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allysunny · 4 months

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HI CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE BALE!BATMAN ONE SHOTS AND SCENARIOS AND DO THE ALPHABET THING!! TYSM ILY THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE🙏🙌🫡

Bale!Batman Scenarios and Fluff Alphabet

Words: 8k words

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of suggestive and adult themes, mentions of panic attacks, hopefully not OOC Bruce (literally the second thing I've written for him). I wrote this with female pronouns in mind, but aside for the word "girlfriend" which appears twice, and the word "mother" which appears once, I think it can be gender neutral as well - I'm sorry, I don't know how to write for gender neutral yet!

A/N: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for like two days, and I thought today was a nice day to post it hehehe! This is another one of my Bruce requests, I'm so happy about it! I didn't know what "alphabet thing" you wanted, so I went with the Fluff alphabet, which was what I thought you meant. I used both the coldest goodbye's and snk warriors templates because I loved them so much, so credit to them! I took a few entries from each because I couldn't simply stick to one.

This was supposed to be short and small and sweet but I think I'm unable to write short stuff, and that's how I ended up with a 8k "short drabble"... I actually forgot people usually pick A FEW letters from the alphabet and write for them... So I ended up writing for all of them... Oops... Sorry... But on the other hand, there's not nearly as much Bale!Bruce content out there, and I want to change that! So! 0 Regrets!!!

(You can also notice as the alphabet entries get shorter and shorter because it was getting super late and I refused to go to sleep... Oops!)

Anyway, I had a fun time writing this! I love this man so much oh my god... I hope you guys enjoy it!

It’s not rare when people tell you “You hit the jackpot” when it comes to Bruce. Whenever he’s nearby, he’ll quickly swoop in and correct whoever was talking to you. “Actually, I’m the lucky one,” he says in that ever so charismatic voice of his, making you blush.

Both statements are true. Yes, you landed Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist, and lover of fine things in life Bruce Wayne. Bruce “I have a car for each day of the week” Wayne. Bruce “You fly coach? That’s funny, I have my own private jet” Wayne. Bruce “My vacations are on the West Wing of my manor because it’s so god damn big” Wayne.

But he’d landed you. Selfless, caring, funny, you. ��I don’t need anyone’s protection” You. “I don’t care if you’re filthy rich, we’re staying at my place and eating noodles for dinner” you. “My feet are so sore, please carry me back to the mansion please?” you. “No – you’re going to stand up right now and learn how to do the dishes properly Bruce Wayne, this is unacceptable, how old even are you?” you. He was the lucky one. He managed to find someone who loved him for him. Not for the money, not for the fame, but him.

You preferred catching the train and walking over getting lifts in his fancy cars. “It attracts too much attention – I don’t need the whole entire world knowing I’m out with you.” You’d mumble, and that was the end of it. You enjoyed lazing around in his Manor, but in a “holy fuck this place is so comfortable I’m going to take a nap, I’ll see you in two hours” rather than a “I need to let everyone know I’m currently staying inside Wayne Manor, they will not believe it!” You treated it like home, splaying yourself on couches when tired, cleaning up after yourself and decorating bit by bit – Bruce loved that you were leaving your touch in his home. It meant that, somehow, it was also yours.

You’d change simple things really. Wayne Manor was beautiful as it was, and you had no need to replace it or turn it into something new – no. You got yourself some fluffy towels, replaced a bathroom rug that had seen better days, bought a shelf for the living room. It was his home, yes, and the home of his family before him, but he loved you and wanted you to feel comfortable and wanted you to leave your traces all around his home.

That’s not to say he won’t spoil the hell out of you. He loves your casual dates. Picnics in your living room or his, lazy Sundays spent looking at the clouds in his vast gardens, night spent in each other’s arms, the air cackling with silent promises and love confessions. But he’s Bruce Wayne. He has the means, and Gotham be damned if he wasn’t going to spend them on you.

You still weren’t very comfortable with going to charity galas with him, but Bruce still loved seeing you wear whatever dresses he got for you. So, he’d make reservations at fancy hotels, get a private table, and enjoy a quiet dinner with the love of his life. Away from prying eyes, you could finally be your usual self, cracking jokes and flirting with him.

“Anything interesting happen today at that dreadfully boring job of yours?” You asked him one night, toying with the fork on your hand. He finished drinking from his wine and gave you a comical look. “Not really. Just more of the same. Boring papers, boring meetings, boring people trying to steal my job and my company. The usual.” He said it so matter-of-factly, it almost seemed like nothing you should worry about. But you knew better. “I wonder when they’re going to stop trying. Should we be worried, Bruce?” “Not at all,” he drank again. “My father worked hard to build this company and get it where it is today. It’ll take more than a few angry petty businessmen to take it away from me.” You still eyed him curiously. “My love, I promise all is okay. Everything’s under control.”

You weren’t worried he was going to lose all his money and stop spoiling you. You’d be happy to live in a one apartment studio with no furniture and no money if it meant you could have him with you. But you knew how greedy people could be. You’d watched as some very sketchy men tried to take Bruce’s company away from him, over and over again, trying to destroy what Thomas Wayne had worked so hard to get, and it hurt.

“Fine. But if something ever happens, you just let me at them. I’d have a thing or two to say!” Bruce smiled at you, leaned over the table to caress your cheek, and continued eating.

On date nights in which you end up snuggled up in the couch watching a movie, you two already have assigned positions. Either he’s sitting with his legs spread on the couch, and you’re lying on top of his chest, or you’re sitting normally while he lays with his head on your lap. No one can tell, but Bruce is completely whipped by you. Sometimes, all he wants is to fall asleep on your lap as you gently massage his scalp. You two take so long picking movies, it’s insane. Sometimes, Alfred makes popcorn and you’ve both finished it before you’ve picked a movie, because you’re both stubborn as hell.

You know he is Batman. He told you, but you were able to figure it out a few weeks into your relationship. Not like it was that hard – he was often “busy” with work, although everyone had left the company and he was the only one there at around 4am, the bruises all over his chest and back (Bruce hated polo. He’d never pick it up), the tiredness he displayed in some of your dates and his fucked up sleeping schedule. One time he cancelled dinner on you, and a few hours later, the TV was covering a Batman chase.

You weren’t that dumb.

You were going to confront him, when found the Batcave by accident. You’d found this random ass room you could’ve sworn you’d never seen in your entire life with a piano. And just like every kid when they see a piano, you sat in front of it. If you do know how to play the piano, it wasn’t deliberate, but at the same time, it kind of was. You were playing some scales, warming up your fingers, and doing silly little exercises you’d been taught as a kid when you struck those three notes.

If you don’t play the piano, well, you were just hitting keys at random. You played a few high notes, a few low notes, and then, in true child fashion, just hit some random notes in the middle, pretending you were the next Mozart or Beethoven.

When the bookshelf in front of you opened, you nearly jumped. Why was a bookshelf opening. How was that possible? What sort of thing was Bruce hiding that was so, so secret, he had to keep it behind a secret passageway?

Instead of leaving the room, calling for Alfred or even Bruce, you decided to do what any great adventurer does, you stepped inside the passage and into the elevator. When you reached the bottom, all you could do was stare. Holy shit. Was this some sort of cave? You walked around a bit, curious but also far too scared to actually touch anything. You weren’t getting yourself killed today, nuh-uh.

What even was this place? Was it some kind of weird sex dungeon? Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought – Bruce had never told you anything about it. Was this a torture room? Did he take all his victims here to kill them? And then eat them? Oh God. Were you his next victim?

“Honey?” you heard behind you, and your first instinct was to place a protective hand in front of you.

“Stay back!” you shouted, “I took three karate classes, I can knock you down unconscious!”

Bruce’s expression was one of confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just –“

“Your charm doesn’t work on me Bruce; I will take you down! You can’t kill me and eat me!”

“What?!”

“I don’t care if this is your torture room, I will kick your ass!”

Bruce then proceeded to laugh. How dare he?!

“It’s not funny! Do you always laugh before murdering your victims?!”

“I don’t murder anyone. This isn’t a torture room.” He approached you slowly, hands coming up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you please leave that stance? You’re going to hurt yourself if you try to punch me like that. Your legs aren’t balanced, you’re going to trip and fall face first.”

You stuck your tongue out and returned to a normal standing position before he ran a hand through his head and sighed.

“So. You found it.” he mumbled.

“Found what, exactly?”

“My cave.”

“Oh my god. Is this the Batcave?!” You were so excited; you didn’t even realise the words that had left your mouth before it was too late.

Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked at you intently.

“What did you say?”

Shit.

Your next sentence started with,

“So. I know you’re the Batman –“

He had a lot of explaining to do.

He was surprised you figured it out so quickly, but of course, in true Bruce Wayne fashion, he did try to drive you away to keep you safe. He tried everything. Telling you he wanted to break up, ignoring your phone calls and messages, refusing to leave his Manor whenever you wanted to talk. Except, it never worked. You loved him far too much, suit and all. One time you’d visited him, and it started raining. Always worried about your health, Bruce rushed downstairs and opened the door, inviting you in. You told him you weren’t giving up on him. He said you should – he had to keep you safe. You said you wouldn’t. You’re in this together. He said you weren’t. You denied it.

It was a bit of a back and forth between Bruce realised what he had to do. Just before he could finish saying “I don’t love you,” you cut him off with a kiss. Instinctively, his hands snaked around your waist, and he brought you closer. “Never say that. Please. Don’t shut me out.” You whispered against his lips, hands cupping his jaw with such delicacy, Bruce was sure you believed to be holding the entire world in your hands – which to you, you were.

All he could do was nod against your lips and bring you inside. He didn’t push you away ever again.

Things were hard sometimes. There were times when Bruce had to postpone your plans. You’d spent a few nights on your own, blanket comfortably wrapped around your body as you watched a movie by yourself and lamented the absence of your boyfriend. Alfred had found you many times laying on your shared bed, clutching his pillow tightly, hoping his scent would bring you comfort. He quickly shared this news with his master, who, although heartbroken, couldn’t find a permanent solution. You needed him, but Gotham did too.

That’s not to say he didn’t try.

He really did.

Some patrol nights he’d end early, just to be able to get a few hours curled up against you in bed. He’d take days off from his job at Wayne Enterprises to take you on dates and just hang out with you and remind you of just how important you are.

But he’s not entirely perfect – we’re talking about Bruce Wayne in here. Bruce “I grew up with staff and butlers and maids around me, do you actually think I can cook an omelette or clean up after myself?” You had to teach this man how to clean (in general), had to give him some cooking lessons and make sure he didn’t get himself killed whenever you or Alfred weren’t home.

“No, Bruce, you need to stir the rice, otherwise it’s going to –“ You flipped the pot upside down and the burnt rice refused to fall, bending gravity to its will. “Burn. It’s going to burn.” Bruce looked at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy, and as much as you wanted to get mad at him, you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll do better next time.” With a sigh, you started scraping the burnt mess into the trash. “You better. Otherwise, you’re eating it.”

He has a terrible habit of throwing some of his clothes on the ground. He’s so used to having people pick up after him, he can’t help it. Sometimes, when he’s in a rush, he’ll throw his clothes somewhere and rush to the batcave. You hate it that Alfred has to pick up his clothes as if he were a reckless teenager, so you’ve started making Bruce be more careful, place them on the dirty clothes hamper or do his own laundry.

