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allysunny · 3 months

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

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

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

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

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

Words: 15.8k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, he was enthralled.

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

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

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

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

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

""Your money back?"

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

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

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

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

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

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

You only seemed to get better by the second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"After you."

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

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

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

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

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

You pondered your options.

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

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

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

And Bruce loved it.

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

But above all, he loved you,

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

Alfred was very fond of you too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

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

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

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

"Just get on with it."

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

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

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

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

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

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

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

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

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

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

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

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ghouljams · 25 days

Note

I come bearing an angsty thought at this late hour! (Because it's like 2am here but I feel the need to share my sad with someone and you're my unwilling sacrifice of the day)

Anyway, I was thinking about how since Simon has experience as a butcher before he joined the service, in his cowboy era he would probably be more than happy to volunteer for butchering duty when someone brings something back from a hunt or one of the animals is slaughtered for dinner. So, it's the first time he's doing it since joining Price on the farm, probably has Goose chatting with him as he works since she's not squeamish when it comes to skinning an animal, and everything is going well.

But then, Simon goes to hang some of the meat up on a meat hook and it's like everything comes to a screeching halt. His whole body locks up, and although he logically knows that he's not in any danger and he's done this hundreds of times before, he hasn't touched a meat hook since Roba... The hook is swaying slightly in the wind, and it looks so, so sharp, and just thinking about how easily it can tear through skin and muscle-

Goose probably needs to go get Price, because Simon is not okay.

Oooh, I love hurting the boy. Early-ish days, the first time Ghost needed to butcher anything at the farm.

"Usually we send bucks to the butcher," you tell him, "but we've got set-up for dressings at least."

"Field dressed it, just need a clean space and some decent knives," Ghost supplies, hauling the buck out of the truck bed and over his shoulder. He doesn't need to, could always pull the truck around properly, but he likes the way your eyes follow the flex of his muscles. It's not a far walk, and he can shoulder 200 pounds easy.

You're all sweet smiles and laughter, asking for the worst deer blind jokes of the day; Ghost doesn't know how you can be so... yourself. You pull the cellar doors open, easing each one to the ground and giving Ghost the heads up to watch his height on the way down. Ghost keeps his eyes on the steps, careful to keep the buck from scraping the low clearance as you click on the lights. He glances around the old storm cellar when he gets his feet on the dirt. It's cool, good for storage, there are already cans lining the shelves along the walls. There's a table in the middle, butcher block. Ghost smiles to himself.

"Whose kit?" He asks, dropping the deer on the table.

"My uncle's," You toss it over your shoulder, moving towards the back, "he was the butcher of the family, Daddy's a good hunter but he sure as shit ain't cutting into that with anything stronger than a steak knife."

Ghost chuckles, tugging his own hunting knife from his belt. "Not for everyone," He calls back, "but better than 'aving someone else take the best pieces."

"Says the man giving away backstraps," You grumble. Ghost shakes his head, he hopes you never let that go. Sweet thing. Some day he'd work up the nerve to propose, find some reason to give you that was better than just himself.

"I'm not 'earing you complain about that, am I?" He jokes, glancing back over his shoulder, watches you give a sharp tug at a ceiling beam and rip down a hook. It hangs in the air, curving its horrible point back towards the heavy chain that holds it in place, the metal black with dried blood. Ghost's breath catches in his chest, his vision narrowing onto a singular point.

"Get away from that," Ghost tells you, his voice short, his eyes darting over the metal. You say something a thousand miles away, and wrap your hand around the hook. Ghost's breath bursts out of him like a gag, heaving out of his chest, his ribs throbbing with the memory of hanging. It's like he can't get enough air it, it all comes out too quickly, and the whole room smells like iron. Iron and dirt. You hold your hand over the point, speaking again, gibberish, garbled nonsense, your accent is too close to a memory he wants to scrub himself clean of. It's when you press your fingers against the mean edge of the hook that he really finds it in himself to move.

He's too sure that you're going to spear yourself, that your stigmata might mirror his own, holes punched in your body from the same terrible instrument.

Ghost's hand grabs your arm and rips you away from the meat hook, his breath coming fast and wild. He can see it, he can see the way it would happen, he can feel the blood under his nails. The process of being lifted like meat onto the hook, the blinding pain of the sharp tip piercing through layers of fat and muscle, the curve of it forcing its way through his body and around his ribs. He can still feel the metal under his hands, the links of chain that he tried to pull himself off of. He can feel each slippery, blood soaked, attempt to free himself.

He can see the way he'd lift you onto the hook, can feel the weight of you under his hand, the way you struggle against his bruising grip, the thump of your hand against his chest. He could add another scar to your body, inflict it on you himself, you could match, you could hate him, you could know, and he could save you the way he couldn't save himself. He could hurt you. Does he want to hurt you? Why does he want to hurt you? He doesn't. He does. He doesn't. He's-

You grab either side of his face and drag him to look at you. Ghost feels like his eyes might vibrate out of his skull, his vision blurring, aching with the lack of focus as it darts to and fro. "What has five toes and isn't your foot?" You ask him.

Ghost's brain grinds to a halt. What? What are you asking him? What does that have to do with-

"My foot," You finish, giving him a little shake. Something bursts out of Ghost that isn't pain or shock. He barks out a laugh, the tension in his muscles squeezing it out of him. It bubbles up from his chest and boils over, his body shaking with the release of it. His breath is quick still, something tightening in his core that doubles him over and forces his hands onto his knees as his laughter gives way to shaking sobs. There are no tears, he can't feel any tears, can't feel much of anything.

He can hear his heart racing, his blood rushing in his ears, as he stares at the dirt floor. No blood, no wounds, no bodies. He grabs his chest, feels the joined skin over his heart, the cold beat of it, dry. Your feet move like you're going to leave. He grabs you again, swallows down the beg for forgiveness, and instead squeezes your hand tight.

"I'm gonna go get Daddy," You tell him quick.

"Don't." Ghost tells you, trying to stifle his breathing, trying to reign in the heaving of his chest.

You sound apologetic when you touch his cheek and tell him, "I have to."

He knows you do. Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, feels your hand slip from his grip. He's never going to be as strong as he needs to be, is he?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #x oc #ghost mw2 #x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #mw2 ghost #cowboy au #oc: goose #tw panic attack #tw violence #ghost the intrusive thoughts are not genuine wants baby #goosey would understand

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loveephia · 1 year

Text

HIS CUTE FIANCÉ | ushijima wakatoshi

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, a sprinkle of angst, cute scenes of you and ushijima, your schoolmates being slightly jealous of you both, reader comes from a rich family, kind of manhwa-esque.

⚠ warning/s: reader hurts herself on accident and while cooking.

note: i remember people wanting a little drabble on this when i posted my 200 followers special, so here you go! :D

"oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." was what ran through your mind when you watched ushijima wakatoshi officially sign the contract.

it was an arranged marriage. ushijima is knowingly the number two ace of japan, while your family owns a big sports company. this marriage would benefit ushijima in terms of popularity, while your family would benefit in more sales.

soon enough, this marriage would all be terminated once both sides are content with the outcome, so ushijima and his family agreed by contract. you were ecstatic, to say the least, having successfully hidden your small crush on the giant for ages now.

"it's a pleasure to be working with you, son." your father held out his hand to shake ushijima's.

somehow, during the next day at shiratorizawa, word got out of you two getting married soon, and it was all your schoolmates could talk about.

they all chattered about you both non-stop, saying how annoyingly perfect you are together. ushijima is this big, strong guy who has this intense passion for volleyball, yet he still happens to make time for you. while you're his doting and clumsy wife-to-be.

clumsy, you ask? well, one time, you tripped up the stairs because you were too busy admiring ushijima. you ended up with a medium-sized scar and several specks on your knee, but it all ended alright, since ushijima took nice care of it.

he led you to the infirmary, but unfortunately, the nurse was out on break, so ushijima took matters into his own hands. he first disinfected the minor wounds made before pouring a tiny bit of the antibiotics on a clean cotton ball. he then lightly padded it onto your scarred knee.

you apologized to ushijima for worrying him like this, but he brushed it off, telling you that it was nothing. "i don't mind taking care of you. it's the least that i could do while we're together."

the volleyball team was shocked from the news, to say the least. ushijima was surely handsome, but he can be a bit aloof, so it could drive some of the girls away. because of that, the team didn't expect that he'd be the first from them all to get married.

"so, how's married life treating ya, ushiwaka?" tendō joked, leaning an arm on his broad shoulder. "we're not married yet." ushijima stoicly replied.

"yet! he said yet!" your heart felt innocently happy at his choice of wording.

you were never too big on cooking, but to impress ushijima, you spent an entire week in shiratorizawa's hot and fiery kitchen, getting taught how to make the best hayashi rice by the school's cooking club.

"why'd you decide to do this, y/n? i mean.. you'd usually stay the farthest from the stove whenever we have home economic classes." a member asked curiously. you jumped at the sudden question, as if being caught red-handed. "oh! uhm.. i wanted to give ushi— i mean.. wakatoshi a bento to thank him for taking care of me this one time." your face went aflame at the memory of him patching up your knee with a cute band-aid.

you bashfully rubbed the back of your head, "but i don't think my current cooking skills will be enough to satisfy his taste buds."

"that's true, you're a terrible cook, y/n!" a friend walking by teased you while you tried to defend yourself, failing miserably in the process.

"anyway, that's why i came here. to get better." you said, determination in those eyes of yours. it moved the cooking club's members, and they adored your resoluteness. "okay, we'll help you!"

once you mastered the recipe, you added your own twist to be original and brought ushijima a bento. it was bundled up in a pastel wrapping cloth with a cute pattern on it. your classmates marveled at it, awaiting for the two of you to speak.

"what's this?" ushijima asked.

"it's.. hayashi rice. i made it. i hope you like it..!"

you left the classroom quickly to protect yourself from his reaction, which could only go both ways; good or bad. "i don't think my heart can take it if he dislikes my cooking.." you thought.

ushijima had already really liked the hayashi rice being served in the cafeteria, but since this was made by you, he supposes that he can take a bite or two.

and oh, did he love it.

it was similar to shiratorizawa's hayashi rice, but the flavor was more prominent, and the taste was much richer. i guess this is what happens when you have a bit of allowance left from your parents. aka the ingredients were pricey, and you had access to more spices since the shiratorizawa kitchen was a bit limited.

but not only that, he could tell that it was made with love (as if the heart-shaped rice wasn't obvious enough). ushijima had noticed your fingers being covered with small cuts earlier, probably from slicing the ingredients. it showed him that you really worked hard to make it.

he kindly asked if you could make another.

whenever you and ushijima are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, you'd play with his large calloused hands for the fun of it. he doesn't mind, really. it's almost as if a kitten was massaging some bread on his palm. quite therapeutic if i do say so myself.

a bold move of ushijima that you'll never forget is the time he hugged you from behind for the first time. he was tired from practice and wanted to rest a bit, so he used you as his pillow. rest assured that he was feeling well-energized with you in his muscular arms.

you warmed up to ushijima and managed to earn yourself a soft spot in his heart. even ushijima's fellow volleyball members have noticed how relaxed he's been lately.

the day of termination has come, and both sides were more than happy with what they profited. ushijima had gotten more magazine gigs for the sports section, and your family had gained more than enough money to last them until the next generation.

you and ushijima were in your father's spacious office room with the contract laying despairingly on the table in front of you. your father, himself, was sitting on the opposing side of the both of you.

thinking of this all ending makes your heart heavy, but ushijima never did this for love, so i guess it's to be expected. being loved back is asking for too much, so the least you could do is respect his own feelings.

"i'm thankful for the past few months."

you reluctantly signed your signature on the left side of the contract and waited patiently for ushijima to pick up the pen and do the same.

but he never did.

with a sigh, ushijima speaks up, "is it possible to renew the contract? i don't think i'm satisfied yet."

your jaw drops, and you face your father, whose expression seems to be a playful one. "oho~ and what have you still not gotten out of this that isn't to your heart's content? a sports scholarship for college? or perhaps a partnership?" he lists.

"your daughter's real hand in marriage." ushijima states.

"huh?!" you face ushijima to see if this is just some kind of cruel joke being played on you, but ushijima wasn't one for funny punchlines. in fact, he was always very straightforward.

"that is if.. y/n is okay with it." and now, ushijima and your father are looking at you for your answer.

you nod shyly and look down at your own lap.

"very well then! i'll check this with my lawyer and my wife to see what we can do." your father walked out of the office room, leaving you with ushijima.

you play with the hem of your dress nervously, not knowing what to say. "i saw the way you hesitated to sign the contract earlier," ushijima started, and you turn to him, surprised by how on-point his assesment was, "so i thought that you'd be okay to continue being engaged."

"truthfully, i grew comfortable with your presence. and on days when you weren't beside me, i'd wonder where you were and how you were doing."

"there was never a day where you weren't on my mind." he admits.

now you were feeling dizzy from his words. "i- i see.."

"is that all you have to say to me?" ushijima asks, hopeful, as he leans close to you. "w- well..!"

you muster up your remaining courage and silently mumble, "..thank you for loving me, wakatoshi."

ushijima smiles gently at your verbal reply, it being exactly what he wanted to hear.

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hugshughes · 7 months

Text

my tears ricochet R. McGroarty

Rutger McGroarty x fem!reader

synopsis - Based on “my tears ricochet” by Tay obvs. Reader is on the umich soccer team and when they lose the NCAA championship game, and Rutger is there, reader is confused and sad in a way that he would come to this game after their terrible breakup.

wc - 3.0k!

contains - reader is on the umich soccer team! lightly edited! angst!!!!!!!! then a sprinkle of fluff. reader has a panic attack and has trouble breathing, crying, descriptions of a terrible breakup, kissing, happy ending, lmk!

an - this was probably the hardest one so far, other than the last great american dynasty, which i promise is coming soon! ALSO. 200 FOLLOWERS????? THANK U GUYS! I swear I’m trying to speed up the process of writing these but it’s harder than I thought. I've been getting more requests than usual lately! You guys are all so cute btw. I've gotten multiple about Behind My Back with Nolan part 2 and it's on the way! I'm so slow at writing smut. Anyways hope you enjoyyyy!

we gather here, we like up, weepin’ in a sunlit room. and if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too.

The final whistle blew, the game was over. You crouched to the ground, palm flat on the field as you wept. You could barely breathe as the UNC team flooded the field, screaming in victory, group-hugging 10 feet from you. 4-3 in overtime. You dropped to sit on the ground, arms loosely wrapped around your knees as you stared at the crowd.

The sea of Carolina blue jumping up and down, smiling, shouting. The motionless pit of maize and navy, crying, grief, disappointment. In you. They’re all disappointed in you, that’s what you tell yourself.

Your best friend sits next to you, enveloping you in a hug, you hear her whimpers, you feel her tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head at you, hugging you tighter than ever before pulling away, holding your face, wiping your cheeks.

“No, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault. Okay? It isn’t. You scored 2 of our goals tonight, and you just did so good okay? This isn’t your fault.”

You looked at the ground, trying to catch your breath. You’re only a sophomore, you’ll have more championships to win. She didn’t though, she was a senior.

“This was just your last game, and I just- I let you down and coach and-”

“Honey, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You cannot blame this game just on you.”

You hesitantly nod, letting her help you to your feet. The rest of your team is hugging, some crying, some seething, some trying to smile.

You run to your coach, she opens her arms wide to hug you. She’s trying to smile, trying to tell you that it’s okay as you heave out the word sorry over and over, sobbing as you try to catch your breath, to no avail.

Your chest heaves as you try to breathe, but nothing is going in or out, you’re about to have a panic attack. You grip your jersey where your heart is, the navy material soiled from tears and sweat. Your coach lets out a curse as she realizes what’s going on, your best friend sees you, running over, holding your arms, trying to calm you down.

