he stared at you. May's eyes flickered in between you both, her expression becoming increasingly more confused. "I knew it! I knew I felt something earlier- What is- You're a Spider-man too?!" Miles yelled, pulling his mask off near the end of his sentence. "Spider-Woman actually-" May corrected him and your heart sped up as you stared at the previously masked mans face. "I- I didn't- Miles? You're Spider-man!! And you never told me?!" You yelled in shock and he crossed his arms. "Technically I can be mad at you for the same thing." You shook your head, laughing in disbelief before a silence overtook you two.

"So, I'm guessing you both know each other than."

"She's my girlfriend-" May gasped, standing there for a moment before clapping her hands together. "This is great news! See, you both already know and care for each other so you're sure to have each others backs on the streets." You blinked and sighed at the enthusiasm of the older woman. "Let's go to the lair shall we?" She walked off, leaving you and Miles to follow her but you stopped him before he could.

"Can we just- talk for a second?" You asked and he sighed and nodded, leaning against the circular table in the kitchen. "Look I- I never meant to ignore you- well I did! But only until I figured all this stuff out. I was bit by some kind of spider, May found me and took me in, I've been training with her for a while and it's been really stressful." Miles eyebrows creased at the sight of your saddening expression. "Yeah I get what you mean, it took me a while to find a good balance." He scratched the side of his head, looking away from you for a moment. "We're still good right?" He asked and you immediately nodded, a small smile growing on your face. "Yeah we're still good Miles." You stepped closer to him and he followed your lead, grabbing you and bringing you into a solid hug before kissing the side of your cheek. You laughed as you pulled back, still holding each other comfortably. "I can't believe my boyfriend is Spider-man!" "I can't believe my girlfriend is Spider-woman!" He laughed along with you, the previous tension being forgotten as the humor swept it away.

"We probably shouldn't keep May waiting," you said, still giggling from the previous conversation. "Yeahhh good idea, lets go." You both started making your way to the backyard, and for the first time in almost two weeks, you held your boyfriends hand.

———

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my SLOTS & Request Info first!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x fem reader #fem reader #x fem reader #fanfiction #marvel universe x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel universe #spiderman into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman x fem reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman miles morales #prismuffin

[sserajeans]

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

#hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni pham imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #hanni fanfic #Spotify

[simp4konig]

Intimate König headcannons

Gender-neutral Reader

Word Count: 1246

*FLUFFFFFF!!!!! YES FINALLY WE (I) LOVE THAT ☁️☺️💫

MANY THANKS TO @puff0o0💫🩵🫂💙🩵✨⭐ FOR GIVING ME TJE IMMEDIATE INSPIRATION TO WRITE THIS 🥰🥰💖 LOVE U SM POOKS I AM SO THANKFUL TO HAVE SOMEONE LIKW YOU AS MY MUTIAL 🥹🥹🥹 YOU ARE SO SWEET AND DESERVE THE WORLD (and to be with your crush😤 fuckingGOD im in AGONT when the FUCK is the wedding gonna be 😭😭💔)

Was down in the dumps and feeling really guiltt for not delivering fanficgions on time but you really reassure me and make ot seem like its alright for me to take my time 😇 Honestly am forevr used to the stress of deadlines and alwahs achieving expectations always expected of me thay i always feel intense guilt whenever i delay 😿😿 Thank you so mucj for your love and support uour messages are whay have kept me going 🙏🙏💖🫂(and motivated me immediately to write this in <5 hours LOL🤭)

also pls do NOT track my ip address puff PLEASE this is some next-levdl fbi investigation type shit and im honestly SHOOK are u secretly an fbi agent ?????😰😰never poetinf screenshots ever AGAIN ❌🚫‼️

*Physical intimacy (not sex guys🗿) headcannons for before your relationship and during your relationship

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee

...

König's crush on you was not subtle. At ALL.

My personal headcannon is that he has never had a girlfriend/boyfriend/lover before. :(

I mean, bullied at school, enlisting into the military aged 17, climbing up the ranks to become a Colonel... yeah, to me it doesn't sound like the man would ever have time to find a significant other.

Oh, don't get me wrong, he would devote so much time to a partner (if he had one), would coddle them and cuddle them more than humanly possible and spend every, making the most out of every moment together. Precious hours never taken for granted that he dreamed of while on deployment.

...Yet, having no experience with receiving affection and being affectionate since being a very young boy, when his mother was still around to take care of him before he attended secondary school, up to this point he had ZERO (0) experience.

Still, König ALWAYS had a hand over your body in some way, under the guise of protecting you and keeping you out of harm's way. It was endearing that he cared so much about your well-being. 🥹

Resting a large hand on the small of your back as he guided you down crowded rooms (though that was almost always a pretence, as there would actually be very few people around, and it was only his excuse for touching you).

Leading you out, his hand would be quickly replaced by his arm wrapping around your side and pulling you close, closer even than you had been moments prior.

Truth be told, the way he touched you was the way he longed, craved for someone else to touch him. To long for him and crave him as much as he craved you.

It wasn't like you were oblivious. In fact, you were hyper-aware of the skin-to-skin touch, of every instance his fingers grazed your knuckles when handing you something, of every "accidental" bump of your head into his chest in corridors, of each time he rested a hand on your shoulder. Or on your back for reassurance — though, whether it was for your reassurance or his own, you couldn't tell.

All his touches, his gazes at your from afar and up close, the way his pale blue eyes crinkled in happiness under that long hood of his: all of it; you noticed it all. Every single time.

Obviously, you didn't object. You relished in this attention, so touch-starved that each touch made you melt. Besides, how could you even? You became putty in his hands, and you revelled the feeling of being so loved.

...However, your own intrusive thoughts insisted that you wouldn't be good enough for König, did not deserve such a man like him.

As much as it pained you to do so, you shied away from his advances, always the first to pull away.

And, of course, König noticed it. Every single time.

His immediate thought was that you didn't feel the same way. That you felt disgusted, disgusted by him and his touch.

Did you not like the way he touched you? Did you not like him?

Therefore, for a while, he toned down the touching. A simple pat on the back or a tap on the shoulder would have to suffice, despite his desperate need to feel more of you, touch you more.

Judging your reactions, scrutinising your cues... you weren't disgusted. Not in the slightest, it appeared.

You just looked... flustered. Shy. A hand would go up to hide the blush on your cheeks — nothing discreet about that — stubbornly avoiding his gaze, yet a small smile was on your face, and it made him wonder: what if you really did like the way he touched you? Liked him?

His touches became more daring. Confident.

One day, all of his anxiety ceased to exist when you reciprocated his touch with some of your own.

The hand kept in place of your hip flinched slightly at yours timidly moving to touch the top of his, interlocking fingers over his palm. Momentarily causing König to short-circuit, he became stiff, audibly gulping.

Adam's apple swallowing the dryness of his throat, he looked at you, frantically attempting to read the expression on your face.

You said nothing, didn't look at him at all, yet through that gesture alone König understood it better than had you could have ever said it in words.

For a moment, you regretted it. Even made a move to sheepishly pull your hand away. König, finally pulled out of his daze, held your hand in place, squeezing it three times. You squeezed it three times, too.

Suddenly, it all made sense to him, and, somehow, made sense to you too. You two were meant to be together, regardless of your insecurities.

Now, your dynamics shifted slightly.

Hands held together as you two sat by each other in a room, neither acknowleding the situation in case the other pulled away in embarassment. Never parting ways without a good-bye hug from you, your arms lingering by his own for a moment longer than they should have.

When you two are finally in a relationship?

☠️ Say goodbye to privacy and personal space ig

König is unbelievably clingy, and literally clings on to whatever of you he can reach. He does not let you go. There can be no compromise, and he keeps you in place, despite your protests and squirming, face flushed as you tried to playfully push him off you, obviously to no avail.

At the same time, König's touch is so, so gentle.

Tentative touches on your skin as if your body was precious porcelain, a fragile fine china.

Callous hands that had killed so many in cold blood running across your back, your arms, your waist, your legs, anywhere that König could reach, with a mildness that could have made people question whether it was even the same man and if so, how he could ever be capable of being so soft.