“It’s what I pay Alfred to do –“ “It doesn’t mean you can’t help around just a bit. You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?” He sighed. Bruce would never be able to say no to you.

You hate it when he leaves in the middle of chores to go put on a suit. Can’t villains and criminals wait until your movie is done? Until you’ve finished dinner? Until dinner is over? Sometimes he can’t be helped – hostage situations, fires, explosions – all normal things in Gotham. And you get it, you really do. But you hate it when he must leave because of other, more avoidable reasons. Like when he has to go to the office to go check some sort of new suit technology that Fox is working on. It sucks.

To make up for that, he always lets you tag along whenever he has to leave on business trips. It’s bad enough the two of you have to be apart because of Batman – he’s not about to have you two be apart because of Bruce Wayne. You love flying in the jet – often you joke that that is the only reason you’re dating him, because you get to fly in his private jet. (He’ll always refute you, but sometimes, you can see it in his eyes he is afraid you mean it. When that happens, you place a kiss on his lips and promise him you’re joking. His mood instantly changes.)

You especially like the privacy of the luxury. No, you weren’t with him for the money, but Bruce liked spoiling you and sometimes you liked to be spoiled. But being spoiled in public attracted too much attention, too many people peering and trying to get a glimpse of your personal life and his wealth. The jet made it easy for you to allow yourself to be spoiled, and for Bruce to dote on you all he wanted.

In these trips, Bruce always books the fanciest rooms at the best hotels, and you have a blast exploring them and just overall enjoying the experience. Bruce thinks it’s endearing. You’re used to his wealth by now, but it’s sweet to see how genuinely dazzled you still are by all of the luxury and extravagance. He especially likes how you make it your mission to try on and christen every single bathtub in the suites he books – and as established before, when has Bruce been able to refuse you?

Fluff Alphabet

A = Affection

How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Bruce wasn’t a very affectionate person at first. He wasn’t used to the gentleness of affection; all he knew was the roughness of combat and hate and revenge – but you came along and changed everything. At first, he was a bit wary. You’d touch him and he’d flinch, quick to get on a more alert stance. It was only after he saw who it was that he’d relax. It took a while, but he eventually got more into it. And he became very affectionate. I mean, look at him. This is one hell of a touch starved man.

He started out slowly, by gentle touches here and there. Maybe a caress in your arm, or a hand on your thigh while you two watched a movie. Perhaps he’d link his hand with yours while you walked, or he’d bring you close whenever you kissed him. Gesture after gesture, he became more comfortable around you. He likes always having his arms around you. Not only he gets to touch you and know you’re there, but he can also protect you. It’s an affectionate gesture as much as it is a way to keep you safe.

He likes to have you close to him when you’re in bed. Sleeps with an arm firmly around your waist, be it when you’re spooning, or when you’re facing his chest. That’s his way of saying “I’m going to protect you, I promise you”. He feels like it is his job to keep you safe and conveys that through touch and affection.

B = Beauty

What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He thinks you’re the most beautiful person to have ever graced this earth. He loves you. He laid his eyes on you and was starstruck.

He likes the way your eyes sparkle whenever you’re talking about something you like. He feels like every inch of your body just radiates warmth and excitement once you start ranting about your hobbies and loves how passionate you are. Loves staring into your eyes. His favourite colour has become the shade of your eyes, and he loves waking up to them. It’s his favourite part about you, probably. Mostly because they never regard him with hate or disgust. Even if you’re mad at him, he knows your eyes will never betray you or your heart. They’re the windows to the soul, and to his heart.

He loves whatever birth marks and freckles you might have on your body. If you feel insecure about them, he’ll just remind you of how special you are, and how unique they make you. “If you had one less freckle, it wouldn’t be you. And I love you. See this one right here? If it was gone, the person standing in front of me wouldn’t be you.” Needless to say, he makes you melt every time.

C = Comfort

How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He’s had to deal with quite a few of those as a child after his parents’ murder, so he knows to give you space whenever you have panic attacks. He’ll stay close by and give you all the time you need, as well as space to breathe. If you need him and call for him, he’ll be there next to you, helping you through it, speaking in a soothing voice and just making sure you know you’re not alone. If you need his touch to calm down, he’ll wrap his arms around you and slowly rock you in his lap, talking you through everything.

One thing about Bruce is, he is always there for you and gives you either the space or the attention you need. He is also very vocal, should you need some grounding. Talks to you about his day, lists the furniture around you, names countries the two of you have visited or he’d like to take you to. Just overall very considerate.

As for cheering you up, it takes a while before he knows what to do – he’s not the best with emotions after all. He tries not to say much and just show that he’s there for you through simple gestures. Asking Alfred to cook you your favourite dish, bringing you your favourite ice cream, bringing you to the living room to watch a movie you like. At first, he’s not good with his words, but he’s learning, and you appreciate that the most.

D = Dreams

How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He’d like to live out a long life by your side. That’s it. As lame as it sounds, that’s all he wants. For Gotham to become a safe place for you to grow old with him and be together forever.

There’s something inside of him that doesn’t want to let the cowl and the cape go. Batman is who he truly is, Bruce is merely a vessel. But there’s another one that wishes he can finally give it up. Giving it up would mean Gotham is safe, that the people are doing fine and there are no real danger and threats looming around the corner, just waiting to hurt him.

Whatever happens, cowl and cape hung up or not, he does see a future with you. He’s never been a big fan of dreaming about what’s to come; Bruce didn’t think he had a chance at that, to see what is to come. But ever since you came into his life, his views have changed. He sees the both of you strolling around the Manor hand in hand.

If you want children, he’ll be a bit apprehensive at first. He doesn’t want to drag any more people into his life, too afraid to hurt them, or have others hurt them. But if you do mention that you would like to have children (or adopt!), he would eventually come around to the idea. If you want to have children, he’d definitely like the idea of continuing his blood line, of seeing you carry his child and becoming the mother of his children. And would be absolutely whipped for you (more than he already is!). If you want to adopt, he would come to love the idea of providing guidance, love, and a safe home for a child – being an orphan, he knows how dark and gloomy things can get, and how hopeless everything might seem at first. He’d want to give back.

E = Equal

Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

This is a very hard question, because I can definitely see him being both.

I can see him being the big bad scary wolf who takes care of his partner, gets down on his knees to tie your high heels and kiss your ankle softly, who will carry you in his arms when you’re far too tired to walk, who will make you weak at the knees, who will tell the waiter you ordered your burger with no pickles and make you feel safe, protected and cared for.

But at the same time, he doesn’t mind being a bit passive. He likes seeing you make decisions for him. There’s so much on his mind already, with Wayne Enterprises and Batman, sometimes he just needs to sit back and relax, and let you take the wheel. Which you do wonderfully, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. So, it’s a bit 50/50 and honestly depends on the day and his mood.

F = Fight

Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He loves you far too much to stay angry at you for long. In fact, he’s usually the one in the wrong. But fuck it if he won’t fight for your forgiveness. He’ll go the whole nine yards and be as sappy as possible. Send you bouquets of flowers while you’re at work, showing up unannounced and giving you chocolates, whatever. When the fights are silly and over dumb matters, he’ll do those overly romantic things, knowing you’ll most likely find them funny and accept his apology. If he’s willing to embarrass himself like that for you, it means he loves you. Truly.

But if the fight is something more serious, he’ll stop with the jokes. He’ll nearly beg for your forgiveness. Most fights happen because of the elephant in the room: The Dark Knight. Batman. Gotham’s Vigilante. Sometimes you accuse him of loving the symbol of justice more than you and are afraid he’s succumbing to it. You storm out of the Manor, far too angry to look at his face. In those cases, he’ll have to win you over slowly. He’ll give you some time to cool off and then invite you over to talk – there’s no way he’s discussing something like this over the phone. He’s not dumb. You’re far too important to be a mere phone call or a few messages.

Overall, I think he would fight extremely hard for you, be it in general (in life) or after arguments, and that he’s somewhat forgiving. Unless you really really really screwed up – then he’ll be a bit harsher. But that is only if you truly fucked up. Took advantage of him for his health, hurt Alfred, exposed Batman, whatever.

G = Gratitude

How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s so grateful. He knows all you do for him and appreciates it very much. He knows you’re doing your best to take care of him, patch him up, make sure he’s fed and healthy and sane, and he loves you so much for it (and many other reasons).

He’s sure to let you know just how much he loves you, be it through words or actions. Maybe he tried to cook for you and prepare you a nice breakfast in bed. Maybe he bought that new perfume you’d been in love with for quite a few weeks. Maybe he took the day off and whispered sweet words into the crook of your neck in the mornings, sheets and limbs all tangled up.

He knows he struck gold, and he will always be grateful for it.

H = Honesty

Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He is Batman.

Enough said.

No, seriously now, this man has more secrets than the White House.

And he doesn’t share them all.

You know he is Batman, and you know what he does, but there’s things he just can’t bring himself to tell you. The things he sees, people, women, children dying and being tortured, the things he sometimes has to do. It can get pretty overwhelming, and he finds these topics far too dreadful. He doesn’t want to worry you with matters like these, so he doesn’t. Of course, you get worried. You beg him to confide in you, to tell you what’s wrong, to trust you.

And he does – trust you. It’s just hard for him to share with you the roughest parts of his nights. When this happens, he’ll lay his head on your lap, as you run his fingers through his hair.

Rough night, he silently says.

I’m here, you silently reply.

I = Inspiration

Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

It’s no lie you’ve helped him become a better person.

He adores your goodness, your kindness and selflessness. He’s become a more genuine person himself thanks to you. He’s become more open, more caring. He’s become more trustful of those that truly care about him, and you’re to blame for it. You’re the reason he gets up in the morning and goes out dressed in black at night. You make him want to keep this godforsaken city safe and make you proud.

He’s changed you too, of course. Taught you there’s nothing bad with enjoying life and the finer things in it. Taught you that you do deserve to treat yourself occasionally. He’s taught you that being brave is not only putting on a suit and fighting crime, and that sometimes, but the smallest of steps can also be enough.

Safe to say, you’ve both changed each other, and for the best.

J = Jealousy

Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy.

This is what everyone’s been waiting for, isn’t this?

Bruce Wayne is the son of wealthy philanthropist Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha Wayne. He is worth billions of dollars. He’s grown up with a massive silver spoon (or rather, gold) in his mouth. Long story short, Bruce Wayne does not know how to share.

Neither does he like to do it.

Especially when it comes to you. He can be extremely petty.

He’ll see someone flirting with you and immediately get possessive. Once, at a party, he saw a man trying to make you laugh, and succeeding. He was next to you within seconds, hand possessively wrapped around your waist and lips covertly touching the column of your neck.

“Who are you speaking to, my love?” asked Bruce, fingers softly tapping against your waist.

“Oh, this is Mr. Norton. He’s –“

“Mr. Norton, what a pleasure to meet you. And may I ask what your intentions with my girlfriend are?” Bruce took your hand in his, making it a point to showcase the silver band in your finger, a promise ring he’d given to you as a gift.