You can’t, you were warm before, but now it’s like you’re suffocating.

“I- I can’t! Fuck, I-”

The worse you cry the less you can breathe, but the less you’re breathing the more you’re crying.

Your trainer runs over, hand on your back as she urges you off to the sidelines. You know there are dozens of cameras on you, making everything ten times worse.

It’s time for you guys to shake hands but instead, you are urged off the field, down through the tunnel, and to the locker rooms. They sit you down in your designated stall, offering water, fanning you with random papers, holding your hands, everything as you start to breathe again. When you’re finally steadily breathing again, you feel embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry! Shit- I just-”

They just shush you, hugging you tight. You, as the star player of Michigan Women’s Soccer are informed you’re doing press with your best friend, the captain, now. You almost cry again, you know someone is bound to ask about your leaving the field early.

But here you are, sitting next to your best friend, holding hands under the table for some form of stability as you look at the reporters and flashing cameras in front of you, fans behind them.

Your best friend answers the majority of the first chunk of questions, you only chiming in a few times. Your name is called by a reporter, a question just for you.

“Would you like to comment on what happened with your early departure after the game?”

You tense, your best friend’s hold on your hand tightens, comforting you as much as possible.

“Oh um, yeah. So uh, I was having some trouble breathing and stuff and I needed to go back to the locker room. I apologize if I came across as rude to any of the UNC girls, I still definitely want to congratulate them.”

The reporter nods, and you get sad smiles from almost everyone you can see. You get another question about your performance.

“I think I definitely could’ve played better, I’m disappointed in my performance tonight, I’ve apologized to teammates and coaches. I did as well as I could in the moment, Carolina is a really talented group of girls. I-”

You see him, Rutger fucking McGroaty, standing at the back of the group, Ethan, Mark, Dylan, and a few other hockey players with him. Your voice catches, and your mind is blank.

even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? ‘cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. ‘til my dying day.

The eye contact is full of pain, you feel your heart stutter. Your breathing that had finally started evening out is suddenly picking back up, but also somehow slowing down? It just, hurts. Why was he here? Why would he do that to you?

What was he trying to do? Was he trying to see you? Was he just trying to watch the game?

You looked to your coach, the attention of the reporters on your best friend, with pleading eyes. She nods for you to leave, and you silently thank her, slipping out of the seat and discreetly exiting the room, having to walk right by the guys, and some fans along the way. You wave at a little girl dressed head to toe in maize and blue, your jersey adorning her little body.

You crouched down next to her, letting her grab your hand.

“Hi sweetheart, how are you doing?”

She smiles brightly, making your heart swell. She has your number drawn out on her cheek, and a Michigan temporary tattoo on the other.

“I’m good! It was fun watching you play, even if you couldn’t win. I saw you crying, are you okay? You still did really really awesome, even my brother thinks so!”

She gestures to her slightly older brother, a boy who looked about 8.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be okay. Well sweetheart, if you’d like it, I would love to sign your jersey.”

Her face lights up, she squeals and hugs you, which you accept. She turns around and you sign right next to your number on her maize jersey. She thanks you and squeezes your hand while taking a picture with you. You’re finishing up with them when her brother almost shouts.

“Are those the Mich hockey guys?”

You freeze, eyes darting from the ground to the little boy and then up to Rutger's shocked face. Rutger quickly puts his fan persona on, greeting the kids.

'cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. 'til my dying day.

You realize you're position, frozen and staring at Rutger in front of all these people, and you quickly turn to go. You get about ten feet when you hear someone quietly shout your name, then twice. Someone, being Rutger. You didn't wanna talk to him. You really did want to talk to him, you just knew you couldn't.

You are in the tunnel at this point, striding a few more feet to make sure no one can see you before stopping when he says your name once again. When you turn around he stares at you silently, his eyes filled with hurt. You wish you could run into his arms, but you can't, you can't.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace, and you're the hero flying around, saving face. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake?

"What are you doing here Rut?"

You could feel the tears lining your eyes, pushing to break past your waterline. He has the same tears, which hurt you even more.

"I'm sorry."

That you lost? That he came here? That he called for you? That he broke your heart?

"For what, Rutger?"

The tears were close to spilling for both of you. He lets out a shaky exhale, wiping his nose and sniffling.

"I- Um, everything? I just, I'm sorry."

cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

You didn't know what to do. Part of you was about to throw yourself into his arms while another part was about to sprint as far away from him as you could.

He stood there, quickly wiping a tear that fell. In this moment, losing the game was the farthest thing from your mind. Everything in your mind was just completely overwhelmed with him. At one point he was everything to you, you knew in part of you he still was.

we gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. some to throw, some to make a diamond ring.

When you and Rutger had broken up, it had been terrible for both of you. Rutger wasn't allowed to be alone afterward for two weeks, not that you knew that, his friends wanted to tell you and try to get you back to him but he wouldn't let them. He was too embarrassed by the idea. His friends begging for you for him because he couldn't handle a breakup? Please. What Rutger doesn't know is that you would've run straight back to him if you'd known. He was your lifeline.

Your relationship was like a dream, you'd started dating in July of 2022 and broke up the next May. You guys were inseparable, in a cute way. You guys were always there for each other, no matter what. But out of nowhere, in April, Rutger started freaking out about everything happening in his life. The team had just lost the frozen four, and he was just hurt from that and he was not himself. Even weeks after, when the other boys had seemingly gotten over it, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling in his chest.

The feeling started affecting other parts of his life, too. Specifically, your relationship. He'd become way cut off from you, and a lot more mean. It went on for three weeks before you broke up with him. You just couldn't keep trying when you were getting nothing back, even though it hurt you so badly to do it.

you know i didn't want to have to haunt you. but what a ghostly scene. you wear the same jewels that i gave you, as you bury me.

You rub your eyes before looking up from the ground to him, and then you see it. The ring he once gave you on a chain around his neck. He'd kept it when you gave it back to him.

You remember every detail about the night he gave you that ring. Where he'd taken you, how he held you in the cold of February nights in Ann Arbor. You remember his confession of love to you. How he was worried you'd think he was proposing, how he shakily opened the ring box when you got back to his room, and how he said he wanted to give it to you in your scenic snowy walk through a local park but had gotten too nervous. You remember how you kissed him, and how he brought tears to your eyes.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace. 'cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake? cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

Him being here, crying, apologizing, you losing the game, everything was just so much, but when you looked into his eyes he was still your everything. Your boy, the one that made you fall in love with every part of him, every crack and crevice, every flaw. He was still yours, no matter if you were together or apart. And you were his too, you knew that, you both did.

You can't imagine what your friends would think if you'd told them how close you were to kissing Rutger right now. They would never believe you, not after the months you spent trying oh so hard to convince yourself you were better off without him, no matter how false that statement was.

You knew you would need him, always did. He didn't know that though, when he would stalk your social media all summer, seeing you post in your little white linen dresses, having fun at the beach with your friends, he convinced himself he'd never get another chance with you. And you knew that if he tried hard enough, he could completely win you back, 100 times over.

and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, just not home. and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.

He was your safe haven, whenever you were with him everything was just good, you didn't have to worry about anything with him, he wouldn't let you. He was your person.

You just stared at him, thoughts running a thousand miles per minute. You wanted him, you needed him. You knew it, too. He was always gonna be the only man that ever came to mind when you heard a love song by Taylor Swift, the only man you thought of when you saw a husband and wife with a little baby on your for you page, the only one.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

He sniffled again, and you practically lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You started to cry again as his arms went around your hips, holding you so tightly. He was so warm, he smelled so good, he was definitely home for you if you had one. You felt his tears fall onto the base of your neck. He was mumbling i love yous and i'm sorrys like prayers. You just said the three words back, telling him it was okay because you knew it would be. As long as you had him.

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. cursing my name, wishing i stayed.

You pulled away from him, just a little, his tight hold on you barely let up, he couldn't let you go. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, looking into his now bloodshot, but otherwise beautiful blue eyes. You giggled, this was so crazy, you couldn't even believe it. Your amusement at the situation must've made Rutger feel embarrassed because he shook his head from your hold and buried his head into your neck. You could see his rose tinted ears. You ran your hands through his hair.

You had not the slightest idea what this meant for you two, but it definitely felt right, like you were whole again. You knew that he would come back to your life, you always felt it. And you knew you guys were gonna have to have a serious long talk about everything, but right now it just felt so good to take solace in him, acting like you were never broken up.

you turned into your worst fears. and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. crossing out the good years.

If you knew one thing, it was that Rutger McGroaty was your boy, and you were his girl. No matter how much time kept you apart you'd always find each other again. You loved him, too much to lose him. Especially now that you were both given another chance.

"Rut?"

He moved his head a little, adjusting his arms around your hips, grumbling out an 'mhm?'

"I'm really happy you're here."

He came out of hiding at that, smiling at you, you smiled back, partially because of how cute he looked with slightly puffy eyes and rosy cheeks.

"For real?"

You gave him a pointed look, 'duh', written all over your features. He smiled brighter, his perfect teeth on display, oh you so hoped he would never experience any teeth loss during his hockey career, even though he'd probably look fucking adorable.

"I love you. I'm not letting you down ever again, I promise. I'm gonna be perfect, okay?"

You looked at him like he had just hung the stars one by one. You shook your head mumbling something about how you loved him so much and he'd never let you down and he was already perfect in your book before pulling him into a kiss. He smiled so hard into the kiss, and so did you.

Even though you'd just lost one of the most important soccer games in your life, you'd just won someone that was more important than any soccer trophy you could ever receive.

and you're cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

Note

Hi Vodika 🥰

I'm back with a second ask for your follower celebration!

Could I get a Wolffe x Fem!Reader with a narcissus and pansy bouquet? Where the reader ends up in the hospital and Wolffe confesses his love for her when he visits and realizes how much she means to him?

Please and thank you 💚😘💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Accidents Happen

Summary: You've been crushing on Wolffe for, what seems like, forever. But you're convinced that he'll never feel the same. However, when you're injured at work, things change.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 2020

Prompts: Narcissus - unrequited love, Pansy - you occupy my thoughts

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: You did say that Wolffe was on your brain! So I hope this story makes you happy! And here's your personal divider that I made for you. As a note This is Wolffe's message, and This is the reader's messaging.

Early mornings are the worst, you think as your alarm goes off at 5 am.

You lay in bed for a moment, listening to your alarm scream at you from across the room, before you sigh and swing your legs out of the bed and push to your feet.

Early mornings where you actually have to do work the whole day are even worse. You blearily cross the room and hit the button on top of your clock, before you flip the lightswitch, making it impossible for you to go back to sleep.

And then you cross back to your bed, and grab your comm from its charger.

Several messages from your friends from the night before. Several more from your boss from last night and early this morning. A handful of emails that need to be deleted or responded to in kind.

You sigh heavily, and open the app for your work. You quickly log in for the day, before you go back to your emails. You absently answer several work emails as you pad through the apartment into your kitchen.

You set your comm down on the counter, still scanning your emails, and you grab your electric kettle to fill it with water. You set it back on it’s stand and flick the power switch, before you grab your comm again and turn to leave the room.

You start to reply to an email when the dark blue bubble of your instant messenger pops up on the screen.

You up?

Your heart speeds up and your face heats when you see the simple words sent to you by Wolffe. Your crush on him is, frankly, embarrassing.

Tragically. Morning Wolffe. What’s up?

Comet has been harassing me to remind you about the book. The one with the birds.

You stare at the screen blankly for a moment, You mean The Raven Emperor series?

How should I know? Probably.

You giggle, Wolffe, there aren’t any actual birds in that book.

I really don’t care, sarad.

Well, someone’s grumpy this morning.

You’d be grumpy too if your twin brother stole all of your caf.

What, the GAR doesn’t give you a caf supply.

The GAR wouldn’t give us armor if we didn’t need it to win the war.

You can hear him rolling his eyes across the text message, and it’s kind of impressive.

Anyway

Me and the boys are going to 79s this evening

Coming?

I wish.

I have a building that I need to appraise, and it’s something like 200 apartment buildings.

I’m going to be busy until midnight

🥺

Ah.

Well, next time then.

You wait a moment for Wolffe to say something else, but he went offline soon after.

I want to go on a date with you. Your finger hovers over the send button, before you sigh and shake your head, deleting the message.

Wolffe would never be interested in you. Not like that.

You just have to be happy with his friendship.

And here you thought ‘love unrequited’ was just something in the trashy romance novels you read in secret.

You allow yourself to wallow for a whole 30 seconds, and then you remember that you still have to shower and eat breakfast, and you toss your comm on your bed as you hurry into the fresher.

The chat with Wolffe means that you don’t have time for a proper breakfast, especially if you give yourself time enough to shower properly, but you think it was worth it. He’s Wolffe, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re scrambling out of your fresher, pulling your wet hair into a messy knot at the back of your head, and you hurry back into the kitchen.

In your rush you accidentally pour some hot water over your thumb as you fill your travel mug with the water, and you release a pained hiss. “I don’t have time for this,” You say to the empty apartment. You eye the blister critically, and decide that it’s not worth the hassle of treating it

Quickly, but carefully, you finish putting your breakfast together, and you hurry out the front door.

Your boss wants you at the complex by 6 am.

And luckily, you make it. By the skin of your teeth, maybe, but you’re still on time.

“You’re almost late,” the stern looking older man scolds.

“The keyword there being almost,” You counter, as you look up at the building, “This is the Meridian Complex?”

“Yep.”

“You spent how much on this?”

“2.5 Million Credits,” He sounds proud about it.

“This is a death trap.” You point out, cringing as a fake shutter falls off a window three stories up.

“It just needs a little work.” Your boss says, and then he pauses, “You are up to date on your vaccines, right?”

“Ha. You’re hilarious.” You pull your datapad out of your car, and glance at the information on the screen, “You have the keys?”

“Yup, all of the door codes are set to 00000.”

“Noted.” You make a note on the datapad, “After you.”

Half an hour later, you realize that your conservative estimation of this taking until midnight was far, far too generous. This is going to take days.

You look around at the rotting floorboards, and at the graffiti and holes on the walls, and you sigh. At least the paycheck is going to be really nice.

“Hey! I think I found a half decent apartment!” Your boss calls from down the stairs, “Second floor, 209. We can use this as a staging room.”

“Coming!” You shake your head at the sheer mess, and half wonder if you could message Wolffe and ask for the Wolfpack to help. You laugh softly at the idea, the boys would be more than happy to help, you’re sure, but it’s not realistic.

You start up the stairs.

But, if he was willing to help, you could spend more time with Wolffe, which would be a win.

A weird noise makes you slow to a stop, and you pause, tilting your head to listen better.

“What are you doing?” Your boss asks from the top of the stairs.

“...I heard something-” You trail off as there’s a cracking noise under your feet.

Your boss’ face goes gray. “Hurry!”

You go to take one more step, when the cracking noise returns. And when you put your foot down on the stair…it keeps going.

You don’t even have time to scream as the staircase collapses under you.

The last thing you see as you topple backwards is your boss’ horrified face, and you hear a shout of your name.

Wolffe is not having a super day.

On top of the fact that Fox stole all of the Caf and the fact that he’s been confined in his office doing paperwork all morning, the fact that the Wolfpack’s pretty sarad won’t be joining them at 79s tonight just shoved him into an awful mood.

Nights out are always better when she’s with them.

He glowers at the various documents that need his signatures. He should be grateful. He’s not Marshal Commander. He’s seen the amount of work that Cody, Fox, and Bly have on a daily basis.

He’s lucky that he is only a commander and he only has this much work to do.

…yeah, nope. That didn’t help.

He rests his head on his hand as he taps his stylus against the table. “When Alpha said that a command position was worth it, he was a filthy liar.” Wolffe announces to the room at large.

