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#SHE DOING DA PEACE PEACE

dadailybocch · 3 days

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On this fine day, Ikuyo Kita was born, except she wasn't because she is not real......HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KITA!! 🥳🥳🥳

Based on this album cover. I like Ode to the Viceroy. Kita would not smoke though...well, maybe she wouldn't 🤔

#ikuyo kita #bocchi the rock #bocchi the rock!#drawin' da bocch #but i did not draw da bocch. da bocch is not in this picture. maybe shes the one taking the picture i dunno #i had to finish this 2 days ago cause i had shit to do IRL this weekend 🥲 I just wanna draw my favorite anime creatures in peace

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allysunny · 4 months

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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

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shadesoflsk · 5 months

Text

BLANCA NAVIDAD

pairing: leon kennedy x fem reader.

summary: Leon never liked Christmas. Memories of him being taken away from his parents and countless missions made him a bitter man. However, he wouldn't have guessed that one day, he would be placing Christmas stockings with a wife and a little bundle of joy next to him.

warnings: Mostly fluff, dad leon, mentions of injuries, alcohol problems, Leon being an orphan, mild hurt (nothing bad I swear) so cheesy and sappy.

"to give up one's very self – to think only of others – how to bring the greatest happiness to others – that is the true meaning of Christmas."

The sounds of boxes being moved filled your living room. It’s the first week of December, and both of you have postponed the task of adorning your house with Christmas stuff until now. Between Leon’s job and your newfound activity (taking care of your 1 year old daughter) it’s been nearly impossible to find enough time to dedicate yourself to this special holiday.

Leon had told you it was more than okay if you wanted to do it by yourself. He knew how much you love this holiday. And ever since halloween ended, you found yourself eager to buy even more stuff to fill your home with. Nonetheless, you waited for your husband. There was no way you would let this opportunity slip away.

And, as you walked into the living room carrying a box albeit Leon’s constant bickering about how you shouldn’t lift heavy things, your heart melted at the sight of Leon placing a christmas hat on you guys’ daughter, which was too big on her and partially covered her sight.

“Da-da” With the baby on his hip, Leon was once again trying to teach his daughter how to say his “name.” It all started with a simple joke about him being the favorite parent, but now it has turned into a serious situation, at least for him. He wanted his daughter to master the art of speaking before Christmas. Although he has noticed that his little one barely said anything else than babbling nonsense. She was almost there, those bwaaah would turn into dada, he was sure.

She had none of that, though. As soon as Leon started talking, she laughed. As if he was telling her the funniest joke ever. Your daughter had heart eyes for both of you, but you had to admit it – she was definitely a daddy's girl. The way her eyes get so big whenever she sees Leon, and how her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb each time he's feeding her – yeah, she loves her dad.

He was an expert in fatherhood. He had no recollection of ever taking care of kids before. But, as soon as his little girl was born, the father's instincts kicked in. The way her cries filled the hospital room made him want to turn off the world for a second and give his daughter and wife a well-deserved moment of peace.

However, he never thought his life would get so lucky that he would get to experience being a dad. Ever since he was born, he was surrounded by disaster and misfortune. Having to grow up at an orphanage wasn't the most ideal place to mold a child into a perfect human being, but it seems that the little time he had spent with his parents shaped him correctly.

“Ma-ma.” You walked behind Leon and placed a hand on his other hip. Your baby instantly kicked her little feet in excitement for seeing her mom. Maybe she's a mama's girl, too.

“Hey! She was almost saying dada.” Leon feigned disappointment as you tried luring your daughter into saying mama first. This was a competition between you and Leon. Which prize will be having the satisfaction of being the “favorite parent.”

“Yeah of course. My bad.” You chuckled, voice filled with sarcasm knowing that your daughter has been the laziest of babies. Most 1 year old babies already say mama or dad. Or both. Yet this little rascal just likes existing, eating, sleeping, and exploring.

Leon saw you carrying a box and sighed in mild disappointment. You could already hear him saying “I told you not to carry heavy things.” Ever since you recovered from surgery, he has gotten even more doting. Every need of you was met by the second, and you wouldn't complain, but you're still a functional adult who can actually lift boxes.

You remember when things didn't used to be like this. In the past, you weren't instantly devoted and whipped for the man that is now teaching your daughter how to say dada. You remember how your past self leaned over the counter, you were met by an usual reek of alcohol this man had. And, with a witty and drunk smile, he said his usual line.

“Another bottle here.” It was his third one that night. Not his third glass, his third bottle. He was slowly killing his liver and himself by the way kept drowning in this deadly and burning liquid. You had never met him before, but the way his dark blue eyes sometimes shone under the dim light, you knew he once was someone important. Or at least, someone needed.

“That would be your third one tonight.” You stated matter-of-factly. However, Leon didn't miss the way you refused to move and get him his booze.

“Look at that… Smarty knows her numbers. Aren't you so, so clever?” The disdain in his voice had reached your ears. He was never the talkative client, he just spent all of his nights at your bar and drank to his heart's content. You know you shouldn't stick your nose in someone else's business yet you couldn't bear nor allow him to basically kill himself in front of you.

“Now can you please shut up and serve me another bottle.” He groaned as the empty bottle almost fell from the counter. His heavy eyelids almost closing if it wasn't from the fact that after the words he spat, you threw a glass of water to his face.

“You don't fucking talk to me like that.” Your usual warm and easy going self was long forgotten. No matter how many hardships and problems he may have, there was no way you would let him walk all over you like that. “I don't know what fucked up things you have experienced or how many people have betrayed you. But if you have time to drown yourself in this addiction and be mad about it, you also have time to make a change.”

Those words stuck with him. He knew he was being pathetic, Chris, Rebecca, hell even Claire had told him the same thing too. But he felt even more miserable when a random bartender called him out like that. Especially when you just needed to complete your job. Why would someone care? He pays, he gets his booze, repeat. But, you at least cared, even though it was something every rational human would do.

Eventually, his daily dose of booze decreased. You witnessed the small changes in him. Going from three bottles to just one, and to finally a few glasses. You witnessed how his usual dark clothes were replaced with a somewhat more colorful attire which brought out his once dull and empty blue eyes.

His slender frame slowly took form, recovering his muscles which were more visible now. His stubble remained, though. It was like a reminder of his own age – and his now different approach in life. Wiser and more careful with his own decisions. Your words didn't completely change him, but they surely helped him to see his life in another light.

Ultimately, a new Leon set foot in your bar. He was beaten up, his navy blue shirt had some blood spots while his dark brown hair was disheveled. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder. “If you ever need a tour guide in San Francisco let me know.” He said with a charming smile as you moved around your area of work.

“I'll keep that in mind. What can I get you?” You chuckled as you went to retrieve his order. You could already hear him say it.

“Grape juice...”

“And your number.”

Soft whines pulled you back from your trance as your babygirl grips on Leon's shirt. She wipes her face against the fabric. The little one was starting to get fuzzy since nap time had come.

“Oh, someone is sleepy.” He coos, bringing her closer to his chest. Leon takes off the little Christmas hat that was on her head. Immediately, the little one brings her hand to her hair. She has picked up the habit to caress her own hair when falling asleep. Before she even gets to cry, Leon rocks her to sleep. His deep voice soothes her, the gentle tunes of a Christmas song was his choice of the day.

“May your days be merry and bright and may all your christmases be white.” Leon wasn’t the best of the singers but he would sing his heart out to his daughter. It was a tradition now since Leon never had someone to sing to him. The baby calmed down at a comical rate, as if she just needed her dad’s embrace to feel safe. She was safe. As long as Leon lives, you and his miracle would have the best life ever.

“I’m almost jealous, she falls asleep so fast with you.” You set down the box, stretching your arms. This is the first box out of so many, you weren’t the biggest spender nor a shopaholic but when you married Leon, some perks came with him. Those perks included having unlimited access to his black card which you use wisely.

Wisely was an understatement, though. Having several copies of the same gingerbread man who dances every time you press a button wasn’t the wisest decision. But you and your daughter love it so Leon has to shut up. Everything for his family.

In the past, Christmas was a simple but dreadful date. He didn’t understand the point of it. When he was a rookie cop, he at least tried to force some polite smiles and give words of affirmations to his colleagues back at the police academy. He stupidly thought that once he got to work, his life would change. But the universe had other plans for him that night in September. He spent that year’s Christmas wishing to die. The government had taken away his right to end his life. Dying wasn't an option. The girl he saved back in Raccoon City, Sherry, needed him.

Year after year, he grew resentful, angry and bitter. He expected to spend this holiday alone until his last days of life. Having to grow old and wither away, no one to care, no one who would remember him as a human and not a machine. Not the government’s lap dog.

But somehow, he met you. He was a dick at first, he knew it. Until this day, he never understood how you could choose him. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go back to his addiction one day. He vowed to never do it again, and he was sure to keep his promise. However, you could never know the extent of his words. You lived –at least to Leon– uncertain of how long he would be sober. But much to his dismay (or pleasure) you gave a chance to that renewed man, to that agent who had come from a mission in San Francisco that almost got him killed.

He was content with just you. He never asked for more, scared of being too greedy, too wishful. Your presence was enough for him, your smile made all of his problems go away. Your tender words were the medicine for his broken and beaten up heart, every last bit of self hatred went away with you. There was nothing else he wanted.

Until he realized that maybe, he could have the life he had always wanted.

When you announced you were expecting, Leon couldn’t show his happiness at first. He was scared. Hell, he even had to take a deep breath before telling you something. He never had a father, well he had one but his memories are too foggy. He grew up thinking kids were a mistake and that somehow, he was a mistake, too.

He found himself slipping into the unborn baby's room when you were asleep. Watching how both of you have decorated the space where your little one will be welcomed. His fingers grazed over the white crib, already imagining what his daughter would look like. He likes to think he looks like his own mother, a blurry memory of her blonde hair swaying with the wind. His daughter will have a better life than his. He's going to fight for it.

His eyes would travel over your body. He knew how anatomy worked but watching it before his eyes was so extraordinary. Your little miracle was safely tucked inside of your belly. He has always known you were beautiful but damn – it seems that motherhood suits you a little too well. He was grateful, really grateful. You gave him the opportunity to indulge in the normal and domestic kind of life.

“She's already asleep.” Your sweet voice called him, bringing him back to the present. While he was reminiscing about the past, the baby had already fallen asleep. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she breathed softly. Her tiny fingers still gripping his shirt.

“She's so lazy.” Leon whispered, his voice filled with softness and lighthearted teasing. He gently laid her on the couch, making sure to place some pillows around her in case she moved. A welcomed and soothing silence surrounded your still not decorated room. This was the perfect opportunity to start your Christmas task.

“You know… Now you can help me put up the countless decorations we have in these boxes.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on Leon’s cheek, your thumb grazing against the growing stubble. You loved moments like this where the only thing that lingered in the air was normalcy and harmony, no missions, no worries, just a happy family.

“I’ll help you if you promise you won’t judge my artistic side.” His lips turned into a sly smirk before he pressed soft kisses against your lips. A sweet yet sincere demonstration of love. He always worries he’s not enough. You play your role as wife and mother, so he ought to be the best husband and father he can be while also balancing his job life. No bioweapon could compare with the fear of losing his own little family because of himself.

Time seems to fly when you’re surrounded with love, Leon lives by that saying. You both decided to put up the tree first since that’s the most arduous task to complete. It takes you almost an hour between placing the ornaments in the correct place and Leon being scolded because he can’t match colors even if his life depended on it.

“Now big boy, you gotta put the star at the top.” You crossed your arms as Leon placed the last ornament on the tree. It wasn’t the best tree, especially since Leon didn’t give any artistic advice on his side. Some colors looked rather odd combined with others, but Leon thought it was abstract.

Almost inaudible babblings made you turn around and found your baby already awake. She was playing by herself, her hands reaching for the ceiling. You had to admit it – she was sometimes an angel. She easily entertained herself and barely cried.

You reached for her and walked toward the tree. Now her fingers tried to grab the Christmas ornaments. The colors reflecting on her blue eyes – that she got from Leon. By the way she kept babbling nonsense it almost looked like she was talking.

“Huh? Right I told your mom that too but she didn’t like the idea.” Leon acted like he understood what the little one was saying. And she also engaged in the conversation, two people against your own ideas.

For a few minutes, you focused on your daughter and how amazed she seems to be with everything. In her own world, that tree was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

But out of nowhere, both of you looked back at Leon who was sniffing and gently sobbing in front of the tree.

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckled before wiping away some of the tears that continued falling without stopping. He then waved his hand dismissively, expecting you to drop the subject. Now he had two pairs of eyes intensely looking at him, yours and your baby’s.

After a short while of him trying to keep his tears of joy at bay, he eventually spoke once again.

“Thank you. For… For this.” A gentle smile formed in his face as he opened his arms. You wasted no time to welcome the hug. Now, the three of you were in front of the Christmas tree. The babbling, the sobs, and the soothing music in the background formed a domestic and warm scene. Full of love, emotions, and devotion. His thank you conveyed so much more than just merely words of gratitude. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you for marrying me and thank you for giving me the family I never had. He wanted to say those things, but he remained silent. He knew you would understand the meaning behind his simple thank you.

He would have never expected something like this. He had always thought he was doomed from the start. That his life would be about saving others and never being saved. But he was saved, and he will always be saved.

His daughter’s hands reached for his face, her fingers grabbing his cheeks and nose. Leon obliged, moving his face closer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until her lips moved on her own.

“Dada!”