“Oh – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – I was simply – “ Poor Mr. Norton tried scrambling for words, but was clearly dumbfounded.

“Which is it? Were you, or weren’t you?” Bruce lifted his head from your neck and gave you a soft peck in the lips, before turning to the other man. “Mr. Norton, I am a very busy man, and you should imagine I don’t like repeating myself – “

“Yes, of course, Mr. Wayne, of course –“

“Stay away from my girlfriend. Are we clear?” He gave Mr. Norton one of his most charming Bruce Wayne smiles (full of “look at her again and I’ll break your legs” undertones) and led you away. Later, you would tease him about it, and how jealous he got.

But he can’t help it.

You’re his. You’re the love of his life, and he can’t just stand by and watch as other men and women throw themselves at your feet, begging them for an ounce of attention. He’s not afraid of causing scandals, of making scenes, if it means other people will leave you alone.

In fact, I can recall a very important party of his that ended up with you pressed against the door of a broom closet, and him all over you. Later, you’d return to said party and be confused as to why nearly ever women in the room looked at you in horror. A woman on good terms with you handed you her pocket mirror, and you watched in disbelief as the column of your neck was covered in reddish-purple bruises. You shot Bruce a look, and he only winked at you, mouthing “Sorry” with his mouth.

No other men approached you that night, far too scared of your boyfriend to approach you. They got the memo. You were his.

K = Kiss

Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Bruce has just enough experience with kissing that he’s not completely lost. I think he would be the type not to actually bed the women he went out with for show (before he met you, of course), but has sometimes kissed them, and ended up getting a bit of experience.

Your first kiss was a soft, shy thing. You’d revealed your feelings for him and were afraid he was going to reject you. He lifted your chin with his thumb and kissed you most delicately. It was a kiss full of hope and promises of what was to come, and you were dazzled ever since.

Now, you can’t get enough of his kisses, and when you’re feeling particularly needy, you spend hours kissing them, while watching a movie or just lazing about.

L = Love Confession

How would they confess to their s/o?

He told you he liked you back when you did it, right after kissing you.

But his love confession?

Oh, that’s a story for the ages.

He’d returned from a particularly bad patrol at night, was bruised battered and blue, and thought something in his body had broken. In the middle of the fight, he got scared. What if he couldn’t make it home to you? What if you were waiting up for him and he never made it? What if something happened to him and all you heard next were the news of his death?

He rushed up the elevator and to your shared bedroom, where you were still in bed, reading a book. You often did that; wait up for him. On one hand, he didn’t want you to give up your sleep for him. On the other, he was glad to have someone waiting for him when he got home.

Seeing you there was enough to break him. He limped next to you and fell on the bed, his whole body burning with unbearable pain. You took him in, suit, cowl, cape, all of him.

“Bruce?” Your breath hitched and you touched his head softly.

“I love you.” It had been the only thing in his mind during the ride home. He loved you. Loved everything about you. The way you clung to him after waking up, the way you washed his hair in the shower, the way you sang along to the radio while cooking. He needed you to know just how much he loved you.

You widened your eyes, starstruck. Here he was, Bruce Wayne, your boyfriend, bloodied and bruised, holding onto you for dear life, saying he loved you.

“I love you too, Bruce,” you whispered softly. You had known it for a while. You loved this mess of a man far too much to keep it hidden. You’d always dreamt of a big confession. Flowers and a sunny day with clear skies. Maybe some birds. But this? This was perfect.

Bruce smiled into your lap. He loved you. He was going to show it to you every day.

M = Marriage

Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

At first, he wasn’t very into the idea.

He’d tried so hard to keep his playboy persona, it was hard to accept the idea of marriage.

If you want to, he’ll do it. Absolutely, he will. Would plan the perfect evening, take you out to your favourite place (no matter what that might be), then would take you for a stroll around your favourite places in Gotham. He wanted it to be perfect, and while it might be a little bit cliché, Bruce is classy. He will make this the most wonderful and magical evening of your life, dropping down to one knee in the Gardens of the Manor, surrounded by all the greenery and the pretty flowers.

The wedding would be small and intimate. It was expected that Bruce Wayne invited hundreds, millions of people to watch him tie the knot, but for once in his life, he forewent all of that stupid rich boy persona shit he’d had to create. No one other than the people closest to him were allowed to participate in what would be one of the happiest days of his life.

And yes, he would shed a tear watching you walk down the aisle. Alfred would too, happy to see the child he raised as his own finally settle down.

If you don’t want to get married, then that’s okay. He won’t pressure you and is content to simply being with you for the rest of your lives, no papers included. After all, you’re all that matters.

N = Nicknames

What do they call their s/o?

He’s classy.

Let’s not forget this is Bruce “I was raised by proper gentleman Alfred Pennyworth” Wayne. He keeps it simple and classy.

“Sweetheart, could you come here for a second?”

“Darling, you’re looking rather beautiful tonight. All of this for me?”

“My dear, I don’t think Alfred will die from just a cold. There’s no need to take him to the hospital.”

“Honey, where is my super suit have you seen my brown jacket?”

“You know I’m always here for you. Don’t you, my love?”

There’s something timeless about these, and Bruce loves using them with you. (Also, just imagine Christian Bale saying these I…. I’m deceased….)

Aside from that, he also calls you Bunny quite often. After all, you were dating famous womaniser and playboy Bruce Wayne. And, well, this playboy needed a Bunny, didn’t he?

Although the origin of the name might not be the most… elegant, you still find it sweet whenever he calls you by this nickname.

“I told you, Bunny, I’m working late today, but I took tomorrow off. That alright with you?”

“Which one of those did you like, Bunny? I’ll buy it for you. No – no arguing. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

Makes you swoon every time.

O = On Cloud Nine

What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Everyone knows Bruce is in love just by the way he looks at you. If his nearly heart shaped eyes aren’t enough, then maybe the way he holds you and talks to you will do the trick. It’s obvious you’ve got him wrapped around your finger (and he has you around his, of course).

He’s more himself when he’s around you. More playful, more cheerful. There’s no need to pretend he is someone he isn’t, so he can be his true self. He can laugh (although a rare sight, it does happen) and crack a few jokes and tickle you until you’re crying from laughing and begging him to stop.

As said before, although he might not be very good with words, he shows his love through actions. But that’s not to say he doesn’t outright tell you he loves you. He’s very eloquent and often makes you swoon with his words alone. The thing is, this man has a billion-dollar education, he’s studied at the best academies, learned with the best professors, and yet he can’t find the proper words to convey how he feels about you. Unbelievable, isn’t it?

P = PDA

Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Bruce is a private man, and he likes to keep his life and romance the same.

But that’s not to say he won’t show you off and brag about you in public. Most of the times he’ll keep to himself, content with having a hand or an arm around you somehow. You’re next to him, you’re his, everyone knows it. Other times, he likes to show you off, buy you the prettiest of dresses and brag about the wonderful girlfriend he has. You’re so beautiful, how can he not show you off?

That’s not to say you’re some accessory to be worn on his arm though – no. Never. He’s just so proud of you, that he wants the world to know that he’s taken, and by the loveliest of people: you.

He also likes the quick rush of sneaking in kisses here and there. At parties, galas, events, whatever. He likes kissing you when no one’s watching, making you blush when no one is paying attention – it’s like your little secret, and he loves it.

Q = Quirk

Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

This man is Batman.

He has the stamina of a god.

Let’s just say it can be very, very beneficial in your relationship. Especially when he’s been gone for long and you’ve both missed each other like crazy. You are far too familiar with the phrase “Just one more for me darling, will you? I know you can do it. You’re doing so well.” And many others of the sort.

If, however, you’re not into that sort of thing (if you are ace, don’t experience sexual attraction, or simply aren’t that much into sex), then that’s where his status comes in handy. Come on, this is Bruce Wayne! Do you know how many times you were able to get your free fries for free, simply because of who he was? How many times people have told you your favourite ice cream was “out of stock” but were quick to reconsider this once he walked up to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss, seems like we don’t have your number anymore.”

“Darling, did you find what you were looking for?”

“O – oh! I meant – we don’t have it here – my colleague will pick it up from the storage as soon as possible.”

Or,

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we can find a table for you.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go somewhere else. Won’t we, beautiful?”

“Mr. Wayne! Oh! What a surprise! I’m sure I can squeeze you in, yes, yes, please do come in!”

R = Romance

How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He can be creative when he tries to, yeah. And very romantic. Alfred has taught him a lot, of course, and he also knows you like the back of his hand, so he often just knows what to do. If you like flowers, he’ll have a new bouquet delivered every Monday, ensuring you start the week on a good note. If you’re more into sweets, he’ll bring macaroons every so often, to make sure your days are sweet.

He does little gestures here and there that remind you why you fell for this man. He’s very attentive, and if needed, will go all out. Fancy restaurant, dressed to impress, the whole nine yards. Not afraid to pull all the corny movie stuff, like dancing with you under the stars, or having a romantic picnic. For you, he’ll do just about anything.

S = Security

How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

He’s very protective of you and will always make sure you’re safe. Doesn’t want you to get all tangled up with any of his Batman shenanigans, so will leave you in the dark when it comes to the nitty gritty details. He’s given you a little bottle of pepper spray and a small taser (a special taser of his own concoction) to keep yourself protected in the streets of Gotham, as well as taught you a few self-defence moves. If he’s not with you, he wants you to be able to take care of yourself.

But when he’s with you, you can absolutely bet he will be doing whatever he can to keep you safe and sound. He’s willing to fight off people, and has, in the past. Once, a petty thief threatened to stab you. Bruce beat him until he was unconscious. You didn’t like the sight of it and told him never to do something like that in front of you ever again. He complied, but was quick to tell you, “I won’t hold back if someone ever tries to hurt you”.

T = Try

How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

He tries. He tries so hard. We’ve already discussed how he often has to miss dates, dinners, important days because of either his job or Batman, so whenever he can, he will make up for it. Long days at the office? He’ll bring you flowers. Missed date? How about a weekend together, hidden away in some cozy cottage?

And he’ll always try his best to remind you just how much he loves you, just how important you are to him. He doesn’t want you thinking you’re not pretty enough, not classy enough, not whatever enough, because to him, you are, and every day he tries his hardest to remind you of that.

He is trying. Please cut this man some slack.

U = Understanding

How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows you like the back of his hand, and although he might not be empathetic to anyone else, he is towards you. He’s learned to sense when something is wrong and is quick to try and make you feel better if that is the case.

He’s very understanding as well – never belittles you for your choices or decisions, will always let you explain yourself and take you and your reasonings seriously. He loves you and wants you to feel safe. Even if you’re asking him what would be considered a stupid question, or if you make a mistake, he will never blame you for it. Hell, he knows he makes far too many mistakes, so he would never give you a hard time.

V - Value

How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He values your relationship very much.

He knows he’s become a better man thanks to you and holds that in a high regard. Bruce hasn’t got much. Sure, he’s got his family’s fortune, a huge company, he dresses up as a bat and fights criminals, but still, he doesn’t have much. He doesn’t consider his true self to be Bruce Wayne, and no one knows him under his mask. It can get nerve-wracking sometimes, but he has you to keep him grounded.