He should make Comet do this paperwork in exchange for the free time he’ll need to read that book series he’s going to borrow-

Wolffe’s thought process is cut off when his office door slides open and Comet bursts in, “Commander!”

“What is it?”

“Sarad is in the hospital.”

Wolffe’s heart drops into his stomach. He drops all of his work and grabs his helmet, “Which hospital?”

“Coruscant General. Sir, where-?”

“I’m going to go check on her, of course.” He pushes past Comet, “You’re in charge until I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Comet pauses, “Let us know how she is?”

“I will,”

The trip to Coruscant General doesn’t take long, Wolffe is able to walk the distance. And, as luck has it, no one stops him when he enters the hospital properly.

“Can I help you sir?” The nurse at reception asks.

“I hope so,” Wolffe replies, before he offers her name, “I was told that she’s here.”

The woman nods, “Are you the husband?”

Wolffe pauses for half a second, “Yes, that's right.” He lies.

She nods again, “On the fifth floor, room 517.”

“Thank you.” He marches over to the lift, and presses the button for the fifth floor. Wolffe’s mind is whirling. How was she hurt? How badly? Does he need to set up a guard rotation for her?

Did someone attack her? Does he need to get the guard involved?

The lift comes to a stop and he steps out, and heads to the nurses station. He offers her name once more, and again, lies about being her husband, and he’s pointed in the right direction.

The door is shut, and Wolffe lightly knocks on the door. He doesn’t get a response, but he pushes the door open anyway.

“Sarad?” The lights are dimmed, but not so much that he’s not able to see her.

She looks…bad.

Covered in bruises and bandages. Various machines attached to her, monitoring her heart rate and blood pressure and giving her IV medication.

“Oh, cyare.” Wolffe walks over to her, and looks her over. Every inch of her is covered in angry looking bruises or cuts. “What happened?” Gently, very gently, he brushes a strand of hair out of her face.

A lot of the tension he hadn’t realized that he was carrying drains from his body now that he’s sure that she’s not dying or dead.

It’s kind of funny, in a way.

Sure, he’s always known that his sarad was important to him. He’s not been blind to the fact that she’s always on his mind and that he never isn’t thinking about her. But he didn’t know just how important until this very moment.

Wolffe’s fingers linger on her cheek, and he’s startled when he hears a soft moan from her. “Sarad?”

Hazy eyes peer up at him, confused, “‘lffe?”

“Yeah,” He smiles at her, “It’s me. How are you feeling?”

“...wh’re?”

“You’re at Coruscant General, you were hurt, do you remember?”

Her fingers flex, and Wolffe takes her hand in his free hand, “Stairs,” She mumbles, some of the haze leaving her voice, “The stairs collapsed-”

“Unlucky,” Wolffe says quietly, as he sets his helmet on the side table and then sits in a seat, “How are you feeling?”

She’s quiet as she considers his question, “...fuzzy.” She finally says.

He chuckles, “I’m not surprised, by the look of it, you’re on some good pain medicine.”

“Wolffe?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you in the hospital? Are you hurt?” She asks, her brow furrowed as she tries to puzzle it out.

“Come on, Sarad. You know the hospital doesn’t treat clones.” Wolffe brushes his fingers across her lips, “I’m here for you, of course.” He pauses, “I also let everyone believe that I’m your husband. Sorry.”

She hums, “I don’t mind.”

“That I lied?”

“Being your wife.” She clarifies, “Sounds like fun. Let’s do that.”

Wolffe laughs, “I think we’re skipping a couple of steps, Sarad.”

She hums again, her eyes fluttering closed, “Don’ care. Love Wolffe.” She mumbles.

His breath catches in his throat for a moment. And then a wide grin crosses his face. “Are you still awake, cyare?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I love you.” He whispers into her ear, and then he presses a light kiss to her temple, “You’re not going to remember this when you sober up, and that’s okay. I’ll just tell you again and again, as many times as you need.”

She smiles at him, the drugs hitting her hard again, “Stay?”

“For as long as you want me, sarad. Promise.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes follower celebration #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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kuni-is-daddy · 1 year

Note

Thinking about Scara making us rub his cock with our pussy until we both cum

DOM! BOSS SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE BODYGUARD READER.

100 followers special AHH OMFG TY.

PURE FILTH.

Juicy stuff: Grinding,Recording, at a desk :<, Yandere themes

Featuring: CHILDE, he's your bestie in the start :) had so much fun writing Childe in this KKLMK I LOVE HIM❤️❤️😩

1.2K WORDS.

amazing art credits! Scara masterlist Part 1 of Boss scara.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Stillness, Silence. The complete opposite of thunder. And that was his mother, The raiden shogun. God of thunder. Rumors spread around the elaborate 'Gakaden' company that once again her excellency has cancelled another meeting with her son. Its been 200 years since he's last seen her, heard her voice. Scaramouche was only able to rejoice in the sweet sent she left from each letter that was sent in her fluid handwriting.

"Y/n Y/n!" Childe said while tapping your shoulder. "Ah! Childe!! you scared me. Dont sneak up on me like that!" you nudged his shoulder in return. "Hah hah. sorry comrade~ anyway. Did you hear about scara?" you closed the book, bookmarking where you left off. "Yeah our Excellency is quite the busy woman. At least now i can catch up on my book" you smiled. "Why'd you ask? Is everything okay?" You gave a concerned look and the ginger then laughed at you. "Well the thing is.....IM GOING BACK HOME!!!" he took out a picture of teucer and the rest of his siblings. They we're wearing christmas sweaters while holding a 'welcome home' sign. "oh shit really!? your going back to snezhnaya? Thats great childe! how long are you going to be gone?" "hmm probably a month or two. Scara said we needed a break." Childe said "We? what do you mean by we?" You looked at him suprised. "Soo...You dont know gurly?" You gave a straight face. "No- I dont know GUrLy" "Scara is giving us a month off from work. He said something about wanting time to himself and-- I dont know the rest. To be honest, all i know is that we come back next month on the 30th." You scanned the room to see your fellow co-workers organizing their desks and holding boxes in their hands. "Seriously!? Thats great! That means i can go back home and-" Suddenly. The intercom rang with a short beep.

"If Y/N L/N Is still present in the building, Please report to Lord Scaramouche's Office Immediately!"

You tilted your head at the request. "Oooo did you get in trouble y/n??" "No? Or at least.. I hope not." You got up and placed your book back on your desk. Sighing at the sudden realization you we're gonna be by yourself without your 'best friend' for another month. "hey hey.. Cheer up okay? Its only a month and besides. WE CAN ALWAYS TEXT!!" childe waved his phone in your face, your sad expression then turning into a happy one. "HEY THERE GURLY-" "YOU LOOK WELL" "CARE TO EXCHANGE.." "NOTES?" The both of you giggled and then hugged eachother one final time. "Im gonna miss you so much ajax~" "of course, The one time you say my name its when im leaving-."

The intercom rang again. "Y/N... L/N.... REPORT TO LORD SCARAMOUCHE'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY." now with a more nervous tone then ever. "God. Wonder whats going on over there they need me so bad." "Well..Ill be seeing you Comrade. Take care for me okay?" He gave you a kiss on the forehead, ending it off with you two doing your signature handshake as he walked out of the company.

While climbing the many floors you eventually made it to the 13th floor. Your master's office. You slowed down your stroll in the long cold dark hallway at the sound of pleads and yells. "P-PLEASE LORD SCARAMOUCHE.. I DONT KNOW WHERE SHE IS. I ASKED THROUGH THE WHOLE BUILDING TWICE, HAVE MERCY-" It sounded like the woman on the intercom. "Twice? I said bring her to my fucking office. Not call her, Not ASK around for her. Bring her. But you cant even do your goddam job." you put your hand against the doorknob, conflicting weather you should intervene or not. "Your nothing. Do you know that? Nobody special. I dont care about your family, Your kids, Or your life. Under me, Your just someone i hired for my mothers sake. Just a worker. Replaceable like the rest of the humans in here." You turned the doorknob, hoping to intervene in what sounded like the potential murder of your co-worker. She was being held by her throat, hovering over the balcony while scara held his signature katana in his other hand. "KUNI- STOP!" he turned his head immediately at the use of that name. The woman fell, gasping for air while recklessly running for her life out of the building.

"Hm. So you are here, Close the door." he dropped his blade in its stand and walked towards you. You closed the door, making sure it was locked and immediately turned your head. "Kuni? What the hell was that? Why did you try to KILL that woman??" He rubbed his hand along your shoulder. "Does it realllyyy matter baby? I can just hire a new one you know." he scoffed. "Kuni. Humans arent replaceable. You cant just KILL someone like that." "Mhm..Your right. Cant replace you and that sexy body of yours~" He grew closer to you, Placing your hand against his tie. "W-well..You wont have to worry about me. Or Ajax leaving..Anyway..Why did you call me in here- Master." He pulled away at your change in tone. If theirs one thing that drove kuni crazy about you, is how persistent you we're with work. Still managing to stay perfessional. He sat back behind his desk, Clicking his pen with a laid back expression. "Not in a good mood today pet, Was hoping you could change that f' me~" The balcony door was still open a bit behind him, the warm summer air breezed through the room. Making you tug at your own suit with how hot it started to feel, How intimidating he looked from across the room as you stood at the door. "O-okay..Where do you want me to go master? Do you want to go out to eat? I just have to get my case and-" he sighed and began unzipping his pants.

"Come here and ill show you~" You we're nervous at how intimate he sounded but reluctantly walked towards him. He looked you up and down, noticing how similar your outfit was to his. How your hips curved around the belt. "Want you to sit..Right here..." He rubbed his hands against his thighs, Motioning for you to sit. "B-but we shouldnt do it here- theirs people still working kuni-" He sucked his teeth at your remark. "You think i fucking care Pet? dont want to make master more mad do you?" "N..no..I dont." You closed the blinds to the balcony, remembering how you almost witnessed another womans murder infront of your eyes.. over you. You faced scara and blushed. Turning your head away while stripping each piece of clothing off of you until you wore nothing but lacey black lingerie. "God..You look so hot in those.." he groaned as you hovered over his cock. positioning your pussy right against it, "Grind on daddys cock. Fuck yes~" He threw his head back as your hands held onto the chair for stability.

"A-am i doing good for you master...?" he pressed his hands against your ass, slapping them as they made contact "AH~" "Hell yeah.. Your doing so good' want you wet for me." He shifted his hands towards your underwear, slowly making them shift down so he could see your clit. "K-kuni! what are you doing.." "Ugh~ turn your head back up- Wanna feel your clit rubbing against me" He pulled your underwear down, Repositioning you so your clit rubbed against his big length, Teasing you as your hole ached for him to be inside of you. "Master~ Your so big..hah..." "Yeah you like that pet? Like how good it feels against you?" Wet stains started to emerge on his pants as you grinded faster against him, Chasing the burning feeling he gave you. "K-kuni~ Feels so' good~ Please..fuck me.." you shifted your grip away from the chair, now tightly holding onto him instead. "Mmm dont think thats good enough love, Beg for it." Begging. Kuni always made you beg and scream for him, He loved hearing how desperate you we're for him to fill you up. To claim you as his. Watching as you cried in frustration when he'd pull out just when your about to cum. "K-KUNI~ PLEASE M' SO CLOSE" "Shit~ keep moaning like that, cum for daddy, cum for me. and ill fuck you. Fuck~ hah...bounce those tits for me. You look so fucking good~" he slowly pulled his phone out, Recording how your tongue stuck out for him and your tits bounced. How you looked like a dog in heat. "Fuck..Thats it y/n Dont stop, dont fucking stop." "AH~ K-KUNI M' GONNA CUM~ KUNI!!!!!!!!"

Your juices squirted all over kuni's pants as he came at the same time as you. You looked up to notice him recording you and covered your face in embarassment. "Mmm... is my little slut embarassed? god look at the fucking mess you made." He let his phone fall down on the floor. Roughly grabbing you and placing you against the desk. "K-Kuni! Dont be so- MMM~" he tied his tie around your mouth. Throwing his clothes onto the floor and picking up his phone once again. "Shit...Cant get enough of you y/n~ love how this pussy is all mine~ are you mine pet?" you nodded your head with no hesitation.

"Fuck yes. Im gonna break you."

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sunnysidevans · 2 years

Text

Winner, Winner - J.Seresin

Summary; a bet between Hangman and Coyote on who they could get in the squad to sleep with them, brings both of your feelings to a head.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Pilot!Reader - Callsign ; Electra

Warnings: 18+ themes, angst central station, fluff , mentions of sex, alcohol, daddy issues, and of death, a-hole hangman & coyote. soft bob & phoenix & some rooster too.

a/n: hi there, me again. back again with my favorite navy pilot. and apparently every fic i write is LONG. Anyways, jake honey i love u. I also love all of you who read this and enjoy my work. happy reading. ps: have tissues handy, you may cry.

The Hard Deck was packed almost like a pack of sardines. A sea of beige Navy uniforms and their spouses. Making your way into the bar, immediately groaning at the heat.

Following behind Phoenix, sending Penny a smile as you slide up to the bar.

She grins looking you up and down. “Hi Pen, just a beer tonight” she nods, pulling it from the fridge beside her, pulling the cap off and tossing it aside.

“Keep the tab open, I’m sure Phoenix will make her way over” she nods, sending you another smile. Pushing through the group of aviators, making it to your own group. “There you are'' smiling shyly, you hold up the beer in your hand.

“Tabs open for you phoenix” she nods, sitting back in the chair as you sit beside her and Bob. “Hi Bob” he smiles, looking over at the rest of the team sat at another table. “What do you think they are whispering about over there?” you ask, looking at Bob with raised brows.

“I have no idea, they didn’t even know I was here til about fifteen minutes ago” chuckling softly, you nod. “Typical” nodding, you sip from the beer quietly. Around the table sat the rest of the members of the team, Hangman, Payback , Coyote and Fanboy.

“Wait wait- You slept with Halo?” Fanboy looks at Coyote who shrugs with his own smirk. “Did it before Hangman '' he nods to the blonde in front of him. Rolling his eyes at the mention of his name he chuckles. “I didn’t even get a chance with that one” he felt eyes on him from the table over. “I have an idea” Coyote says, setting his beer down, putting his elbows on the table to pull the group in closer.

“Who do we think in the group we can get to sleep with Hangman or I?” he raises a brow. “I bet I can get Halo again” he smirks, looking between the rest of his friends.

“Guys, that’s not fair to them.” Fanboy says from his seat, biting his lip. “I bet Hangman gets with Electra '' Payback says without hesitation. Hangman snapped his head over to Payback. “I’m sorry, what? '' Payback smirks. “The tension between you two it’s perfect '' he rolls his eyes, looking between his friends.

Coyote sat with a shit eating grin. “You guys are insane” he sips his own beer. “I think it’s a bet” Jake looks at his friend across from him. You and Jake had an odd relationship. One minute it would be kind words and the next you wanted to slap that shit eating grin off of his face. “Fine, rules?” He looks at his friend.

“Well, how about we make it interesting then? I say, at least two dates, that's only fair. Whoever sleeps with their girl first, gets'' Coyote trails off, thinking.

“$200” he says, Jake nods.

“How long do we have for this?” Jake asks, sitting back in the chair with raised brows. “A month” he chuckles reaching over, shaking Javy’s hand. “Deal” Javy claps his hands, rubbing them together. “This will be interesting” he mumbles behind his beer.

Jake watches as you play pool with Phoenix, laughing at god knows what. “Bradshaw!” your yelling then, waving over the mustached aviator. “Electra, Phoenix'' he nods, making his way beside you with a grin.

“How nice of you to join us Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw'' your leaning on the pool stick beside him, batting your lashes up at him. “Stop it” Bradley is shoving your shoulder with a laugh. Sipping the beer in front of you, nodding to Phoenix to take her turn.