It doesn't matter whether you go to the gym regularly and have put on muscle or whether you are someone on the more petite side, you're so delicate to König. Like you could be broken at any moment.

For that reason, he holds back. Or, at least, tries to, for the most part. Bless his soul, he tries his best, but it's impossible not to cradle your body in his arms. <3

Unable to restrain himself, his resolve breaks after five minutes of going without you under him or on top of him or beside him or entangled with him, and his hands go back to touching you all over again, caressing you with such care and love that tears often brim in your eyes.

No one has ever been so gentle, so attentive, so loving. No one has ever touched you like this before.

And, seeing how you allow yourself to be vulnerable with him, to see you so sensitive, he would wordlessly wipe the tears away with his thumb, your eyes glassy like a doll's.

He'd run his fingers through your hair, whisper sweet nothings in a mix of English and German, often forgetting to speak in English and unconsciously reverting to German, calling you the loveliest things in a tone that expressed his complete devotion to you.

And, as you'd sleep peacefully beside him in bed, he'd admire you, and wonder how on Earth he possibly could have gotten so lucky.

...

Note: can i please have my own König irl please and thank you🙏🥰 want nothing more than a big beefy man to hold me 🥹❤️❤️(😭 man i need some mentsl help 🗿thays for another day tho am not wbout to get into the catastrophic state of my brain😊✨gonna keep deluding mtself instead !!<3)

#aking10592_ ≛彡 #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig call of duty #konig call of duty #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #könig mwii #konig mwii #könig modern warfare #konig modern warfare #cod headcannons #könig headcannons #konig headcannons #könig x you #konig x you #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x fem reader #konig x female reader #könig x male reader #konig x male reader #könig x gender neutral reader #könig x gn reader #konig x gn!reader

[lixzey]

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᡣ𐭩

𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝙴 જ⁀➴

hi, my name's ellie and welcome to my blog!

i just started writing on this platform last september 2023. i've been writing fics since i was twelve (yes, it was cringe) on wattpad. i would love to read your feedback, or be friends! my inbox is always open for anything 🫶🏻

anyway, here's some lil facts about me:

i'm 21 years old • she/her • filo-canadian • enfp • libra baby • mother of a four year old girl • a gryffindor child of aphrodite and legacy of apollo and athena • has adhd and wears glasses • has photographic memory • loves writing (obvi), music, and reading

- i live in the philippines, so pls bear with me. i try to be awake the whole night so i can post when most of my followers are awake

- as i've mentioned, i am a mother to a four year old. so when i get delays in posting, blame her (lol pls don't blame my kid)

- pls don't be rude to me :( i cry at the simplest things :( so hate will definitely be deleted.

xoxo, el 💘

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

╰┈➤ CHARLIE BUSHNELL

╰┈➤ LUKE CASTELLAN

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ divider by @saradika-graphics

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

‼️All of my works are purely fictional and are intended for entertainment only. I do have a wattpad account of the same username (lixzey_), but I haven't posted anything that I have written there aside from one. Please do not repost any of my works on any other site. ‼️

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

The Story of Us - In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

Letters - One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl.

Until one day he stopped reading.

Because she stopped writing.

Can't Help Falling In Love - In which two strangers accidentally get married.

Forever Yours

Heart to Heart

My Girl

The Girl With Hair Longer Than Rapunzel

24 Hours

Paradise

Bride for Rent

The Unknown Number

Bad idea, right?

Catching Feelings

Over and Over Again

Angel Eyes

Risk It All

TIMOTHÉE'S CHARACTERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Foolish Ones - Theodore Laurence

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Wonka

Choices - Paul Atreides

Against All Odds - Hal [The King, 2019]

STAND ALONE `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• Rising Star

• Daddy's Angels

• More Than Words 🔥

THE MARAUDERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

James Potter

• Almost A Love Story

• Must Be Love

• To All The Boys I've Loved Before

• Once Upon A December

• Me Before You

Regulus Black

• Monster Among Men

• To The Moon and Back

• Protego Maxima

• Forever and Always

Remus Lupin

• Professor, Professor

• Head Over Heels

• Seven Minutes to Forever

• Timeless

Sirius Black

• Golden

• The Name of The Game

• If Only

• Safe and Sound

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Luke Castellan

• Serendipity

• Sincerely, yours

• Lovelorn

• Late night cravings

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #ellie's masterlist #ellie's works 💘 #el's writing ✨

[facioleeknow]

hi!! saw that you're taking request!! how about something like jeonghan get annoyed by the reader because he thinks reader is too clingy lately so he decided to put some distance, end up with something bad happens to reader and he regrets everything he did? angst to fluff pls thank u so much 😭🫶

Hello, I hope you like this and I hope I did your request justice, I'm sorry for the delay it was a crazy week.

Clingy•Jeonghan

Tw: angst, not proofread, mean Jeonghan, men

Jeonghan was glaring at you. You brought him flowers, a beautiful and delicate bouquet made of pink and lilac flowers that complimented him wonderfully, and he was glaring at you.

 The new comeback was a success thanks to Woozi’s massive effort and the members enormous talent. God of Music was at the top of the charts everywhere and everybody was ecstatic, except your boyfriend apparently. His eyes bore into the side of your skull while you talked to Seungkwan and Vernon, making you fidgety and uncomfortable; even his members were starting to feel that something was wrong with the way he was basically stabbing you with his stare. This wasn't the normal jealousy that Jeonghan always showed when you were spending time with the members and not him.

“Come out for a second,” his stern tone made you slightly jump in your chair out of surprise, his slender fingers wrapped around your forearm tightly and pulled you away from the conversation hurriedly.

Outside of the dressing room Jeonghan loosened his grip on you and then let your forearm fall back into place. He let out a heavy sigh, his hand rose to pinch hard the bridge of his nose.

“Are you alright, honey?” you fussed, a hand coming to rest on his bicep. Jeonghan brushed your hand away and opened his eyes to stare at you. It wasn't a kind stare.

“Who told you to come here?”

Your words died in your throat, his tone was way too harsh and it did things, bad things, to your heart.

“I just thought it would be a good surprise, I'm sorry.”

You don't know what you were apologizing for but it was like a second instinct.

“God you're so clingy, I don't want you here, go home.”

His words shot right through you leaving you cold and empty. Tears started collecting in your eyes.

“Okay, I'll go home,” you whispered with a shaky voice. The bouquet you carefully selected fell on the floor (you actually had to suppress the urge to throw it at him but you were in public). Jeonghan’s eyes widened, realizing way too late what he had done but your eyes were on the floor and you couldn't see his guilty expression.

Everyone in the building was looking at you as you stomped out of the door and into the street. Your eyesight was blurry and your feet proceeded blindly along the sidewalk. Too engulfed in your own pain you didn't see the slightly uneven part of the sidewalk on your path.

CRACK!

Jeonghan went back into the dressing room with a face that spoke way more than words.

“You yelled at her,” said Wonwoo with a less than impressed face. Jeonghan sighed again and let himself fall on the small couch behind him.

“Hyung, you need to stop treating people badly when you're stressed, you know she's sensitive,”  Seungkwan side eyed him.

“I know, I know, I'm going to apologize right now.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick but meaningful text, hoping you would give him a chance to redeem himself but your answer never came.

Even after the show, no answer from you and Jeonghan was starting to worry. Anxiety bubbled in his chest with every breath he took. Just when he was about to ask Seungcheol if he could leave early to go looking for you, his phone screen lit up. It was you.

“Hello?” said Jeonghan urgently.

“I need you to pick me up,” you went straight to the point and didn't even greet him. Not good.

“Okay, where are you?” he asked while putting on a jacket.

“At the hospital. Hurry.”

Jeonghan's heart was at his feet, he had never driven that fast before but he still felt like time was running too fast. As soon as he entered the hospital he spotted you, in the waiting area with a cast on and a crutch. He jogged next to you, the same not impressed expression that Wonwoo always had on you as well, he must've taught you. 

“What happened?!” he asked a little too loudly.

“I broke my heel and then broke my ankle,” your voice was monotone. Really not good.

“You need to look where you're going baby,” he whined.

“I couldn't because I was crying, because someone thought it was fair to treat their girlfriend like trash,” you were definitely making a scene but you didn't care, you weren't the one that had to feel ashamed.