He will never shut up now.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #this is sojskahdja

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martuzzio · 4 months

Text

HERMITCRAFT CATCHPHRASES

Hi, here's a (hopefully comprehensive) reference list of hermit catchphrases! The main goal here is to help writers and artists who (like me) might struggle with getting the characterization of some hermits right. Check out more info at the end of the post!

Note: this list updates a lot whenever I get new suggestions, which means reblogs aren't always fully accurate. I've linked this post to the top of my blog so it's easy to access the most recent version :)

Bdubs Shreep / uh-oh, gotta shreep! Crastle I love ya to death It’s gorgee Beyootiful Uh oh! Hell’s blazes! Hawsies YOU'LL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO! Shuddup! Judas priest! Bdubs' PERFECT REDSTONE!! What in the world! Holy cow! Nuh-uh! Hoimycraaaaaf Whimsy Trying my heart out

Beef EEskall That was my nickname in college! Nailed it! Dangit! Beefy Tunes Smelly Etho Opulent Etho? Oh, yeah, I own him Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Beef taught Etho about redstone Oh my goodness! Oh boy! What the heck Oh, baby! Quote unquote A ton of __

Cleo Class dismissed! I don’t need your stinky torches I will break your legs Trash is fish The answer to everything is leather pants Not because it’s the sand castle you deserve, but it’s the sand castle I need! What did you do, Joe…. It's FINE, everything's FINE Lovely Silly I mean... Not gonna lie... To be fair...

Cub DA CREAMADA CROP Alright guys Nice, nice Ladies and gentlemen / ladies and gentlemen, we got ‘em Eeeeasy money Beautiful, absolutely beautiful Mmmmmhmmmmmm Holy smokes Let's goooo! Sweet Oh, baby! Man, oh man Without further ado Peace out Cheers / cheers, man There's some heat coming off that thing

Doc Are you kidding me now? Alright guys Can’t touch this The G.O.A.T. Etho, get to the damn land man! It all started when Grian touched my redstone… Epic

Etho Uh-huh Like-a so Oh snap Get your snacks! Holy smokes! Take care, have a good day, bye bye Aww snappers! Aww yeah Von Sway I barely know ‘er! Speaking of llamas Bright blue bamboo E. to the T. to the your mum Beefaroni / Beefers Speaking of llamas… That’s what she said! Free glass Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Suckerrrr! Check it out

False Blimey Awh dude Frick False Supremacy Oh my goodness I don't know about you guys, but... Props to __ I'm not gonna lie...

Gem Gem is great Her [name] is [adjective]! Gem will __ ("Gem will watch Impulse") Perfect! Epic It's true, I swear! Not gonna lie... Oh gosh! Trust the process Nailed it!

Grian Hello! My name is Grian Good… byeeeee! Pesky bird My heart! My little heart! Mumbo Mumbo you are AFK Can we just agree that Mumbo loses? What in Queen Elizabeth’s shiny crown was that? It wasn't me, it was the man in the chicken costume! SaAaaaAaAnd Chobblesome SCAR NO— / NO SCAR— In theory… Electric boogalooo What does this button do? What on earth? This is in shambles Get outta here! Hear me out... We don't have __. What we DO have is __ Just straight up Without further ado Crack on Bingo bango Yes. 100%

Hypno Right, right Mmhmm You guys Dang guy

Impulse What’s goin on everyone? Shovel Shuffle BEHIND YOU GEM! Peeps Geez Let's goooo! Are you kidding me? Oh, man Now we're talkin'! Holy smokes Oh my gosh How cool is that? Jeez! Dang it! Buddy Presi (for present) You bet!

Iskall Hallo -skall ("richskall") That’s mega / that’s looking absolutely mega Omega “Excuse me? Sir?” __ of doom Okay, lol And I will see you dudes in the next episode I’ve had a realization Oh for goodness sake! It’s not fat, it’s big-boned Not gonna lie SaAaaaAaAnd Very fine Great success! Bird poop Bumbo Cactoni Do you even bust? / Do you even bust bro E Pag

Jevin Hypno smells! Oh my god Sucker What the heck Dude Man I swear

Joe Howdy y’all! That’s the Joe Hills difference! I will now say a poem of my own devising Core concept Keep adventurin’! Time skip! Who’s the guy who conquers death? That’s Joe Hills No not rage quitting I have to pick up my daughter from school or my wife will rage quit me! Grow Hills / Expand Joe Joepacity / Jhost

Keralis Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes Wanna buy a book? Spank you very much Just sit back, relax, and enjoy Like this, like that I can see my house from here! Bubbles, Shashwammy, Sweetface, Princess Lookie lookie at my cookie / lookie lookie at my cookie… no, please don’t Like-a so I love your face I’m a real boy! I don’t k-nove (know) Not like this! Booshes Clever girl But first… lemme take a selfie I’m sinking… mayday mayday we’re sinking! Hallo yes dis is de German coast guard what are you sinking about? Scary harry larry I’m alayve! Breathtaking — no you’re breathtaking Mm-kay Oh behave I’m a simple man MeOOOow Welcome to my humble abod-ee Not too shabby My face! My palms are sweaty, mom’s spaghetti Tag 2 Booga Booga Stiffy nipples Batman! First I was afraid, I was petrified...

Mumbo I worry about myself sometimes I'm not really quite sure if I like that or not Yeah… yeah that's looking good… I guess… Dude! Chuffed to bits It’s a bit pants I’m such a spoon Oh my word It’s quite simple, really / it’s actually quite simple Bonkers I’ll catch you in the next one. See ya Off you pop Oh goodness me! Hermit challenges — initiation! All done and dusted To be frankly honest Seriously seriously cool Absolutely nuts I don’t even know what to say Iskall I feel sick Peace, love, and plants Moon’s big Mumbo for Mayor Quite simple

Pearl Lovely Bonkers At this point... Cheeky / you cheeky What's this? Mate

Ren Now we’re cooking with gas / we be cooking with gas today Ladies, get in line! / ladies, gentlemen, everybody get in line! You picking up what I’m putting down My dudes Y’know what I’m sayin’ Coming atcha frommmmmm Dude Coming from left, right, and center Greetings cyberdogs and citizens of the Interwebs, this is Ren-diggity-dog comin at ya in another episode from the Hermitcraft server (ey!) Automagically Jazztastic Janktastic Oh baby Like nobody’s business Looking absolutely magnificent Anyhoozle Twaddle Renstone The Octagon is a well-oiled machine! [word]-age [word]-ation [word]-i (to make things plural You love / hate to see it I'm just sayin' / if you know what I'm sayin' Professional __ Jazz Anyhoozle Exqueeze me? Freakin' Some serious __ What's happenin', baby? Chesticles

Scar Scarred for life Woah, what in the world! It’s gonna be am-ay-zing LOOK at the siiiiize of that Well, hello there my fellow miners and crafters, GoodTimesWithScar here. Welcome back to the wonderful world of Hermits and crafting Don’t forget to subscribe or you might just become scarrrred for life! Looking super fancy Let’s hit super fast build mode! Look at the size of that Appreciate ya Hotguy! Operation: Aquathunder! That’s what she said! Rapscallion You silly goose Oh, sweet baby Jellie! Bayum! / Bam! The bee's knees Easy peasy, orangey squeezy

Stress Are you havin’ a giggle? / are you takin the mic? Mate Oh my god / oh my gosh / oh my good gordons Gorgeous Plonker Geezer Ohhhhh nooooo! Yeeeesshhh I legged it Such a pro / I'm such a pro Proper __ Cheeky Bloke Thingamajig Ain't [word]-age [word]-ies

Tango Happy fun sauce -ificator, -inator, -ness, -tastic Skadoodle Fearsome bunny slippers Noob juice So here’s the deal Holding shift Shwoop Flim flam Poop came out Extra dumb with dumb sauce / __ of extra dumb Flee with extra flee! / fleeing with terror! Boom booms Gah! The dungeon is ready for its next victim Behold! Results may vary! I think my math is correct, but it’s been known to be wrong This is the worst timeline. I hate everything Big no! You— you freak of nature! Jerkface Jerkbutt Excellent How embarassing This is true Zombert Bits This I gotta see! Right in the face! [word] is happening Yeah baby! Stupid jerks Boop This is the best / worst thing ever! Niner niner niner [general unintelligible noises]

TFC What in tarnation! Crap-tacular Humongous Butt-ugly Ugly as sin Oh, goody Ender-twits Bugger Oh, fart For crying out loud

Wels Words are hard If you will Super __

xB Aww yeah Mmkay Son of a biscuit Pretty frickin' __ Man Get frickin' wrecked! Chestacle Dang it Staaph it Oy vey Crap on a cracker Dang it, Bobby! Dang guy

Xisuma Oh goodness me Oh dangit Geez Peeps I’m such a derp Oh my days Chooturial Issooma Allo Woa’ah Brought (instead of bought) My dude Achacha

Zed Hello hello hello A-good a-bye Muckin' about I lied TaaaAAnnGoOOooooOOOo Hu-jah! Pretty darn __ Certainly Rubbish I'm [word]-ing [word] me [word]-iness What happens is... Get kersplatted! Epic Oh my goodness!

More Info

So I'm currently writing a HC fic and realized how little I know about some of the hermits (I unfortunately don't have time to watch all of them), which made it really difficult to depict them properly in my writing. I'm assuming at least some of you might also struggle with this, so, here we are!

If you know of a catchphrase from any hermit from any season, comment, reblog, send me a an ask or dm, dm me on discord, whatever works the best :D

Note: when I say "catchphrase," I mean anything a hermit repeats over an extended period of time. It can be something said during a single season (like "You'll speak when spoken to!" or "Hermit Challenges!"), or something that spans their entire careers (like "Aww snappers!" or "Plonker"). I'm not looking for one-off quotes that are never bought up again — there's some great sources (like @hermitcraft-correct-quotes) for that already :)

Sources (which will hopefully expand with time): This reddit post from four years ago This other reddit post also from four years ago Reddit from three years ago This cute diagram A more up to date source Another Xisuma's dictionary on his website HC character tv tropes page This incredible google doc

#Hermitcraft #hermit catchphrases #hermitcraft catchphrases #hermit quotes #hermitcraft quotes #This post is going to update many many times so reblogs might not always be up to date #if you have a suggestion to add please let me know!

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allur1ngs · 4 months

Note

what if bada comes home from a mission with some injuries and reader gets worried and just goes on full doctor mode ☹️☹️ and bada liking that side of her 👁️👁️

one thing about bada is that she'll always find you attractive, no matter the circumstance 🩹

tw: injuries, blood, and needles

A peaceful silence hangs in the air of the Lee mansion. It engulfs the halls and sweeps through the cracks between the floorboards, reaching every level of the large home. It drifts in the garden like a whisper of vitality, ruffling the petals of red roses.

All is well...until it isn’t.

The sound of heavy breathing and loud footsteps disrupts the harmony. It makes the flowers quiver, and the floorboards creak and wail.

Bada lugs herself up the spiral staircase, a limp in her step causing her footfalls to resonate like a drum, the sound echoing through the hallway. She curses loudly once she finally makes it all the way up, realizing she has to walk down a very long corridor toward her bedroom.

Every movement of her leg and her side makes her hiss, the feeling of a warm wetness sliding down her torso keeping her grimly aware of the terrible state she's in. She clutches onto her side in a weak attempt to diffuse the pain; the pressure only makes it double. She takes a deep breath and grits her teeth, focusing on slugging toward her bedroom.

It takes her longer than usual to come face to face with the dark mahogany wood of her door, but the mere sight of it makes her breathe a sigh of relief. She drags herself over and uses all her strength to push open the door.

Stumbling into her room, she moves to sit down on her bed, her breaths coming out more and more labored. Her head spins, and she wonders if she’s close to losing consciousness.

Suddenly, a loud knock on her door briefly reaches her ringing ears, but she doesn’t have the strength to get up. A stretch of silence passes, then, “Bada?” Your voice breaks through the noise buzzing in your fiancée’s head.

She mutters your name into the open air, breathy and like a prayer.

“I heard you come in–” you step into her bedroom but freeze at the sight of your fiancée barely conscious, your eyes doubling in size. You rush over to her, stepping between her spread legs and grabbing onto the sides of her face. “What happened?”

Bada gulps, clutching onto your waist like a lifeline. “Job went sideways. Took a bad hit.”

"Wh-," you mumble, your voice trembling to the point that your words come out clipped, “where are you hurt?”

Your fiancée lets go of her torso, holding her hand up, and revealing the crimson staining her flesh. “My side.”

“Shit.” You curse under your breath, a stab of fear hitting your heart like a lightning bolt. “Do you have a medical kit here?”

“In the bathroom. Second cabinet.” Bada mumbles.

You glance at the bathroom door, biting your lip lightly. “I’ll be right back. Can you put some pressure onto your wound to slow down the bleeding?”

Bada nods, reluctantly letting go of your waist and moving her hands back to her hurt side. You give her a kiss on the forehead before rushing to the bathroom and throwing the second cabinet door open. You retrieve the medkit and run back to your fiancée, opening it next to her on the bed. You grab gauze, saline solution, sutures, and a needle.

“I’m going to help you take off your suit and shirt, okay?” You gently hold Bada’s head in your hands again.

“Yes.” She breathes, holding her arms out so it’s easier for you to access her suit.

You quickly but carefully pull it off of her, your heart squeezing at every grunt of pain that leaves her lips. “There you go.” You mumble to yourself, placing her suit jacket on the bed next to her, trying to avoid looking at the blood on it. But when you turn to face Bada again, you can’t ignore the large red stain on her crisp white shirt. It’s dizzying just looking at it, and you swear you feel the air leave your lungs in that moment.

However, the sound of your fiancée’s breathing becoming sparse snaps you out of your daze, making you jump into action.