“Glad you made it out” smiling at him, you walk around the table. Hangman feels his breath catch at the way you bend over the table, the way the beige khaki made you look even more breathtaking. This is gonna be easy.

Setting the beer down, Jake stands and makes his way to the pool table. “Phoenix” he nods to the raven haired woman, who sends him daggers back. “Electra” looking up through your lashes at the blonde.

Shooting the ball, you stand “That’s game”. Phoenix sighs from the other side of the table. “Bagman” he smirks, leaning against the table beside you. “Darlin, you know that’s not it” licking his lips, looking over your chest, you roll your eyes. “My eyes are up here Ken” his eyes snap to your face, as he meets a smirk on your lips.

“Ken?” nodding, you take the beer from roosters awaiting hands with a grin.

“You are a walking ken doll Hangman, what can I say?” he laughs. “A walking ken doll? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before” smirking behind the beer bottle, you look at phoenix.

“Want to go again?” you motion to the pool table, “Su-” her mouth closes. “I’ll play” Hangman smirks, taking the pool cue from the woman beside him.

“Fine” you grab the triangle to rerack the balls. “Shall we make this interesting?” he asks from the other end of the table.

“Oh and how shall we do that?” you ask with a hand on your hip. “I win, you go out with me” you scoff. Looking over his face he held a seriousness you rarley saw outside of a jet.

“You can not be serious” he shrugs, “as a heart attack”. Watching over his face, you nod. “Fine, but if I win, you finally admit I’m a better pilot” he stops short, watching the smirk on your face.

“Fine” he nods, “fair game”. Walking around the table beside him, you nudge him aside with your hip, “Excuse me”.

Leaning over infront of him, you take the first shot, hitting him in the stomach in the process. He grunts, hand on his knees. Standing back to your full height, nodding to him.

“Your turn” sipping the beer slowly, watching as he takes his next shot. The game went on like that for fifteen minutes. Small flirty one liners falling from his lips as you passed him that you wished didn’t get under your skin.

“That’s game Electra '' pulled from your daydream, you look up at him infront of you. “What?” he's walking to stand infront of you, taking the beer from your awaiting hand. “I believe” he’s leaning closer, you finally take in the smell of his aftershave. He’s whispering, breath fanning over your face. “You owe me a date” you scoff looking over his face. It was written with seriousness. “I guess so” nodding slowly, he winks.

“I’ll be in touch” he walks away, senidng another wink over his shoulder. “Penny darling” he leans on the bar, holding his card out. “Close her and I’s tab, it’s on me tonight” he smirks.

She shakes her head, taking the card out of his hand. Watching him from your spot at te pool table, biting your lip.

Turning to look at Phoenix, she's smirking. “What the fuck just happened?” you ask. She shrugs with a chuckle. “I believe you now have a date with Hangman ''groaning, you fall beside her in the chair putting your head head on her shoulder. “Jake Seresin does not do dates, I know enough” you admit. “I’d go on a date with literally anyone else, but Jake?” she smirks, looking at you with a shrug.

“I mean a deal is a deal” sighing, you nod. “I guess you are right”. Sipping your beer as even over the music, you can hear the snickers from the peanut gallery at the other table. “They remind me of a group of teenage girls,” she shrugs. “They are'' you laugh, nodding. “Wanna head back?” you ask, standing from the chair. Patting your pockets, pulling out some cash.

“Probably best,” she nods following you to the bar. “Pen!” Penny makes her way to you with a smile. Handing her the cash, she shakes her head. “Hangman took care of it” furrowing your brows, you nod slowly. “Oh he did?” you ask, she nods with a smile. Nodding you shove the cash into the tip jar as Penny shakes her head. “Thank you” she mouths, waving as you follow Phoenix out of the bar.

The morning sun was hot against the tarmac. “Good morning aviators'' Maverick grins at the team in front of him. “After the uranium mission, the Navy needs you again” he’s pacing in front of the group.

“Hence why we are all still here” he nods. “Enemy lines this time with more trained pilots in even more equipped planes" you can feel Hangman's eyes on you from his spot few steps away. “I want to do some more dog fighting. This is going to be a combat mission” looking over you make eye contact with Jake as he grins and sends you a wink. “Hangman, Electra, Fanboy and Payback, you are up first” you smirk.

“Perfect” mumbling to yourself, walking to the F-18 just a few feet away. You smile, climbing up the ladder as Phoenix sends you a grin and thumbs up, Bob beside her doing the same.

Strapping yourself in, pulling the helmet over your head as the canopy closes slowly. The summer sun made the jet even more hotter. You could feel Hangmans eye's, making your skin burn hotter. Making way down the runway, you send the men on the ground a nod and salute. You were in the air in seconds.

“Hangman, you are Electra’s wingman, remember, this is going to be a heavy combat dog fight. These people do not care about anything but getting the job done” Maverick’s voice is in the comms, Jake laughing in his own comm. “Got it” he nods, strapping his mask on.

“Fanboy, how are we lookin?” you can hear the mumbling through the comms. “Maverick is low right,” he mumbles, looking down at the F-18 soaring just below you.

“I’m going after him” Hangman says, veering left and away from your right side. Rolling your eyes, you continue moving through the mountain side. The dogfight was combat based, fighting through the moutians to avoid lock on yourself. “Electra!” Payback says, as you move beside him. “Payback, you go right and I'll go left okay?” he nods, “now!” you yell, missing the lock on both yourself and Payback.

“Electra'' Maverick says, “Where’s your wingman?” you cant help but to roll your eyes. “Looking at himself in the mirror I’m sure” you spit gritting your teeth. The dog fight had continued on. “Payback, Fanboy that is a kill” Maverick says after about 10 minutes.

Flying your way through the sky to get away from Maverick, your panting. “Hangman! A little help!” your yelling into the comms, and can practically hear his eye roll. “You got it Electra, I got eyes on ya” he mumbles. Soon, your jet alerts you of the lock. “That’s a kill” slamming your hands against the glass, you sigh. The comms fall silent for the next few minutes. “Electra! I could use some help here” looking up, you smirk.

“Leave a message bagman, I'm dead asshole” you mumble, flying back to the base. “That’s a kill Hangman” you miss the curses on the other end of the comm from the southerner. You sigh in delight as the canopy opened as a slight California breeze made its presence known.

“What the fuck was that?!” stepping down on the pavement, you turn to face Hangman. “I’m sorry?” you ask. “You were there to help me!” he says, panting. The anger was clear on his face. “You were my wingman and you let me get killed!” you seeth. “You left your wingman. As you always do Bagman” shoving his shoulder, you push past him. “Electra!” he yells after you. He’s running, the sound of his gear is not quiet as he comes beside you.

“El, I’m sorry!” he yells, stopping a few feet behind you. This gains the attention of the rest of the squad. “Is he apologizing to her right now?” Bob leans over whispering to Phoenix.

She leans back to whisper back, “I can’t believe this is happening.” Bob nods in agreement. “What?” furrowing your brows, you turn to face him. He stops in front of you, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry okay?” he sighs, looking anywhere but at your face.

“I can’t believe Jake Seresin is apologizing to me right now” you chuckle with a shake of your head. He shrugs with a sheepish smile. “Learn to be a team player Hangman'' he's watching intently as your eyes avoid him completely. He wouldn't admit how badly it hurt him that you wouldn't even look at him.

“I thought after everything we’ve all gone through with almost losing Rooster and Maverick, you’d actually be a wingman. I will accept your apology but actions speak louder than words" picking up your gear as you move past the rest of the team to make your way inside.

Standing under the cold shower in the locker room was a blessing. Closing your eyes with a sigh and completely immersing yourself under the stream of cold water. Washing the day off your body slowly as you replayed what happened in your head.

And yet the man wanted to take you out on a date after the way he treated you. Shaking the thoughts from your brain, turning the shower off and pulling the towel from beside you.

Pulling on the pieces of clothing you had shoved into the locker, pulling your belongings out as you go. Tossing the towel into the dirty bin, making your way out of the locker room. You just wanted to go home. “Electra” his soft southern drawl was always a weakness for you, as much as you hated to admit it. Turning to face him, adjusting the bag on your shoulder as he lets his eyes do a pass over your body.

“I am sorry” he admits, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes. “I told you I accepted your apology” he nods, shoving his hands into the back pocket of the Wrangler jeans he wore.

“So, about that date” he’s got the signature smirk on his lips as you scoff. “I can not believe you right now” he chuckles, pushing off the wall to move closer. “I’m sorry, I am” nodding slowly, you encourage him to continue. “I can’t help that I want my end of the deal” chuckling, you nod. “Pick me up later around 7 alright?” looking over his face for another moment, you make way down the hallway.

He smirks, nodding. “You got it Darlin!” he yells after you, a small smile making its way to your lips.

At 7pm sharp a knock made its way through your home. Looking at the green numbers on the stove, you smile. Opening the door, Jake stood with a small bouquet of daisy’s. “Wasn’t sure if you were a flower kind of girl but” smiling, you take the bouquet from him. “Thank you Jake” you motioned him in, taking the flowers to the kitchen to grab a vase. “So, where are we going for this excruciating date?” filling the vase, you put the flowers in and set it on the island in the kitchen.

“I’m keeping that a secret'' he admits, leaning against the doorframe. Turning, you finally get a good look at him. He wore a simple black t- shirt with a pair of dark wash Wrangler jeans. A black cowboy hat to match. He truly did look good.

“(y/n), you with me?” his voice pulls you from the daydream. Nodding, you smile.

It takes a second before it hits you. He used your name and not your callsign.

“Did you just call me (y/n)?” he chuckles, nodding. “I mean we are going on a date, this is not work” nodding slowly, making your way to him. “Then let's go, Jake” he feels the heat making its way to his cheeks.

He liked the way his name fell from your lips. He kept trying to remind himself, this was an easy $200. He knew he could get even the most stubborn woman on the squad to sleep with him.

“Let’s go then” he nods, holding his arm out to you.

“Why are we at a bar?” you look over at him from the passenger seat of his truck with a sigh. “Have you ever learned to line dance darlin?” pulling the aviator from his eyes he sends a wink your way.

“Jake, I fly planes for a living do I look like I line dance?” he chuckles, climbing out of the truck, making his way over to your side, opening the door and holding a hand out to you. “Well you are going to learn tonight” he grins.

Taking his hand, you slide out of the truck. “I can’t believe you brought me here for a date” you are following beside him, he grins. “It’s a fun learning experience” he admits, holding the door open for you.

Once inside, the music is flowing so naturally. A sea of cowboy hats and the click of boots on the hardwood floor. You almost enjoy the change of pace compared to the usual sea of khaki. The smell of beer was familiar too. “I need a shot at least before I go and embarrass myself” you look over at Jake, he grins.

“You got it” he grabs the hand closest to him, pulling you through the crowd behind him. You stood beside him, looking around the bar.

Watching everyone on the floor dance to the country music that rolled through the speakers. “Your shot m’lady” he holds the glass out with a smirk. Taking it with a smile as you shot it back with a grin. Jake smirks, taking back his own shot.

“Alright c’mon” he’s taking your hand again, pulling the two of you to the dance floor. “Just follow what we do okay?” he asks, a smirk on his lips. You nod your head with a laugh, he smiles. “Just follow me darlin'' he winks. A second later the opening notes of Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy '' play over the speakers.

He smirks, “I love this song”.

Laughing beside him, you follow the moves he continued to do, swaying your own hips as the crowd did the same. Following as they turned and clapped. “You got it!” he yells over the music, laughing as you look at him with the biggest smile.

He ignores the feeling in his chest. Holding his hand out, you take it. Pulling you into his chest as the two of you swayed to the music, you were leaning closer to him. “And sang her every WIllie Nelson song I could think of” you sang as he held your body to his.

“And we made love” you sang, taking the hat off his head, putting it on your own. “Oh darlin” he shakes his head with a grin, stopping you from going too far from him, spinning you back into his chest.

He had to admit your laugh was siren song to him.

He never really heard you laugh or seen you smile this much before. He selfishly pulled his phone from his back pocket, snapping a quick photo of you in his hat. You wanted to hate the date, to never have to think about it or Hangman again. He made that hard as he smiled at you, the two of you chest to chest.

A genuine smile.

Sitting in a tiny booth in the back of the bar, you laugh softly.

“Wait, Coyote slept with Halo?” you ask, sipping the beer infront of you. He nods with a laugh. “He never shuts up about it” he admits, his own smile. “Huh” nodding slowly, licking your lips. “You and Coyote have been friends a while?” he nods, sipping his own beer. “He was my only friend at Top Gun. Graduated my number two” looking over your face, he smiles.

You sat with his hat on, picking at the fries in the basket.

“Coyote graduated number two?” he nods. “I feel like I am learning so much information” mumbling, you ate another fry. “What about you and Phoenix?” you smile. “We were the only women in our class, we relied on one another very early on. Plus I knew she was badass and us badass women stick together" he nods, chuckling. “What's the deal with her and Rooster?” He lets curiosity get the best of him.

You laugh, “we all kinda got close, he flirted with her but nothing more than that” you shrug as he nods. “How did you get your call sign?” you ask. He doesn’t miss the twinkle in your eye. Sipping his own beer he shrugs. “I didn’t play well with others, I knew I was the best,” he mumbles. “I also left everyone out to dry,” he nods, looking back at you.

Nodding slowly, he watches as you eat another fry. “I see” nodding, you sip from your own beer. “How did you get yours?” he asks. Picking at the fries in front of you, licking your lips. Without hesitation you say, “Daddy issues”. He chokes on his beer, “What?” smirking, you look up at him through your lashes.

“Okay partially” you admit. “Okay-I" he stutters, you laugh as you sip the beer. “I’m the best” shrugging, you continue “I complete everything in record time but also efficiently, like electricity”.

He nods slowly. “Daddy issues?” he asks.

“Electra was a greek goddess who in short, hated men” you say eating another fry. He chuckles. “So you hate men?” he asks. You shrug smirking, “only a few”.

Walking to your front door, he follows behind. You turn to face him, back against the door. “Here” taking the hat off your head, standing on your tiptoes to place it back on his head. He smiles, "Thank you”. Nodding, you pull out your keys. “Jake” turning to face him, he raised his brow. “I did actually enjoy tonight” he smirks.

“I know how to treat a lady, contrary to popular belief” you smile. “I had no doubt, you just don’t do it for long” he nods. “Wanna do this again?” he asks, leaning against the door frame in front of you. Biting your lip as you lean up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Possibly” opening the door, you look over your shoulder to send him one last wink before the door shut.

That $200 was starting to feel a little less worth it.

“So” Coyote stands beside Jake. “So?” he asks, looking over at Javy, pulling his aviators down to look at him. “Halo and I went out last week” Jake grins. “So did Electra and I” he shrugs.

“That $200 is smellin pretty good” Coyote smirks, making his way to the team. The beach was packed with aviators. “Dogfight football, the best way to bond” Hondo smirks. “Let’s play ball” he blows the whistle, dropping the football and moving out of the way.

Running down the beach, Rooster has the ball, looking frantically. “Roos!” yelling, you hold your hands up. Sporting the small pair of biker shorts and bikini top was not helping Jake keep his eye on the prize. It has been a little over a month since the first date, two other dates in that month between depending on schedules.

Jumping to grab the ball, you weave between each aviator. Laughing as you toss the ball into the sand. “Touchdown!” Hondo yells, blowing the whistle. It became tradition to play a game of dogfighr football before any big mission.

The next mission was approaching quickly. Looking over your aviators biting your lip, Jake did look good. Moving into position he made sure he was in front of you. He winks at you behind his own aviators. Hondo blows the whistle, pushing against his body you try to get Phoenix’s attention.

As you make it down the beach she notices then, throwing the ball. Going to catch the ball, your body is then thrown into the sand. A hard body colliding with yours. With a groan, you look up at Jake hovering over you as he smirks. “No can do,” he whispers. The tension between the two of you was not missed by the team as they cheered for Bob, who made the winning touchdown.