There’s a reason he likes to keep you safe, after all. He won’t lose you.

You’re everything to him.

W = Whole

Would they feel incomplete without you?

As mentioned before, he would. He absolutely would. When you refuse to stay at the Manor because you two have had an argument, he is in shambles. He’ll mope around and play dead for a few seconds when Alfred tells him dinner is ready. He’s a big baby.

When you’re not at the Manor (maybe you’re at work, or went out with his friends), Bruce acts like he’s lost all purpose in life. He’ll ask Alfred if you called every five minutes, send you pictures that he found funny (Bruce Wayne does not understand memes), all to get you to talk to him.

He cannot function without you. Once again, you’re everything to him, and he just functions better when you’re around him, because you bring out the best in him.

X = Xtra

A random headcanon for them.

He often jokes about wanting to run you and Alfred over with the Tumbler (the first time he said this was because you’d called it “the Batmobile”. He hated that name.), but secretly loves the duo you’ve become. His witty humour and your quick quips make for a very funny combination, and he often finds himself thinking if other people are usually this funny, or if it’s just the two of you.

And let’s not forget, Alfred is his family. He is the closest thing Bruce has to a father and loves and cares for him deeply. So, to know the love of his life gets along so well with his father figure makes him smile. You two are quite literally the most important people to him. So he can joke all he wants about how “he’s going to throw you two in Arkham just so he won’t listen to your dreadful jokes anymore”, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Y = Yearning

How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will try to keep a clear head, but ultimately can’t deny that he misses you like crazy. Will want to hear your voice, just to make sure everything is alright. He’ll call and check in on you and ask you how your day went. He doesn’t need to talk – all he wants is for you to keep talking. He loves the sound of your voice.

He has, well…. Relieved himself a few times in your absence. What can he say? He misses you. Misses the feel of your skin against him, of your laughter ringing in his ears, of your presence. He’s only human, after all.

Alfred makes fun of him all the time, which is an hilarious thing to witness.

Z = Zeal

Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’s willing to go the distance.

He will do just about anything for you.

Except for killing.

I am a firm believer in the fact that he couldn’t be able to kill someone because of you. If you’d been hurt, he would find prison and a lifetime of solitude a much more fitting destiny.

If someone dared to hurt you, however tempted he might be, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Simply because he knows you wouldn’t want him to be that kind of person. He knows you wouldn’t want him to become like the people he fights against.

But he would do anything else if it meant putting a smile on your face. He will buy every hotel, every yacht, every store, every book, etc. He would fight anyone, endure every storm, climb every mountain, swim across every ocean if it meant you’d be safe and sound. Nothing is too expensive, nothing is too hard, nothing is too dangerous.

Because, as we have stated before,

Bruce Wayne loves you.

A/N: That's it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I wish everyone amazing holidays! Please stay safe, drink water, and have an amazing day ahead! <3

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

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bad268 · 4 months

Note

Can you do like a YouTube challenge video with Kimi Antonelli. He doesn’t have enough fics

Stream Starting... (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Youtuber! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (also while I have shit lined up every week through March, I'm back to work so actually writing will be slow lol)

Warnings: none

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1331

Summary: Q&A stream with Kimi

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“Hello everybody,” you greeted to the camera only to be interrupted by laughing coming from your right side. Your fans had been begging for a video with Kimi for as long as you could remember, so with a little help of begging (definitely not guilt-tripping), you were able to convince him to join you for a live stream. You turned your attention away from the rapidly moving chat to face the person you called yours as you joked, “Can you not, K?”

‘I’m sorry!” He defended as he leaned onto your shoulder with a smile. You could see a faint blush rise onto his cheeks even though he tried his best to hide in your shoulder. “You’re in your element. It’s one thing to hear you from outside the recording room, but it’s another thing to be in here with you while you do it.”

“Now, you know how I feel every time I go with you to a race,” You responded, moving your hand up to twirl some of his curls between your fingers. You moved some of his hair away from his forehead as you gently placed a kiss to the crown of his head before leaning your head against his. “It’s your natural habitat, and I love seeing you in the zone before a race. It’s cute.”

“Is there a reason this is moving faster now?” He asked, pointing at the live chat. You completely forgot that you were still live, entirely wrapped up in your own little world with just you and Kimi. Your wide eyes gave you away, honestly. Kimi looked up at you and began laughing at your expression before moving to sit up, just settling for holding your hand. “I assume that’s something to do with the stream?”

“Yeah, that’s chat,” you explained after getting over the initial shock of forgetting you were live. “It’s in real-time. Well, like a 20-second delay, but it’s about as close to real-time as I can get it.” You pointed out a few more small features of the steam before directing your attention back to the camera. “Anyway, now that we’ve gotten past the brief delay, I can tell you what we’re doing! If you can read, you can read the title of this stream, and if you can’t read, no problem! We are painting portraits of each other while answering your questions!”

“You did not tell me we were painting,” Kimi groaned. “I’m not creative enough for that.”

“Oh, trust me,” you laughed in response, “we’re finger painting, so they’ll both look bad!”

“Oh, great,” he chuckled as he jokingly rolled his eyes before helping you set up the tarp, paints, and canvases. He laid them out so that everything was facing each other as you adjusted the camera, so you would both be in the frame and you would see the questions easily. “Does this meet your standards?”

“You say that like I am some perfectionist,” you mumbled as you took your seat in front of Kimi. You both started your portraits of each other, so you would have a base before moving into the questions. “Okay, first question, ‘why do you stay with me?’ Ouch.”

“Your fans suck,” he laughed. “You’re everything to me, that’s why.”

“Ah, you’re a sap, ti amo (I love you),” you giggled as you looked for another question. “Oh, this one’s fun, ‘how did you meet?’ Well, I moved to Italy when I was really young and we met at boarding school.”

“No, you are forgetting a key detail, amore (love),” Kimi chastised as he shook his red-colored finger at you with a smile. “You ran into me on your way to class and spilled your coffee all over both of us!”

“Hey! You said you would never mention that!” You gasped as your gaze snapped up to meet his. In mock offense, you took a little bit of the paint that was in your palm and planted it on his cheek, laughing at his shocked expression.

“You’re going to regret that,” he jokingly threatened.

“Oh, will I?” You teased back, almost challenging him. You did not think he would do much. Maybe put paint on your face in a similar manner, but you did not expect him to literally throw a glob of paint straight at your face. Your jaw dropped as you wiped away some of the paint, unsure whether to laugh or be upset, but the smile on his face made you laugh along with him. “Oh, so that’s how this is?”

“You started it, let’s not forget that,” Kimi tried to defend as he put his hands up in mock defense. “I was just making it even.”

“So if I tried to kiss you now, what would you do?” You asked, leaning over your canvas to get closer to him. Kimi seemed confused at first but still moved forward to meet you halfway. When he was close enough, you smeared the leftover paint that you had wiped off your face across his. “There. Now we’re even.”

“I am gonna get you back for this,” Kimi chuckled lowly, “Just wait for it.”

“Anyway, moving on,” you pressed, switching topics as you looked back at the chat before going back to the portrait of Kimi, “Are we always this chaotic?”

“Yes, next question,” Kimi responded immediately, not even looking up from his canvas.

“Thought so,” you said to yourself as you looked through the messages, trying to find a good question. “Ooo, ‘are you both going to be at preseason testing?’ Obviously, he is, but I don’t think I have the attention span to sit around a race track for four hours a day.”

“Hey! You promised you would go with me this year!” Kimi whined. “You said you would drop everything to travel with me.”

“Four hours for three days straight in Bahrain does not sound that appealing to me,” you chucked as you shrugged your shoulders, still not meeting his eyes. “I’ll be there for the first race week, but I doubt I’ll be there for preseason testing.”

“I’ll buy you something,” Kimi offered. This piqued your interest as your head snapped up to meet his eyes as he laughed. “Merch, food, coffee, tea, games. You name it, and I’ll get it.”

“What if I want someone to hang out with?” You countered with a smirk.

“I will try my best. Who do you want?” Kimi asked, genuinely curious.

“Paul,” you laughed. “I need my Mamma Mia buddy!”

“Absolutely not!” Kimi shouted. “I am not subjecting myself to that torture again!”

“You would be in the car, Kimi!” You retorted as you pushed all of the art supplies to the side, so you could sit directly in front of Kimi and hold his hands. “You wouldn’t even have to hear our nonsense. We’d just be vibing.”

“How do I know you won’t talk Rene into putting you both on the radio?” Kimi asked genuinely as he gave you a pointed look, knowing that would be something you would do.

“You have my word,” you said, jokingly putting your hand up in a salute, “Scout’s honor!”

“It’s times like this that I really question why I’m with you,” Kimi admitted with a sigh as he whipped off his hands and pulled out his phone to text Paul.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you joked leaning over to leave a small kiss on his paint-covered cheek. “If I don’t keep you on your toes, I am not doing my job right!”