“Let's go to the car okay?” Jeonghan pleaded.

The silence inside the vehicle was defying.

“I'm sorry, I'm stressed and you know how I get when I'm stressed. I never meant to hurt you, that's the last thing I want to do, I would rather die than hurt you, baby. I swear that I'm working on it and it will never happen again. Give me one more chance,” his hand tentatively fell on your tigh and gave it a light squeeze. You just hummed.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Maybe if you buy me a milkshake I will consider it,” you mumbled. Jeonghan laughed, that cute laugh of his that always warmed your heart.

"One milkshake coming up."

#kpop #reader insert #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #request #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 05)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): psychopathic behaviors, kidnapping, captive situation, verbal and physical threats, threatening use of knife, curse words

Word Count: 2300-ish

Tag(s): @camilaheroine @crazyunsexycool @whateverrrrrrrrs @wifeyofeveryone @louderfortheback @marvelousgoldroses

Author's Note: HI I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A CRAZY-FUCK-LOAD DAY I JUST HAD 😭 in summary: my sister had a breakdown, I almost succumbed to the hellhole of road rage, and someone in my life is possibly trying to get a divorce :) so yeah :) it was fcking crazy :)))) buuUUTT I managed to quickly revise and edit this (heavy emphasis on quickly in case there's any mistake found). as usual, you know the drill: LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT pls pretty pls and thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

For a whole minute, the silence that conquered the entire bullpen would make a pin drop sound like an exploded grenade.

Everyone was scared to even breathe, let alone to say anything, to make any kinds of noise that would solidify the reality they were facing.

Not a single pair of eyes could jerk their gaze away from the screen as they watched the UnSub closing in on you. Pulling out a dagger and pressing it against your jaw before tilting your head just right so that you would look straight into the camera.

Derek flinched.

"Garcia," Hotch's voice was the first rip into the silence. When the tech analyst failed to answer his call, he tried again, "Garcia."

"Yes?" Penelope's eyes were watery. Her voice was wavering as she answered, "I-I'm sorry. Yes, sir?"

"I want you to start tracking down his location."

"I-I tried to do that, sir. Earlier. I couldn't... the signal, they kept being bounced around and I don't--

"Garcia." Hotch's voice was colder this time. "Try again."

Penelope immediately sprung into action, reaching for her laptop where the projector was connected.

"I'm sending units to her place," Hotch informed before making a quick call. As he waited for the line to connect, he turned to the others in the room. "Emily, (Y/L/N) said she was going to a hospital yesterday, try finding out which one she went to. Reid, JJ, start tracking her past movements, I want to know about every person she's had any contact with recently."

"How far back do you want us to go?" JJ asked.

"The day of the press conference," Hotch answered. "This must be why he's been lying low for a while. He's got his eyes on her since that day. If we can find out where she's been, we can find him."

Hotch pocketed his phone back after sending units to your home. The other three agents had all scurried away to fulfill Hotch's requests.

Derek, however, hadn't even moved an inch.

"Derek?" Hotch called out. When Derek didn't make a single gesture of acknowledgment, Hotch began to approach him. "Derek, do you--"

Hotch didn't manage to reach Derek's side before he was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Penelope's eyes were frantic as they darted to the remaining people in the room. "I-Is that--"

"Garcia, get ready to trace the call," Hotch demanded. He moved swiftly to where the phone was located, glancing at Rossi who gave him a single nod of encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch put the phone on speaker. "FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Agent Aaron Hotchner?"

"This is he." Hotch waited for the other person to answer, but it never came. "Can I ask to whom am I speaking?"

"You know who I am, Agent."

"Do I?"

"Well, we have a very important mutual person in our lives. I know you. So you must also know who I am."

Hotch's eyes flickered towards Rossi, exchanging a conversation in the silent language which only those two could seem to understand.

"Are you talking about (Y/L/N)?"

"You know I do," the person answered. "You're watching right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," Hotch confirmed. "We need to know if she's safe."

"Of course she's safe. I would never hurt her."

"Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't. But we still need confirmation, alright? It's just how this works," Hotch explained. "Please, can you pass the phone to Agent (Y/L/N)?"

A beat of silence passed. Hotch glanced back at the projector to make sure that the UnSub hadn't done anything untoward. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pressed the phone to your ear.

"Tell them you're okay, Darling," he commanded.

"H-Hotch?"

Derek stood straighter at the sound of your voice.

"(Y/L/N)." Your name almost sounded like a breath of relief out of Hotch's mouth. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hotch."

Before you nor Hotch could say more, the UnSub tore the phone away and brought it back to himself.

"See? I told you she's fine."

Everyone's eyes were directed back to the screen, seeing your assailant unglue the dagger from your neck and walk straight towards the camera. Even in the darkness, his eyes were provoking. Arrogant. He never broke eye contact as he spoke his next words to the phone in his hand.

"I should thank you, Agent Hotchner."

"Thank me?"

"For giving me the opportunity to know such a beautiful creature in the first place."

The UnSub walked away from the camera, refocusing his attention back towards you. Your determined eyes never so much as faltered, even when he brought the tip of his blade on your skin, dragging it across your collarbones, neck, and back. Forceful enough for you to know not to cause any scene if you didn't want the blade to be plunged into your flesh, but sickeningly gentle as to prevent it from drawing blood.

"I know it was your idea to set up that press conference with Agent (Y/L/N) for me, Agent Hotchner. Wasn't it?"

Hotch gritted his teeth at the UnSub's taunt.

"So, really, I owe it all to you. If only you hadn't made that call--" the UnSub paused, touching your shoulder and leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, "--we would've never had the chance to be together like this."

Then, to everyone's horror, the UnSub's hand trailed away from your shoulder, down and down until it rested upon your belly.

"The theee of us," he sneered.

In that moment, Derek's entire world shifted under his feet.

Every cell in Derek's body went erratic once the true implications of the UnSub's words registered in his brain. His heart plunged into a void before restarting instantly into a sequence of thunders. Inch by inch, his body and soul were consumed by a fog filled with the worst snippet of dread and the darkest terror he had ever encountered in life.

"What is he talking about?" Derek questioned as soon as he had found his voice again. "Hotch?"

But the older man remained stoic in his place by the phone. On the other line, a booming laughter sounded.

"Oh? Did no one know about this?" the UnSub cooed. "Have you not told anyone about the good news yet, Darling?"

The clear panic in your face, along with the whimper that slipped past your lips, was the scissor to Derek's final resolve.

In big strides, he marched over to the phone, voice raw and splintered as he cried, "You sick son of a bitch."

The room stood still at the magnitude of fury laced within Derek's words.

Your voice was muffled when it came through the phone, but Derek heard every fiber of emotions in it all the same.

"Derek..."

"Derek?" Your captor tilted his head. "Ah. Agent Morgan?"

"You're a dead meat, do you hear me?"

"Morgan," Hotch warned sternly.

"So much rage," The UnSub suddenly mused. "I told you, Agent Morgan. There's no reason to worry here. I'm going to take care of them. They're in very good hands."

"Fucking bastard! You get your filthy hands off her," Derek fumed. "Get your fucking hands off my child."

Derek's admission was a butcher knife in the thick silence.

"My child?" the UnSub's voice broke through from the other end of the line. "Darling, what is he talking about?"

Your captor's question managed to lift some of the fog from Derek's head. Before he could begin to form any more words, Hotch pushed him to the side before pressing the mute button to block the noises inside the bullpen from filtering into the telephone line.

"Rossi, can you take over for a second?" Hotch asked before turning towards Derek, "Morgan, my office. Now."

Every one of Derek's movement was robotic as he followed Hotch away from the bullpen. As soon as the door to the office closed behind them, Hotch wasted no breath before stating his order, "I need you off the case, Morgan."

"Absolutely not."

"Morgan--"

"Hotch," Derek cut him off, eyes blazing with a ferosity matching that of a thunderstorm. "I'm not going to stand around and do nothing while she... while he still has her."

"The team and I will never let anything happen to her. To both of them," Hotch promised. "You need to trust us."

"I trusted you, too, last time, Hotch. Look where that got us."

He knew it wasn't fair. Derek realized it as soon as the last syllable had passed his lips. But Derek wasn't himself right at that moment, and Hotch understood it all too well.