He stands, holding a hand out, pulling your body off the sand. “Thanks” you push past him, making your way to the group with a laugh. Coyote smirks at his best friend, rubbing his fingers together, mouthing “money baby, money”.

Jake sighs, following the group into the Hard Deck.

“Hey! You are all covered in sand” Penny groans. “Sorry Pen” Rooster sighs, looking at her with his signature puppy dog eyes. “It’s fine, please dont get it on the carpet" she shakes her head wih a smile. Jake grabs your hand, pulling you from the group.

“Can we talk?” he asks, looking over your face. The sun brought out your freckles. Nodding, you follow him outside. “I’m sorry” he admits, looking out at the ocean, avoiding your eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that to you out there, that was a bit aggressive” nodding, you stand beside him. “Hangman” your voice was soft, comforting to him. “It’s okay, I’m not hurt okay?” rubbing his arm soothingly, he nods.

“Alright” he looks over, smiling down at you. “I won't lie you look absolutely amazing” he smirks. The sand on your skin decorated with sweat, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He can feel the eyeroll from behind your aviators.

“You don't look too bad yourself Seresin” he's leaning down kissing your forehead.

Both of you freeze. It was something so simple but felt so intimate.

You smile as you pull him closer, kissing his cheek just like you did the night of the first date. “Was that weird?” he asks, bringing a smile to your lips. “No, I liked it” you shrug as he smiles. “Alright then” putting an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his side.

“Wanna come over tonight? I’ll make ya somethin” he’s looking down at you. “You are gonna cook for me?” he nods. “Jake Seresin” you gasp with a smile hand on your chest. You nod, “I’d like that,” he smirks.

Jumping, you notice Phoenix’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What is going on?” She asks, arms crossed over her chest. “What?” you toss the papertowel into the trash, turning to face her. “You and Hangman?” you shrug. “We’re getting along,” she nods slowly.

“He seems to be getting really" she trails off, "mushy with you”. You chuckle, looking at your best friend as she moves closer. “I just want you to be careful okay?” nodding, you smile. “Aw, you care about me” she rolls her eyes, slapping your shoulder. “You know I do" she says as you nod, smiling. “I know. He’s tolerable when he’s not flying a plane” she nods, “whatever you say”.

The table is crowded, Fanboy and Payback sit down first, Coyote joining seconds later. “So, who’s winning?” Fanboy asks, looking between Coyote and Hangman. “Me,” Coyote says, looking at Jake with a smirk. “Halo and I are on date 3, maybe even sheets tonight” he smirks. “How about you Hangman?” Payback asks, looking at the blonde.

“Electra and I are also on date 3. Sheets, debateable” he mumbles, sipping on his glass of lemonade. “Hm, seems like that $200 is gonna be worth the fight” Payback says.

Bob wanted to ignore the conversation, he wanted to act like he didn’t stop to listen in at the mention of your name. He moves away from the conversation slowly, he knows he didn't want his presence to be known. He also knows the group of aviators had no idea he heard what they were talking about.

Bob places himself between you and Phoenix, a worried look on his face. “Bob?” you question, looking over his face. “I’m okay,” he smiles. Nodding you watch as he fiddles with a loose fabric on his shorts.

“El” Jake is standing beside you, hand on the back of the chair. “Wanna head out?” he asks, as you nod. “Sure” standing, you look at your two best friends, both shooing you off. “Bye” waving as Jake takes your hand, leading you out of the hard deck.

“What’s going on with you?” Phoenix questions her back-seater. “I-I don’t think Electra should be getting-” he bites his lip, thinking over his words. “I don’t think she should be getting so close to Hangman'' he admits. She nods slowly, “I know”. She leans back in the chair, sipping her own glass of lemonade.

“Can I shower?” you ask once the two of you make it back to his place. Looking up at the blonde, he grins. “Of course, go ahead” he nods towards the stairs of his home. You have to admit, it was a beautiful, simple home.

Biting your lip, stopping at the end of the steps. You debate your next words. Deciding against it, you make your way up the steps. Jake noticed your hesitancy but chose to ignore it.

Walking down the hall slowly, you smile. Jake had photos of his family, nieces and his parents. You stop at one, smiling. Jake and Coyote at their own Top Gun graduation. Making it to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You lean over to turn on the faucett. Stepping in to the cold stream of water, you sigh in delight. The cool water felt amazing against your skin, already feeling the sunburn. Closing your eyes, you let your thoughts run wild.

You wanted to invite him in the shower with you, take that step. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you coninute to wash the sand off your body.

“Don’t mind me” Jake mumbles, the door opening slowly. “I uh, brought you some clothes to put on” you peek out the curtain, he smiles shyly. “Thanks,” you say, as he nods.

“Don't use all my good body wash either” he warns. “But it smells so good!” you yell after him as he chuckles, shutting the door.

Climbing out of the shower, stopping short at the clothes folded neatly on the toilet seat. Noticing the Naval academy shirt, you pick it up, holding it up. You can’t help the smile to grow on your face.

Walking down the steps, Jake’s ears perk up at the sound of the stairs creaking. “Was it a good shower?” he asks, his back to you. Looking him up and down, biting your lip. He stood at the stove, a pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips, opting to forgo a shirt.

“You know it’s dangerous to cook without a shirt” smirking, you cross your arms over your chest. He looks up at the sound of your voice, opening and closing his mouth.

“I-I did not think that through,” he admits pointing the spoon at you, turning back to the stove. “What?” you push off the wall to make your way beside him. Jumping up to sit on the counter beside him, swinging your legs.

“You look so good in that shirt, better than I do” he admits, looking at you. Smirking, you pose beside him as he laughs. “Don’t let it get to your head now” he mumbles, stiring the vegetables. “What are you making?” you ask, humming at the smell. “Thought we could do a stir fry?” he turns to look at you with a smile.

“Sounds delicious” you smile. The kitchen falls silent then, a comfortable silence. You slide off the counter, grabbing your phone from the table, humming.

“Whatcha up too?” he asks. You do selfishly snap a photo of him, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Smirking, you may have peeked at his own playlist, stealing a few songs.

Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff” began playing through your phone speakers. He’s laughing in seconds as you dance around his kitchen, singing along to him.

Setting down the spoon he was using he's turning to face you with a smile. “Dance with me Seresin!” he laughs, taking your hands as you sang to him. “Gotta have some love tonight” you sang, squealing as he's pulling your body into his.

“I need some hot stuff” he sings along in your ear. Your back to his chest as he guides your hips to sawy with his. Laughing, he spins you out and back into his chest. He dips your body with a smirk. Biting your lip, looking between the green of his eyes to his soft pink lips. He notices, smirking. The two of you leaning closer as he connects your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him as he pulls the two of you back up to stand. His hand on the back of your head, tangling in your hair to get your lips closer.

In all the years you have known Jake Seresin, you never expected to be kissing him in his kitchen wearing his shirt. Jake’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, you moan against his lips. He groans, pulling away slowly. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes falling closed as he nudges your nose with his own.

“Not bad,” he whispers, smirking as he chuckles. “Shush” he nudges your nose again, his own smirk on his lips. The ping of his phone pulls the two of you apart, grabbing it from the counter, his heart sinks.

COYOTE: I’m thinking if I need cash or a check ;).

Jake sets the phone aside. “You okay?” then he’s pulled from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. He nods.

“Yeah yeah” he types a quick reply.

HANGMAN: We are gonna need to talk about this, see you tomorrow.

He ignores the ellipses that follows.

The week flew by, the mission was now staring the team in the face. Standing in the middle of the ocean on the carrier, you sigh. Looking over the railing at the ocean, no matter how many times you were on a ship, it never got easier.

“Electra?” standing to your full height, you smile at Bob. “Hey Bob” he smiles, walking closer to you. “Can I ask you something?” you nod as he leans beside you, sighing. “Are you really into Hangman?” he asks, there's a hesitancy in his voice. Biting your lip, you look over at the WSO. “I-I don’t actually know Bob” you say, hesitating. “Why?” you ask, he shrugs.

“I guess it’s strange to see you two now, together. Before it was you and him practically ripping eachother apart” nodding, biting your lip. “It’s weird isn’t it?” you ask as he nods. “I want the best for you Electra, I don’t-I don’t want to pry” shaking your head, resting a hand on his arm.

“Your concern means the world to me Bob” he nods, biting his lip. “Okay” he puts a hand ontop of yours, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you soon okay?” he nods, watching as you make your way inside.

Walking along the narrow hallway, you can hear the mumbling of voices. “I gave you a month Seresin” Coyote's voice was hushed but clear as day in the quiet hallway. Stopping around the corner, you can't help your curiosity listening to the two of them. “I know, I know. The bet’s off Javy, I’ll give you the cash and move on” Jake sighs, shoving a hand into his pocket.

He felt his stomach drop. “You are giving up that easily?” Javy asks in surprise, a smirk then making its way to his lips.

“You didn’t get her to sleep with you” Jake sighs. “Javy,” he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I beat you” Jakes counting the twenties. “The $200 wasn’t worth it” he mumbles between counting.

“Did you fall in love with her or something?” Shoving the cash in his hand, he looks at Coyote. “Does it matter if I did?” Javy notices you then, swallowing nervously as he looks over Jake's shoulder.

“$200 fucking dollars?” you ask hurt evident in your voice, Jake closes his eyes. You knew things with Jake were a bit too good to be true. “I was $200 dollars in your wallet?” Jake turns to face you and he feels like he’s been stabbed, the knife being twisted.

Tears made their way down your cheeks, wiping them quickly with a sigh. “El no” he makes his way to you quickly. “I was a fucking bet Jake Seresin? '' you ask. "No (y/n), please let me explain" you scoff, shaking your head. "You are exactly what the say Jake, a playboy who'd rather get the notch on the belt than an actual relationship" shaking your head as you back away from him.

“No, please listen to me” he’s moving closer. “It meant nothing to me (y/n)” he’s pleading now, tears in his own lash line. “Clearly" you chuckle, looking between both men. "As you are giving Coyote his winnings" you spit. "And god forbid you didn't sleep with me!” he sighs, trying to take your hands in his. "It was more to me than that (y/n)" he's moving closer, watching as you shake your head.

Getting close enought, he stops as your hand connects with his face. Closing his eyes, he sighs. “I deserved that '' you chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, yeah you did bagman” pushing past the two aviators, you stop at the end of the hall.

“You are just a real winner aren't you Jake?” he closes his eyes as he looks away from you. Your voice dripped with Venom. “I expected better from you Coyote. I hope it was worth the $200 you put another innocent woman through to get” he sighs.

Phoenix is stepping out of her quarters as you pass, she notices the tears on your face. “Hey hey El'' she reaches out to stop you, grabbing the arm closest to her. Turning to face her, she notices the tears as they roll down your cheeks. “What is it?” she’s pulling you back into her quarters, shutting the door.

“I was a bet” you look up at her between sobs, she furrows her brows, then she sighs.

“That asshole” she mumbled to herself. Sitting on the chair, you sniffle wiping your face. She looks at you with sympathy.

“He actually made me love him,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Oh honey” she's beside you instantly, holding you against her chest. You felt awful crying into Phoenix's chest. She warned you about this, and yet, you ignored her warning.

You should’ve known better than to let the smooth green eyed pilot in so closely. “I’ve got you” she’s rubbing your back in soothing circles. In the years the two of you knew each other, she saw you this way one other time and it killed her. She hated to see your brave face torn down by him.

She’s crouching in front of you, cupping both cheeks.

“Listen to me” she’s holding your face. “Jake Seresin is an asshole” you chuckle as she smirks. “He’s an asshole who let you fall in love with him. You are the most badass woman in the Navy" you smile sadly at your best friend. She continues "and one of the best pilots the Navy as ever seen (y/n)” you smile against her hands, nodding.

“And you are gonna get that promotion after this mission, rub it in his face” you smile, laughing. “There she is'' she grins, standing to her full height. Wiping your cheeks, you nod with a smile.

“I appreciate you Trace'' she smirks, looking at you, hands on her hips. “You know it (Y/L/N)” holding her hand out to you as you take it, “Now we’re gonna kick some ass” she grins.

Bob sends you a sympathetic smile as you follow beside Pheonix into the debriefing room. “You okay?” he’s whispering, reaching out to give your arm a squeeze. ”As always Bob” smiling, you nudge his shoulder gently.

“Aviators” Cyclone stands at the front of the room, hands on his hips. “We are t-minus one hour til we send you into enemy lines” you can feel Jake's eyes bore into the back of your head.

“You are air support to the team on the ground who are infiltrating the base” Maverick says. “You are all amazing pilots, you prove it time and time again" Cyclone says, "let’s bring you all home safely” Maverick adds. Nodding, you take a deep breath.

Jake watches as you walk past him, Phoenix sending daggers towards him. “Electra” your body stiffens. Phoenix stops, looking between the two of you. “Go” you nod, turning around to face him. “Hangman” he cringed slightly, he hated the way your voice dripped with hate put also pain.

“Can I just please explain myself?” he’s moving closer, looking down at you. The way your tear stained cheeks stared back at him. It made his heart hurt more.

“I should slap you again” you seeth. “I am more than a bet” he nods, looking at you. “I know that, I-I should have never agreed to it” you chuckle darkly. Looking over his face as it held nothing but seriousness. “I am a pilot in the Navy, I fly into death everyday” you whisper stepping closer to be chest to chest with him. “But yet, it hurts more knowing I was a flimsy $200 bet” he nods, looking at the anger written on your face.

“I could take anything else Hangman, I take enemy fire. I can take the doubts from superiors who doubt my ability because I'm a woman." you seeth, looking over his face. He's biting his lip, he's never seen you this angry before. "But yet, I let you in and let you weasel your way into my heart just to bestabbed in the back” his heart breaks more.

“(Y/N), I know I should have never agreed to the stupid bet, Coyote was on about how he could sleep with Halo-” holding your hand up, you stop him. “He did this to Halo too?” nodding, he watches your face change. “He better tell her or I will do it myself” he nods.

“I fell in love with you (Y/N)” walking towards the the door, you stop in the frame, turning to face him.

“You should have thought about that before you used me for a fucking bet.” You turn away from him, biting your lip.

“Good luck” mumbling over your shoulder, walking into the hallway.

Running your hand along the jet, checking the checklist in your head. Missing the approaching footsteps. “El” looking over at Coyote, narrowing your eyes behind your aviators.

“Lieutenant Machado” he sighs, hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry” you nod looking back at him. “Did you tell Halo you won?” he nods slowly.

“I didn’t realize Jake fell in love with you” he admits as you shrug. Moving closer to him, you sigh. “I hope you both realize your faults. We are not objects. Halo and I are just as good, even better than you two” he nods.

“Use that money and buy her something to apologize.'' he smiles shyly. “I’m gonna ask her out officially, once i apologize forever” smirking, you nod. “As you should, now please go” you whisper.

He nods, making his way to his own F-18. Strapping yourself in, you close your eyes, sighing heavily as the canopy closes. “We are clear for takeoff, on your count” Cyclone sends each of you off.

“Let’s get home safely,” Maverick says over the comms.

“Bob, do you have anything?” you ask, flying beside him and Phoenix. “Nothing yet” he latches the mask into his helmet. “How about you Fanboy?” Hangman's voice is calm over the comms. His heart racing miles a minute. “I have a bogie, about eight miles out” Fanboy says, looking out the window beside him.

“Electra, I have two more bogies, 6 miles” you nod. “Spread out, let's give em hell” you smirk. You veer to the right, flying above the two pilots now beside Hangman. He looks over, watching as you mostly concentrate on the boagies.

He felt his racing heart ease with you beside him.

“Coyote, I really need some help here!” Hangman grits his teeth, his strained. “I’m comin man” Coyote replies. You smirk, getting a lock on the jet following Hangman. “No need” veering left away from them as the missile collides with the plane. A parachute left seen through the smoke.