“Hey, baby.” You whisper, staring deeply into her cloudy eyes. “I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?”

“I–” Bada tries to speak but only manages to hiss, the pain in her side growing with every passing minute.

“Tell me what happened while I clean you up. Talk to me.” You quickly remove her tie and unbutton her dress shirt, taking it off her without causing her any additional pain. The wound on her side isn’t quite as large as you thought it would be, but it still oozes copious amounts of blood.

“U-Ram,” Bada says, her voice heavy. “He requested to see me in the hopes of negotiating for his branch to remain under his control.”

“Mmm,” you hum, grabbing the saline solution and a gauze pad, soaking it in the liquid, and holding it close to her wound. “This is going to hurt.”

“Can’t get much worse, can it?” Bada chuckles under her breath.

You take your unoccupied hand and grab hers for comfort. “Okay, three, two, one…” you press the saline-solution soaked gauze pad to her wound, causing her to let out a loud hiss, her hold on your hand tightening. “Keep talking, keep talking.” You encourage her, hoping that the action will allow her to stay awake and briefly distract her from the pain.

“Fuck...” She curses, closing her eye and gritting her teeth while you clean her wound. “U-Ram set me up. It was his last-ditch effort to keep me from taking over his business. Luckily–” she pauses when you press a bit more firmly on the area around her wound, grunting loudly. You apologize, which she quickly dismisses with a shake of her head. “Luckily, I predicted he’d betray me and brought the girls with me. But the bastard got a clean shot on me before I could blow his brains out.” Bada spits, the frustration and deep anger in her voice clear as day.

“Well, you’re right about him getting a clean shot.” You whisper. “The bullet went right through you, no shrapnel.”

“That’s good, right?” She asks you.

“Very good.” You nod, “I don’t have to dig out any fragments of the bullet out of your wound. I just have to close it.”

“How do you know so much about this type of stuff?” Bada watches you thread a needle with a suture fluidly, like it’s second nature.

“My mother wanted me to become a doctor.” You inform your fiancée, knotting the suture to the needle. “She made me study for hours on end about how to properly dress wounds, treat patients, and stitch up injuries.”

“Really?” Bada stares at you, the fog in her head finally ebbing away as she focuses on your words. “If you hadn’t gotten engaged to me, would you have become a doctor?”

“Probably,” you nod, one hand holding onto hers again, and the other clutching the threaded needle. “I’m going to start stitching, okay?”

Your fiancée squeezes your hand, encouraging you to begin. “Did you want to become a doctor?” She continues asking you questions, looking down at your figure kneeled before her. Although your hands are covered in dried blood, and your eyebrows are creased together deeply in concentration, you look absolutely perfect.

“I never really thought about it.” You admit, piercing your fiancée’s skin with the needle, and threading it through. “because it’s what my mother wanted for me, it didn’t matter if I wanted to pursue the career or not.”

“She never–” Bada cuts herself off by letting out a semi-loud groan at one of the more painful stitches, her abs flexing out of instinct. “she never asked you what you wanted?”

“No.” You shake your head.

"I'm surprised she wanted you to pursue a separate career from your father's business," she says, confusion clear in her voice.

"I'm sure you know how it is," you mumble. "Women must remain subordinates under men. Besides, I didn't know the truth behind my father's business until the day I met you."

Bada frowns disapprovingly. "I've noticed your parents like to keep you in the dark."

"Yes well, secrets prosper in the dark," you utter, words sour like a tart, and unripe cherry.

"I find that kind of behavior detestable." Bada scoffs, "The truth is of more value than dirty lies."

You smile softly to yourself. "That's what I appreciate about you." Your fiancée turns her gaze in your direction, eyebrows slowly dipping down, prompting you to continue. "You don't keep me in the dark about anything. I always feel like I can trust you, no matter the circumstance."

Bada swears she feels her heart jump in her chest, beating wildly like a drum at your words. "I'm glad you feel that way. I want you to be free of any worries when you're with me."

You nod, the sweet smile splayed across your lips never once dimming. “How are you doing, by the way? I’m almost done.”

“Amazing, honey.” She says, her teeth suddenly gnawing her bottom lip at the next stitch you complete, while she takes in deep breaths.

“Do you need a break?” You ask, squeezing her hand as a form of comforting her.

“No, keep going.” Bada shifts her gaze so she’s looking at you straight in the eyes. “I can take it.”

You let out a deep breath, nodding before continuing to stitch.

Your fiancée only lets you sit in silence for a minute before she speaks up. “If you weren’t with me, and your mother wasn’t a factor in the decision,” she begins, “what would your dream career be?”

You remain quiet, a thoughtful look crossing your expression as you reach the final two stitches. “Honestly, I can’t imagine myself anywhere else other than right here, with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Bada places her hands on your waist, rubbing her fingers up and down.

“Yeah.” You whisper, finishing her stitches and cutting the thread. You shift on your feet to grab the gauze, wrapping Bada’s wound with it. Before you fully pull away, you make sure to press a tender kiss against the gauze, then stand up. “There, all done. How does that feel?”

“I can already feel myself healing.” She pulls you in close, your body pressed up against hers. “You have magical hands.”

You run your fingers through Bada’s silky smooth hair, smiling softly. “I’m glad.”

Bada stares up at you with love-filled eyes, the worry in your expression still lingering. She knows she shouldn’t feel glad that you care enough about her to fuss over her, but she can’t help but feel a slight warmth in the pit of her stomach at the revelation.

“If I keep coming back injured from jobs, will you take care of me like this?” She asks you, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Yes, but you better not start getting hurt on purpose.” You lightly scold her, continuing to card your fingers through her hair.

“No promises.” Bada smiles at you.

taglist:

@aericrys, @somerandomtinyperson, @bluebada, @dallaji, @luvjanexx, @hyejuwu, @diana-rose-25, @jjlovesbada, @cephox, @prilux, @youknow1234, @fae-the-wanderer, @mightymyo, @aein-tings, @badasgirlfriend, @onlyyou-metanoia, @wiselight, @badasoneandonly, @multiliker, @badabonita, @randomhoex, @justaharmlesspotat0, @sporadicfacebasement, @4bada, @seungxstar, @urlovebot

(if your name is crossed out i wasn't able to to tag you)

want to join the taglist? send me a message or comment saying you'd like to be on it, and i'll add you!

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

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ghostlykeyes · 6 months

Note

HI honeyy I love ur blog!!! can u please write the headcanons for kayn and K/da f!reader...how do the two of them explain their relationship to their fans or maybe they give a moment in a few shows?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN: K/DA READER ♡ Female Reader ♡ SFW, with slight touching/sensuality ♡ No TWs ♡ THIS GOT SO LONG. I am willing to write more for this situation, since I had to cut a lot of my OG ideas to make room for what felt the most important...truly Kayn floods my mind and cannot be expressed or exhausted

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN

When Akali dragged you along to one of Kayn's birthday parties, all she wanted was a drinking buddy to keep her company while Kayn was doing, quote, "birthday boy shit". She wasn't expecting you and Kayn to hit it off so well. She definitely wasn't expecting to find you two wedged in a coat closet, shoving your tongues down each other's throats. She had two words for Kayn as she linked her arm in yours and tugged you out from between a leather jacket and an 80's windbreaker; "Do. not."

But, after two torturously long weeks of you never shutting up about Kayn during rehearsals, and Kayn texting her so much she has to threaten to block him for any sort of peace and quiet (at all hours of the night and day, "hey gimme your hot friend's number", over and over AND OVER AND OVER), Akali comes around. She's just worried for you. Kayn's got quite the reputation, and she doesn't want him to fuck around with you and break your heart. But, she figures, you're both adults, so who is she to stand in the way of whatever you've got going on. So she eventually texts Kayn your number, but not without a warning; "you remember I know martial arts, yeah? and that I can totally kick your fucking ass? don't break my girl's heart dipshit".

On the whole, K/DA supports your budding relationship with Kayn. Even though he's a bit wild, the group's whole thing is about being individual and true to yourself—it seems hypocritical to tell you that you can't be caught holding hands with Kayn in line at Chipotle anymore for the sake of the band's image.

Heartsteel is a bit more tentative about you and Kayn. Alune's nervous to have Kayn dating such a high-profile star when Heartsteel has literally JUST broken onto the scene. But, this is Kayn, after all. What are they going to ask him to do, stop seeing you? He wouldn't listen. Besides, you do seem like a good influence in his life, and if the way his eyes light up whenever he sees your name pop up on his phone screen say anything, he's crazy about you. Eventually Alune sways other management and teams to embrace your relationship, as long as the two of you try to keep it relatively low-key.

If anyone ever implies he's with you to boost Heartsteel's fame or that he's trying to ride K/DA's coattails to the top, Kayn blows up. "We don't need shit from anybody," he sneers, "we're gonna climb to the top all by our fucking selves. Oh, and if you think (Y/N) would settle for anything less than a born rockstar? You're fucking stupid."

For your part, you're more subtle when publicly discussing your relationship with Kayn, but you still shoot down any ideas that he's with you for your status. "Heartsteel definitely doesn't need K/DA's help," you assert. "They're superstars and they're earning their spot on the music scene fair and square."

Kayn is your absolute fucking biggest superfan. He knows your lyrics front-to-back, he shows up to every single event he can, and he even uses Ezreal's Mercari account to snag rare merch that's being resold. Kayn tries to play it cool, but come on. You've seen the amount of posters he tries to hide in his closet. Only a fanboy has a collection like that.

There's hundreds of paparazzi photos of you two floating around on the internet, and Kayn's got a love-hate relationship with that fact. On the one hand, he loves being seen with you—what better way to claim you as his own than a photo of him literally grabbing your ass on the cover of a trashy gossip mag? On the other hand, can't a guy get some goddamn privacy? He hates that he has to share you with anyone, prying 'journalists' included. To make light of it, though, you two have started a little game. You send each other the wildest claims you can find about your relationship, trying to one up the other. Kayn's still winning with the article claiming that he's exercising some kind of mind-control to make you his girlfriend.

Flipping off the camera and open-mouth kissing you is one of Kayn's favorite poses to strike if he notices paparazzi lurking. For your part? You're just happy for his attention.

Kayn loves when you sneak into his shows. You usually have to wear a hoodie and go incognito to avoid getting mobbed, but don't worry, Kayn can pick you out of a crowd no matter what you're wearing. Sometimes, if you're standing close enough to the stage, he'll take off his shirt and toss it at you. He gets off on the attention, on thousands of people all-but-worshipping him, and if his favorite person is in the throng, knowing his worst parts but screaming for him alongside everyone else, just the same? Ego-boost of the fucking century. He may not express it to you often, but he really, really appreciates when you come see his shows.

Your packed schedules present a challenge, and Kayn despises the fact that you're often touring hours away from him. He still tries to talk to you as much as possible, even if it's not in person. Expect daily FaceTime calls, frequent Discord DM's, and around the clock blurry pictures of Kayn causing mischief.

Bless Akali's heart because Kayn absolutely harasses her about you. Whenever you're busy, he bugs her; "tell my gf to come back from the ded". Anytime you're on tour, he Venmoes her money to buy you your favorite fast food. She complains to you constantly—"tell your purse dog to stop yipping at me"— but really, she doesn't mind spoiling you by proxy. She's just happy that Kayn dotes on you so much.

Kayn jokes about making you late for rehearsal a lot—especially if he's halfway down your neck in a heated makeout sesh—but the truth is, that's never going to happen. Sure, he dicks around a lot, but he never gives less than one-hundred-and-ten to Heartsteel and he's not about to let you slack off, either. That includes making sure you get to your K/DA commitments on time (even if your neck is littered with hickies).

Kayn loves when you show him your choreography. He listens intently as you explain how to go through the steps, or complain about what you're struggling with. Often, he'll offer critique; "you look a little off-balance, try standing this way," or "Have you tried positioning a little more to the left?". Sometimes, these are genuine tips. Most of the time, though, he's just looking for an excuse to feel you up. What better way to sneakily touch your boobs than "suggesting" your chest needs to come out more?

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn #k/da

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galamalion · 9 months

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˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ first date (ii)

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ summary﹕what do you do on your first date?