Closing his eyes, Derek leaned back against the desk in Hotch's office. Exhaustion was the fruit of fright as it diverged in his bones. It raced along his bloodstream, reaching the deepest points of his entire being until there was no corner left for hope to fill.

"Would you have done it?" Derek asked eventually. "If any of us had told you to stand down when Foyet was holding Haley and Jack--if I told you to trust us--would you?"

"No," Hotch replied truthfully. "But this is different."

"How the fuck is this different?!"

"It's different because your personal feelings almost cost us (Y/N)'s life."

There was nothing Derek could say to counter Hotch's accusation.

Flashing scenes of the earlier phone conversation sped through Derek's mind. For a second there, right after the UnSub unknowingly declared your condition, Derek almost thought that he was on the brink of losing his complete sanity. All Derek remembered was red in his vision as he stalked towards the phone, shouting the first threats he could think of towards the UnSub, all the while failing to deduct how his rash behaviors could affect you later on.

The breath that Derek let out quivered in the air as he tried to stop thinking about what the UnSub might have planned to do to you in the wake of his action.

"She's pregnant, Hotch," Derek cried quietly. "He has them both. She's carrying my child and I... I didn't even know."

Derek didn't even realize he was crying until the burning ache inside his chest started to expand. The room around him was spinning. The only memory echoing in Derek's head was of the very last night the two of you had ever spent together--the night where he screwed up--and how you had kicked him straight to the curb because of his own idiocy.

"I fucked up, Hotch," Derek managed to croak out between his wretched sobs. "The last thing I said to her... God, what if I never get the chance to make it right again? What if the last memory I have of her is of the night I broke her fucking heart?"

Hotch didn't think he had ever seen Derek in such a state before. Gone was the capable and confident man that Hotch had the pleasure of knowing for the last few years. In his place was a broken shell of a man who looked like Derek, talked like Derek, but void of any semblance of life and spirit that Hotch always associated with the man.

The life and spirit that were gone in the absence of you in Derek's arms.

"Morgan, everything's going to be fine," Hotch tried again. "JJ and Reid are scouring everything to figure out her movements over the last couple of weeks. I've assigned Emily to find the hospital (Y/N) went to yesterday. We'll figure out who took her. End this for good."

Derek's gaze never strayed away off the ground. Hotch took a long breath before adding, "Morgan, we will find her--"

"How did you know she went to the hospital?"

The question came as a shock to either of them. Derek's eyes were more curious than incriminating, but the accusation behind them seemed to inflate with every second that passed by in Hotch's silence.

"You didn't seem surprised when the UnSub told us about her condition. Why?"

"Morgan--"

People liked to say that anger was the ultimate fuel for human beings.

And for Derek Morgan, anger was exactly the propulsion he needed to throw himself right off the edge, where the line between flaming vengeance and common sense had blurred together into one another.

It was the propulsion that, somehow, rationalized his instinct to surge forward and slammed Hotch back against the hard surface of the office wall.

The harsh impact knocked the air entirely out of Hotch's lungs, but the choked sound was stifled in Derek's ears by his own roaring wrath. Hotch almost didn't recognize the man beneath all of that hostility. The only thing left of Derek Morgan, in that moment, was his name.

"You knew?"

Each syllable not welded with rage in Derek's question was fused with betrayal instead.

"Morgan--"

"Answer me, goddammit!"

Hotch's resolve remained steadfast as he answered, "Yes."

That one simple word managed to drain every last bit of energy from Derek's body. He fell back a step, then twice, before the choking hold he had of Hotch was finally released.

"How long?"

"I only found out yesterday."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She told you, but not me." He chuckled dryly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, Hotch?!"

"I didn't know you were the father," Hotch said. "She never told me it was you."

Before his legs could give out, Derek sank on the chair in front of Hotch's desk. A million different thoughts were going haywire in the neurons of his brain. He wanted to scream. To flip the earth upside down and find the location where you were being held hostage. He just wanted the universe to stop messing with him and started giving him answers.

And then, five seconds later, the door to the office swung open.

Emily stood in the doorway, unassuming of the palpable tension lingering in the air. When she finally uttered her next words, Derek thought he could finally start to breathe again.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Derek flew out of the chair before anyone had the chance to say anything else.

He was coming to get you.

And this time, Derek had no intention of letting you go.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan series #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan angst #derek morgan smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds series #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #shemar moore #love bugs

[darckxlady]

could you please do a tutorial of your game of thrones 'so much for stardust' gifs where it has the ripped paper textures? it's so pretty, and i'd like to learn how to do one with just the texture in the middle and two gifs on either side, like half and half and just having a rip in the middle. it's so cool how you did a gif in the middle though so i wanted to ask as well! all of them are so cool looking. you are extremely talented. if you don't want to though i understand :) thank you

TORN PAPER EFFECT + BLENDING TUTORIAL

thank you so much for your sweet words, dearest anon and i'm sorry it took so long to answer but it's here now so i'll try my best to explain <3 disclamer: this is the first tutorial i ever made, it's very screenshot heavy and it assumes the basic knowledge of ps and gifmaking. if there's something you don't understand, don't hesitate to ask <3 so, let's get to it!

1. PREPARING THE BASE As you can see in this shot there's a lot of space between Rhaenyra and Alicent and that makes it perfect for the ripped paper overlay without hiding much of the base gif. So the first thing i did was to crop it like this:

Also you want to make sure that the highlighted box (delete cropped pixels) is unchecked! After taking the usual steps for the animation (creating frames from layers, reversing the frames, setting frame delay) you continue with the video timeline and convert your frames into a smart object. psa: if you don't have the motivation or the time to play around with coloring here are some psds i recommend: 1, 2; as for the sharpening i think this one is the best.

now that you have your smart object sharpened and colored what you want to do next is drag it to the end of the canvas and duplicate it. after that you move the copy on the other end like the original and make sure it's under the coloring layers, like this:

After that you have to create layer masks (the highlighted icon above) for both smart object and the copy and change the blending option of the copy to screen or lighten (whatever looks best!). So this is how it looks now:

pls ignore that there are no layer masks on the smart objects i just added them after changing the blending rip </3 Now, as you see both gifs are like fighting eachother for their rightful place on the canvas. (fgfgfdf) To fix that you have to use a soft round brush to delete the parts you don't want. (feel free to play around with the brush however you want to get the result you want!) Here's my result:

2. THE OVERLAY

Now for the both gifs you want to use for the ripped paper effect you pretty much apply the same steps as the ones you did with the gifs for the base. Here are the two gifs i chose:

Before blending both gifs however you want to create a clipping mask for each of the smart objects coloring layers, like this:

And now you're ready to blend both gifs together! You choose the group with one of the gifs and change the blending again to screen or lighten and place the said group on top of the other. So this is how it looks now:

optional: if you feel like the base gif doesn't pop out enough you can always add a gradient map on one of both gifs and play around with the opacity and the color you think fits best.

Then you add a layer mask on the overlay gif group and again play around with the brush to delete what you don't want. So this is the final result:

ps - don't repeat my mistake by placing the group with the layer mask under the other group. it should be on top and the blending option should be lighten or screen.

After blending both gifs together, you're ready to place them on the base. So first thing you want to do first is place both groups of each gif in one single group together. Then you duplicate the said group in the psd of the base gif and create a layer mask. This is how it should looks:

Now, in order to create the ripped paper effect, you'll have to download a ripped paper brush pack. This is the one i use. After loading the brushes in ps (if you don't know how here is explained) you're ready to begin! Change the size and angle however you'd like to make it look how you want. And if you want you can move the overlay gif by choosing both groups in case you aren't happy with the adjustment. This is how it looks like so far:

We're almost done! Now you have to find a paper texture, (i got mine from google) place it between both groups of your gifs and create a layer mask, like so:

What you have to do here is pretty much the same thing you did with the overlay gifs. Still, make sure there's enough space for the text you want to write in. However, if you think that the space isn't enough you can just delete a bit more of the overlay gifs. Here's mine:

3. THE TEXT

You're finally ready to type out the text you want! If you're having troubles with choosing the right font and size, here are my text settings:

You can always play around with the angle and if your text is too small, zoom in so you can place it just how you like it. And since i'm a bit lazy to deal with it later, i choose to add the highlight color while it's still zoomed. You just have to add an layer above the text and use a soft round brush with opacity from 70-75% and flow from 15-18%.