The fight continued between the team. “Rooster!” your voice filled with panic. “C’mon man, I can’t fight this guy myself” your doing everything to get away from the pilot. “Electra, I need you to go through the mountains, I’ll meet them on the other side” you nod, panting into the comms.

“You better be Rooster god damn it” he chuckles softly to himself. He kept his word, flying through the mountain as you flew past him, smoke in the air and one less enemy plane. “You know I got you El” he smirks beside you. The comm line was quiet before Hangman's voice breaks through “I’ve lost the right engine!” breaking in and out.

“I’ve been hit, I repeat” he’s trying to stop the fire, looking around at all the enemy planes on his sides.

“I’ve lost the left engine”. he's attempting to put the fire out, restarting the right engine.

His heart is racing, looking everywhere for the one person who could make it better. “I’ve lost control!” it was matter of minutes before his jet began spinning.

“Electra” his voice is pleading. He's on the verge of tears as he continues over the comms, "Electra, I am so sorry."

Your can feel your heart breaking.

“You need to eject Hangman!” your yelling, pushing more G’s to get closer to him. “I can't do this Electra” he’s mumbling, watching as his altitude is lower and lower. “Yes you can Jake Seresin, you need to eject!” closing his eyes, he’s pulling the ejection handles.

In a matter of seconds he’s out of his jet, parachutes erupting into the sky like fireworks.

Watching as his body falls into the ocean below, you have no idea if he made it out alive. “Dagger team, return to the carrier” the team says, coming in static as you follow beside Rooster.

Flying mindlessly, letting your eyes continue to drift down to the ocean below.

“We need rescue” you mumble into the comms. “We’ll take care of it Lietuenant (Y/L/N)”. Once landed, you close your eyes at the sun once the canopy opens. You miss the way Maverick makes his way to your side.

“We have search and rescue out for him” jumping, you look down at Maverick. Nodding, you climb down the ladder with a sigh.

“Can someone please inform me when you find him?” he nods, hand on your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, okay?” you smile sadly. He sends you a sympothetic smile, making his way back inside. Walking towards the door, you run into a hard chest, stumbling slightly as two hands catch you.

“El” your looking up at Rooster, who sends you a comforting smile. “Is it bad I’m terrified he’s dead?” you ask before you can stop yourself. He shakes his head. “No it’s not, as much of a pain in the ass he is, Hangman makes up this team” you nod, taking a deep breath as your head connects with his chest.

He’s wrapping his arms around you tightly. “It’s all gonna be alright” he’s mumbling. Nodding, you wrap your own arms around his waist. “Electra!” pulling away, you look at Coyote. “Javy,” he’s panting, moving closer he's pulling you against him. “It’s gonna be alright okay? H-He’ll be okay” his voice shakes, you’ve never heard him so upset. “Of course he will, it’s gonna take more than that to get Jake Seresin down” he nods looking down at you.

“He begged for you” you nod, resting a hand on his arm as your own voice shakes. “I know and if they don't find him" stopping yourself, looking up at Javy. "I wont be able to live with myself" he nods, hugging you tighter. “Let’s go inside okay? Maverick is gonna let me know anything” you say as he nods, making his way inside.

Looking out at sea one last time, you follow behind.

Forty eight hours.

It took them forty eight hours to find Jake and his plane. You are then standing in Mavericks office, staring out the window. The tarmac lined with F-18s. You hug Jake's flight jacket tighter to your body.“Lieutenant (Y/L/N)” turning around, you face a smiling Maverick.

“He’s on his way home” the tears prick your lash line.

“He’s coming home Electra" he makes his way closer to you. "C’mon chopper should be landing any minute” nodding, you follow closely behind him.

The leather bomber jacket was comforting to you. Coyote gave it to you as the two of you sat together hours before.

“I found Jake’s jacket” looking at him, you furrow your brows. “Which jacket?” he pulls the leather jacket out. “His flight jacket” you smile, holding a hand out to him as he hands it to you. Tracing the stitching of his patches sewn in. Before you know it, you are pulling it over your shoulders.

It smelled like him. “I’m mourning him like we were married” you mumble. Coyote shrugs, “you guys did fight like one” narrowing your eyes at him, he holds his hands up in defense. He smiles nodding, “Jake would want you to have that.” nodding, you pull it tighter around you.

“You with me?” Maverick asks from beside you. Standing on the landing strip, you nod. Pulling the aviators over your eyes, watching as the helicopter makes its landing. Shoving your hands into the pockets of the flight jacket, you watch as a team of medics make their way to the helicopter.

“He’s home Electra” looking up at Maverick, you nod eagerly.

The stretcher seemed so far away, he seemed so far away. “Go ahead” jogging to catch up with the nurses, you pull the aviators off your eyes, smiling sadly at the pilot. He was unconscious but still looked like Jake.

A few scrapes and a busted lip but he was Jake. “Jesus” you mumble, taking his hand as you following beside him as they wheel him inside.

Following the nurses all the way to the med wing, untill a nurse is stopping you. You are dropping his hand with a sigh. “I know” she’s sympathetic. “Let me get him stable and he’s yours” you nod, sniffling.

“Okay” she sends a sympathetic smile before she’s pushing through the double doors. “(Y/N)!” there's two sets of footsteps down the hall. “Bob? Phoenix?” you turn to face your best friends.

“They find him?” Bob asks first, panting. You nod, your bottom lip tembeling.

“Was he awake?” Phoenix asks as you shake your head, turning to face the swinging double doors again.

Twenty four hours passed before a nurse came out of the swinging doors. The same nurse who stopped you hours ago. She’s smiling. “He’s awake” you stand as she holds her hand out to you.

Following the nurse, you stop at the double doors. “Tell Coyote” you say, phoenix nods from her seat. “He’s asking for you, Electra I’m guessing?” she smirks over her shoulder. You blush, “That’s me”.

She stops at the two of you at the door, looking at you. “I think you should have this, we found this in his suit” she holds the polaroid photo out to you. The edges were torn but the photo was clear as day.

The night you stayed with Jake for the first time in his Naval academy shirt.

“It was tucked into his chest pocket” wiping the tear off your cheek, you nod. “He’s gonna be bruised okay?” she warns, hand on your shoulder. “He’s okay just remember that” nodding to the door, she sends you a warm smile.

Pushing the door open, you close it quietly behind you. The room was just monitors beeping and horrible fluorescent lighting. Looking around the room and then back down to the polaroid in your hand as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

You look up at the sound of his groan. He’s smirking, laying in the hospital bed, with a wrap around his ribs. His bruises now turned a deep purple. “Darlin” his voice is hoarse.

You can’t help the sob that falls from your lips. He sits up, groaning as he tries to stand. Rushing to him with a hand on his shoulder, you encourage him to sit back down.

“Don’t get your ass up” your voice is soft as he chuckles, wincing as he falls back into the bed. “Yes ma’am” he salutes, looking up at you.

“God damn you” turning from him to wipe your cheeks. “Look at me” shaking your head, you take a deep breath.

“Electra, look at me” his voice is stern. “I need you to look at me” his voice falters slightly, still stern. Turning to face him, his own tears in his eyes. “Why did you have to do that?” he sniffles.

“You needed to know, if I did not make it out-” shaking your head, you take his hand. He pulls you to sit beside him on the bed.

“Listen to me please” his thumb is running over your knuckles soothingly. “I may have made that bet with Coyote” you can’t help but cringe. He nods slowly, a sympathetic smile on his face as he continues. “I made that bet with Coyote thinking if maybe I slept with you the feelings I had would just” he pauses “go away”.

You furrow your brows as he smiles. “So I agreed to it, but then we went dancin” he grins as you chuckle. “And then we went out on these dates. I forgot about the whole bet, I just wanted you” he whispers, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“I don't care about $200, I don't care if he took the gloat” you lean into his hand, closing your eyes as more tears fell. Catching them with his thumb, he wipes your cheek gently. “I fell in love with you (Y/N), you are the most amazing person, most amazing pilot in the goddamn Navy” you chuckle, sniffling. “Can I have that on record?” you ask as he chuckles, groaning in pain after. "Don't mak me laugh" he warns. “I fell in love with the way you wanted to dance in the kitchen to the god forsaken playlist I put together. I fell in love with the way you don’t put up with my bullshit and that is enough for me” he grins. “You are the most badass woman I know, I fell in love with your spark and passion for what you do and for how much love you have for your friends” shaking your head, you kiss his palm gently smiling up at him.

“You are worth so much more than a stupid $200 bet” you chuckle, looking at him. “I regret it” you nod, looking at him. “Jake” shaking his head, he looks at you. “I understand if you are still angry at me” opening your mouth to speak, closing it as he continues.

“I should have never done that,” shaking your head, reaching over to cover his mouth.

“Jake Seresin, you may need an ego check” he raises his brow as you continue. “But you also know how to love under that thick skull, you probably took me on the most romantic dates of my life” he chuckles under your hand. “Also, no man ever got my favorite flower right on the first date” he smiles proudly.

“I hid behind my own ego biting back becuase I knew I was not on the Hangman roster” you smile, moving the hand covering his mouth to cup his cheek. “I built walls that you destroyed,” he smirks. “Does this mean, you love me too?” he asks. Rolling your eyes, you lean down to connect your lips to his gently. He hisses softly, cupping your cheeks as your lips molded together. He kissed you like his life depended on it.

“I love you” he's breathless as you disconnect both pull away, he looks over your face, you smile. “I love you too”

“I may have lost $200, but I won the best prize” looking over your face, he’s cupping your cheek again. “Oh did you?” you ask as he smirks.

“I did, I won the sexiest Naval Aviator in the whole world” laughing, you lean down to connect your lips to his again. Moving his hand to your waist, he's puling your body as close as he possible can. He didn't want to miss the opportunity to have you next to him.

You smile, moving to lay beside him, he wraps you in his arms. The silence falls over the room. "I can't say this is how I imagined it" he mumbles, voice full of sleep. You hum, looking up from chest, "what's that?" you ask. He smiles, "I didn't know what to think if you'd forgive me, let alone stay with me" you smile, kissing his chest gently. "Get some rest" you whisper. "I love you" he mumbles, head falling ontop of yours as his arm stayed around your waist, hugging your body into his side. Before you can reply, he's snoring above you.

He may have lost $200 but he won the best prize of them all, you.

A/N: duuuuude. I can't write short hangman fics apparently. I am actually happy with this guy, i wanted to write a she's all that / 10 things I hate about you inspired fic and this flowed so nicely. Back with my favorite aviator.

If you enjoyed this fic you can find my other work

in my libarary -> here.

ps: if you know where i got the inspo for the line dancing date, please let me know, the ones who get it, get it. ;)

#glen powell #glen powell top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #jake seresin smut #jake hangman x reader #hangman #hangman x y/n #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman top gun

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passivenovember · 8 months

Text

"Hey, isn't that Steve?"

Billy almost drops the vase in hand. It's about a hundred and thirty fucking degrees out anyway and it's not even noon so his palms are tiny oil slicks, but he's done good, so far.

He's been careful. Happy to finally unveil his fall collection to the hundreds of Instagram follower's who've been on his ass since July--

But Heather opens her mouth and says, "Shit, Bill, I think that is Steve," peering over Billy's shoulder with these comically large brown eyes, and usually it would be kinda funny.

But the thing is, Heather's working his last fucking never in the way only a best friend can.

She had to be dragged out of their apartment this morning, kicking and screaming until Billy forked out ten bucks to get a starbucks coffee in her even though they already agreed to split today's profits 90/10 because he needed help with the maker's fair.

Billy didn't even get a coffee himself, they were running so late, and by the time the Camaro screeched down Millwork street, kicking up a cloud of dust as Billy frantically searched for the vendor entrance, it was almost 10:00 am. The bitchy volunteer at the gate almost refused to give him the tent he shelled out $200 for because check-in was at 8:00 am and it's almost 10:00, now.

Like Billy can't tell time. So.

He's not in the mood for games or jokes or teasing. Really not in the mood, like. He might drop the cashier lock box in Heather's hands and vanish, all, take your 10% and shove it in your ass, not in the mood.

But Heather trips around the folding table, dropping Billy's favorite plaid table linen in the dirt to clutch and grab at his shoulder like a scared kid.

"Heather," Billy snaps, stooping to save it from the dust with his free hand, "Holloway, I swear to fucking God--"

"Look," Heather spats. Her nails dig into his armpit when she spins him around, and.

Steve's there.

Huh.

He's wearing a volunteer t-shirt. And a fanny pack. And his extra-strength 50 SPF sunscreen hasn't been rubbed into his cheeks all the way so they look like sugar glazed apples where he sits in his little folding chair, two tents over at Robin's candle booth. Laughing.

And. Billy hasn't heard that laugh in what feels like a lifetime.

His bones ache with it, rebuilding around the loss he never really processed but has grown to ignore out of survival's sake. Steve's laugh, it. It's Billy's favorite sound in the entire world.

They haven't spoken in three months.

Not since Steve was inside of him, pumping slow and hard with his hands behind Billy's knees, folding him in half as he mouthed sweetness into Billy's throat.

You're so beautiful, tongue lavish against Billy's fluttering heartbeat, You're mine, baby. I want you to be mine. I love--

Behind them, Milk & Marigold's assistant drops something heavy and it shatters. Hundreds of eyes turn in their direction, dozens of frazzled vendors and their teams alarmed at the sudden stillness, and.

Robin, who grins widely at Heather, and. Steve. Locking eyes with Billy as all the color drains from his face.

"Holy shit," Heather's nails press deeper into Billy's arm, somehow, and Billy thinks, distantly, that she might draw blood.

He doesn't care.

Steve's looking at him. For the first time in months, the world is right and Billy can breathe again and about a trillion and thirty things rush through head, rapid firing so he doesn't have the mental space to register the way plot seventeen aches to topple to the parking-lot under foot.

Somewhere, back on Earth, Milk & Marigold's assistant gets his ass handed to him for being so reckless, and slowly. Shyly. Steve lifts a hand and waves.

Billy's going to drop plot seventeen. He grips its amber neck, instead, carless of the rippling clay under his fingertips. "Very funny," Billy says, turning on his heel. He sticks the vase between plots sixteen and eighteen, his jaw so tense it could hack and slash the sky. "I can't believe this. This is such a fucking joke--"

"--Shit--"

"--I can't believe I thought I wouldn't see him here, I mean. Robin's got a business too, right? A side hustle?"

"Candles, or something. Yeah."

"Of course she'd be here. And if she's here then. Fuck, I should've thought about this more," Billy says, tugging all ten fingers through his hair, "God, I should've just launched the fall collection online, like a normal--"

"Billy?"

Billy stands ramrod straight. All the air rushes from his lungs, his hair standing on end as if the tent overhead has grown lips and is talking to Billy in his father's voice.

It's not that.

Steve could never be that because he's better. Holy.

Steve's so much more real, up close. His hair is longer than the last time Billy saw him, his cheeks and jaw dusted with a prickly 5'oclock that gives way to a mustache up top.

It's incredibly sexy.

Billy hates it, on site, because Steve's moles are hidden like a secret. A sun-ripe memory of the first thing Billy ever loved about him.

"Wow. I didn't think I'd see you here, today," Steve says. His eyes hunt over Billy's face, warm and familiar and so, so soft despite all the shit that Billy said the last time they saw each other.

It hangs in the air, stuck like a wedge between them.

"Billy," Steve says again, soft and full of wonder and ready to scale the enormity of their past. Billy forgot how his name holds weight, when Steve says it. Extra syllables and consonants, worth their stake in gold.

Billy clears his throat. Longs for a glass of water, "Hey," He says, when really he means, I'm sorry, and, please never go away again. I'm a bad man and I was afraid but if you give me another chance, I promise I won't push you away, because I love--

Heather clears her throat.