⋆ * ˖ ⋆ notes﹕hello!! hoping to crank another one out for the marines in a few days. until then enjoy your classy warlords! [link to first]

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ pairing﹕seven warlords x gn!reader

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ mihawk﹕

mihawk prefers the finer things in life, but he also values solitude, so he’d settle for having a home-cooked meal with you

he’s fine with doing most of the cooking but doesn’t mind if you want to help

each dish is prepared with love (and home-grown fresh ingredients picked directly from his monkey-run garden…)

the dinner itself is fantastic, he brings out the nice plates and even opens a bottle of his favorite vintage champagne (did that tag say ฿5,000,000?)

he makes pleasant conversation with you, asking about your hobbies, interests, anything to know you better

after the dinner, mihawk offers you to walk around his vast estate, watching the sunset on the island with him

he’ll propose that you stay on the island for tonight, showing you to an extravagant room, but he is happy to escort you back to your own home if you choose

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ crocodile﹕

crocodile takes you to a lavish restaurant in arabasta (one that he owns, he’s had this planned for about a week)

the service is exquisite, if you want something all you have to do is tell crocodile and he’ll snap his fingers and ta-da! Instant assistance!

sometimes you think you see crocodile subtly threatening the workers, but he plays it off as friendly banter between boss and subordinate

he asks about your interests, taking note of your likes and dislikes in order to buy you the perfect overpriced gifts

every so often he’ll sneak in a flirtatious remark, flashing you a smirk (and was that a wink?)

once you finish your meals he’ll escort you out in perfect gentlemanly fashion, taking your arm and guiding you down the steps

afterwards he’ll offer to show you around arabasta, showing you the hottest tourist locations (skipping every line because he is the crocodile) if you choose to accompany him

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ boa hancock﹕

hancock proposes a relaxing gondola ride, except instead of a person rowing the boat it’s salome tugging it

she packs every dish and meal imaginable: breakfast, lunch, dinner, even dessert

for a while she’ll try to hand feed you, insisting that you don’t lift a finger on this peaceful boat ride

the ride is mostly quiet, except for the occasional sea king who interrupts the ride (and boa immediately turns to stone)

she’ll slowly snake her hand behind your shoulders, her face getting redder the further she gets

sometimes she’ll sneak a kiss in, never daring to go past your forehead (her heart might explode)

when you return to the island she’ll ask if you just want to cuddle, wanting to spend the rest of the day alone with you

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ doflamingo﹕

doflamingo obviously takes you to the classiest venue money could buy: a casino

chances are he probably owns the place, which explains why he’s dropping so much money on the slots (which he keeps winning somehow)

he calls you his ‘good luck charm,’ having you sit on his lap as he plays cards at the high-stakes table

if you ask nicely, he’ll probably let you wear his pink coat which you find out is incredibly soft and probably made with real flamingo feathers

he pulls you closer when the game becomes more intense, whispering flirty comments into your ear while he intimidates the competition

doffy gives you all of his winnings (he’s rich, why would he need all this spare change?)

he’ll take you shopping after with your recently earned money, letting you sit on his towering shoulders as you stroll through the streets of dressrosa

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Object of Desire (Epilogue)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, breastfeeding kink, smut, angst, domination, swearing, mention of postpartum depression ]

[ description: After a difficult childbirth and finding out what kind of man her late husband was, Aemond finally finds the strength to truly understand his wife. Their life becomes peaceful and successful until Aegon is seriously injured in battle and he is proclaimed Prince Regent. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, the image of himself with Aegon the Conqueror's crown placed on his head had flashed through his mind. He had never thought of depriving his elder brother of the throne, but they both knew that he was better suited to the role.

However, now, as his King lay in his chamber, with burns that caused him so much pain that they made it impossible for him to move, let alone rule the kingdom, when he was proclaimed Prince Regent, the weight of the steel pressing down on his forehead and temples seemed to overwhelm him.

His wife stood beside him, seated on the Iron Throne − she was showing her allegiance to him by wearing on her neck and fingers the sapphire jewels, necklaces and rings he had given her, her gown as usual in the colours of her lineage, blue.

He knew that she did not desire rich, shiny gifts, and his presents were not intended to satisfy her vanity − never able to express his feelings and thoughts aloud, he preferred to show his respect and affection towards her in this way, and she accepted it with calmness and gratitude.

She paid tribute to him as the last person to stand in front of his throne − she bowed and wanted to kneel, but he stopped her with a gesture of his hand, ordering her to stand up.

He did not stop her when she approached him, when her hand grasped his, when she lifted it to her lips and kissed it reverently, closing her eyes.

He swallowed loudly, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb, feeling like just grabbing her around the waist and placing her on his lap, the way he would if they were alone in his chamber.

She moved away from him, looking at him with peace − a certainty, a pride that made him feel a warm contentment, something in her violet eyes that always reassured him.

She was his ally.

Not his grandfather's, his mother's, or his brother's.

His.

The mother of his heir.

His wife.

After the ceremony, a council was gathered, led by him, to determine what to do about the situation in Harrenhal, besieged for some time by Daemon. He did not allow his wife to leave the chamber, pointing with his hand to the seat on his right hand that would normally be occupied by his mother. His sire accepted this with humility, allowing his wife to take the seat next to him, herself sitting down next to Ser Criston.

Silence fell.

"How long do we have to tolerate Daemon flying around the kingdom threatening to take the crown from my brother? He laughs in our faces, occupying a stronghold so close to the Eyrie." He said coolly, his voice deep and defiant, certain. He heard his wife draw in a deep breath upon hearing the name of her ancestral fortress, lowering her gaze to her fingers.

His grandfather grunted loudly, twisting in his seat with a quiet creak of wood, looking at the faces of those gathered with a raised eyebrow.

"In my opinion, Prince Daemon wants to provoke you, Your Grace. It is obvious that his target is King's Landing. In my opinion, Harrenhal is a small price to pay to keep the capital, let him hold this fortress if he so desires."

"Harrenhal is the bridge between the North and the South. Daemon will burn Lord Arryn's army if he chooses to come to our call." He replied impatiently, Criston Cole grunted loudly, eager to make his point.

"There is only one King. Prince Daemon must be reminded of that." He said coldly, looking at him intensely, ready to rally their entire army at one sign of his. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife, who was looking at him with a gaze he knew well.

As always, she was letting him decide if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

He nodded at her, allowing her to speak.

"You are the rider of the greatest dragon in the kingdom, my king. You must remain in King's Landing. The Red Keep, unlike the Eyrie, can be conquered. Prince Daemon is just waiting for this. I'm certain that when he hears that you are heading in his direction with his army he will join his wife and they will march here together. Blockade of my uncle's army will still be a lesser loss." She said calmly, looking at her hands, his grandfather nodded, his face expressing surprise and some kind of admiration.

"Your wife speaks with great wisdom, Your Grace, and I agree with her completely." He said, and he looked away, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, thinking intensely about what she had said.

What if he does indeed move on Harrenhal, and finds only an empty fortress with children, old men and women?

What if Daemon humiliates him, tricks him like a little child hoping he'll swallow his bait, and attacks the Red Keep along with his half-sister knowing he won't make it back in time?

"Forgive me, my Lady, however, idleness is the domain of women, not men." Criston Cole hissed, but fell silent, swallowing hard, his lips pressed together as he met his warning gaze.

"You mistake idleness for wisdom and caution, my Lord. Like many men before you." His wife replied, and he clenched his fingers on the base of his nose and closed his eyes, sighing impatiently.

"Enough." He ordered, a tense silence fell around him, his wife looked away − he could see the vein pulsing fast on her slender, long neck, her cheeks red, betraying her annoyance.

"Mother." He turned to her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as he always did, reckoning with her opinion. He saw her swallow hard, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails in a nervous gesture, her big brown eyes filled with fear, uncertainty and dread.

"I think it's a trap, Aemond. Daemon is clever, he lives to mock others. He's always been this way."

He sighed quietly, feeling that despite his deep desire to lead his army to victory, there was much right in the doubts of his wife, grandfather and mother − when his anger and desire to prove himself began to give way to common sense he recognised that indeed if he left the Red Keep, his half-sister would take the opportunity.

"Let our spies continue to watch him and report his doings to us. We should think about luring him out of there somehow. Is there any news from the Iron Islands?" He asked, Lord Lannister nodded and grunted loudly.

"Yes. They agree to a set sum. They will stand against the Velaryon fleet at our call. However, they demand that their independence from the crown be upheld." He said quickly, nervously, adding the last sentence as if on the fly, clearly afraid of his reaction. He sighed heavily and merely nodded.

Their discussion continued for a few more hours, touching on the army, its supplies and the state of the soldiers' morale, their attitudes, whether an agreement could be reached with Lord Baratheon to remain neutral in exchange for the seat on the Small Council that his grandfather had offered in place of his own, knowing that it was his decision that had caused the betrothal to his daughters to be broken off.

When he had heard all he wished he closed the council by dismissing everyone but his wife.

She looked at him with her characteristic composure, watching as he removed Aegon the Conqueror's crown from his head and placed it with reverence on the top of the stone table in front of him. He gazed at its steel surface thoughtfully, tapping the tip of his finger against it, each time causing it to make a quiet clink.

"All my life I have thought about this moment. But it's not how I imagined it." He said finally, his voice impassive and tired. He heard her sigh quietly with understanding, looking down at his hands.

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, hearing only the sounds coming from outside the windows, the loud conversations of guards and servants shouting in the courtyard.

"They'll think I'm a craven." He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling uncertainty and frustration rising in his chest − he sensed that she looked at him, her hand tightening on his, as if she wanted to give him the courage to do the right thing.

"He knows this is what you fear most. He'll laugh and mock that you're afraid to face him, but we both know he'll do it because he hopes it will break you. Don't let him dictate to you the terms of when and where you will face each other. It's humiliating." She said with a certainty from which he felt a squeeze in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, his thumb running over her soft skin.

"I'm expecting your child."

He shuddered, looking at her with his lips parted in disbelief, his heart began to pound hard at the thought that just a month after she'd given birth to his son, despite their shared promises, he'd come deep inside her when he'd made love to her, unable to stop himself, her hands clenched tightly on his bare buttocks, her sweet moans begging for his seed.

How could he deny her?

"Forgive me." He whispered in a trembling voice, thinking of the nightmare she'd endured, of how long she'd been unable to recover from it, how close she'd come to leaving this world. He heard her hum under her breath as she smiled softly, shaking her head.

"No. It is a good omen. A sign from the gods that they favour you." She replied, looking at him as if she was the one who wanted to comfort him, his fingers intertwined with hers. "I think this time will be different. I already know what to expect and that I can count on your support, my King."

He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips, placing a loud, lingering kiss on her smooth skin.

"They have taken pity on me, sending me you as my wife. My Queen." He muttered, drawing her close to him, gripping her waist, seating her comfortably on his lap, leaning against the back of his chair with a quiet sigh, gazing at her familiar, pleasant figure with tenderness.

She smiled warmly at his words, taking his face in her hands, stroking it with her thumbs. He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen, feeling sleepy and tired even though his manhood clearly expressed its pleasure at her closeness, swelling in his breeches.

"I will order a meal to be prepared for you and brought to your chamber. You have hardly eaten or slept for days."

"Mmm." He hummed, satisfied, as always, that she was watching him, that she knew what he needed without asking him unnecessary questions.

While this would surely have caused his frustration with another woman, her initiative didn't bother him; on the contrary, it made his daily life a lot easier, giving him the feeling that he didn't have to think of everything himself.

She was the one who decided what attire he should wear for what occasion, what they would eat for their morning meal, knowing what he liked most. To his satisfaction, she also found herself in the role of mother, establishing a close bond with their son, Jace's attachment to her and how joyfully he reacted to the sight of her made her eager to hold him in her embrace, letting him watch her feed him in the evenings.

His greatest weakness, as he found out, proved to be not the lack of his eye or control over his fiery temper, but the taste of her milk melting across his palate as his son slept peacefully at night with his belly filled with her food.

He clamped his mouth over her swollen, puffy nipples, sucking on them greedily as his fat cock thrust impatiently into her slick interior, teasing with its tip the spot inside her that made her moan shamelessly with pleasure.

"− my King −" She sobbed sweetly with her thighs spread wide, letting him pound into her with deep, fast pushes, purring with pleasure into the skin of her breasts, swallowing loudly her wonderful nectar. His sound vibrated through her entire body making her walls clench against him greedily, squeezing him, his thumb teasing and trailing around her pearl, making her fingers dig helplessly into his naked, sweaty back.

"− this is a meal worthy of the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, don't you think? − my wife's sweet, warm milk −" He murmured, running the tip of his nose over her nipple only to move his face to her other breast, repeating the same process, justifying his behaviour by the fact that he knew the excess milk was causing her pain and discomfort, and he couldn't imagine it going to waste.

"− yes − it's all yours − f-fuck −" She muttered, tilting her head back, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders with his low groan as he felt her core begin to pulse around his manhood in orgasm, squeezing his seed out of him.

He didn't have the strength to resist and just filled her with himself, sighing in relief, licking her nipple with the tip of his tongue, as oversensitive as the rest of her body − she whimpered, trying to push him away but he wouldn't let her, busy with sucking her milk until she calmed down.

"− Aemond, please − oh gods −" She mumbled softly, completely absorbed in her fulfilment, panting heavily. He remained deep inside her, leaning on his elbow, not wanting to crush her with his body, remembering in the back of his mind about the baby in her womb.

"− what is it? − my wife is overwhelmed? − impossible −" He sneered with a grin of satisfaction − since it appeared that his attention to her breasts aroused not only him, she was soaking wet for him, her fulfilment approaching quickly and violently, making her body completely vulnerable and limp, as if she herself was shocked by how intense the sensation was.

"− I didn't even notice when you filled me again, my King − I'm inclined to think you're drawing satisfaction from my pleasure −" She cooed with a sweet smile, from which he chuckled under his breath, leaning towards her − her hand pulled him closer as their lips joined in a hot, sticky, soft kiss, her swollen breasts pressed against his chest.

He ran the tip of his nose over hers, looking into her eyes, a violet he adored − the shade of her irises slightly darker than his, warmer, shimmering wonderfully in the moonlight illuminating their bed.

He wanted to confess to her the many things that did not slip through his throat, the affection that filled his heart with heat, yet he remained silent, looking at her with a gaze she knew well. She always reacted the same way, her soft hand stroking his jaw as only two words came out of her mouth, spoken in a whisper.

"I know."

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ioniansunsets · 6 months

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i discovered your blog today and i have a scenario in mind that i have to share with you!

could you write a Heartsteel!Kayn request with K/DA!reader? — headcanons, fic or even the two of them talking on discord; it could be anything! — if you want to ignore it, i will understand, dear.