For the repeated text you want to make sure you create a big space for writing so it can contain the whole space of the torn paper. Also, write where the text will be seen only and use the tab button to skip the space where the gif is. This is how it looks:

Once you're done with writing the repeated text, you want to select all the character layers and the highlight layer and move them under the overlay gif and on top of the paper, like this:

With the layers still selected and in order to contain the text within the paper the last thing you want to do is create a clipping mask. And that's It. You're done! This is the final result:

#allresources #dailyresources #usergif #chaoticresources #gifmakerresource #hisources #onlyresources #alielook #usermaguire #userrobin #usernik #userpat #userbells #gif tutorial #ps help

[rustonyourfingers]

I officially lost it, cattonquick invaded my brain, send help (pls don't, I want them to live in my brain forever tee hee).

Sooo, that Oliver tried to kill himself in the maze instead of Felix fic? Absolutely yes, in the works, hopefully, the first chapter will come out this weekend (sorry for the delay, I'm a very slow writer nowadays).

But I already planned out other cattonquick fics, bc focusing on one is too hard, so here are other ideas I'm currently working on! Bc I really, really, really need to share them with someone, or I will lose my mind, I swear.

1. Oxford days, Felix pov – For the first time, instead of hanging out in Felix's room, they're in Oliver's. They're supposed to be studying, but Felix being Felix decides to snoop around instead. Oliver is clearly bothered by that - tries to tell Felix they should study, he should stop, really, they need this essay finished by friday, but when Felix notices that Ollie is simply nervous, he gets even more curious. And here it is - hidden on the highest shelf of the wardrobe, something that is unmistakably a dildo. And isn't that interesting - Oliver is blushing and can't face him; so ofc Felix takes it out and pushes. Teases Oliver, until he's so red, Felix is concerned he'll implode. But the irony is, his first thought isn't even that Ollie likes to take it up the ass, no - but when he realizes that that's why Oliver was so embarrassed, the thought finds home in his mind and stays.

And now Felix can't stop thinking about it: Oliver on his bed, ass up, pumping the dildo in and out, with a blissed out expression. In that vision Oliver moans a name: Felix, Felix, Felix, over and over, and over again, and that's weird, because Felix isn't gay. He's not homophobic, and if Oliver is gay, that's fine, but he is not. Definitely.

So he puts the dildo back where it was hidden and decides to never tease Oliver about it ever again.

But of course that's not the end of it. Bc here Felix is, having the time of his life during some sort of a party, dancing with Ollie, laughing with him as they always do, when the chosen girl for the night not only tells him she's not intrested, she also suggests he should go back to his boyfriend and flirt with him, instead of taking time of some random girls when it is clear nothing will come out of it.

But Ollie is not his boyfriend, how could she even think that! So ofc now he's horny and frustrated, bc his plans for the night just got wrecked; he drinks instead and gets back to his room with his arm around Ollie.

And behind closed doors, the thoughts of Ollie, on his knees, come back. Felix is horny and confused, and Ollie looks especially pretty that night, and in his drunken state sleeping with him seems like a wonderful idea. And they do. And then they actually sleep. And then in the morning Felix is back to panicking and repeating that he is straight, this didn't mean anything, he'll get right back to fucking girls, thank you very much.

And the rest of the fic is these two idiots figuring their shit out. Bc drama and misunderstandings are my jam.

2. Jealous Felix - I think we all agree that scene between Farleigh and Oliver was very hot, but what if, what if Felix catches Oliver sneaking out and later leaving Farleigh's room? What if he spent the whole evening watching the two of them, laying on that couch together, heads so close they were almost kissing? And he's furious, even more so than when he thought Oliver was after Venetia - bc why Farleigh, when Felix was right there?

So yes, he watched Oliver all night and yes, he followed him, when he heard the door to his room open. And yes, he waited for him to leave Farleigh's room and was moments from barging in there and stopping whatever it was that was happening.

And now Oliver needs to explain - and Felix needs to claim what's his, bc if Oliver ever thought he belonged to anyone else, he was dead wrong.

3. A classic Oliver didn't lie fic - bc I need Felix to be the one groveling and apologizing more than I need air. The absolute tragedy of him confronting the poor not in stories, but in real life: of seing all that ruination, all the dirt, and pain, and vomit covering the streets. Smelling the piss, seeing people going through trash. Realizing, for the first time, that this is what Oliver's life looked like before he came to Oxford. This is what he woke up to, every day for as long as he could remember.

Just chef's kiss! My angst loving heart craves it more than anything.

So, that's it for now! I have more ideas lurking in the depths of my mind, but I'm trying not to indulge them. For now. ;)

#cattonquick #fic ideas #saltburn #saltburn spoilers #just thinking about these two #what else is new #i need someone to come kick me in the ass #bc writing all of these is taking way too long #send help #oliver x felix #felix catton #oliver quick

[fullsunised]

Hi, not sure if your taking requests. Can you do one with NCT Dream giving their idol crush a inkigayo sandwich with their number in it.

ɴᴄᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ¹⁰ : ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴋɪɢᴀʏᴏ sᴀɴᴅᴡɪᴄʜ

. ★彡 genre: fluff

. ★彡 trigger warnings: swear words

. ★彡 requests are being worked on, apologies for the delay

. ★彡 a/n: thanks for thr request, I know it took a while. and also, like I said before, I'm not a liar so BRO IDFK WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS PLS HELP. 😭😭😭😭 apologies for the dissapointment I created.

❝ 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ❞

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

courage, and pushing. it would take this man the whole world, to push him to do what he always wanted to do. he's all flustery- awkward I mean, especially if he's planing to give this shit- sandwich, he's shitting his pants for sure. he's not sure of his desicion even after he's give it to you.

first, he's gonna worry about what to write, next he's worry about how to put it in, and then you know he's worrying if the sandwich has even reached you, then he's worried about your reaction. he's checking his phone every minute of his life just waiting for a text from you to pop up.

bro is stressed to say the least, but you know all that stress evaporates from his entire self instantly after you text him, and flash him a smile when you two stumble upon each other.

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 ] ࿐ྂ

bro is cool man. he's gonna find out what your favourite sandwich is, shove your number in and hand it to you personally. all chill. but uh uh, that's how it looks, he's shitting himself on the inside. it's so funny. feel like he's the type to just suffer amongst himself, so his head is full of what ifs.

the waiting era is difficult. he like anyone else, is constantly checking his phone waiting for a notification from you to pop up. but again he also considers the fact that you are really busy, and have a lot on your plate.

when you finally text him back, he's the happiest man on earth. he's looking forward to getting close to you, and maybe becoming your boyfriend ;).

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

uh....he's just nervous. he writes a small note underneath like 'no pressure' or sm just so you don't feel compelled to answer or text him. he hands you the sandwich with a smile, and an awkward wave after that. he'd leave before you could smile or sm like that.

he's sitting in his dorm, doing everything in his mind to distract himself, which is kinda difficult because his gaze keeps shifting to his phone. his eyes legit light up when he sees an unknown number, texting him a small hi.

he finds you so fucking adorable, he's smiling eye to eye, his eyes disappearing- he doesn't waste a minute to immediately text you back. and from then on, yall be texting each other everyday. hahahahahaha.

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

my cutie. anyways, man is confident in himself bro. he's 101% sure you do have some sort of feelings per se towards him, so he doesn't have a problem writing his number- ah, he's also gonna add a corny ass comment underneath for sure.

he waits until you read it, a sheepish ( he's so adorable I just wanna punch him in the face, with them kisses ) smile tracing his face. you'd let out a small chuckle, reading what he wrote. bro is gonna force you to add his number right there, and force you to text him.

Trust when I say he's gonna save your number as something corny bro. so adorable. uh, that's gonna be you as well, cause he might as well, save it for you. you two gonna be next famous couple fr.