Billy jerks his head in her direction, dizzy as the world fades back into focus. "Sorry," He says, weary, "I'm an asshole. Steve, this is--"

"Heather," Steve shakes her hand, smile gorgeous and winning, "I know, we met, I think. Once or twice when I was on my way out of the apartment."

Billy's going to pass out.

He's dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then. Steve looks at him, and his gaze settles like a warm, solid weight over Billy so he can't float away. "It's a nice apartment," Steve says shyly, "Felt like home."

Billy wasn't expecting this. To see Steve, let alone talk about the apartment, and--

"Billy," Heather says, clapping her hands together once, "How about I go and see if Robin has any extra tent weights?"

"Sure," Billy says, and Steve smiles at him, and then Billy smiles because Steve's always had that effect on people.

Heather scampers off and Steve shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "You look good," Steve says.

Billy's palms are sweating. "So do you."

"Thanks. I feel like shit. I didn't realize you'd be here, even though I could've guessed, if I had a moment to rest with my own thoughts. Robin's working on her fall collection--"

"--Right--"

"--and I guess you are, too. Well," Steve tugs a hand through his hair and it poofs up big like fresh whipped cream, and Billy has missed him so desperately that his ribs rack and break, "That's a lie. I don't have to guess. I know for a fact you're fixing to launch your fall collection."

Billy frowns, "How do you know that?"

"I follow you on Instagram," Steve says, like he's expecting to get told off.

But.

It does something, to the atmosphere. Shifts things. Billy thought he'd blocked Steve on everything, after the first drunken voicemail, but.

Apparently not.

"Yeah, well. The suburban moms love my shit," Billy crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly freezing.

Steve's gaze gets caught on the swell of Billy's arms. "Billy," He starts.

"Look, it's almost noon," Billy says, heartbroken.

Steve doesn't seem to get it. But then his eyes get big and watery, like Heathers, and Billy wants to wrap him in a blanket. "Right," Steve says, "Market's opening soon."

"Right."

"Sorry, I know you still have to set up."

"No sweat."

"Look, Billy--"

"It was good to see you, Steve."

It presses down on them. Everything.

Steve's eyes close like doors. "Sure," He says, and then he's gone.

Apparently, word gets around for events like this.

For the first few hours Billy doesn't have time to mull over his interaction with Steve, because they're slammed with wave after wave of eager Saturday Morning buyers.

Billy's feet ache by noon as Heather works the cash box and he makes laps around the tent, restocking and catching up with repeat buyers.

The event volunteers swing by every thirty minutes or so to make sure they have everything they need, dropping off bottled water and drink tickets, and by two Billy's happy he won't be going home with a trunk full of merchandise.

He counts the cash box, whooping when he realizes that their 90/10 won't shake out too badly. "We did pretty damn good, Heath, and it's only 2:00."

Heather's already used her drink tickets on a couple of Bloody Mary's. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"I heard there's a fried hotdog thing on a stick down by the food trucks," Heather says, and she giggles like any sort of weenie could pique her interest. "That doesn't sound good to you?"

"Eh," Billy says, leaning back in his chair, "I've been trying this intermittent fasting thing. I eat a big fuckin' breakfast of mostly protein, and then a light lunch around 3:00, and a small dinner--"

"That's so fucking stupid."

Billy frowns, "Gotta keep in shape."

"For who?" Heather demands. "It's not like you're whoring yourself out anymore, and you're not gonna let one of your old flings back into the apartment., much less your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Heather's cheeks are red, as if she's been sitting in the sun all morning. Billy knows her well enough to get that she probably doesn't mean any harm by it, but her words sting, anyway.

"There are other guys in New York, Heather."

"You don't want to get to know other guys, Billy."

"Bullshit. I know you're a nosy lesbian with too much attitude wedged in her a-cup bra to notice, but some of us aren't looking for love. Some of us would rather fuck random losers."

"That's so not you."

"It's a good distraction. I could use one of those."

"It's kinda hilarious," Heather rolls her eyes, "Even you don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about protecting people."

"People like Steve?"

Billy snaps the cash box shut. "You're so bad at conversation Segway's."

"Fuck you, I'm really clever and stealthy."

"Did you talk to Robin about this," Billy demands, watching slack-jawed and furious as pink floods Heather's cheeks. "My thing with Steve isn't any of your business, and it's not interesting enough to warrant all your fucking medaling."

"I just think--"

"I don't care what you think."

"Why would you react like that when you saw each other?" Heather sits flush to the edge of her lawn chair, shoulders squared for a fight. "If what happened between you meant nothing and you'd really rather skip the greasy market-food for some imaginary sex pot you can blow and dump on Cornelia Street the second you're through with him, why would your heart stop beating when--"

Billy shakes his head. "I don't care what you and Robin have to say, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a piece of shit, alright?" Billy snaps. "What happened with Steve, it. It was inevitable, okay? He said he loved me, and I loved him and I still do but that doesn't fucking matter because he's Steve and I'm Billy and I could never be half good enough, alright? Happy?"

When Heather doesn't say anything, Billy shoves back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Heather asks, voice small and awful.

"I'm having my two drinks," Billy says, padding quickly onto the already crowded street.

As far as Billy's concerned, calories don't exist when it comes to alcohol.

He finds the nearest bar cart and orders two shots of dark liquor, even though it usually makes his stomach go on strike, and shells out seven dollars of his own single-person salary for a French 75.

Then he starts walking.

And walking.

At another bar cart, Billy can't stop thinking about the first time he ever saw Steve, pulsing like a brand new heart under club lights, pretty with the kind of looks that made Billy mentally ill. So he shells out another $20 on a girly pink drink with a paper mâché umbrella.

It tastes like strawberries and Steve used to taste like strawberries in the summertime. Billy can't remember what he was so upset about, before.

He feels good. In control.

But then he gets lost somewhere near Broadway and just as he figures out how to get back to his tent, where Heater is likely up to her eyeballs in impatient customers and guilt about being endlessly right in all things, Billy spots Steve balancing a funnel cake on one arm.

His nose is red. Strawberry dappled, which means he's drunk, and he's got a cup of pale ale pinched between his teeth as he figures out how to hold his market load.

The only problem is, Steve's gorgeous and so, so fucking stupid he can't figure out that he's got two hands.

It makes Billy's heartache, thumping a little harder to the left, and he can't remember why he ever left Steve rumpled in a hotel room that night, half-hard and brokenhearted, so Billy takes the rest of his drink like a shooter, and marches up to Steve and says, "You really should be locked up somewhere."

It's meant to hurt. And bruise.

But Steve's whole face lights up and he drops the ale down the front of his volunteer shirt. "Billy," he says, sounding way too bright and happy. Soaked through.

"Shit, your uniform--"

"It's okay, thing's almost over anyway."

"Stop being so nice."

"Okay," Steve says easily, "You're an asshole, and you broke my heart, and now I'm all wet."

"Well, since we're being honest."

Steve frowns. "I dreamed about seeing you again, you know? How you'd. Have too many drinks and look at me and say you haven't been able to get it up since we split.

"I can always get it up," Billy tires flatly, and Steve smirks. It's small and barely there, but. Billy swallows thickly, "I am an asshole. You're right. A drunk asshole."

"Me too. I know."

"I was worried about hurting you," Billy admits in a rush, "I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought I wasn't ready for what we had to be more than just sex, but it already was."

"--Okay--"

"I never bottomed before," Billy blurts out. "I can get it up. You make me pop too quick, you're just. You're perfect and you're kind. You're every wet dream I ever had rolled into one, Steve." The sidewalk is waving, a little. Steve looks like he wants to touch Billy, to reach out and steady him, but he's already holding a funnel cake.

Steve nods.

Encouraging and soft and kind as ever, and Billy's never felt safe with anyone, like this. So, Billy says, choking a little, "I never let another person touch me, like that. My body or anything else. I never did. You're so good, Steve. So I let you touch me and it changed me and I don't know how to be anything else than a drunk, whining asshole. But we happened and I never ached for it before, it fucking. Knocked me on my ass, Steve. You came in and you knocked me on my ass, and--"

"Billy--"

"God, I love it when you say my name," Billy says. He wonders, distantly, what kind of mojo they put in that girly little cocktail because he can't stop talking.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, but he says, "You really hurt me," Picking at the golden crisp of his funnel cake. "Seriously, Bill, I didn't think I was gonna survive it."

Billy's knees almost give out, he's. Hot all over. Burning up with feverish grief. "I'm sorry," he says. He's a hole in the center of the universe.

"I know."

"I was afraid."

"I get that," Steve says. He shuffled the funnel cake in his hands, and Billy wonders how the bottom's not soggy yet, damaged and ready to fall out. Steve puts it on the ground. "Shit's gross."

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna," Steve says, frowning, "We could walk. And talk about it, more."

"Sure."

"I'm not saying we can get back together yet--"

"--Yet--"

"I missed you," Steve says, and he's bright as the sun.

Billy's been freezing to death his whole life, so. He draws close. Takes Steve's hand, "I missed you, too," He says. "Maybe we should get you a dry shirt?"

#harringrove #guys this truly is just word vomit #anyway!#hope you liked it lol #because i didn't do any editing #lol #love ya!

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rintosei · 1 year

Text

TEARS OF SORROW

CHARACTERS: nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, and itoshi sae

warnings: fem!reader, a bit of spoiler alert on rin's part (just a tiny bit for the u-20 vs bllk arc), harsh words, angst

author's note: changed my theme + thank u for 200 followers ;-; !! ALSO TO THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS im so sorry i lost the ask u sent so i couldn't write this under your ask ueueue

credits to @playboys-bunny for inspiring this work!

NAGI SEISHIRO:

dating nagi seishiro means that you have to keep up with his... hobby of playing video games. whether it be during your free time, or on a small break when you guys are walking outside, nagi would always find a way to whip out his phone and started playing his video game.

you've known about his hobby, and you were completely fine with it. that is until you eventually found it annoying how he would rather spend time playing his games rather than spending time with you. since he joined blue lock, he doesn't have enough time to go on dates with you, let alone play his video games.

but, once he got a break from blue lock, he arrives back into your shared apartment and guess what he did? played video games. for a long time too, in fact. you were already super happy that he was coming back, yet you were greeted with the sight of him playing video games.

it's as if he doesn't acknowledge your presence.

"nagi?" you called out to him, and he only lets out a hum, fingers clicking away on his phone screen. "um, do you want to go out today? it's been so long since we've had a date, hasn't it? plus, the weather today isn't too sunny, so it won't be too hot outside."

"eh?" nagi replies. "i'm too lazy. can we do it another day? i have to catch up on the events i missed."

you sighed. he has said this to you multiple times already. "really? you have used this excuse so many times ever since you came back. do you not want to go out on a date with me anymore?"

"i have never implied that, y/n," nagi says, annoyed. "i just haven't been able to play games since i was in blue lock, so i think i deserve to play now that i'm having a break from there."

"so what you're saying is that you'd rather care about your stupid video games rather than me? your girlfriend who's been waiting for you to come back so that we can spend more time together? waiting for the day that you were able to have a small break from that place?" you asked, anger prominent in your voice.

"if that's the case then what?" nagi says, and you freeze.

"are you hearing yourself right now?" you asked in disbelief. "you care more about your video games than me?"

"mm."

you scoffed, standing up to grab your coat from the coat hanger, and tying your shoelace.

"where are you going?" so now nagi cares about what you're going to do?

"back to my own apartment," you replied coldly. "it's not like i was welcomed here anyway." and with that you closed the door shut.

ITOSHI RIN:

being the younger brother of itoshi sae, rin has always been subjected to high expectations from his fans. along with blue lock that happened, fans were even more excited to see what rin is capable of doing in the next game he will be featured in.

as someone who's knowledge of soccer was just the mere basics, you are only able to provide moral support, occasionally cheering for rin from the side as you watch his tournament.

however, the day he came back from the u-20 vs. blue lock match, he seems a bit more agitated at sae than usual. you weren't able to watch the tournament live, so you were only able to watch through your television, and you weren't able to congratulate him immediately.

ever since that day, he's been training way more than usual. he would spend hours in the gym, and you were getting concerned. so, being a good girlfriend, you packed him some lunch and headed out the door to the gym rin is currently in.

once you arrived, you see him stretching. rin doesn't notice you, so you tap his shoulder, and he flinches. "jesus, y/n, don't do that." rin gives you a glare, and a scary one at that.

"hi rinnie," you greeted him. "do you want to take a rest? i brought you lunch." you shake the bag you were currently holding, yet rin doesn't give you the usual smile he would've given you.

"no." rin says that and goes back to his exercising routine. you frown, setting the bag down.

"are you sure? you look really tired, and i don't want you to get sick." you say with a concerned look on his face.

"shut up, y/n. you don't understand anything do you?" rin asks in an annoyed tone. "i am not a little kid, so i know how to take care of myself, okay? just shut up and leave me alone."

you wanted to say something, but you couldn't. no words were able to get out of your mouth, and instead, you could only bite your lip.

"okay, um, i'll leave this here, okay? i'll be staying in nagi's for a while." you didn't wait for rin's answer and left, leaving the lunchbox on the bench next to rin.

ITOSHI SAE:

being in a relationship with sae meant that you had to deal with a long distance relationship since he has to go back and forth to spain. you wanted to come with him during his trip to spain, but due to school and stupid exams, you couldn't.

with that being said, the only form of communication you were able to have with sae was through texts or phone calls, which suck because of the timezones between spain and japan.

when you call him during nighttime in japan, he's usually still asleep or busy training, so sae made a special timetable for you, giving you the exact time you were able to call him (which sometimes doesn't work with sudden work or emergencies for you and sae).

"hi, sae!" you excitedly say once sae answers your video call. you saw how tired he looks and how dark it was behind him. "oh, sorry, did you just come out of practice?"

"yeah, glad you noticed," sae replies, rubbing his eyes. "why did you call me in the middle of the night?"

"huh? oh, um i just wanted to tell you that i passed the exam i was so worried about!" you happily say, patiently waiting for sae to reply back. "um, sae? you there-?"

"yes, i am, god. did you have to call me this late at night just to tell me this useless thing?" sae asks, annoyed.

"wh-what do you mean useless?" you asked in disbelief. "i've been talking to you about how stressed i was about this exam because i'm not too good in this subject. you were the one encouraging me and accompanying me study whenever you were free! you know how much this exam means for my grades, and now you're saying it's useless?!"

sae sighs. "yes, it is useless." he says nothing after that, only showing his sleepy and tired eyes.

you bit your lip, clenching your phone. "fine, go back to your stupid beauty sleep then." and you ended the call.

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allysunny · 3 months

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Oooh can you do 22 and M for Miggy? 🥺

I love soft husband Miggy

"We're not meant for each other” / “I don’t care, I love you” + Domestic Bliss x Miguel O’Hara

Words: 3.6k words

Warnings: Suggestive themes, a small twinge of angst (if you squint), a small mention of blood, overall just happy domestic Miggy! Also some unstranslated spanish (please correct me if any of it is wrong), not proofread. And do tell if I missed anything!

A/N: Here it is!!! The domestic Miggy from my 200 Followers Event! I love this man so much and he deserves the absolute best, I had such a blast writing it.

I'm sorry for the delay, but uni has just started once again, and, well, now I get a bit busier. Hopefully I'll be able to manage everything, seeing as I really enjoy writing, it's a bit of an escape for me. I'll try to remain consistent!

Anyways, here it is! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Peaceful Saturday mornings were hard to come by.

Usually, Miguel was up at the crack of dawn, kissing your forehead and whispering about how he’d come back as soon as he was done with whatever needed taking care of back in Spider Society. You’d whine and plead for him to stay, and he’d promise to return in a heartbeat. Most of the time, he wasn’t home in a heartbeat, and you moped around for a few minutes before going on about with your day.