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn with K/DA!Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.1k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I'm also going with headcanon of the idol thing where they try not to get caught in public together to avoid gossip but people somehow ship you guys and speculate anyway teehee ITS CUTE!!!!! I'm also pretending you guys got together after he joined Heartsteel so its after he got removed from his old band.also PARANOIA DROP IN 10 HOURS LETS GO TEAM!!!!!!!! I LOVE HEARTSTEEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

----

xxxx On Tour xxxx

- It sucked so bad! It was touring season and the both of you guys were busy. All your time together were quick video calls over Discord and sporadic updates via message. It wasn't a secret to your bandmates at least so your respective bands did try their best to give you space. Quiet moments in dressing rooms to call each other were now your small moments of peace between practice sets and live shows.

- Somehow still finding ways to love each other apart. Kayn getting Akali to buy you some chocolates from him. You pleading Alune to help you send Kayn some flowers after his show. (She's a sucker for romance so she lovingly helps you.) Or the way he would spend money getting someone to deliver dinner to you after a long show.

- If only one of you guys are touring, the other totally pays and watches all the livestreams and tries to pop by to shows! You're performing 3h from him? He's begging your manager to let him drop by. Waiting for you backstage to congratulate you on your hard work.

- If you're the one waiting for Kayn backstage he always visibly lights up. He tries to look cool and badass on stage but when its after a good show, seeing you wave at him in the halls, his heart soars! He runs over, pulling you in for a tight hug. " Did you hear me! I was good today wasn't I!" He'd smile proud, giving you a kiss as he fishes for compliments. There is no approval he craves more than your own.

- The other boys are surprisingly nice about it, no one really makes fun of Kayn for being so excited to see you (other than Ezreal). They treat you as one of the band, giving you VIP passes to pop by their shows. And you do the same for them! When possible you slip their manager some VIP tickets to your show for them to sneak in. A mutual understanding from both groups to protect you and Kayn from media.

- Pre-debut Heartsteel, Kayn has also went to almost all your shows, front row every time and surprisingly he always tries to match you hair color for the tour. You have bright blue for tour? So does he. Its blonde now? He's the same. Kayn just thinks its kinda cute to safely match with you in someway shape or form, it is just a small thing that paparazzi wouldn't pick up on so easily since so many other fans do it too.

xxxx Off Stage xxxx

- A supportive power couple, you two help each other out with band activities off stage. You aid him when he practices singing. Kayn giving you tips on how to get keep a good rhythm in your verses, and is also a personal cheerleader for dance practices. You'd help him get connections to other companies that K/DA has collabed with, trying to help Heartsteel succeed! Kayn helps out in his own ways too, sometimes playing tunes in his room for you to sing to. It is all really sweet.

- When he drops by your studio its adorable, it was before Heartsteel's debut and shortly after the peak of KD/A's release. Kayn trying to hide from paparazzi for your sake as he sneaks in through the back. Always in a different cap and sunglasses that he stole from Ezreal, he would wait in the practice room, sitting in a corner and cheering whenever you successfully get a dance move down. The other members don't seem to mind him much, he's now a common presence in the studio. The other girls seem fond of him, happy that you have someone so supportive by your side.

- You try to do the same between your busy training schedule too. Dropping by Kayn's place during band practice evenings, Yone always being the one to let you in since Kayn always sleeps in late. You'd bring snacks and a discerning ear. Your feedback being super useful as you're one of the few people Kayn actually listens to. What Aphelios or Sett say would take multiple attempts and a lot of effort to get through to Kayn, as such, the rest of the gang keep trying to get you to push him to not try to squeeze a "totally sick line" into the rap bridge.

- He doesn't show it off but Kayn has all your merch, you offer to give it to him but he refuses, something about manly pride and supporting his partner, he will spend his own money and time fighting with other fans to buy your merch. A lightstick by his bed, your album on his shelf. A limited edition photocard safely stacked in a top loader on his table (he doesn't have a wallet or else he would totally bring it around.)

- You do the same for him, as one of Heartsteel's first fans you own some of their original merch, simple tees with just their logo, a average blank CD with " Paranoia KAYN MIX" scrawled on in messy marker, they are all your treasured possessions. Kayn even let you keep some of his guitar picks, you have one with a hole punched in as a necklace that you wear when apart from him. Your one secret? You have CDs from when he was in his old band, only the album that he was included in of course, but you don't bring up how you were secretly a fan from his early career. - Sometimes you guys try to go out on dates, risky but fun! 3am walks at the beach, alone together as he plays the acoustic guitar for you by the waves as you sing. Expensive private room dinners at secluded restaurants, walking in, both of you with your hair temporarily dyed black with hair spray dye to try and avoid attention. Small things. Fun things. - It was a little embarrassing when rumors first circulated. Fans somehow finding it cute that Heartsteel can be seen at your shows or how sometimes K/DA gets spotted backstage at Heartsteel concerts. They started to ship members together and when a photo of Kayn looking at you with a soft loving smile was snapped, the internet went wild! *Isn't it cute how they can get Kayn to smile that way!* *Ah! It should be me I want to be them so bad!!!!* Kayn would never admit it to you but he likes all the TikTok video edits of the two of you together, he thinks its really cute unironically.

#THIS TOOK A WHILE I WAS SO BRAIN EMPTY #i only knew i wanted them to wait backstage for each other #IM GLAD I GOT SOME HEADCANONS OUT #its really cute tbh #Anon Answer #WHY ARE ALL MY ASKS KAYN HEARTSTEEL LMAO YALL #Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #KaynLeague #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn League #Kayn LoL #HEADCANONS #League of Legends Headcanons #K/DA Reader

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 8 months

Note

whipped price is the best price!! i read countryside again earlier on while ao3 was down and it soooo good literally tempted to read it again before i go to sleep tbh looooool but food for thought because i literally think of price and sunshine!reader before i go to sleep but what if (and idk if this is cliche but i am going to be a cliche for this cause why not)

but what ifffff price goes off to the toilet for a week and while he’s gone he leaves sunshine!reader at the bar to get drinks (yes at marissa’s place) anyway sunshine is at the barrr and some random dude comes up and starts to hit on her and she’s like nah dude i’m good thanks and he still hits on her and even marissa is like ‘seriously back off’ and then after a bit price comes out and sees and starts puffing his chest a bit cause ? who da fuck is that flirting with his women?! and the others see him storming over and try to brace themselves for the wrath of price on this muppet flirting with his girl and that’s all i have rn butttt if you wanna continue it then please do

TLTR; price gets jealous of another guy hitting on his girl and i am wondering if you’d be down to finish it off cause you’d do a wayyy better job then me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: Thank you s much love. This definitely took I turn, not gonna lie, but I still like it, hope it's alright<3

Dark and Stormy

Summary; When another guy hits on you, Price gets protective. One thing leads to another and you find yourself in a vastly unfamiliar situation with Price that Ghost helps manoeuvre.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4.3k

Warnings; PTSD, mental health discussion, protective!Price, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The intention of tonight was a quiet night out. Or, as calm as it gets when there's football on the telly. It also was when Johnny entertained a conversation with you rather than watching the game, as disinterested in the sport as they come compared to the others. And yes, even when a team scored, the evening was peaceful.

But then two things happened. John excused himself to the toilet while you headed to the bar, wanting a drink and something to chew on. It was a few minutes before half-time and you knew there would be a wave of people flocking towards where Marissa, at the moment, stood unoccupied, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes drifting over the crowd with an amused look. As you stepped up to the counter, that gaze settled upon you.

"Ain't it fascinating they can be this invested?" Marissa was as uninterested in football as Johnny, yet both possessed a good understanding of the game and the current season. Both your friend and the Scotsman unwillingly so, regarding the bar broadcasts relevant games on weekends and, apparently, it was a common topic not only off but on base amongst the men.

You shrugged in return. "Each to their own".

"I guess", she huffed, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. With two short steps, she stood in front of you. "Wanna get something?"

"You already know what I want", you replied, to which she put a hand on her chest, an exaggerated expression morphing her features as her mouth dropped open.

"To come and keep me company, you shouldn't have", Marissa flicked her hand, making you chuckle.

"If it makes you pay for my drink, sure", you wink at her.

"Dream on, missy", Marissa chuckles as she goes to prepare the beverage, but she stops in her track suddenly, eyes shifting away from you.

"I can pay for your drink, gorgeous". You jump slightly at the voice close to you. With a swivel of your head, you instantly locate the blonde man who'd crept up behind you.

"No, thank you", you reply with a polite smile, turning towards Marissa again, trying to make it obvious you turned his efforts down.

"Didn't sound like that a second ago". Your brows furrow, sending the blonde a look over your shoulder.

"Joke between friends", you reply curtly, motioning between yourself and Marissa.

"Well, she can't keep you company all night, can she?" He smiled, leaning on the bar beside you with his elbow. "But I can". He must've thought the wink accompanying his sentence was meant to lighten your mood. If anything, it made you cringe inwardly and take a step away from him.

"Got my boyfriend for that". You looked forwards, locking eyes with Marissa. She met you with an expression you didn't need words to understand.

You saw a movement in your peripheral. Glancing at the man, you spot him turning his head left and right, looking behind him. "Don't see him around. You're not lying to me now, are you?"

You didn't look at him as he faced you, only following Marissa as she propped one of her hands on her hip, a low muttered 'Jesus' passing under he breath.

"Her man shouldn't need to be attached to her hip for you to understand what a no means", Marissa remarks. You send her a thankful look as her eyes momentarily shift to you.

"He should if having a girl this peng otherwise people will bother her all the time".

"Like you?" You finally turn towards him, arms crossed over your chest.

His brows are furrow, setting his features in a hard stare. "What did you say?"

You want to roll your eyes. But honestly, how the man's voice fell so drastically from the flirty tone made you hesitant. Yeah, you were bordering between annoyed and cautious now. "I'm saying I'm not interested in and you're making me uncomfortable".

"But I've done nothing wrong", he claimed.

"You may interpret that way, but I feel differently, so please", you motioned towards some other tables, asking the man to leave you be.

"I can stay here to have a drink if I want to", he states, turning to Marissa, making no move to listen to your desire for him to give you space. "I'll have a dark ale".

"I won't serve you", she declares.

"You can't decide that", he points at your friend, who cocks her head.

"I can. I own this place".

"Bull-fuckin-shit you do. What poor old grandpa did you rob this place from? Shouldn't even be surprised you took his life-work from him". Your mouth dropped open. Marissa's face hardened.

"Believe what you want because this is my pub and no one here will serve you". The man opened his mouth, about to continue the argument, when someone interrupted him.

"You can't get a clearer no from either of them, mate". Your eyes instantly find John upon his voice. He's standing behind the man looking at Marissa, then you, only for his eyes to meet the blonde's as he turns his head to see who's talking to him.

"I didn't talk to you, now did I, old man?"

"Maybe not, but you didn't show any signs of human decency and respect to her". John motions to Marissa. "Neither did you care when she straightforwardly said she didn't enjoy your advances", he nods towards you.

Understanding that John caught his behaviour towards the two of you, the blonde suddenly switched up.

"Oh, come on, it's alright, ain't it, love?" He turns to face you, concerning you're the closest to him. Your nose scrunch at the pet name. In your mind, it was only reserved for John. That the man dared to use it despite how he's been acting made a revolting sensation grow in your stomach. "You don't mind me, right?" He raises his arm, attempting to put it around your shoulders in a manner of goodwill. But, you move out of his reach, not desiring to be touched by this man.

And, even if you hadn't moved, the blonde would never have reached you concerning how John acted swiftly. He'd grabbed his shoulder, a gentle pull making him take a few steps back to give you space. When the blonde stumbled slightly from the reasonable action, you understood the man wasn't entirely sober, quite far from it. Noticing the same thing, John placed himself between you and the man rather than standing by your side.

A look of disbelief crosses the blonde's features before he turns sour. "You looking to scrap?"

"No". John stands straight, using his full height to his advantage. He wasn't only taller but broader than the other man, and you barely saw anything of him if you didn't glance around John's frame. All those things together would've been enough for most to back off, but not this guy.

"Then piss off", the blonde spat, clearly thinking the liquid courage he'd gotten was enough to stand up to John, oblivious to his disadvantage. And that was only physical. With John's experience, you didn't doubt who'd be victorious in a possible fight. "I'm just trying to get a drink".

John scoffed, glancing back at you. You knew his easy attitude was for your sake, the way his hand sneaked backwards in search of yours reinforcing that as he faced forwards again.

"It sounded like you tried chattin' up my girl and then insulted her friend. And when both made clear your presence wasn't welcomed, you can't respect them enough to leave. If you didn't notice that it's time to head home". John motions towards the exit with a small jut of his chin as he finally drops what you hope is the hint that will make the blonde scurry away.

The man did catch it, his eyes flickering to you and then down to see your enlaced hands behind John's back. But you also recognised something else. Hurt fucking pride.

"Don't come and order me around", he scoffs, chest puffing.

"Only givin' you advice". John was serious. You gather that much despite not seeing his face. His voice had dropped a notch, his sentence more straightforward than previously. "Better off takin' it".

"Or what? You gonna force me, don't think ya would even land a hit", the blonde scoffed in return, swaying as he made a show of moving his head as if dodging punches.

Something changed in the air then. John cocked his head, chuckling. An uneasy sensation rolls through your body upon the sound. It was nothing joyful in it. It was stern, hard edges digging into his smooth and raspy voice.

You know John is SAS, a soldier through and through. He's violent, but not violent. He can separate work from... this. What you feared, however, is that what he deals with professionally is calculated. Everything is planned, counted and weighed until agreed on something remotely executable. Initial planning left little to chance. That much you knew with your sparse knowledge of the military.

The blonde staring at John now was nothing of this. He was uncalculated, impulsive. He could do something stupid in seconds. You trusted John, not the man.

"Don't buy into his crap, please, John". You step up alongside him, gently shifting out of your enlaced hands to hold his arm, trying to divert his attention.