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐀 ] ࿐ྂ

he's smiling, while writing the note, while shoving it in the sandwich, while handing it to you, and while you are reading it. bro, he's like hyuck, he doesn't mind waiting while you open it and read it.

you smile slightly, promising that you'd text him later, because you had to perform, and he'd take that for granted and wait like his life depends on it.

bro has the patience of a saint, so he's waiting for weeks if he has to. but you are just as eager to talk to him, so you text him between a show and boom your cute little friendship booms fr. and then further in.

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆] ࿐ྂ

you know he's gonna find the fanciest sandwich if that's even a thing to put his number in. he'd send someone to hand it to you, don't get him wrong, man's whipped asf for you, but he doesn't wanna make a bad impression on you by being a stuttery mess.

everytime his phone lights up, he's waiting for a text from you but groans when it isn't. he does that for the nth time that whole day, until you finally text him, apologising for being late cause of your schedules.

bro is elated. kicking his feet and shit while texting you back. he just loves talking to you so much, so don't even think about going offline for a minute. lol.

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ] ࿐ྂ

if mark was nervous, jisung is ultra pro max nervous. he's like shaking his feet, biting his nails while thinking of heat to write. his original plan was to just shove a paper with his number in but after his members persuaded him to write something else, he's wondering what.

deciding to write a small hi, he shoves it in. half way through he's contemplate if he should just go back, and admire you from afar like usual, but his members, trust in them, they push him to give you the sandwich.

he's running away without waiting for your response, because bro is not prepared to be rejected or even accepted. and then after nervously pacing around for a while, he recieved a text from you. he's elated but he's also contemplating every message he sends.

FULLSUNISED.

#nct dream #mark lee imagines #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #jaemin headcanons #jaemin imagines #nct dream x reader #chenle imagines #nct fluff #chenle scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno headcanons #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #jisung headcanons #jisung fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagine #nct dream headcanons #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct headcanons #nct imagines #nct scenarios #fullsunised #haechan scenarios #mark headcanons

[hornyhornyhimbos]

hiiii

Can I request either a Spencer or Hotch with the prompts

23. “Say my name.”

11. “Louder. Let me hear you.”

17. “Hands behind your back.”

Thaaaaank youuuu 💕

"Better Than Italian Food" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: uh idk, Reader makes Hotch dinner and somehow it gets spicy, don't ask me for summaries LMAO

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,369

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content), unprotected piv sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, slight masturbation from both parties, use of restraints, overstimulation, orgasm denial/delay, use of nicknames (one use of gorgeous), explicit language, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything else

Extra Notes: this is my first time writing full on smut so pls don't judge

Based On the Prompts: "Say my name." ☆ "Louder. Let me hear you." ☆ "Hands behind your back."

Originally Written: 12/09/2022

smut prompts can be found here!

hornyhornyhimbos ask box can be found here!

"Knock knock," Aaron called as he entered the house before bending down to untie his dress shoes. His arms flexed in his suit jacket as he did so, a sight that was somehow simple yet reminded me just how lucky I was to call him mine.

"Come in," I giggled, sashaying my way from the couch over to him. "How was work?"

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. "Exhausting, as usual." He barely let his sentence slip into the air before leaning in and pressing his lips tightly against mine.

We stayed like that for a moment, just as we usually did when he made it home after a long workday. His palms settled on my waist as he pulled away.

My arms slithered around his shoulders. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "You wanna know what I do want to talk about though?"

My eyebrows creased together as I tried to dissect his tone. "What would that be?"

"How good dinner smells, whatever it might be you're cooking," he chuckled, ambling toward the kitchen.

I followed after him, my hands fixed on his hips. "It's Alfredo. Courtesy of the recipe Rossi emailed me. Bread's in the oven."

He turned to face me, leaving another kiss on my lips. Upon pulling away, he commented, "I have no clue how I could ever thank you for being the wonderful wife that you are."

My stomach knotted for a moment, my eyebrow cooking upward. "I think I know a way."

That was how I found myself spread open on the edge of the king-sized mattress, Aaron's mouth nuzzled against my clit, whimpering a string of obscenities.

The coil in my stomach tightened, my brain started to go fuzzy. I felt my legs tighten around Aaron's head, his raven hair brushing against the skin of my bare legs.

My vision went spotty for a moment. My orgasm was close. I let out a low mewl, my hips bucking up into his tongue. My veins burned as-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I let out an aggravated groan as I assumed one of the two of us would have to get the bread from the oven.

The bread must've been the furthest thing from Aaron's mind as he left his head buried in my cunt.

"B-baby," I moaned in an attempt to get his attention.

He pulled away just long enough to utter, "Say my name."

My breathing became heavy as my orgasm inched closer again. "A-A-" I struggled, my hips rutting in betrayal.

"Say. My. Name."

"A-Aaron, the bread," I managed, fists clenched tight around the silk bed sheets beneath me.

"Frankly," he mumbled against my clit, eliciting another mewl from my lips, "the only thing I'm worried about eating is this pretty pussy."

"Frankly," I copied weakly, "I don't want our house to burn down."

He huffed, the air hitting my naked core and sending a shiver up my spine. "Be right back," he mumbled, wiping his lip with his thumb.

As he walked away, my mind wandered deviously. I felt betrayed by my hand as a finger hooked into my hole, chasing down the orgasm I'd nearly lost.

I let out a whimper as it pumped in and out, the coil in my belly tightening once again. My vision went spotty as I nearly reached the edge.

Aaron entered the room, tsk-ing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "What have we here?"

"A-Aaron," I gasped, moving my hand away from my center. "I can ex-"

"Give me your hand," he demanded.

Hesitantly, I lifted my hand to his. He brought my hand to his lips, sucking on the end of my pointer finger. "Tastes good," he smirked. "Bet it felt good too."

My eyes widened as a breath hitched in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but instead, it lingered there, causing both my throat and mouth to feel suddenly dry.

"You can say it," he said, dropping my hand.

I opted not to verbally answer. Instead I just nodded, a moan perched on the edge of my tongue as I watched the change in his behavior.

"Hands behind your back."

I did as told, standing up from the bed and letting my arms settle behind me.

He scrambled to undo his tie, wrapping it so tight around my wrists I wasn't sure it wouldn't leave bruises. He lowered me onto the mattress before unbuttoning his slacks, sliding them down along with his boxers. As quickly as possible, he undid his shirt too, throwing it into the pile with the rest of our discarded clothing.

He lowered his hand to my mouth before demanding, "Spit."

I didn't hesitate. I managed to spit into his palm, though I was unsure how, given the state of my parched throat.

He ran his hand along his hardened dick, and the sight elicited another sinful groan from my mouth.

He ran the tip along my slit teasingly. The sound of my wetness mixing with his pre-cum was something that could only be described as unholy.

After a moment more of teasing me, he pushed in, the stretch making me gasp. "You cum when I say you cum. Got it?"

Somehow, I successfully nodded again, a soft yelp falling from my tongue as he maneuvered the angle of my hips.

He pushed in and out repeatedly, both of our orgasms building quickly. I wasn't sure who'd cum first, but I knew both of our climaxes were approaching and fast.

Though, just as I feared, he pulled out, his hand meeting his cock, squeezing it hard. "I think this is only fair," he grunted, rocking against his palm, "since you got to finish yourself off too."

"But I didn't," I whined, humping at anything that would bring fiction to my pussy.

"Why do I not believe you?"

"Aaron, please, I promise," I whimpered.

He chuckled, his chest nearly heaving as he did so. "You'll need to do better than that, gorgeous."

My hips rutted against the fabric below me again. "Aaron, please let me cum," I begged, my skin feeling hot as I watched him pump himself again and again.

"Louder. Let me hear you," he ordered as he continued to squeeze his length. "I'm gonna need to hear you if you really want it."

My eyes fluttered into the back of my head and I cried out, "Please, Aaron, I need to cum."

He released his shaft before lining himself up with me once more. "I knew you could do it," he praised, sinking into me again.

He slammed in and out of me, his balls slamming against my ass with every thrust. He growled at the feeling of my walls clenching around his cock.

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, my orgasm approached, my veins burning hot again.

"In or out?" Aaron asked. I didn't even need an explanation.

"In," I choked out. "Need to feel you fill me up."

I wasn't sure how, but we both released in sync, his seed warm inside me as I arched away from the bed.