You turned your attention to the camera to wrap up the video as Kimi stepped out of the room to call, who you assumed was, Paul. “Anyways, that’s all for this for now. Guaranteed, we’ll do this again. Maybe with less of a paintball match, but yeah. We’ll post the final products on my Instagram later. Follow that if you don’t already, and I will see most of you in the next stream! Bye!”

~~~~~

#andrea kimi antonelli x reader #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli #kimi x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #f2 #prema racing #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes amg petronas #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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full-cowlings · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 ̶𝐏̶𝐀̶𝐓̶𝐈̶𝐄̶𝐍̶𝐂̶𝐄̶ ̶

includes | nsfw content drabble , izuku x fem bodied! reader, ( though no pronouns other than ‘you’ used ) , fingering , orgasm denial , brat / brat taming , izu being sweetly condescending , i think that’s all? please let me know if i forgot something !

word count ; 742

It’s almost terrifying how fast that switch in Izuku can change. His patience is far too much for any of his comrades to even begin to understand, but you see that side of him that makes you wanna protest against them.

For he could be giving you the sweetest smile that you have ever seen… That was if there was no underlying message hidden beneath the surface of his lit up features.

For that smile wasn’t the one of nurturing and love like everyone around you thinks it is.

No, in fact it’s far from it.

It’s a silent warning.

A warning to let you know that if you keep running your mouth, that when you guys get home, a reward is the farthest thing from what you’re getting.

And you almost didn’t believe him… until you did.

Because after dragging you back to your shared home, the number one pro-hero had you seated on his lap, your back flushed against his chest and your thighs spread on either side of his own legs.

And you had the nerve to laugh, to sigh contently as his callused and scarred fingers shoved inside of you.

Oh, what a mistake that was.

“Oh, baby…” Izuku mused, almost with a disappointed sigh.

His fingers soon quickened their pace and for a second you were confused as to why his viridian eyes darkened in turn.

Izuku always did spread you out so well , the callused pads of his fingers working you out as he scissored your insides. His hands were rough and scarred from his past years of attending U.A High School , let alone the ones he’s attained through his career as the top pro hero. Yet they always knew how to get you to turn into putty at his hands. And only his hands.

And he swore he could throw his head back, swore he could cream in his boxers and pants at the mere lewd sound of your wetness squelching around him alone.

But he resisted the urge to do so tonight, shoving the urge to groan and shove you down on the nearest surface , his strong build that he’s built up over the years looming over you as he pinned you down and took you right then and there .

This was supposed to be a punishment, after all.

His fingers sped up his movements as they curled and hit that spongy spot inside of you just right, a satisfied hum coming from him upon hearing such lewd sounds coming from you.

Izuku’s head leaned down to pepper soft kisses against the flushed skin of your neck and shoulder before biting down softly on it, well, softly at first, for he was determined to mark you up as his after all. Perhaps then you’d think before you acted up again.

His thumb moved from the rest of his fingers to rub soft circles against your clit, feeling how you squirmed on his lap and how your perfect cunt clenched around him just right at the feel of the calloused pads of his fingers pressing against that spot .

“Gonna cum for me, my love?”

And you nodded, hips rocking against his hands and fingers as you felt him stretch you out, how you felt just his fingers alone fill you up and hit you so deep.

Then, suddenly as your back arched against his toned chest, his movements stopped completely upon feeling you clench so hard around him, feeling you squeeze him.

Your mind was foggy and hazy, but you still gave a soft whine at the loss of movement, your hips rocking against his hand again to try and get some friction. Which caused Izuku to give a soft ‘tsk’ in reply.

“Come on, sweetheart… did you really think you’d get to cum after the stunts you pulled tonight? Only good pets get to cum, you know that…” he asked as his hands lifted from your cunt, hovering just slightly over it so he could still feel the heat radiating from you.

… and Izuku Midoriya sure intended it to be one.

His fingers drew lazy circles over your clit and your slit, feeling how sensitive you were from just one orgasm denial out of many more that were bound to come.

“Come on, baby, you can take it. Be good for ‘zuku and then maybe you’ll get to cum tonight.”

But Izuku had patience…

He just hoped you’d have some tonight too.

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scarletttries · 4 months

Text

Christmas By Myself This Year (Moon Knight Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader

Rating: Pure fluff, gender neutral pronouns throughout :)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: My Christmas gift to all the Steven Grant lovers, after I got the sweetest anon request for something along the lines of Steven turning up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve 🥰I hope you are all having the best festive period that you can 💕

Christmas By Myself This Year (Steven Grant Fluff)

"This is great."

You stated each word matter-of-factly to yourself as you put the final bauble on the miniature Christmas tree you'd perched in the middle of your coffee table. You hadn't been planning on decorating this year, part of a promise you made yourself to use your precious few days off to prioritise self-care and ignore all the pressures that usually came with Christmas; family drama, big nights with your friends that left you exhausted, and never enough hours in the day to do something for yourself after looking for everyone else. No, this year you were taking control of your own Christmas and spending it at home, alone. It was going to be perfect, and you had been so proud of yourself when you decided to be alone this holiday period, so when you went out to get everything you needed for your favourite meal and saw some decorations discounted on Christmas Eve you couldn't help but take it as a sign to put up a few little celebratory trinkets.

You'd started with some fairy lights around the windows of your little flat, then popped some colourful baubles on the foot-high tree, now finally the finishing touch. You giggled to yourself as you tied a piece of ribbon to the nail above your front door, a neat bow holding a swinging piece of mistletoe in place. The face that flashed through your mind was that of Steven Grant, a regular at the vegetarian restaurant you worked at, his big brown eyes staring warmly up at you as if you were old friends. As well as being one of your most loyal customers, he was also by far the friendliest, visiting you often at work and talking your ear off in an effort to get to know you better, even going as far as to walk you home one night with an umbrella extended above you both when you forgot your own in the worst of the London weather. He was sweet and shy and awkward, all while being undeniably handsome but completely unaware of it. You realised you were smiling to yourself at the mere thought of the man, shaking your head as you turned your back to the door and wondered if it would break your own Christmas rules to try and bump into him at midnight on new year's eve.

You let the thought ruminate as you threw on a festive playlist and heated up some mulled wine on your stove, grateful for the moment of peace but also quickly feeling the tinge of loneliness in your quiet home. It was a relief to be away from work and family, so why did you keep glancing at the sofa like you were looking at someone? Maybe it was the string of bad dates this year had thrown your way, each one an unmitigated disaster. Or the fact that you'd just seen two of your friends get engaged this winter. Maybe you did want to be spending your Christmas with someone. Maybe you just didn't have that special someone in your life yet? So Christmas alone it is.

"This is great.." You sighed as you turned off the heat and poured the steaming burgundy potion into a festive mug, topping it with a slice of orange and then absent-mindedly doing the same to a second mug. Holding one in each hand you walked back to the coffee table, setting them down as you realised they would both just be for you, the playlist almost drowned out by torrential rain picking up outside your windows. Another wave of loneliness washed over you at the first sip, and suddenly you didn't feel much like being alone at all.

And then the doorbell rang.

You weren't expecting anyone, everyone you could think of being out of town for their own holiday adventures, so you slowly approached the door, debating dialing 9-9 into your phone just in case, and peered through the peephole.

"Steven?" You practically ripped the door open at the sight of the cold, soaked man, struggling with the chain just long enough you feared he might have turned around and walked home already. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Wide-eyed and almost apologetic Steven quickly nodded his head, tripping over his tongue as he spoke. He had spent all day preparing a few words from when he got brave enough to see you, but he wasn't expecting to miss you so much that he'd turn up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve, and he didn't prepare an answer for when you asked if he was okay.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, um, I'm fine, sorry, this must seem mad. I'm here and I didn't call first and now I'm dripping on your nice door mat." He trailed off in a panicked chuckle, each word making him realise quite what a sorry sight he must be.

"Do you want to come inside Steven? I just made mulled wine?" Your smile was just as welcoming as your words and even though he dreaded the thought of intruding, he found himself floating into your cosy home very happily.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother. You have such a nice place, I'd hate to drip all over it." He found the tension melting from his shoulders as your hands settled there, suddenly remembering just why he missed being around you so much.

"You're not a bother at all Steven, you are very welcome here. Let me take your wet coat." He willingly shrugged off the damp layer and mumbled his thank yous as you shut the door behind him, letting him delve deeper into your inner sanctum. His face lit up as he surveyed your walls, a dozen new insights into your life and the things that you loved, your warm space so uniquely you but welcoming to everyone all the same. He felt at ease and at home, like he did whenever he got to spend time with you.

You on the other hand could feel your pulse racing as his flushed cheeks drew closer to yours, every beaming smile thrown your way as he looked around raising the temperature in your home by a degree or two. Trying to pull yourself together you turned on your heels and picked up the mugs you'd just filled up, extending one to Steven.

"I accidentally made two mugs of this, so I must have known you were coming!" You cringed at how isolated that sentence made you feel, but Steven's shaking hands wrapping around the mug and soaking up its warmth helped to put you at ease.

"You're too kind to me, love. I'm sorry to interrupt your private Christmas, I know you were looking forward to a bit of alone time this year."

"To be honest, the alone time got old pretty quickly. I'm really glad you stopped by, I could use the company. But, and I hope this doesn't sound rude, why did you stop by Steven?"

"Oh right of course! Sorry, got a bit carried away making myself at home there. I just wanted to give you something." Steven blushed as he set down his cup and rushed back to his coat, pulling a little envelope topped with a bow out of the pocket. "This is for you." He presented it proudly, watching in eager anticipation as you carefully unsealed it and slid out the little card.

"A gift card for my favourite coffee shop? That's so sweet Steven, thank you! I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, but I really appreciate this." It never ceased to amaze you just how thoughtful he could be, and just how closely he listened to everything you had to say.

"Well this might be something you could do for me. But only if you want! Um, I wanted to ask if you would ever want to go for a coffee with me some time? I really like talking to you, and seeing you, and spending time with you, and I know I only ever do it when you're working and that can make it tricky for us to talk too much, so I wanted to ask you on a proper date in the new year? But also you don't have to say yes, I got you the gift card so I could still technically buy you a coffee even if you don't want to go and get it with me. Which would be fine. But I would really like to go with you.." You could see the desperate panic building in his eyes as he went back and forth on the sentiment, hands wringing frantically as he tried to get the words out even though he couldn't remember anything he'd prepared every time he opened his mouth. You worried if you let him talk much longer he'd end up blue in the face or sprinting for the door, so setting the card down on the table, you figured out one way to shut him up and answer his question at the same time.

One hand landed gently on the side of his face, thumb running across his flushed cheek, while the other found his trembling fingers. His lips stopped mid-movement in awestruck disbelief as you glanced down at his mouth before slowly but surely leaning into him. Your bottom lip met his, plump and soft and hanging slightly open, and then as your noses brushed, the cupid bows of your upper lips kissed. It was sweet and soft and his lips felt cold against yours, uncertain as if you might pull away on second thought. You gave him a second to react, letting the cogs whir in his brain until finally his hand squeezed back at yours, an arm wrapping around your waist as he dived in for more. His jaw tensed as his lips applied more pressure, chasing the high that came from finally tasting you, pulling you tightly against his chest to soak up as much of your warmth and scent as he could possibly consume. He felt almost drunk as he finally pulled away, resting his forehead on yours with a giddy grin, summoning a little more confidence to ask again,