He doesn't look at you, eyes remaining locked with the man opposite him. "I won't".

"Ain't no fucking way to talk to me". You send the man a disgusted look.

"I talk however I want to you if you can't understand what a fucking no means", you spit back.

One of his brows cock and he steps forwards, hand raising. He doesn't come much further as John copies him. He steps out of your touch, one hand pushing forcefully enough against the guy's chest that he needs to catch himself at one of the stools.

"If you just were about to hit her-". Each syllable of the words is gritted through John's teeth as he speaks slowly. "-don't think about doin' it again". You hear the threat in his voice, the brush of 'test it, I dare you'.

Your throat constricts. And alarm of a situation spiralling out of control blaring in your body. You shoot Marissa a worried look and she knows what you can't say.

"I've had enough of this". Marissa firmly puts her hand down on the metal counter closest to her. Her action is followed by the rattling sound of glasses. John reacts in milliseconds, eyes snapping towards her. The blonde's attention follows a few seconds later. "You are not welcomed here anymore. Get out", she points at the blonde before motioning towards the door, her brown eyes darker than you've seen them in a long time.

"Or what?"

"I call the fuckin cops on you". She threatens, a sneer working itself into twisting her features.

The man is probably about to defy her and argue when a shadow suddenly positions itself at your side.

You feel dwarfed, standing so close to the new presence and John. But rather than shrinking in on yourself. You silently thank the gods it isn't an unwelcomed someone.

"You heard her". You look up at Ghost when he speaks. As always, his eyes were the sole feature peeking through his skull baklava. And right now, they bore into the blonde. "Get out". He didn't hesitate to grab the excess fabric of the jacket covering the man's shoulder.

"Take it easy, mate". The blonde almost whines as Ghost pulls him away from your group and forces him to walk ahead while he follows him to the exit. Even the man understood he'd met more than his match.

You don't hesitate to step around John to face him as soon as the man is gone. You immediately notice his lips set in an aggravated purse and how he must run a pointed tongue over his teeth. His head is turned, a hard stare boring into the man staggering away with Ghost's palm planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

"Hey". John's eyes finally met yours. They're dark, blue soladites gazing back at you. Something is brewing in them, something volatile. "Are you alright?"

John doesn't answer. Instead, his jaw only works, repeatedly tensing, making the muscle in his temple visible. It looks like he's chewing his words but can't spit them out.

You glance towards Ghost, who just pushed the man out of the pub, caring little about what he does with himself once out of the space.

Your eyes fall back to John as you sigh in relief. He still looks tense, and in an attempt to wordlessly tell him the situation is under control, you smile. But... you don't get a similar action in return. You got none, in fact. Something feels off. As if the situation is still spiralling despite the source of conflict gone. Your brows furrow, trying to snap him out of whatever resentment he can't seem to let go of by enlacing your fingers. Although, when your fingertips brush his, he flinches.

Taken aback by how his hand jerks away from yours and he moves back, you whisper his name. "John?"

Your hand hang in the air, staring at him. He's still looking at you. Even so, his gaze feels far-away. Now you're seriously worried.

"Not your fault". For being such a big man, Ghost moves quick and silently. Upon his sudden appearance by your side again, you turn to him.

"What?" His brown eyes lock with yours briefly before quickly falling on John again. He shakes his head once, not explaining something he must know.

"Marissa". You look at your friend when Ghost directs his attention on her. Even she's watching the situation with wide eyes, unfamiliarity written clearly over her features. "Have a secluded space?"

"I-uh, you can take my office". Your friend supplies the only private space within the pub's walls. Ghost nods, turning and stepping closer to John.

"Price". The masked man earns the attention of John when he settles on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Your mouth had opened, wanting to speak up about what just happened to you but stop yourself when no reaction to the touch comes. "Get a move on. To the back".

And he does. Like a soldier, John turns and heads to the doors leading to the backroom. Stunned, you follow him with your eyes.

"You should come". Ghost directs with a quick look over his shoulder just as he follows John. You do as he says with a quick look at Marissa. She tries to give you a calm expression and a gentle smile, but it's impossible after your interaction with the blonde man and this sudden turn of events. Your jaw clenches as you hurry to keep up with the two men.

One of Marissa's coworkers emerges from the backroom just as you near it. Instinctually she holds the door open for the two men to pass through after she's stepped into the main room. You offer her a 'just getting some things for Marissa' to ease her confusion. Thankfully, you know her and she replies 'alright' just as your friend calls for her. Probably to not linger about to keep it as free of people as possible concerning Ghost's request.

You press your lips together when the doors close, cutting off much of the pub's natural racket, walking briskly behind John and Ghost. Something gnaws in your chest as you look at the latter. Neither he seems relaxed.

Your arms wind around your stomach, silently stepping into Marissa's office, staying almost pressed against the door once your close it by leaning into it.

"Price", Ghost's voice makes John turn. "Your head's elsewhere". He continues. He doesn't sound cold, but he speaks evenly.

For being a masked man, you would describe Ghost as someone who usually has an expressive voice. But his current tone sounds matter-of-factual. Fuck. You gnaw your lip, fingers digging into your sides, eyes jumping between them.

"You ain't there". Ghost's words make your eyes flitter from John to him and stay there for a few moments. You only see parts of his face concerning how he's still facing John more than you. "You're back home, at the pub. There's nothin' to overthink, nothin' to deal with, nothin' more happenin'. You hear me?"

John nods. But the large man only shakes his head in return. "Answer me, Captain".

"Hear ya, L.T.". John's voice is low and gritty as he grunts the reply.

Ghost nods curtly, a swift tip of his chin. "It's all in your head. Get it back on your shoulders", he continues, letting his sentence hang in the air rather than filling the silence with anything else.

Though you don't understand the interaction fully, you're starting to grasp what's going on in the stillness. You watch John closely as he crosses his arms over his chest and inhales slowly, holding his breath before exhaling. He repeats the action over and over.

"That cunt ain't here to bother you or your sweetheart, neither is anyone else, so at ease". Ghost angles his body, your eyes landing upon his profile. He motions to you with his hand, bringing a set of eyes to you. Yet, they're not brown, but blue.

Upon John's attention, you shift, shuffling on your feet, but don't avert your eyes. The look from before is still there, though it doesn't feel as intense. And then, slowly, it melts. It's nothing grand, not a sudden shift, no jerk of realisation. But the forced labour breathing John focused on eases into something natural, making his shoulders drop and the look in his eyes change. He feels present. As if he's actually looking at you now. A gentleness fills his eyes. They warm up.

Then, John's eyes flutter close, his head notching forwards. One of his hands settles by his temple, massaging the sensitive point before travelling to the bridge of his nose, pinching the highest point as a deep furrow sets his brows close to his fingers.

"You good?" Ghost asks, his voice milder than before.

"I'm good", John responds on a exhale. He takes a step backwards to partly sit on the desk behind him. He shifts his fingers so his thumb massages the skin between his eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Ghost turns, walking towards you. You only look at him once he stops beside you.

"Should I do something?" You whisper to the tall man. You felt helpless during this ordeal and still not exactly sure what happened even though you now had a guess. Ghost only cocks his head, hand stilling on the door-handle as he looks at you.

"Just be there for him", is all he says, swinging the door open.

He nods goodbye as he exits, not overstaying the moment after he apparently isn't needed anymore.

Your eyes fall on John when the door closes again. He looks tired, standing in a similar position as before. Only his hand had shifted to cover his eyes, the span of his brows covered by his index finger and thumb.

"John?" You try to soften your voice to hide your concern.

His hand drops, blue eyes finding yours. His mouth is in a thin line, corners slightly downturned. Your heart cracks a bit at his discouraged look.

Your feet move on their own, bringing you to him. As soon as you're within range, he drops his arms, opening them wide for you to step into. It's seamless how you reach around John's shoulders, one hand coming to the back of his head, moving him towards your neck while his arms wind tight around your waist, pulling you close as he haunches forward to burrow his face against your throat.

The silence is only filled with your breaths. Yours blowing into the air at the side of John's head, his exhales puffing against your skin. Your eyes are shut harshly as your fingers repeatedly card through his hair and continue down his neck until your fingertips glide over his last cervical vertebrate.

It's gradual, but you feel John the tension leaving his body. He relaxes against you, not feeling as stiff with his hold. His arms loosen, sliding lower towards your hips where his hand squeeze the plusher flesh. Your thumb circles his shoulder and you turn your head to the side, kissing the side of his head. In return, he kisses the skin over your collarbone.

There's a tug-of-war inside you. Should I? Shouldn't I? In the end, you decide to try.

"If you're comfortable in telling me, what happened?" The words brush against John's head, your breath disturbing some strands of his hair.

He sighs deeply and you hold your breath for a few seconds. "Got triggered". So...PTSD, then? Or was it something you never fucking heard of? Your mind raced.

As if able to read your thoughts, John finally leans away. You don't let your hand fall from the back of his head, continuing to card through the strands of hair at his nape as he looks at you, head bowed to be levelled with your face.

"Doesn't happen much at all". John begins, clenching his jaw before continuing. "But triggers can... it feels like a misplaced adrenalin rush with overwhelming emotions and racing thoughts".

You nod, biting your lip. Brows furrowing, you search for the right words, carefully choosing what to say. "Was it something that guy said that did it?"

"Don't know, can't recall what hit the wrong cord", John said with a shake of his head.

"You sound jealous". You try a different approach in a lighter tone, rapping your fingers against his neck with a soft smile.

"Maybe protective", John shrugs, chuckling awkwardly. Even so, the tightness in the corner of his mouth eases. His gaze flickers away, moving back and forth, staring into nothing for a few seconds. When his gaze trails back, his eyes are a bit clearer, apparently having uncovered something to answer your question better. "Think it was when he raised his hand".

The reminder that the man had thought about doing something physically to you resurfaced on your frontal lobe. As the moment replayed, you could understand why it was triggering, perhaps not to the extent and with the interconnections John obviously had towards the action.

"Got angry, worried, the feeling resembling something from...", John trails off, but you don't need him to explicitly say it. You're not there. Ghost's sentence echoes in your mind. "Should probably work on that, m'sorry".

This man. You shut your eyes, turning your head away. You try to will the wetness you felt away, but when you open your eyes, you still need to tilt your head back and forth a few times to not let any tears fall before you look back at John, eyes noticeably glassy even so.

"Don't apologise". You finally say. "It isn't your fault that guy acted like a cunt. Compared to him, you never wanted to escalate the situation even though you were the one who had the right".

"But-" You cock your head after he cuts himself short, giving him space to continue the conversation at his own pace. John releases a slow breath and speaks again. "It shouldn't have triggered me". You purse your lips at the way he says it. He sounds so frustrated with himself.

"Don't know too much about it", you admit, neither of you labelling what the obvious it was. "But you soldiers can't pick and choose what does or doesn't".

"Wouldn't that be a dream", he sighs.

"Maybe you should work on it. If you want to. Not the protective part, I mean... I appreciate that, I like that I can trust you having my back". You lick your lips, biting the lower one for a second as your brows furrow. "But, maybe the other part?"

It brought a sigh from John. "Guess... I haven't left the last deployment behind entirely despite being cleared on the med-evaluations". It wasn't a yes, but it was an acknowledgement.

"I-I know we haven't talked much about what you do in detail. But, if you want to, you know? Talk. I'll listen". John looks at you, blue eyes widening.

"I-", he began. "I need to think about it". You nod, not pressing him, understanding that he needs time.

Rather than continuing the conversation, you lean forwards, pressing your lips against his forehead. You feel his eyes flutter close, his lashes brushing your lower face as he leans into the touch, so you only part to mumble an 'okay' before planting another kiss between his brows.

You graze your lips over his face in soft presses until you reach his mouth. Hovering there, your hand slip to his cheek. Your fingers brush along the line of his beard, feeling the softness of his skin and the brown hairs. You hover there, waiting until John initiates the kiss.

It's sweet, soft. A gentle tilt of heads in opposite directions as you merely connect the plush pillows of your lips together. It holds so many emotions for something that is so surface-level.

"Want to go home? Escape the crowd?" You whisper against his lips when you part.

John hums, leaning away so his gaze meets yours the second you open your eyes. "If you don't mind".

"Would never mind if that's what you need". You smile at John, running your thumb along his cheek. He sighs, an appreciative smile spreading.

"Can I drive?"

You remember what he said the night you first met, how helpful those drives could be for him. "If you want to, yes".

"Thank you". John pecks your lip.

You smile at him. "No need".

598 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 1 month

Note

Kinky request? 🤔 I don't know if you got this one already but how about Beau loving the risk of getting caught fucking in his office? Maybe turning it into a Blowjob under his desk befor they actually get caught by Popcorn or Jenny?🤭

A/N: Yup, I haven't forgotten about Dirty Drabbles. My inbox is still full of these, so here's another one. Enjoy some naughty alone time with our favorite Sheriff! 🤍🤠

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, shameless flirting, semi-public smut, office blowjob, some fluff as well

Word Count: 1.4k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Jurisdiction

A few hasty knocks on his office door drew the Sheriff’s attention away from his files and to the intruder. He told Jenny and Poppernak he needed some peace and quiet this afternoon to catch up on the piling paperwork on his desk.

God, he hated paperwork. It was his least favorite part of the job.

“Popcorn, I told you I don’t wanna be disturbed,” Beau barked a little rougher than usual, the tension headache making him slightly cranky.

“Yes, sir, I know.” Poppernak swallowed and blinked at him insecurely, forcing a deep sigh from the Sheriff’s lips. “But, uhm, you have a visitor.”