I felt stuffed as he lay down on top of me, the smell of sweat prominent in the air. His hair was sticky as he placed his head on my chest, mumbling sweet nothings into the valley of my breasts.

I let out a whimper as he finally removed himself. Suddenly, I missed the feeling of being stretched open by him.

His fingers moved down to my cunt, pumping fast. I let out a, "Hnnnngg, fuck, Aaron," as two digits worked at my core.

"You wanted it in, didn't you?" he groaned, watching as his cum pushed into me.

Eventually, he moved his hand away from me, upon noticing me writhing from the overstimulation.

He moved up to lay beside me on the bed, collapsing back beside me. A nearly childish chuckle escaped his mouth, his cheeks flushing even redder than they already were.

"What's so funny?" I panted, running my hand along the hairs on his chest.

"Nothing," he chuckled once more. "Anyone ever tell you that you taste way better than Italian food?"

-> Taglist will be found here!

#imagine #blurb #blurbs #one shot #one shots #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner one shots #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds blurbs #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds one shots #criminal minds smut #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #hornyhornyhimbos

[xximperioxx]

Can I pls pls pls request one for Secondo comforting you (the reader) while you cry after a really tough day?

You Can Always Reach Me

Papa Emeritus II (Secondo) x Fem!Reader

(Only saying female reader because I used feminine variations of awful google translated Italian)

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 550 (it’s short I’m sorry)

Notes: so sorry for delay in this anon! I really really hope you enjoy as this was my first time writing for any papa. Please be gentle. I hope I did Secondo somewhat justice. Apologies if I did not :( finals are kicking my butt right now.

Please enjoy and thank you so much for the request!

Much love <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but sniffle as you tread quietly through the halls of the Abbey. The sound of your flats against the floor echoed within the walls. The walk to Secondo’s office from your room was short. Thank satan for that. The two of you sort of have an unspoken thing going on. It was mostly sex because for the life of Secondo, he couldn’t talk about his feelings. It’s like ripping teeth out to get him to talk about it.

But right now you don't know who else to go to. It has been a really tough day and all you wanted to do is cry. Preferably in a certain Papa’s strong arms. You couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as you didn’t know how he was going to react to you showing up to his office unannounced.

The knock was quiet. So quiet Secondo almost didn’t hear it. He put the paper he was reading down and looked at the door. His papa makeup smudged from resting his chin in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining things. Another knock was heard. “Enter,” Secondo groused.

You pressed your lips together to stop the quivering as you slipped into his office. The tears were beginning to escape. Secondo didn’t have time to look back up from his paper when you threw yourself in his arms. A grunt leaves his lips. You sob into his shoulder, surely leaving a wet patch of tears on his shirt.

Secondo awkwardly pats your back for a few seconds, not used to affection with you. His pats turn into slow, gentle rubs, “Carissima mia, what is the matter?”

You force yourself to sit up. It takes you a minute to catch your breath as Secondo begins to draw shapes on your thighs to help calm you. You allow yourself to take a few deep breaths without hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, “it’s just been a really tough day and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

Secondo pulls you in closer, “Carissima, don’t apologize. I understand.”

You lean back into him, playing with the buttons on his shirt, “Sister Imperator yelled at me and I guess it was the topping on the cake for me.”

“Well, she’s old and she’s a bitch.”

His comment brings a smile to your face. Normally, you would have scolded him for being rude but he has a point. He was always brutally honest. And a grump.

He notices your grin, “Ah, there is that bellissima smile.” He pushes the hair from your face.

It was quiet as you cuddled into him and he carefully ran his fingers through your hair. His other hand now resting on your ass as he claimed he couldn’t help himself as it apparently looked lonely.

“Let me make myself clear,” he clears his throat, “Do not hesitate to find me whenever you are having a bad day, Carissima mia.”

You nod into his neck.

“Your presence will never be a bother to me.” He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

You didn’t mean to start crying again but hearing Secondo say that meant the world. Hours passed as you stayed curled up in his lap as he read his letters with one hand and the other still resting on your bottom. Secondo could get used to this.

#ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #papa emeritus ii x reader #Secondo #papa emeritus II #secondo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #sodo ghoul #aether ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #papa emeritus iv #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette

[m1d-45]

Hi,um this is my first time so I'm sorry if the requests are close.So I read a few genshin sagau and what would happen if the reader get smaller if they don't receive love?Like,they turn younger and younger.And 1 of the character found them but instead if the so called imposter, they find a child?What would happen

Again,im sorry.If the requests are close,then pls ignore me.im more scared of getting a reply😭

the young

a/n: requests are open, don’t worry! personally, i don’t plan on ever properly ‘closing’ them, only delaying / putting them on second priority for whatever reason. thank you for sending in a request, and if this isn’t what you wanted, then feel free to ask again!

word count: ~1.3k

-> warnings: unedited stream of consciousness, but not much else! imposter au. slight mention of addiction, probably obsessive behavior / thoughts… rip to klee / diona / dori / sayu / qiqi mains. mad respect though.

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky

at first, you didn’t notice.

teyvat, in its loving kindness, had kept you safe after you’d been run out of the city. boars made sure nobody got too close, cranes kept watch, birds fluttered around your small campsite during the night. your loyal guard, always there, inhuman to some but a blessing to you. the people may not believe you, they may run you out and shout for your capture, but teyvat would always be there.

it would lower the boughs on trees as you mumbled about not being able to reach the fruit, it would send smaller companions as you jumped at the size of a crow, it would lead you to areas with smaller and smaller wildlife, all in the hopes that if it made you happy enough, you would stop shrinking.

when you did notice, you were afraid.

you were sitting on a rock, absentmindedly braiding wildflowers together. they seemed larger than usual in your palms, but so did everything else! your mind told you it was just because teyvat’s plants and animals were bigger than the ones in your world, but you didn’t really believe it.

a large raven carefully landed on the rock besides you, eyes peering at your creation. it was huge, the size of a puppy at least.

…a dog, you correct yourself. no puppy is that large.

the bird hops closer, talons clicking on the stone, beady eyes still watching the wildflowers in your hands. it’s large, unnervingly so, and you swallow before turning back to braiding.

when you reach for another flower, it takes more strength than it should to pull it up.

grass bends under determined shoes, eyes scanning the undergrowth. ferns part, your main ducking under surprisingly low branches. they’d heard from the locals that the imposter was spotted around here, and they needed to be the one to find you.

they couldn’t let down their god. they couldn’t let them down, not when they’d already been punished by being deprived of their aura. they didn’t know what they did, they didn’t receive an answer no matter how hard they begged, but they were certain this could fix it. after all, they were still the favorite, right? they still had their weapon, and their artifacts that had taken ages to collect, and they could still sweep away enemies with the same strength.

all that was missing was the precious aura of being close to the creator, a feeling they would do anything to get back.

the memory spurred them on, even as the thicket grew denser. they did their best to push through, the golden shimmer of their weapon being summoned making up for the lack of light filtering through the leaves, but it’s like the very earth didn’t want them going here.

the thought made them pause, but only momentarily. if the earth didn’t want them there, then that meant it was dangerous, a threat to the people nearby. at the very least, they had to see whatever it was to ensure they could bring the proper amount of backup.

as they cut through the leaves and bushes—doing their best to preserve as much as they could, unwilling to destroy what their god had so lovingly created—they began to feel the same thrill in their bones that came from being near their god. when they first noticed they had to stop their progress, leaning against a tree to mumble a prayer of thanks.

they’d missed this. they’d missed it so deeply, a hole in their soul that nothing could ever fill. from being surrounded by it daily, in and out of battle and other errands, to being stranded without it for months… it could only be compared to an addiction.

when they got their wits about them, they shakily drew their weapon once more. this had to be a reward, right? for going out of their way to protect the people? this had to be a sign, acknowledgment from the only one they truly cared about, and it only reinforced their actions. cutting through the brush was hard, a task of which progress seemed slower and slower with every breath, but this made it worth it.

with a final use of their skill—carefully aimed, as they were well aware of how their hands trembled—the foliage gave way, opening into a beautiful meadow. birds chirped and called, butterflies landed on flowers, and a creek bubbled through the center, emptying into a pool on one side. it was beautiful, an area certainly blessed by their god’s love, and they took a moment to look in awe.