"Does this mean you'll go for coffee with me, love?"

"It definitely does Steven." Your second kiss was interrupted by the elated giggle that crept past his lips, before he went to plant peck after peck on you, this outcome even better than he could have ever hoped a Christmas miracle would be. You caught a glimpse of the recently strung up mistletoe over Steven's shoulder as you pulled him in for a hug, smiling to yourself at the wonderful turnaround your evening had had. You could feel Steven's grin against your cheek as he muttered quietly in your ear,

"If you want any more company this Christmas, I haven't got any plans. We can do anything you want."

"This is great." For the first time tonight, as Steven wrapped his arms around you even more tightly, you truly meant it.

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #steven grant x reader #steven grant headcanons #steven grant smut #steven grant imagines #steven grant imagine #steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight imagines #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight headcanons #moon knight smut #moon knight fluff

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look-at-the-soul · 8 months

Note

Hi! I'm new to the Peaky fandom and am in need of some Tommy fics because he's my favourite character! If your requests are open, (if not, there's no rush!) may I pretty please have a drabble or imagine -- whatever is easier -- with this gif?

*A little spice is okay, just nothing explicit. Also, my pronouns are she/her, but a gender neutral story is totally okay, too! :)

Thank you in advance!

Hello Jessyca! 🥰 Thank you so much for sending this gif!! I decided to make it part of Adele challenge using one of my favorite songs! (Lyrics in italics) 🔥🥰 edit and welcome to the fandom!! 🥰 I forgot to reply this sorry! I hope so far you’ve found incredible stories and lovely mutuals around (I’m always reblogging stories I really enjoy reading 💖)

🔥🔥🔥although the gif is extra hot, you’ll find nothing but fluffiness in this little story…

Women like me

By the corner of your eye, you found Mr. Shelby trying to catch his breath. Resting on his back against the pillows, he was looking at the ceiling completely lost in his own thoughts, his thumb rubbing absently between his brows.

You're driving me away, give me a reason to stay

I want to be lost in you, but not in this way

Don't think you quite understand who you have on your hands

How can you not see just how good for you I am?

In silence you started the same routine you knew by heart now; get up, get dressed and sneak out of his bedroom in silence, head down.

Ah, yes you were almost forgetting about his generous payment in between.

I know that you've been hurt before, that's why you feel so insecure

I begged you to let me in, 'cause I only want to be the cure

You could still feel his seed dripping down your legs, but tried to pick up your clothes scattered on the floor as gracefully as you could to get dress in the corner.

You’d been serving him for several months now, rumor has it Lizzie Stark wasn’t his mistress anymore because she got pregnant, so that was your job now; being Thomas Shelby’s whore.

Complacency is the worst trait to have, are you crazy?

You ain't never had, ain't never had a woman like me

But tonight there was something different, out of place. Mr. Shelby was still in the same position, his chest was now moving at a more normal pace. Looking at the floor, you felt embarrassed to ask for the money so you decided to pretend to fix your hair to see if he got the hint.

But he didn’t.

So after he longest seconds of your life, you decided to walk out without anything, feeling disappointed because you really needed to money to support your family. Perhaps he’d pay you double the next time, you thought to yourself but as you reached the door, his voice stopped you.

All you do is complain about decisions you make

“Y/N…” Your mouth hang open, surprised to hear him say your name.

“Is there a chance for you to stay all night?”

“I-I don’t know Mr. Shelby.” You stammered nervously, the instructions were clear; let him do whatever he wants, pick up your stuff and leave.

“You can call me Tommy… is there somewhere you need to go?”

Your eyes found his briefly, but you instantly dragged them down. “No, it’s just I’m not supposed to stay for the night.” You answered in a low voice.

“Why not?”

Feeling more embarrassed than ever, you didn’t want to point out the obvious, but as his intense blue eyes stared at you, you didn’t have another choice.

“Sir-Tommy,” you corrected yourself, “I’m just a whore.”

We come from the same place, but you will never give it up

It's where they make you feel powerful

That's why you think I make you feel small

But that's your projection, it's not my rejection

You knew that’s what you were, anyone could tell without even knowing you. But calling yourself that, hit you differently.

“Come here,” he extended his hand at you, and you didn’t have any other choice but take it and climb into bed again. “How long have you been coming here?”

“Six months.”

I put my heart on the line for the very first time

Because you asked me to, and now you've gone and changed your mind

But loving you was a breakthrough

You saw his head moving up and down slowly, but he was still oddly quiet.

He was still trying to organize the thoughts inside his mind as he saw you absently picking on your stockings. How could he put into words the way he felt about you?

“Y/N over the last couple of months, you’ve been the only one willing to spend some time with me, when everyone else finds an excuse to walk out the door, you’ve been the constant of my days, or nights for the matter.”

I saw what my heart can really do

Now some other man will get the love I have for you

'Cause you don't care, oh-oh-oh

Was he going to ask you to stop coming every night? You couldn’t speak, terrified of saying something that would piss him off. You had fallen for him secretly, blame it to the intimacy, the frequent late night calls, the way please took over him, but you did and deep down you knew it was all wrong.

“You’re not like the others, you don’t take and leave. You fill my glass with whiskey before you go or you pick up my clothes and fold them… you’ve listened to all my shit without judging me.”

Confused, you gave him a long look. “Tommy, what are you try-”

“I’ve feelings for you, Y/N.”

“That can’t be true, I’m a whore… men like you don’t fall in love with women like me.”

Consistency is the gift to give for free, and it is key

To ever keep, to ever keep a woman like me

“Women like you?” He was suddenly kneeling in bed in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks. “Who says that?”

“Everybody knows that.”

This was just a fantasy, a dream. You were worthless, the worst of the worst.

“Just so you to know, I’m not so different than you… we just sell different parts of ourselves, Y/N.”

His eyes fixed on you, his intense gaze penetrating every layer, tearing down every single wall. And as he realized your guard was coming down, he pulled you in for a kiss, breaking the only rule you set when you first walked into his bedroom; no kissing.

That first kiss felt totally different to anything you’ve experienced until now, because men usually take what they want and leave right away, but Tommy took his time to explore your lips, the way they molded to his, tentatively, switching his pace and tilting his head from time to time as if he didn’t want to leave a single spot unattended.

He broke apart allowing you to take a deep breath, your head was spinning.

“Beneath, there’s a good woman, I just know it.” His knuckles carefully caressed your chin. You wanted to believe him, but you had been used in the past you no longer knew who you were.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, so he took your hand and placed it over his heart. “Y/N I’m not going to hurt you, I genuinely fell for you, for he woman you are, for the little things I know about you… for the way you allowed me to be myself when the door is closed.”

He had been fighting it for so long, but with you he was allowed to strip down not only from his clothes, but from the heartless cold bastard he had to be in front of everyone else.

“Will you give me the chance?”

Looking down you fought against the lump that formed in your throat. “But how will you deal with my past and all the burden I’ve?”

“I’m not going to erase it, just like you can’t delete mine,” his fingers sunk in your disheveled curls, “but we can look forward and take it from there, together.”

As a single tear slid through your cheek, his thumb came to wipe it away, right before he crashed his lips once more and you believed him with all your heart because deep down you knew he was right.

A woman like you wasn’t so different than a man like him.

***

Master list

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a while now, guess it was time to post it, and I apologize because although I absolutely adore the concept I have been feeling a bit down and I’m not sure I was able to portray what I intended to…

Like always I’m so grateful if you decide to share your thoughts x

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @rangerelik @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya (can’t tag) @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989

#That’s what Cill said #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fan fic #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader

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katsheadinclouds · 2 months

Text

Summer nights, you and I

Lucien Flores x f!plus-size!reader

summary: You explore your feelings for your high school sweetheart, who comes to your birthday party.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, bad communication, mention of drinking, no mention of pronouns for reader but body parts are mentioned, reader wears a dress and has hair, smut, car sex in a public place, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it up folks!). No use of y/n. Not beta read. If I forgot something, let me know!

word count: 3.7k

notes: Happy birthday weekend to me! Yesterday, when I saw the new pictures and videos of one mr. Lucien Flores, my brain got fried, and inspiration hit me. I ended up writing this thing in the middle of the night and thought I’d share it now to celebrate me turning 30!

dividers by saradika-graphics

He watches you mingle in the crowd, eyes following your every move. People talk with him, to him, but the words slip out of his head as soon as he hears them. He watches as you laugh at a joke someone tells you. He watches you listen to someone. He watches the arch of your lips when you answer someone’s question, how your tongue drags over the softness as you wet them before sipping on your drink.

He knows you’re aware of him. He sees it in the way you turn around if you get too close to him. He sees your head twist away after you’ve locked your eyes on him when you think he hasn’t noticed. It’s in the way you pretend to not see him even when you’re facing him, trying to force yourself to stay present in the conversation you’re engaged in.

But every few seconds your eyes drift to watch him past the guest’s face. Your shoulders tense up, you breathe a little deeper, and you try so hard to not let his presence deter you from the deep desire to keep your head straight. You told him that you two can’t keep seeing each other. You told him that repeatedly; every time you came knocking on his door at odd hours of the night, every time you called him to ask if he was free the next weekend, every time you sighed out his name when his mouth was buried between the roundness of your thighs. It was a reflex. A chanting wish to keep yourself from him.

Yet every time you came back, saying the same thing, “we can’t keep seeing each other like this.”

He had looked at you under his brow, ready to indulge you in the orange gloom of the streetlights glowing in through the window. “How do you want to see me then?” He mocked.

He didn’t expect to be pushed on his back, your fingers gently around his throat, your hot palm against his feverish skin, your lips against his ear, “I don’t,” you whispered. Almost like it was an emphasis on your resoluteness, you rose to your knees and guided him into you. Your arousal pooled instantly at the base of his cock when you heard him moaning. He dug his fingers against your ass and helped you ride him until your thighs were burning. Here you were, trying to meet all your guests in the dusky garden you had rented for your birthday party. “I don’t want you there,” you had said when you gave him the invite.

“Then I won’t come there,” he answered. You gave him a long look, your fingers pressed against his before you turned on your heels and left his place before the sun rose.

Here you were, avoiding him at your own party, trying to act nonchalant about the man who you wanted in every way but never wanted to admit it even to yourself. You knew how people saw him. How they’d see you if they knew about you two.

You were always the good one, ready to help, never backing out even in the bleakest situations. People trusted you, and you gave all of them a reason to do that. Lucien on the other hand, he is nothing like you.

He has always been the quiet rebel, the one with the free spirit who sometimes disappears without a word to chase his dreams and wants. Untrustworthy, ready to jump when everyone else expected him to stand still. You can’t accept that he has changed, even when he tries to prove it to you.

You knew you couldn’t get attached like you had when you two were teenagers, with heated cheeks and coy smiles. Back then you were shy and your hands always shook when you wanted to touch him. Even if it was just to hold his hand or to push his unruly curls off his eyes.

The kisses back then were timid, full of nerves, when either of you weren’t used to having someone so close yet. The teenage romance ended before it even had a chance to properly start. He left and you stayed. Your tears were never ending, they dried out your soul. The hope for feeling like you had someone you could trust to stand with you, to have someone in your corner, withered away. It was by accident when he saw you again. At a coffee shop on a busy Tuesday morning. He could recognize your voice from a mile away and the smile in your eyes when you thanked the barista for your coffee. And the curve of your lips that you licked with the tip of your tongue before you took a sip.

He didn’t know if he should call out for you or let you go. He did neither. He was on his feet before he had the chance to decide, and stood in your way as you were heading outside with your takeout cup, smiling at something on your phone. You almost crashed into him, barely catching yourself before you spilled your coffee on his chest.