But not today.

No, today, you’d gotten the blessing of feeling the warmth of his chest press against your back, and his arm curling into you to bring you closer to him. Of feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his palm was steady on your bare stomach. It was nice.

You closed your eyes and tried to go back to sleep, tried to prolong that feeling of peace and quiet for a bit longer, but Miguel had some different ideas.

“No, no, no, cariño, can’t go back to sleep now, I know you’re awake,” he mumbled, lips brushing the shell of your ear. The raspiness of his voice made your whole body shiver, and you pressed yourself harder against him.

“Shhhh, don’t speak.” You whispered as a response, which earned him a chuckle. His chest reverberated and he held you tighter, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Just five more minutes. Please, can’t have you leave yet.”

“But darling,” he murmured, “I’m not leaving.”

It was enough for you to roll yourself over, nearly hitting him on the nose with the back of your skull. Miguel laughed at your eagerness, and his smile only widened. Your happiness made him happy. And he was aware of how he had been neglecting you these past few months.

And being a man who had already lost so much in life, he wasn’t going to take you and your marriage for granted. There was a reason he’d been working himself to the bone the last week, coming home far too late and leaving at the crack of dawn. It was exhausting, yes, and while you understood the things he had to do as Spider-Man (an occupation that was surely no easy feat), he could see the way your shoulders sagged whenever you kissed him goodbye in the morning, or he mumbled into your shoulder something sort of “I’m sorry, I need to get up”.

“You aren’t?” you asked, cupping his face with your hands, the planes of his cheekbones fitting perfectly in between your palms. You’d always thought Miguel was perfect for you – you two fit together like two puzzle pieces. Whenever you cooked dinner and he hugged you from behind, kissing the top of your head and watching you as you stirred and seasoned, whenever you cuddled on the couch, his body draped over his as you drooled on his arms and he zapped through channels to see if he could find some interesting documentary while you slept, when you clung onto him desperately as he lowered himself onto you, legs tightly wrapped around his back and face hidden in the crook of his neck. You were perfect together. That much was clear.

Miguel made a soft noise of agreement, and you all but jumped on top of him, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed, a true laugh that came from his chest and made you feel like you were in cloud nine, and loosely wrapped his arms around you, content to have you close.

“You’re not joking? You’re staying home for the day?” you mumbled against his neck, pushing yourself up to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“And tomorrow as well. And hopefully, Monday too. You’ve got the day off, right?”

You squealed in delight and threw your arms around his neck (or did so as best as you could) and kissed him repeatedly, proclaiming your love for him as you did so. Miguel smiled, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch and placed a soft kiss on his palm. Miguel’s heart melted, and then he slowly traced his face with his fingers. How come you were able to fill his heart with such love, such joy and happiness with a gesture as simple as a kiss?

Qué àngel perfecto.

But Miguel knew you. Truly knew you. And he should also know better than to expect you to be his perfect little angel.

When his thumb softly grazed your bottom lip, you took it inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the pad of his finger, and innocently looking at him through your lashes. He furrowed his eyebrows and you only smiled, releasing it with a soft “pop”.

Having earned no reaction from him, you frowned.

“I’m sorry. Was that disgusting? I won’t do it aga – “

In one swift motion, you were below Miguel, his toned arms and legs trapping you underneath him. His gaze held something you could only describe as pure, sheer, raw desire, and he lazily let his eyes wonder over the planes of your body. You were wearing a flimsy silk nightgown, a nightgown that, due to his sudden movements, was all bunched up at your waist, exposing your lovely legs to him.

Miguel started trailing kisses from your neck to your chest, earning a few noises he would sell his soul to hear over and over again. The sound of you was enough to spur him on, and soon enough, you could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh. With soft kisses, he made his way down your body, where took your legs, and, spreading them, pressed a kiss on your knee.

It was such an intimate action; it made your insides flare up. You loved Miguel – all of him. And you were familiar with all sides of him. You knew him when he was happy and giddy, spinning you around in his arms and playfully kissing your nose. You knew him tired and sleepy, mumbling sweet nothing in the crook of your neck and falling asleep on your lap. You knew him stressed and hot-headed, begging you to let him blow off some steam by kissing your breath away and making you cry out in pleasure.

But one of the sides you favoured the most was this one. The one where he was sweet and gentle, the one where his eyes expressed only the utmost desire and adoration for you, the one where his kisses meant a thousand words and made your heart swell and swell until you were sure it was going to burst with love.

“What’s on your mind, hermosa?” He asked, voice laced with sleep.

“Just thinking.”

“Ah. Nothing good can ever come from that.”

Miguel pretended to be hurt from the pillow you threw at his head, and his grin widened.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just how much I love you.” You replied casually, as if it was something as obvious as saying the sky was blue. Which to you, it was. To you, loving Miguel O’Hara and admitting it were as easy as admitting the sky was blue.

“Hm.” Was his hummed reply against the inside of your thigh. You felt his lips brush against your skin and the contact made you shiver.

“How happy I am to have you in my life. How lucky.”

“Cariño,” he whispered, coming down once again to brush his lips against yours – a silent promise of what was to come. “I’m the lucky one.”

After that, his lips were on yours, your hands were on his hair, and he was coaching out of you the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard, making up for all the lonely nights and cold mornings away from you.

What a way to spend a morning, indeed.

After you two had showered and put on some fresh clothes, he allowed you to pick whatever activities you’d do for the day. He had 3 days to lavish you in affection and catch up for all those weeks, and the first thing he was going to do was let you have full control.

And to his surprise, your request was food. But not just any kind of food.

A brunch.

And if you wanted to make brunch, damn him if he wouldn’t join you.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, looking up cool pictures that you could recreate from the comfort of your home.

You’d settled on pancakes, toasts, and some cinnamon rolls. While you prepared the batter for each of the items respectfully, Miguel got started on the fruit, cutting them into small pieces, squeezing some oranges for some juice, as well as frying some eggs and bacon.

It was perfect. Music echoed through the kitchen; your favourite playlist having been chosen as the soundtrack for this sweet moment. You and Miguel moved in synch around the kitchen, moving effortlessly around each other, yet still being able to steal in some kisses here and there.

He placed a few in your head while you mixed the pancake batter, and you’d tasted some blueberries off his lips, followed by strawberries, apples, and peaches.

“Stop sampling the fruit,” you’d whispered against his lips, to what he simply laughed.

“Stop kissing me every time I do so, and I will.”

You chuckled and went back to your tasks.

“Mhmmm – that bacon is smelling so good,” you said after a while, glancing at him and his frying pan.

“Is that code for Miguel, please give let me steal some?” Miguel asked with a quirked brow, and you feigned shock.

“Miguel O’Hara! How dare you think the only reason I would compliment your bacon mid-cooking is to steal a piece!” You took a hand to your heart and dramatically turned your face away.

“Not at all. I always love it when you compliment my bacon.”

It took a while for the joke to truly get a reaction out of you, and after a few seconds of silence, you burst into laughter, the flower bowl in your hands dropping on top of the kitchen counter. You grabbed some of the powder and threw it at Miguel’s face, shaking your head.

“That was disgusting – you’re disgusting! Ew!”

Miguel only laughed and did the same, leaning over to spray some of the flour from your bowl on your face.

“Disgusting? I recall you being very eager to get a taste of my bacon earlier this morning,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh my God! Shut up! Ew! Never say that again!”

Although your words did not express anything other than sheer horror, your mouth was forming a huge smile, and you were giggling in between words.

“And now I’m all dirty!”

“You started it, mi vida.”

“Yeah, because you made a disgusting –“

“Truthful.”

“ – Disgusting comment!”

“Next time don’t be so eager to get a taste of my bacon, and I won’t have the need to make such comments.”

“You’re disgusting and I’m never talking to you again.” These words were uttered in between fits of laughter, and Miguel himself leaned forward, chuckling. The lovely sounds of your joy resonated through the kitchen and Miguel was happy that his house had such a pleasant symphony gracing it.

“Can you pass me some of the salt?” you asked him, reaching out with your arm towards his body.

Miguel nodded and quickly held the small saltshaker. Just as he was about to give it to you, the bacon before him crackled, sending a bit of grease flying onto his arm.

The contact made him shriek, the suddenly hot liquid scalding his skin.

Instinctively, his talons came out, causing him to scratch the surface of your counter, and you.

“¡Mierda!” he shrieked, pulling his arm away from the stove. Unfortunately, his talon also pushed the frying pan with him, and it fell on the floor, ruining all of the bacon that was currently cooking.

“Miguel! Oh, fuck, are you okay?” You asked, quickly turning away from what you were doing. The scratch in your arm wasn’t important – you could tell with that later, even if the pain seemed to be pulsing in your arm.

“Don’t – don’t come closer, I’ll hurt you,” he muttered, quickly retracting his talons, and looking at the mess on the floor.

“No – it’s fine, just tell me if you’re okay,” you repeated, kneeling to catch the frying pan off the floor and clean the area with a cloth.

“[Y/N], I said don’t come closer.” He looked at you, and that’s when he stared at your arm, at the red line that marked it all the way from your shoulder to your wrist. Miguel’s eyes widened and he searched in your face for any kind of pain, of discomfort. All he saw was worry that you expressed for him. “Fuck – I’m sorry mi vida, I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“What? No – No Miguel, it’s fine, I can barely feel it.”

“You’re bleeding.” He said, not sure whether to approach you or walk away, scared he was going to hurt you further.

“It’s fine, Miguel, really, it’s just a scratch and it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“So it does hurt.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous; he was disgusted with himself, disgusted he could bring himself to ever hurt you.

You, however, saw right through him and his internal struggle.

“It wasn’t on purpose. Miguel, it’s fine.” You took tentative steps towards him, hoping he wouldn’t back away from you. He didn’t. Although he did seem to flinch a bit when you touched him, not yet trusting his body. “I’m serious. It’s just a scratch.”

“What if some day it isn’t just a scratch anymore?” he mumbled, looking away, refusing to meet your eye after he’d done something as vile as to hurt you like this. He’d sworn to never cause you any pain and look at what he’d done. Brunch was ruined, and you were in pain. “What if, some day, I really hurt you?”

“I know such a day will never come,” you replied, holding his face in your hands just like you’d done earlier that morning, not caring if they were full of flour. The sentiment you felt was the same. Sheer, pure love for the man standing before you.

“How can you be so sure? I’m a monster.”

“I’m sure because I know you love me. You’re a good man. You’d never hurt me. You’ll never hurt me.” The words are soft and gentle, meant to soothe him and all the doubt that clears his mind. But you know it’ll take a bit more than that to coax him out of his dark spot he carved for himself.

“I hurt you just now.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“And yet I still hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t want to, so it doesn’t count. It was an accident. What about when I step on your feet when we’re dancing? Do you hold it against me because I have hurt you?”

Miguel shook his head with an indignant expression. How could you even compare the two?

“That’s different,” Miguel expressed, “You don’t mean it. It’s an accident.”

“Okay, but what about that time we both reached out to catch the TV remote and I headbutted you?”

“Well, that was not on purpose.”

“There’s also that time I slapped you last week.”

“You were trying to kill a fly! Not hurt me.”

A soft smile graced your lips, and you forced him to meet your gaze.

“Exactly, Miguel. They were all accidents. I didn’t mean to hurt you just as you have never meant to hurt me.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly. He kissed you back hesitantly, and you pressed yourself harder against him. You wouldn’t allow the man you loved to fear touching you, loving you.

“Just look at me, [Y/N]. I’m a terrible creature. A monster. We’re not meant for each other.”

“I don’t care, I love you.” You replied, without missing a beat. “You’re not a terrible creature, nor a monster. You’re Miguel O’Hara, the love of my life, my husband, the man I love the most and want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care if we’re not meant for each other – we’ve faced so much and come so far. If anything, we’ve proven more than once that we are meant to be together.” Your voice was clear, and it was full of determination and love. You saw Miguel worthy of so much – why couldn’t he see it?

He sighed, and his gaze softened, as it often did when regarding you. Moving slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, arms coming around you to wrap you in a warm embrace.

“Te quiero un chorro. Eres el amor de mi vida, y te lo seguiré diciendo hasta el fin de los tiempos. No merezco tenerte.” He whispered.

“Stop that – of course you deserve me. All of me. Just as much as I deserve you. With your fluffy hair, and your terrible jokes and your bacon.” This seemed to get a laugh out of him, even if small. “I love you, Miguel. And we’re meant to be together. Forever and ever and ever, even when we’re old and grey and I’m deaf from listening to your terrible jokes.”

“You love my jokes,” he shrugged with a small smile. Good. He was smiling.

“Almost as much as I love you.”

Miguel bent down, picking you up effortlessly and crashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back, humming happily. He muttered some loving words against your skin and you smiled before he put you down, pecking you one last time.

“Now, can we go back to making ourselves some nice brunch?” You asked, untangling your arms from around him.

“Yes. And so much for me being disgusting – my face is now full of flour,” he told you, raising an eyebrow and pretending to be angry with you (something he could never, ever be).

“It was full of flour before, I don’t know what’s the difference.” You laughed, and he laughed along.

The kitchen was once more filled with the right sounds. Laughing, chattering, and soft music playing in the air.

After a while, all the cooking seemed done.

Plenty of pancakes sat atop a plate, with a bottle of honey and a small bowl of blueberries and other small fruits inside. Cheese and ham toasts were also served, along with a plethora of different jams and other snacks that included eggs, bacon, cookies and even some smoked salmon.

The meal was eaten contentedly. Your hard work had surely paid off, and you busied yourself telling funny anecdotes and stories from each of your workplaces while you ate. Miguel confided in you that some of Miles Morales’s ideas were actually good, and that Spider-Punk Hobie Brown had made him chuckle once or twice. You’d met them both before and thought they were simply delightful, having unofficially adopted them and looking over them a few times, by cooking them meals and checking up on them.

You told him about all sorts of funny antics your coworkers did at work, nearly making him spit out his drink when you told him what your work best friend had sent your boss, thinking it was a personal email to you.

The food was fantastic, the music sounded lovely, and the company was all you could’ve asked for. When you two were done, you put the dishes in the dishwasher, making it your own Tetris game, and falling on the couch after it was done.

The rest of the day was spent in peace.

You watched a couple of movies you’d been meaning to watch together for a while, with you and your husband trying to catch as many popcorns with your mouth as possible, read a few books sitting outside in the balcony, making the most out of the sun’s warm light, and just hanging out. That’s something you could never get tired of – just hanging out with your husband.

You didn’t always have to be doing an activity. You didn’t have to be cooking dinner, watching movies, or cuddling. Sure, doing those was fantastic. You’d done them all and enjoyed your time with him. But just being around him was enough sometimes. Knowing that he was right there, next to you, instead of inside that dreadfully dark lab of his was enough to make you smile.

“I love you,” he told you as the sun began to set, lifting his eyes from his book to stare at you, who were engrossed in your latest hobby.

“I love you too,” you replied, giving him a sweet smile.

Your gaze turned back to whatever you were doing, but Miguel’s never left yours. He watched as the last sunrays shone on your features, making your skin shine with an ethereal glow. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration and how your lips parted softly to smile once you were happy with what you were doing.

You were too good for him, and he still thought there was no way he deserved you.

You were a goddess among man, and he, just lucky enough to be in your graces. Maybe he’d done something right in a past life – because as he watched you, bathed in sun and warmth, and recalled his marvellous day spent by your side, he was sure there was no way in hell you weren’t a gift from the heavens above.

Beautiful and kind and caring, and all his.

You were a vision, and he was so damn lucky to be able to just look at you in all your glory.

Yeah, Miguel thought, he really ought to stay home with you more often.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys have enjoyed it! I really like writing for Miguel, he deserves a big hug and a big smooch. I'm such a simp for him omg...

Have an amazing day ahead, everyone! <3

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