“hello?”

the call of a child snapped them from their thoughts, the feeling of a divine aura pulsing in their veins, and they turned to the source.

a small child was sitting in the grass near the edge of the clearing, butterflies and birds surrounding them like a personal guard. in their hands was a braid of flowers, their clothes stained with dirt and grass.

“hello.”

the favored rushed to try and rationalize the situation, thoughts slowed to a drip of honey by the bliss in the air. this… child had to be the reason they were being blessed, right? their god wanted them to save them from whatever the earth didn’t want them to see, right? perhaps the child was one of their vessels as well? though rare, it wasn’t unheard of..

the child stood from the grass, setting down the flowers and attempting to brush some of the dirt off their clothes. it didn’t work as well as they might have hoped.

they cleared their throat, catching the child’s attention. “you should come with me.”

one of the birds besides the child cawed loudly in protest, flapping its wings. neither payed any mind.

“why?”

‘why’ indeed. they couldn’t exactly explain the entire concept of divinity to somebody so young, and it would surely only give whatever monster lied in wait more time to return. if they were a villager’s kid, they would have heard of them being missing, but they didn’t, so no chance of using the ‘your parent sent me for you’ line…

“somebody very important is looking for you,” they settled, taking a step towards them. “and they’ve sent me to come find you.”

please say yes. please just come with me. i can’t hurt a child. i need you to come with me.

i need their favor once more.

to their relief, the child walked closer to them, and they crouched to meet their eyes. the blessing of their god thudded alongside their own heartbeat, their vision swimming at the edges. this is what they were meant to do. they had to bring this kid to their god. this is how they would be forgiven.

the child said something, something along the lines of trust and belief, but they fell on deaf ears. in an easy motion, the favored picked up the child and stood, walking for where they had entered the meadow.

the kid squirmed in their arms, making themself comfortable, but they didn’t stop marching. exiting was far easier than entering, the leaves no longer seeming to fight them—not that it mattered. they had the key to their god’s favor in their arms, and their blessing in their veins. nothing would stop them from returning to their former position, to where they belonged.

nothing would stop them from returning to their god’s side.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau impostor au #sorry for the sudden dip in upload i’ve run out of short things to post and have to decide whether to edit 16k words or start being Original #also like thanksgiving and shit #hm…. how to tag this…. #sagau x reader #? yeah sure why not #genshin x reader

[bropunzeling]

mattdrai 23, the things you said when yånk

(please just give me leon getting his hair pulled or matthew getting his hair pulled or both, they need it so desperately)

(ty anon and sorry for the delay. pls have some explicit horny times)

It's strange, the way that Leon just ends up in Matthew’s bed. Once, it felt like a conscious choice, where every second he knew exactly what he was getting into--or at least, he thought he knew, anyway. Now, it just happens to him. One minute, he's finishing his post-game routine; the next, he's sprawled out over Matthew’s sheets, breath hitching in his chest as Matthew scrapes his teeth along Leon's jaw.

"What do you want?" Matthew asks.

Leon can’t answer. He’s too distracted. Matthew’s mouth is so hot against the thin skin of his neck, hands burning as they rub up and down Leon’s sides. Everything about Matthew is warm, even more so since he uprooted himself from Calgary and settled down here, sun-kissed and self-secure. Leon can feel the heat of him all along his body, the knee pushing his thighs apart just south of his aching cock, the nails scraping against the ridge of his hips.

"Hey." A nip to Leon’s jaw; a pinch to the soft part of his stomach. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah," Leon says. One of his hands has found the dip of Matthew’s back and is grabbing on for dear life, like if he stops holding fast Matthew will disappear on him, will bring this whole ill-defined chapter of Leon's life to a close. It's a premonition from the summer that Leon can’t shake, even though he knows it's unfair for him to want Matthew to stay within reach. This isn't that kind of thing.

"I don't believe you," Matthew says, breath hot and wet against Leon’s cheek. When he kisses Leon, it hurts, teeth digging in, nose and forehead and cheek pushing so close that Leon can practically feel their skulls colliding. As soon as Matthew stops, Leon wants it back. "Pay attention."

"I am," Leon says breathlessly. Barely keeps from admitting, I always do.

Matthew’s fingers root in his hair, then tug, sharp and unrelenting. Leon hisses through his teeth, and his hips grind up, searching for pressure.

Matthew makes a soft, considering noise. His grip relaxes for a moment, a small island of relief, before it tightens again, harder. Leon's hips shift and roll as if on command, but Matthew keeps his thigh just out of reach even as his hand drags Leon’s head closer. Leon follows unthinkingly, can't dream of doing otherwise. Lets himself be put wherever Matthew wants him.

When Matthew kisses him this time, it doesn't hurt. Instead, it's sloppy and open-mouthed, a counterpoint to the pain of Matthew's hand in his hair. It all feels so fucking good, the way everything they've done together has felt good. Heat and tension building between them, growing and growing as Matthew licks into his mouth and digs his nails into Leon's scalp.

"What do you want," Matthew says again against Leon's mouth. He sounds harsh and desperate, like he's going just as much out of his mind as Leon is.

"I," Leon pants. There's no good answer. He wants Matthew to kiss him again; he wants Matthew's mouth around his dick; he wants to come all over Matthew's stomach and thighs and chest and smear the mess into Matthew's skin. He wants Matthew to keep holding onto him, and to let Leon keep holding on in return. He wants things he isn't sure he's allowed to ask for.

Maybe Matthew doesn't need an answer. His lips smear along Leon's cheekbone, nose brushing near the corner of Leon's eye, before he yanks Leon's head back and shoves his thigh between Leon's legs. It's the exact kind of pressure Leon's greedy for, has him bucking his hips and gasping as his cock brushes against Matthew's. Matthew makes a noise too, a harsh inhale, and then they're both moving, rutting against each other, graceless and incredible.

"Leon," Matthew says, nipping at the hinge of Leon's jaw. Every time Leon squirms or shifts, he can feel the weight of Matthew's hand in his hair, as firm as iron. "You should--"

Leon can barely get a hand between their bodies. All his thoughts have gone, fled from him. The only thing he can keep hold of is Matthew's face tucked against his neck, the bruise he's sucking under Leon's ear that Leon has no chance of hiding; Matthew's fingers pulling his head in place, refusing to let go; the desire rushing through his body like a current, impossible to stop. When he finally does get a hand around his dick and Matthew's, starts jerking them off together, it shouldn't even feel good -- too loose, too fumbling. But it does, the way everything feels good when he does it with Matthew.

"C'mon," Matthew's saying, panting harshly. The skin of Leon's throat throbs in time with his scalp, blood roaring in his ears. Matthew's a long line of heat next to and over him, thigh pinning Leon's leg in place, cock dragging against Leon's own as Leon tries to maintain an uneven rhythm. His fingers are slippery with sweat and his own precome, easing the slide. He's so close to tipping over, can feel it boiling up inside him. "C'mon," Matthew says again, voice slurring as his hips hitch faster and his fingers tighten and flex, "c'mon, show me how bad you want it, Leon," and he yanks Leon's head back again, painful and incredible all at once, and Leon's falling apart before he knows it, barely aware of Matthew cursing and following him.

Seconds or hours later, Matthew releases his grip. Leon makes a soft sound of protest before he can stop himself. Before he can feel embarrassed, though, Matthew's moving in close again, nose brushing Leon's cheek. "Sorry," he whispers. "My hand was getting sore." His thumb rubs against Leon's other cheek, over and over, restless and yet soothing.

Leon hums in acknowledgement.

They should get up soon. Leon has a few days here, but that doesn't mean he has license to hang around. Matthew probably has plans, a life to get back to, and Leon should get back to his own life as well, until the next time he somehow falls back into bed with Matthew.

Leon should get up, and yet he doesn't want to move. Wants to stay here, feeling Matthew's hot breath against his temple and his thumb against his cheek. Wants to wait until Matthew makes him leave. It's selfish and unreasonable, and it is what it is. He'll just keep his eyes closed until Matthew tells him it's time to go.

He falls asleep like that, waiting for Matthew to say something.

#ask meme #ten thousand years late with starbucks but here it is!