“Excuse me,” the annoyance was palpable, but when you looked up and saw his face, the realization hit you like a train.

“Lucien,” you half whispered with wide eyes in the full coffee shop. He was so close he could smell the mint in your breath from your toothpaste.

“Long time no see,” his mouth found a crooked smile and you gasped out a laugh, not believing that he was standing in front of you, not knowing what to do next. It wasn’t forbidden. The love he feels for you, or the love you feel for him. You’re protecting yourself, he knows that. You don’t want to feel like you’ve lost something when he decides to leave again. You don’t want to find yourself alone again. You don’t want to feel like you’ve been abandoned again.

You were inseparable for a while. He was a lifeline for you when you felt most lonely, without friends and belonging in any group that had formed at school. He was a friend, first and foremost, then your first love.

By the end of it he was nothing when he followed his dad to another state one summer. So, you keep telling him that you can’t meet anymore. That it’s not wise to see each other anymore. That this is the last time, before you come back again and tell him the same things again and again. “Happy birthday,” he finally finds you alone by the drinks table, catching your breath after all the socializing and meaningless conversations with people you’ve collected throughout the years to make yourself a safety net that has holes in it. You had said it yourself, “I don’t belong with these people, I don’t know why I think they’re my friends.”

“Thank you,” your quiet voice trembles when you face him and look at him deep in his eyes.

“I have something —,” he begins, but is cut off by the other people who burst into explosive laughter. The sound is a mix of joyful and horrifying at the same time, too loud yet held back.

“Come,” he takes your hand and pulls you away towards the gates of the garden, getting further from the party and the droning chatter with every step. You hold onto his hand with your fingers twined with his and let him take you anywhere he wants.

He opens the doors of his car but pulls you to his chest before pushing your back against the side of the ride. Your hands reflexively reach for his shoulders and drag him in. Your hungry mouth is about to repeat your script but gets distracted by his lips and the wet glide of his tongue against yours. “What were you about to say out there?” You groan when he sucks at the soft flesh right under your jaw.

“That I have something for you,” the low murmur of his voice makes shivers run down your spine. Your hands don’t shake anymore when you reach for his kisses, when you reach for his belt and pant against his mouth when the now familiar feeling of his tongue fills your mouth. Smoothly he reaches behind your back and pulls the door open, leading you to the backseat. The pleasant mildness of the night feels scorching in the closed car. The windows are fogged up and your hand is slipping against the glass when he buries himself snuggly into you. Your breath catches in your throat every time he reaches that place deep inside you. He makes you discover the fine line between pleasure and pain with every stroke.

He’s careful with it, making sure you never cross that line to painful but teeter on the brink of it. Who would’ve guessed you’d be getting fucked in Lucien’s car by the end of the night, sweat pouring out of your pores, feeling spread open and the intense pleasure with every stroke of his cock in the tightness of your pussy, electrifying your spine and travelling in waves up and down your back. He licks at the side of your neck, a long stripe from your collarbone up to your jaw. He plants soft kisses along it until he reaches your lips. Slowly he lifts himself up to look at you, hovering over you.

His arms are like a cage on either side of you, your leg trapped against his arm. If you were to straighten it, your toes would tickle the dark lining on the roof of the car. The chains around his neck sway with every thrust, all ending up tickling the centre of your chest. You reach for them and wrap them once around your finger.

“I want you to be rough,” you tell him. He looks at you, the seriousness in your eyes. He’d like to wipe away your fears, your need to push him away while simultaneously pulling him in. He considers it, giving you what you ask for. But it’s only part of the script you’ve written in your head to feel better if he were to leave again.

“No,” he says and leans down, touching his lips feather light against yours. He rocks down and watches you take a deep breath. He feels you pulse around his cock, adjusting to the slow invasion. “I’ll give you rough when you believe when I say I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.” He sees your resolve crumble immediately. You’ve been caught, you both know it. You’ve kept yourself from feeling anything for Lucien while feeling so much for him at the same time, so much so that it has turned overwhelming. Your protection has turned into self-sabotage when he’s the one reaching out while he watches you build even higher walls around yourself.

He moves slow, almost pulling out completely, before pushing back in with a slow roll of his hips, until his pelvis is flush against yours and another breath is drawn out of your lungs. You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, your fingers winding around the curls at the base of it, forcing him to hold his forehead against yours. The chains slip from your hand and hang loose once again. They tap against your chin with every little move he makes.

“I want to hear it,” his voice rumbles and buzzes in your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, while he demands your attention with the push of his hips. The arm that was supporting your leg at the bend of his elbow suddenly secures the sole of your foot against the passenger seat while your ankle presses against the center console.

You open your eyes just as you feel his fingers slip between your legs, his thumb finding your slicked clit without much trouble like he has mapped out how you like to be touched. He gathers even more of your wetness from around his cock and circles the sensitive nerve endings in sweet circles, making your eyes roll back into your head and your back arch off the leather seats.

“Tell me,” he demands softly, bringing you back from losing yourself to the pleasure. He doesn’t stop touching you, only slows down the circles, just like he slows down his thrusts to be a continuous movement, in and out, keeping your pleasure on high alert and your orgasm ever present, but not letting it take you away from him, not just yet.

“What?” You gasp out when he once again reaches deep, tilting his hips up.

“Tell me you believe I’m not going, and I’ll give you rough.” You moan out at the feel of his thumb suddenly losing pressure for it to only move up and down against your clit.

The words are on your tongue, catching the humidity of his breath. You’d want to believe him, you’d love to believe him. But you can’t.

You know this isn’t the first time he’s back in the city. He has come and gone many times, and you’ve only heard about it afterwards, when he’s long gone already. And every time, even when you hadn’t seen him, it had reminded you of how he left when you were still a couple of kids, trying to navigate the world that seemed too big and too small at the same time.

You’d want to tell him you believe him. You’d want to have enough faith in yourself to not break apart when he will eventually leave. You’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now, but the fear is still there, only growing stronger. You wait for the moment, when he’s just gone.

You force yourself to look at him in the eye, to see the dark pleading in them. To believe him. He sees the same in yours. To not hurt you. He shoves himself in you and holds the tears in your eyes with heartbreak in his.

He gets it. There’s nothing he can do, or say, to make you change your mind about him. He pushes himself up and runs his large hand down your soft side, his thumb tracing the line of your bra under your breast.

You brace yourself for what he’s about to do when your request from earlier hangs heavily in the humid air between the two of you. His eyes rake down your clothed front, sees the budding bruises of his mouth right by the edges of your bra. Your dress, which he hiked up to your waist, has gathered the few drops of sweat that have dripped down from his face.

Last, his eyes fixate on the gleam of your lips around his length, how he still hasn’t stopped the push and pull of his hips, drawing out more and more of your slick. He thumbs at where you’re joined, earning a groan from you that invites him closer to cumming. It’s your final warning for what’s to come.

The air smells of sex, heady and thick. He grinds his teeth together and breathes deep. His thighs are on fire from kneeling between your legs for so long. Some of the seams on the seats chafe against his legs.

“Just do it,” you cry out. Your voice isn’t only asking for him to take you however he pleases. You’re pleading for him to do what you expect from him. To take what he wants, and to leave.

Without waiting any longer, he digs his fingers into your hip, squeezes the supple roundness of your bottom and slams himself into you, starting a ruthless rhythm. You scream out before you manage to cover your mouth with your hands. You breathe harshly between your fingers while he takes and takes, forcing you to gasp out your moans.

It's too much, his hold, his thumb on your clit, the thickness of him between your legs, in you, his grunts and heavy breaths that intoxicate you. You love to hear his voice when he’s close. It’s the most erotic sound you could ever think of. You record it in your mind, only to repeat to yourself when you know thinking about these moments together won’t cause too much pain.

He does this thing where he reaches deep inside you, presses his whole length against the squishy, most sensitive parts of your flesh, and uses it with abandon. You can’t hold in your moans behind your hands anymore; the sound only turns into whimpering screams.

He doesn’t stop. He’s giving you what you wished. Your birthday wish. He abuses the softness of your pussy repeatedly. He forces your palms off your mouth and wraps his hand around them to push them against the door so you can scream your pleasure into his mouth.

Your blissful climax topples you off your awareness. There’s only Lucien, guiding you through your orgasm with slowing thrusts when you squeeze around him. He gasps into your mouth and licks into it, against your tongue, and lets you ride it out, but he doesn’t stop.

He listens to your whines and makes them the sound that encourage him to cum. With weak arms you fight his hand off yours, and wrap them around him, the other under his silky shirt, the other in his thick, damp curls.

You kiss him with newfound fervor, barely hanging on to your rationality while he makes you forget yourself in the intense pleasure. Pins and needles run up and down your skin, it’s almost painful.

“Let go for me, Lucien, cum for me,” you manage to mumble against his lips. He gives out a ragged moan when the grind of his hips stutters. His whole body trembles. Sweat pours down his temples, down his neck, and his chest glistens in the half light of the hidden parking lot with a blush that has crept up to his cheeks.

He catches his breath against your neck with shuddering exhales, his moans heating your skin. You massage the back of his neck and allow yourself to close your eyes. You imagine what it would be like to let him love you, to let yourself relax without any uncertainty. You’re still split open by him, and if you could, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for longer.

Lucien opens the door and lets the cooling night air slip into the car. You push yourself up and with shaky fingers try to close the buttons that will hide the hickeys he left on your breasts.

He leans his head back against the headrest. He pushes his hand through his drying curls, leaving them tousled. You try your best to make your hands stop shaking, but they don’t. It almost seems like it’s getting worse.

“Let me,” he whispers, and you’re met with his quietness as he reaches towards you and steadily fastens the small buttons, covering your skin.

“Lean back,” he tells you and you do as he wishes. He gets something off the floor, which you recognize as the lace of your panties. He maneuvers them on you, and up your legs until you have to push your hips up and you replace his hands with yours. He sees the mess between your legs, his cum that is slicking the insides of your thighs.

“Was this what you wanted to give me?” You ask, almost hopeful that he’ll say yes. He looks up as he lifts his own hips to pull his trousers back up the rest of the way, closing the button right under the softness of his belly.

He shakes his head once and accompanies it with a chuckle. His eyes stay the same, rich and admiring, serious and playful at the same time. He buttons up his shirt while you put space between the two of you.

Suddenly, even after all the times you’ve fucked, you’re nervous. You don’t like to feel vulnerable around him, when it only means that you’re putting yourself at risk.

“No,” he finally says and reaches for the center console between the two front seats. Inside is a small box that he hands to you.

“Happy birthday.” It comes out so much deeper than it did before, full of the remains of his lust for you. You take the box and manage to get it open.

“It reminded me of you,” he says when you see a small, dark green gemstone pendant on a thin chain. You swallow against the dryness of your throat and touch it with the tips of your fingers.

“Let me,” he tells you softly and takes the box from you. You turn your back to him and close your eyes to fight the tears that are threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

The chain feels cool at first, but then burning hot when he closes the lock behind your neck and traces the metal against your skin. You turn back towards him and look at the gem between your fingers. Even in this faint light you can discover vivid red flakes on the surface.

“Thank you,” you reach for him and close him inside your arms. He buries his face against your neck and kisses it, the chain pressing between his lips and your skin.

“Want to go back?” He asks and with a trembling sigh you separate from him. You let him pull you out of the car and to your feet.