Beau’s features lightened at that. Maybe Emily decided to surprise him with lunch. “Who?”

“FBI, sir.”

Once more, Beau sighed heavily, the crease in his brow reappearing. “Alright, what do they want?”

“She wants to see an old friend,” said a female voice, Beau’s head tilting at the familiarity before a smile spread on his freckled face.

“Sorry, couldn’t keep her out any longer,” Jenny apologized as she rushed in behind the agent.

“It’s alright,” Beau told his deputy, his grin only growing. Soon his sunny smile reached from ear to ear. “Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, I’ll be damned… What brings you into my little corner of the world, huh?”

Y/N chuckled, her smile competing with his. “Heard you had a serial killer on your hands. Thought I check it out, offer my help…”

“Ah.” Beau nodded and got up from his creaking swivel chair, sauntering closer to her. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest, the shirt tightly stretching over his muscles. “Of course, the FBI’s snooping around. I believe that ain’t your jurisdiction, sweetheart.”

“C’mon, we’ve had fun last time we’ve worked together,” Y/N said and winked.

Beau laughed, his cheeks flushing red, the change of color luckily hidden by his beard. “That we did. And here I thought you just came here to see me.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Y/N smirked.

“You guys know each other?” Jenny asked curiously, catching some of the flirtatious air in the room. Beau guessed that if the blonde didn’t make the connection, she wouldn’t be such a good detective but still hoped she wouldn’t tease him about it once their shift was over.

“Worked a case together down in Texas. Cartel business,” Y/N explained without taking her eyes off the Sheriff. It was as if the others in the small office didn’t even exist.

“Yup, Special Agent Y/L/N is one of the best in the narcotics game,” Beau added.

“Major Crimes now, actually,” Y/N corrected him.

“Look at you!” Beau nodded, impressed, sending her a smile before he turned to his two subordinates. “Guys, how about you let me catch up with Agent Y/L/N, see if we need the FBI’s help with this one, alright?”

“Sure, boss,” Jenny said and shot him a knowing smirk. The blonde then grabbed a confused Poppernak and dragged him out of the office, closing the door behind them.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Beau said with a warm smile as soon as the two of them were alone.

“You, too, Arlen. That Sheriff title suits you,” she replied flirtatiously. “So, you’re back with the ex?”

“Why are you asking?” he fired back immediately.

Y/N shrugged innocently. “Just assumed since you moved up here.”

“Nah, just did that for the kid,” he explained and could’ve sworn she looked relieved. “What about you? Still seeing that spunky DA?”

“Ted?” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “God, no. Dumped that guy months ago.”

“Good, I never liked that guy,” Beau admitted with a small smile that probably gave away too much. But if Y/N caught it, she surely didn’t care.

“Yeah, I never liked your bitch of an ex-wife either,” Y/N said bluntly and grinned at him unapologetically.

“Still got a mouth on you, huh?” Beau’s gaze wandered down her body, feeling his dick harden and strain his pants. Her hips, ass, and thighs were clad in tight denim, her breasts close to spilling out of her white blouse and bra as he bit back a lustful smirk.

“You betcha. You always loved that about me,” Y/N retorted, wiggling her eyebrows. Stalking closer to him, she stopped directly in front of him, so close their breaths mingled as her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. Chewing seductively on her lower lip, she asked, “Still into living and loving dangerously?”

Beau didn’t respond to that question. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her closer in one swift motion, crashing his lips against hers and sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

“Lock the door,” he ordered her in a deep growl, the need for her painfully pushing against his zipper.

With the door locked, Y/N was back in his arms only seconds later. He devoured her mouth, tasted every drop of her as she moaned and palmed his rock-hard cock through the fabric.

“God, I forget every time how fucking big you are,” Y/N breathed devilishly into his ear and unbuckeled his belt.

“Shit,” Beau panted as her hand crawled inside his boxers.

Not a minute later, she was on her knees in front of him, his pants and underwear pooling around his cowboy boots and his hands caught in her hair, guiding her where he wanted her the most. As her amble lips finally enveloped his thick length, he almost blew his load right then and there. She giggled at his restraint and taunted him even further by brushing her tongue along his throbbing cock, her hand cupping and rolling his balls just the way he liked it.

Goddamn, he had forgotten how good she was at this and how much he truly had missed it.

He decided right there he wouldn’t let another opportunity pass him by. There had been too many over the years, and he knew, soon enough, there would be none left. Y/N was a catch, and he needed to be the guy who caught her before someone else – someone like fucking Ted – got to it.

“Fuck, darlin', don’t stop,” he groaned and closed his eyes as her lips sucked his dick empty.

But Y/N would’ve never dared to stop, loving the way the Sheriff jittered above her and fought tooth and nail to hold out for as long as possible. She loved how much control she had over him, how he bit his lower lip almost bloody, and how his knuckles turned white around the edge of the desk.

“If I let you come down my throat, are you gonna let me in on the case?” Y/N asked and looked up at him, her tongue mischievously teasing his swollen and leaking tip as their gazes met.

“Fuck, yeah…” Beau grunted, having a hard time getting the words out as his nerve endings were electrified. “Already made that decision when you strolled in here, sweetheart.”

“Really?” Surprised, Y/N raised a brow at him, her lips molding around his cockhead before she teasingly retreated again, repeating the torturous action a few more times.

“Shit, yeah… I want you to stay this time,” Beau pressed out through his teeth and harshly squinted his eyes closed.

“Alright,” Y/N replied nonchalantly and smirked up at him. “Thought you’d never ask, Sheriff.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Beau exclaimed louder than he wanted to when her head bobbed up and down his aching length with vigor.

A few more strokes of her sinful tongue, and he spilled hot white ropes of cum down her throat and pantingly watched her swallow every last drop.

Still catching his breath, he helped her back onto her feet like the gentleman he was before the supposedly locked door suddenly burst wide open and a shocked Poppernak blinked at him with even wider eyes, not knowing where to look.

“Uh, sorry, sir! I thought you called!”

Sheriff Arlen then turned the deepest shade of red of his life, this time even visible through his thick beard, hearing Y/N’s amused laugh reverberate in his ringing ears. He was literally caught with his pants down.

And now, Beau was certain he’d never hear the end of it from his deputy.

Hope you enjoyed this one, ladies ✌️

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373

#dirty drabbles #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen x you #beau arlen smut #big sky #big sky fanfic #beau arlen fanfic #beau arlen #jensen ackles

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞

✧IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME✧

✧warnings: drugs, violent descriptions, yandere/toxic themes, harassment mildly suggestive(?), fluffy fluff near da end~ also I think this may be a lil too long, sorry in advance

✧synopsis: Sunghoon is the the most infamous, feared, bad boy alive is on your campus, and no one dares to mess with him or even talk to him. Even girls who would have loved to confess to him, don't dare look in his direction, let alone approach him. Yet he has his eyes on a girl that's far from trouble...

✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧

After a long time of not coming to uni, Sunghoon, the badboy, returns, only to find a pretty girl in his seat, y/n. He made his way to you, madly as he slammed his palm on the table "oi tiny. this is my desk. get up." he coldly said, satisfied by the startled expression that painted the girl's pretty face. Oh how much he loved that look on your face.

He leaned down towards her, his face close to hers, their noses almost touching, his eyes narrowing into slits as he gritted his teeth "Fucking look at me when I talk to you, shorty" He warned as he lifted his hand to grab onto her chin, forcing her head up. The girl instantly got up, even though there were no empty spots.

Noticing this, Sunghoon pointed to an empty seat beside him with a tilt of his head, his fingers still clutching onto her chin as he let go slowly. "Sit there, and don't fucking bother me or else..." His voice trailed off, threatening without needing to say any more words. He turned back around in his seat, glaring at her with intense hatred, waiting for her to sit down quietly so he could continue studying in peace.

He watched her silently. He couldn't believe how quickly she had obeyed him, and it made him feel even more angry and possessive. He felt like punching something, but instead he forced himself to focus on his studies too. As he did so, he subtly glanced at her every now and then, checking her out of the corner of his eye whenever he thought she wouldn't notice.

Finally, after hours of studying in silence, he put away his notes and looked at her with a smirk on his face. Shorty, you've been quiet all day. "Tired already? Or just trying to avoid talking to me?" Sunghoon asked as he saw the girl yawn. "Huh?" y/n asked in disbelief confused as to why he's talking to her.

He raised an eyebrow at her, amused by her confusion, and leaned closer to her so their faces were almost touching again. "You didn't think I noticed you sitting here quietly all fucking day, did you?" He whispered the last word menacingly into her ear, making her flinch slightly before regaining composure.

"Or maybe you thought you could just ignore me forever?" He laughed coldly, his breath hot against her ear. I don't think that'll work, little miss innocent girl. I always get what I want. Always. Y/n blinked, still confused as to why he's talking to her but also threatened by his tone.

He saw her confusion and hesitation, and his anger flared up again. He grabbed onto her chin forcefully, pulling her face towards his so they were staring at each other. "Listen up, shorty. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you can't pretend I don't exist." He whispered the last words harshly into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"I've been watching you for months, and I know everything about you... your fucking routine, your friends, even your favorite place to buy ice cream." He released her chin and stepped back, looking at her with a mix of rage and lust in his eyes. "And I won't let anyone else have you but me." He added as Y/n's eyes widen in shock.

Not wasting a second, she hastily packed her belongings and ran out of the classroom, the 5 inch high heels were no barrier to her sprint. All the while, Sunghoon just snickerred at how cute she looked, running as if she'd be able to escape. He smirked, loving the shocked expression on her face, and stood up, towering over her as he always did. She never suspected a thing. She never thought he was interested in her. She never thought he was a dangerous yandere. She never thought he was a mafia boss. She never thought he'd kill everyone who got close to her except him.

. . .

She never thought he'd kidnap her and make her his own. She never thought he'd torture her if she ever tried to leave him. "Yeah, that's right, Row. Me. Only me." He said lowly, walking around her before sitting down again, looking at her over his shoulder with a mix of desire and anger in his eyes.

Y/n sniffled, trying to break out of the chains that had tightly trapped her wrists in the fancy frame of the luxorious bed. He saw her sniffling, and his anger subsided slightly, replaced by concern and lust. He walked over to her, crouching down so their faces were level and resting his hand on her cheek gently.

"What's wrong, shorty? Did I scare you too much?" He pretended to be worried, but deep down he loved seeing her scared of him. It made him feel powerful and in control. "Don't cry, okay?" He whispered softly, his voice full of fake concern, but she could hear the underlying threat behind his words. "Your tears only make me want to punish you more."

"can you at least unchain me?... I promise I won't run..." y/n asked, of course she wouldn't run, Its' not like anyone would be waiting for her back home anyway, and she was smart enough to know that running away will only make things worse. Besides, where would she run off to anyway?...

He smiled, pretending to consider her request for a second before shaking his head. "No, Row. I can't unchain you yet." He lied, maintaining his mask of fake concern and worry while secretly gloating internally. "Not until I'm ready. "He leaned closer, speaking in a low voice so only she could hear him.

You see, running would be very bad for you, shorty. Very bad. He winked at her over his shoulder, knowing she couldn't see his wink because of where she was sitting. He loved toying with her emotions, making her feel safe one minute and scared the next. "But don't worry! I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of my precious little Row."

"But the chains really hurt..." she tried to reason, a pout adorning her pretty lips. He heard her complaint, and his fake smile dropped slightly as he maintained his mask of concern. "Of course they hurt, darling" He said, pretending to be surprised by her comment. In reality, he loved seeing her in pain, and he purposely made the chains as tight as possible to torture her mentally.

"But they keep you safe too!" He added quickly, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her comfort at all. "And besides, I wouldn't want my precious little Row getting hurt any more than I want to see her." He winked at her over his shoulder again before turning back to his studies, acting like nothing was wrong while deep inside he was elated that she was suffering for him.

. . .

Weeks passed, and the girl was yearning for him more and more as the days passed by. Sunghoon wanted nothing more that to hold her and kiss her. He saw her pouting, and his heart swelled with love and pride. Even though he was the one who had kidnapped her and planned to make her his own, he could tell she was getting used to him.

He loved that she thought he took care of her because he genuinely cared about her wellbeing. He called her over to him, beckoning her with a finger. "Come here, shorty." He whispered, inviting her closer so he could wrap an arm around her and give her a comforting hug after unchaining her wrists. Behind closed doors, he'd show her how much he cared about taking care of her. "But first, we need to study together." he simply said as the girl frowned.

"Awww I hate studying" she whined as he chuckled, amused by her whining, and pulled her into his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist securely while the other hand began going through his notes. "Be quiet, shorty". He whispered, playfully scolding her while actually being gentle and caring.

"We have to study or you'll fail all your exams, and then where will you be?" He teased, knowing she hated studying and was dumb without him. Without him, she'd be lost. She'd be a lost little sheep without a shepherd. "So shut up and let me teach you, okay?" He asked softly while giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll make it fun for you, I promise." he said with a smile.

"How will you make studying fun?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to face him. He grinned cheekily, thinking of all the ways he could make studying fun for her. "Trust me, shorty. I'll make sure studying is the most fun you've ever had in your life." He winked at her before leaning in close to her ear, speaking low so only she could hear him.

"I'll give you private lessons, and I'll make sure you learn everything you need to know in the most... stimulating way possible." He winked at her again before biting his lip teasingly. "And if you're good, I might just give you some special rewards afterwards." He added playfully, knowing she loved when he gave her rewards. The girl gasped as she picked on his cheeky words, now shy and a little embarrassed, she playfully hit his chest with a pout, and he chuckled with satisfaction.

He noticed her sudden shyness, and it made him even more determined to tease and please her. He loved seeing her blush and act shy around him. It made him feel like he had complete control over her mind and body. "Okay, shorty. Here's your first lesson." He said lowly, starting to explain the material while also using his free hand to stroke her thigh slowly.

He could see her hips start to quiver beneath his touch, and he loved that she was already responding to him even though she was shy. "Pay attention now, or else I'll have to give you a punishment." He threatened light-heartedly while winking at her. Every time she got a question right, the male kissed her lips. making her blush even more at his small actions.

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probably-writing-x · 8 months

Text

Figured Out

Summary: reader and conrad taking care of their kid ?

Authors Note: Thank y’all so much for the requests and the love recently. U da best

“Con why won’t she sleep?” You groan, patting the back of the baby in your arms, rocking her back and forth.

“We’ve tried everything. She’s changed, she’s fed,” Conrad runs a hand over his hair, “What else does she want?”

“Should I take her downstairs?” You ask him, “I could put her in the pram.”

“No, it’s still in the car,” He returns, blinking away the sleep in his eyes.

“It’s still in the car? Con I need it tomorrow before you go to work.”

“I know you do, I’ll get it out before my shift.”

“What if you forget?”

“I won’t forget.”

The baby in your arms stirs again and continues whinging in your arms, every so often letting out over-tired cries.

“Come on baby,” You rub her back as she buries against your chest.

Yours and Conrad’s daughter was now six months old, and she’d started the phase of sleep where she just … well, didn’t sleep. She’d sleep for an hour at most and then be waking up, with nothing seemingly relaxing her enough to go back to sleep.

“Come on honey,” You repeat again, laying her back across your arms as you rock her back and forth.

She looks up at you with blinking eyes that begin to slow down in the darkness of the room, until eventually she’s back to asleep in your arms.

“She’s asleep,” You whisper to Conrad, whose eyes open quickly as if he had just been on the cusp of sleep.

“Thank god,” He smiles tiredly, watching as you settle the baby into her bassinet beside yours and Conrad’s bed.

With every ounce of caution you can muster, you slide back into the bed beside your fiancé and rest down against the pillow.

“What are we doing wrong?” You whisper into the dark, turning your head to glance back at the baby’s bed, as if unsure if the peace would even last for more than two seconds.

Without any response, you hear the faint snores of Conrad from beside you, already collapsed into his own exhaustion. And, eventually, even with a thousand thoughts running through your own mind, you drift asleep too.

Until the next hour hits.

———

“Babe have you seen my keys?” Conrad calls to you, rushing through the house with one shoe still in his hand, kicking the other onto his foot.

“Table next to the couch,” You return quickly, flicking up the toaster before it burns and lathering it with a thin layer of butter.

“Got ‘em,” He announces, kicking his foot into the other shoe as he grabs his laptop bag from the floor, fixing his tie in the mirror.

“Here, take this,” You hand him two slices of toast on a paper plate.

Conrad grins and takes the food from you, holding it in his free hand as he bends down to kiss Ada goodbye, “Be a good girl for Mommy okay?”

She gargles up at him from her high chair and grabs her hands out to reach him as he rushes away.

“See you later, babe,” Conrad calls out to you as he disappears out of the door, shutting it a little too loudly behind him.

You look back to your daughter and she hits at the table clipped on in front of her chair.

“He used to kiss me before he left too,” You smile at her, “But I think you’re his favorite now.”

You’d been dating Conrad since the two of you were 18. And, now, you were 24 and engaged and parents to your daughter, Ada. He had a corporate job that earned you enough to pay for the upkeep on the Cousins house, and you were a writer - having published two books before you’d fallen pregnant. You were in the process, at the minute, of writing the third book of the series. But Ada kept you busy enough nowadays that it seemed you never had the time to catch up.

Though, with a face that cute, you knew you’d choose this every time.

Parenting hadn’t been easy on you and Conrad - the extra budgeting, extra responsibility, extra worry, lack of sleep - it all played a part. You weren’t the same couple that you were before you were parents, and you always knew that would be the case. But sometimes you missed the Conrad you had before. Nowadays, the two of you were always in such a rush. And, when you weren’t in a rush, you were both too exhausted.

“Is someone ready for breakfast?” You throw on a smile and look down at your daughter, carrying over the plate of baby food to start feeding her.

She giggles and hits at the chair, her feet kicking in excitement.

You’d always choose this, you’d always choose her.

———

“This is what I’m saying Frank we can’t keep sidestepping this,” Conrad’s voice comes through the door that shuts loudly behind him, “Well we need to get a team together and-“

You poke your head back to see him coming through the door, his shirt untucked and his tie now loose around his neck as he kicks his shoes off at the door.

“Then they need to-“ Conrad cuts himself off, “Yeah, okay, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Bye.”

“Ada who’s home?” You look down at where she sat on the floor between your legs, both of you playing with her toys on the floor.

She claps her hands together as Conrad walks into the lounge, visibly relaxing when he sees her.

“Hello gorgeous,” He grins, lifting her up onto him, his arms around her, “Have you had a good day?”

You push yourself to stand up, “She had her breakfast but didn’t eat much lunch.”

“Okay, what did you give her?”

“A couple of those pouches, the spaghetti one is normally her favourite but she didn’t eat it,” You explain, dragging a hand through your tangled hair, “She had some snacks this afternoon though.”

He nods, “Well at least there’s something in that tummy,” He tickles at her belly and she giggles.

“We’ve got tacos for dinner, is that okay?” You ask him, “I can make something else if you don’t fancy-“

“Tacos is perfect,” He assures you.

You force a tired smile and go to walk towards the kitchen before his hand reaches out to stop you.

“I haven’t said hello,” He points out, shifting Ada onto his hip as he pulls you into him, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Hi,” You smile as he pulls away.

Conrad leans in once again and kisses your lips, a little more longingly, “And that’s for this morning too.”

You laugh and he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you lean into his chest.

For a moment, the three of you are content just like that. You can feel his heart in his chest and his arm around you do softly and the way his chin rests atop your head. Ada reaches out towards you with grabby hands and you take a deep breath, taking her out of his arms.

“Come on, let’s start your dinner,” You say to her, heading towards the kitchen, “Babe can you get her bottle?”

“I got it,” He calls back, following behind you.

You set Ada into her chair and turn around to heat up her food. Conrad carries in her cup and her teddy, wiggling it along the surface towards her to make her laugh.

He was always good at this. Coming back from work and just switching off, switching into Dad mode instantly.

“So how was work today?” You ask him, stirring a spoon around the food in her bowl, “That call didn’t sound too happy.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” He shakes his head, “Is Daddy’s office silly? Yeah?” He grins down at Ada and she hits her hands against his.

“What’s going on though?” You question again, checking the temperature of her food against your tongue.

“Honestly, it’s just stupid office stuff,” Conrad reassures you as you walk over to the two of them.

He places a hand on the small of your back and kisses your temple as you lean down to give her the bowl, pressing it down onto the high chair table.

“I can feed her this,” He says, “You go have five minutes to yourself.”

“No you don’t have to-“

“(Y/n),” Conrad cuts you off, “Give yourself a break.”

“I-“ You take a deep breath, “I’ll get started on our dinner.”

He laughs, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, Fisher, aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving.”

———

After bathing her, you set Ada down to sleep and come back downstairs.

Conrad’s changed into a tshirt and sweats and he’s laying across the length of the couch as you come into the lounge. You go to sit on the other couch before he reaches out a hand to stop you.

“Where are you going?” He mumbles, his eyes closed.

“To the-“

“Here,” He says tiredly, reaching out his arms so that you can lay on his chest.

You smile at the sight and move yourself to lay on top of him, letting his arms wrap tightly around you as your head rests on his chest.

“I’m so tired,” He mumbles against your hair, “Who knew having a baby would be this tiring?”

You hum in agreement, trailing patterns along the material of his t-shirt.

You turn your head and rest your hands on his chest, looking up at him, “Con.”

He tilts his head enough to look down at you.

“What’s going on at work?”

“(Y/n) honestly you don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to ask, but I want to.”

He takes a deep breath, moving his hands up and down your back, “I’ve got this big presentation on Friday. They want me to present the idea for this new project and it’s just a complete mess - we haven’t got a team together, they don’t want to give us a team, it’s this whole thing.”

You nod, watching the weight lift from his shoulders just a little.

“I just need to find the time to get it done,” He explains, “But I have all this other shit to do during the day, I just don’t have time.”

You wiggle yourself up just enough that you can reach his face, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He hums against the contact and leans into you.

“I’ll figure it out,” He assures you, brushing your hair from your face, “What about you? What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, “I just-“

You stop yourself, looking at him for a moment longer.

“Do you ever think we have no idea what we’re doing with Ada? Like we’re just completely blind?”

He chuckles, “I think that’s what parenting is.”

“No but I mean,” You push yourself up a little on his chest and look at him more intently, “I just get so scared that we’re doing something wrong. It seems to come so easily to all the other Moms and then I just feel like I’m… not good enough.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” He shifts his hands to your upper arms, gripping them as if squeezing sense into you, “Where’s this coming from, darling?”

“I just-“

Before you can say anything, the monitor rings out with the sound of Ada stirring in her sleep, breaking into a cry.

“I’ll get her,” You say quickly, releasing yourself from him and standing up.

“(Y/n)…” He calls after you as you hurry up the stairs.

There are tears brimming in your eyes and a tremble in your hands, a numb awareness that you’d just admitted what you’d been keeping from him for months. You pick up Ada from her bed and soothe her back to sleep, rocking her back and forth to calm her until she eventually drifts back off, fatigue getting the better of her.

You walk through into the en-suite and brush your teeth, wash your face, make yourself feel a little more human. And, before your feet can even drag you downstairs, you sit down on the bed and feel your own tiredness coursing through you, draining you. You’re asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

———

When you wake up the next morning, you’re certain it’s the first night in forever that you’ve actually slept through the night.

A certain Mom panic fuels you as you bolt up to check Ada’s crib - finding it empty, along with the other half of your bed empty too.

You’re just about to worry when you hear the sound of music playing downstairs, your heart relaxing a little before you head down.

In the kitchen, Conrad has Ada in his arms, dancing back and forth with her to an old Green Day song. He hums along to the tune and she rests her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into him.

“Good morning!” Conrad grins when he sees you, where you’re leaning against the doorframe.

“What- uh- what happened last night? I don’t think I woke up once,” You stifle a yawn, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

“Nope, Mommy didn’t wake up, did she?” He tickles at Ada’s chest, “Daddy and Ada agreed that you needed some rest so we took the liberty of being very very good last night, we only woke up once, Daddy gave Ada a bottle and then we went back to sleep.”

“Con…” You trail off, the emotion hitting you just a little.

“We’ve had breakfast, we’ve changed, we’re good to go,” He explains, “There’s pancake mix on the stove if you fancy it, I can make some before I go to work.”

“Oh my god yeah, what time is it? Don’t you need to go?” You panic a little, standing up straight and reaching out to take Ada into your arms.

“(Y/n),” Conrad says softly, resting a hand on your waist, “I’ve got all the time in the world, don’t panic.”

You relax a little and frown at him, “You’ve got all that work to do though, and that important presentation and-“

“Hey,” He stops you again, “Nothing, and I mean nothing is more important than making sure that you’re okay. Do you understand?”

You reach up onto your tiptoes and kiss him quickly, watching as Ada reaches out for you and grabs you. You grin and take her into your arms.

“Alright, go to work Fisher,” You encourage, “I can hold down the fort here.”

He smiles at you and kisses you again, longingly, before rushing off to grab his things to leave.

You look back at your daughter, and again towards Conrad as he’s leaving. How could you be doing anything wrong when this felt so perfect?

———

That evening, Conrad gets back an hour late from work. You can tell he’s stressed as soon as he gets out of the car, but he steps through the front door and erases it all instantly.

“How are my girls doing?” He smiles when he sees you waiting for him, “Have you had a good day?”

“We have,” You return, “Ada’s got a surprise for you too.”

“A surprise?” He widens his eyes at her and she reaches out for him, “I love surprises.”

You walk him through to the dining room and tell him to take a seat. He sets Ada into her high chair and sits down at the table.

“Alright, now I know you’ve got this big presentation, and I know it’s not exactly going to plan right now and you don’t have the time to work on it,” You explain, “So, I thought we’d help you out.”

Conrad narrows his eyes at you as you lean back against the counter, “Are you going to hold me hostage until I get it done?”

“Something like that,” You smirk, reaching behind you and grabbing a wrapped burger, throwing it in his direction.

He catches it quickly, his eyes watching you in adoration.

“We ordered your favourite food, enough to feed like ten people, I’ll get your laptop, we’ll put some music on, we can put a film on, and by tonight that presentation will be perfect,” You explain, walking over with the full tray of the rest of the food and drinks.

“(Y/n) you didn’t have to-“

“I know,” You cut him off, “But you didn’t have to this morning either. We’re just helping each other.”

He smiles up at you and you lean down to kiss him quickly.

“And Ada, you’ve got something a bit less exciting than cheeseburgers,” You grimace, setting down her bowl of food to start feeding her.

She giggles and claps her hands together, reaching out for the spoon in your hand.

“(Y/n),” Conrad pauses as he takes a bite of his food, “I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

“Do you think?” You fight back a smile as you turn back to him.

He hums in agreement, leaning back in his chair, “We’re figuring it out.”

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #conrad x reader #conrad x you #conrad x y/n #tsitp imagine #tsitp one shot #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp request #conrad imagine #conrad one shot #conrad drabble #conrad blurb #conrad request

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