He straightens your clothes. The dress you chose to wear just because you knew he’d like it on you and which you hoped he’d take off you. He brushes his thumbs under your eyes and over your forehead and combs his fingers through your hair to make you look at least somewhat like you weren’t just fucked in someone’s car. The fresh air clears your head. It cools the deep burning in your chest and the dripping cum in your panties. It lets you close your heart from him again.

“Yes,” you say and lead him back towards the party, while you’d want to turn around, get back into his car and ask him to drive you away from here. He could take you anywhere, and you wouldn’t say no.

#lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x f!reader #lucien flores x female reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores x f!plus-size!reader #lucien flores x plus-size!reader #lucien flores smut #lucien flores fic #lucien flores fanfic #lucien flores fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #katsheadincloudswrites #summer nights you and I

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cameronspecial · 3 months

Text

It's All Fun And Games

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Drew likes to come up with games to entertain his children.

Masterlist

Drew knows that going out in public can be a little boring for his kids, especially since they aren’t allowed screens or toys when they do. So, Drew’s solution is to create games for them. Y/N’s hand is in Millie’s while Drew holds Tristan’s. The family approaches the elevator, which causes the children to release themselves from their parents’ hold. Each child runs to a different elevator and grins at their father once they are ready. “Three. Two. One,” Drew counts down before pressing the down button to call the elevator. They wait for a few seconds and the ding notifies them that they will soon be entering the metal contraption. The doors in front of Millie open and she lets out a cheer. “Congrats, Mills,” Drew congratulation, ushering his family into the elevator. Miller runs to the console and presses the button that Drew shows her. Tristan looks at his sister with a hint of jealousy, “I’m going to win next time.” Drew gives his son a soft smile and picks his son up. “I’m sure you will win the elevator game next time, Tris.”

—

Y/N needed some time by herself and Drew could sense that, so he took the kids out to get some ice cream. As he watches his children munch on their ice cream, an elderly lady walks by and sits a few tables down from them. The bag she is carrying almost rivals her size and he points it out to his kids. He leans in closer to his kids, “What do we think is in her bag?” Understanding what their father is doing, their faces light up. “I think she has lots and lots of candy in her bag that she likes to share with little kids,” Millie responds. Tristan thinks about it for a second, “She has many bouncy balls.” Drew chuckles at their responses. “And what would she do with all of the bouncy balls? Millie says she likes to share the candy, so what’s the story behind the bouncy balls?” Drew provokes. Tristan answers immediately, “Because she is a super secret spy, who uses balls to put people to sleep.” “That is a very interesting story,” Drew says. The What’s in the Bag game is one of Drew’s favourites because it shows his children’s imagination.

—

The last game drives Y/N crazy, but she secretly loves it. The family is running errands at Target when the kids grow tired of the shopping. Drew can see this, so he pulls out the stickers he keeps in his wallet. He hands Millie the sheet with purple hearts, Tristan the one with pink hearts and keeps the orange hearts for himself. He starts off the game by patting his wife on the back while kissing her on the cheek. She doesn’t feel the press of the sticker onto her shirt. The next sticker that finds its way onto Y/N is given by Tristan, who pretends that he wants to be picked up by his mother. He risks placing it onto her shoulder as she picks him up. Millie gets one onto Y/N’s knee when the daughter is playing between the mother’s legs. The game comes to an end because of Drew. He tries the same tactic again; however, this time, he tries pressing it against the hem of her t-shirt sleeve. Y/N separates their lips at the feel of the sticky substance of the sticker on her arm. Drew had missed her shirt. She looks at her husband and then at her children’s wide grin.

She pieces the puzzle together and unravels herself from her husband's hold. “Seriously, My Love? I thought I took all your stickers,” she questions. He gives her a sheepish smile, “You did, except you forgot that I have my own credit card.” She shakes her head with slight annoyance. “I married a child. I hate these games,” she mumbles as she picks off all the stickers her family has put on her. Drew pouts and nears her with his lips, “Come on, Sweetheart. It’s all fun and games.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

#daddy drew #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #dad!drew #dad! drew #dad!drew starkey #dad! drew starkey

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floor-archivist · 6 months

Text

Seven months of green hair and I finally cosplay joe hills!

literally only person who got it at the Halloween party was my partner's sister's boyfriend

Some detail photos, silly photos, breakdown of everything, and also a Jedi Joe costume I accidentally put together below the read more:

As for the Jedi Joe, I forgot my shirt, so I had to quickly make a new one with a random shirt I found and paper. My brother just happened to have a lightsaber he brought so I asked to borrow it for this picture.

"pov ur in the library in the magnus institute" -@/deadcaptainn

was being silly in my cosplay at work

anyway!

Breakdown:

Nametag: cardboard, toothpicks and hot glue, surprisingly sturdy

Hair: there's a chroma green hair clip in the back that's not visible either, but otherwise, my hair's been green since march

Earrings: there's a green mushroom earrings on my right side, and a green gem stud earring, the mushroom was made by my other partner

Necklace: Amethyst necklace, was thinking it could be a reminder of Oli and the rift and all that fun stuff

Pronoun pins: I also use Any Pronouns so I happened to have the pins around!

Shirt: Generic t-shirt that I cut the arms and neck out of, the @ was made with a stencil I cut with an old second-hand cricut, then cut out of fabric and heat-n-bond, then sewed the edges with as close to a satin stitch as my machine allows.

Fishnets: gloves and tights were both bought online

Stripped shirt, Jeans, belt: just happened to own for awhile

The chains were once used to display squishmallow clips, they always got thrown out so I took them home from work one time. Painted green, then mod podge.

Boots: beaded myself with pony beads, have had the boots themselves for ages

Jedi Cloak: sewed for a different cosplay (moiraine) but it was so close to a Jedi cloak when done I've also been using it as that. and it has pockets! of course!

#archies statements #joe hills #joe hills cosplay #hermitcraft cosplay #id in alt text

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lillotus17 · 1 month

Text

INTERTWINED SERIES (Spidermen!ENHA) Preview

SYNOPSIS: After being dead for two minutes and then brought back to life thanks to your coworker you start to get these weird visions of future events just minutes before they happen. During a train ride you witness the murder of three teenage boys in broad daylight and then suddenly the next second they're sitting back down in their seats, alive and breathing. Despite the want you have to keep your peace and leave it alone, you can't help but get a very bad feeling and it only intensifies when you recognize the man that murdered them in your vision three train carts away and walking in your guys' direction. Shoving the three boys off of the train, saving their lives, risking your own, and being accused of kidnapping was not on your bucket list after surviving death. You don't have any clue what is going on or what in the hell you're gonna do to help these three boys but thankfully the four of you bump into some help along the way.

RELEASE DATE: TBD

PAIRING: EnhaHyung!Line X Fem. Reader, Spider-men!EnhaHyungLine x Madame Webb!Reader, Superhero!EnhaHyungLine x Clairvoyant!Reader, Spider!EnhaHyungLine x Paramedic!Reader, [ft. Enha Kim Sunoo (Anya Corazon), Yang Jungwon (Julia Cornwall), and Nishimura Riki (Mattie Franklin); TXT Yeonjun (Ezekial Sims), Choi Soobin (Ben Parker), mentions of Choi Beomgyu (Richard Parker); Shin Ryujin (Mary Parker); more to be added].

GENRE: Superhero AU, Romance, Action, Comedy, Angst, Strangers to Allies to Friends to Lovers, polyamorous relationship, (let me know if I forgot anything) more to be added!

WARNINGS: profanity, sexual/suggestive content (intercourse, oral, masturbation, phone sex, sexting, etc) ONLY WRITTEN FOR HYUNG LINE, MINORS DNI (you WILL be removed/blocked), poly relationship, drinking/consuming alcohol, feminine pronouns/terms used for reader, MADAME WEBB SPOLIERS!!! If you haven't watched it already! This is based on the MADAME WEBB MOVIE with some twist added into it! Let me know if I forgot anything at all!

DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of FICTION! This is not meant to portray any of the Enhypen Members or other mentioned idols in any way or shape or form.

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES/GIFS THAT MAY BE/ARE USED IN MY WRITING. IMAGES CREATED BY ME WILL HAVE MY WATERMARK OR BE COPYRIGHTED! THE MOOD BOARDS USED FOR THIS SERIES ARE ONES I PUT TOGETHER ON MY OWN BUT THE PHOTOS USED ARE NOT MINE!

ALL CREDITS GO TO THE OWNERS/CREATORS!

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK!

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, STRICTLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

P.S. if you haven't already, you should definitely check out @artysse (credited) on TIKTOK! If you already have, then you know that it's an ENHA Fan Art Account of Spider ENHA! It's really fucking awesome! Go show some love!

NOT PROOF READ: Apologies for any grammatical errors, my loves!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This takes place in New York, with mentions of South Korea and Japan. Reader is the same age as Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki are the same age, in high school, and have a slightly bigger age gap between them and hyung line. Time gaps, mentions of MCU universe events/milestones. Slight spider-verse au, hyung line are all from different universes! Also note that maknae line don't have their spider powers (yet) because they develop it in series. ENHA hyungs already have their powers when they meet Y/N and the other boys.

CAST:

Y/N L/N as Cassandra (Cassie) Webb/Madame Webb

Yang Jungwon as Julia Cornwall (Carpenter in the Comics)/Arachne/Spider-(Wo)man

Kim Sunoo as Anya Corazon/Arana

Nishmura Riki (Niki) as Martha (Mattie) Franklin/Spider-(Wo)man

Lee Heeseung as Peter Parker (Tom Holland Universe)/Spider-Man

Park Jongseong (Jay) as Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield Universe)/Spider-Man

Sim Jaeyun (Jake) as Miles Morales (Spider-Verse)/Spider-Man

Park Sunghoon as Gwen Stacy (Spider-Verse)/Spider-Gwen/Ghost Spider

More to be added!

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circethesinner · 1 year

Note

Hello. Can I request an ask ? Xavier x vampire female reader. She can read minds and she is the new student at Nevermore Academy.

Thank you so much !❤️🥺

suave

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, small injury and bl**d mentioned

word count: 2.5k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

A/N - eee first ever request thank you!!! I hope its okay! full disclosure before we begin - one of my special interests is what we do in the shadows so I've decided that vampires are just chaos gremlins

I support womens rights, but more importantly, womens wrongs 😌💅

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Being a newborn vampire sucked.

Everything was too bright, smells were too strong, and your beloved garlic bread sent you to the hospital on four occasions, but goddamn it, you were going to build up a tolerance if it was the last thing you did. Which, at your rate, it probably would be.

How were you supposed to live, laugh, love in those conditions? Instead, you had to settle for manipulate, mansplain, m̶a̶n̶s̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶t̶e̶r̶ mind reading.

Hearing other people’s thoughts when you spoke to them was nothing short of exhausting. It wasn’t that it was difficult or strenuous on your body; it was just boring. People were so boring.

Day in, day out, you heard people’s shopping lists, people wondering if the person they liked would ask them out, people trying to multiply things in their heads; the list was endless and dull and endlessly dull. When the most exciting part of your day was hearing someone have an internal meltdown because they were sure someone had just seen them pick their nose and now thought poorly of them, you knew it was time for a change of pace.

That’s when you ended up at Nevermore.

Well, that and your normie parents were panicking because they didn’t know what to do for their newly turned vampire daughter. Nevermore had teachers who could teach you how to vampire properly and stop antagonising the neighbourhood by flying through people’s houses as a bat and stealing jewellery because no cop would believe them when they said a small, winged rodent-like creature flew through the window and stole their grandma’s necklace.

Your new roommate, Yoko, had taken pity on you and taken you under her wing. She had shown you the ropes of the school, ropes which you had promptly cut just to see what would fall.

It wasn’t that you were lying about being able to read minds; you just conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell anyone about it. So, a few weeks into your time at Nevermore, a Twitter account popped up on everyone’s feeds. It was just your run-of-the-mill anonymous gossip, but what caught people’s eyes was that thoughts and opinions that had never even touched their lips were being shared.

Nothing inherently harmful, of course. You weren’t out to ruin lives; just shake them up a little.

Crushes were spilt, cheating was exposed, friendships were made, and friendships were broken. It was all just playful fun in your eyes.

To divert attention from yourself, you would add some of your ‘thoughts’ to the account. Things that would only be mildly embarrassing that you could easily brush off.

“Looks like you’re the hot topic today,” Yoko smiled, her eyes peeking out from atop her sunglasses as they had slipped down her face. She showed her phone screen to you, and you pretended to act surprised as you read the words ‘Y/N thinks Kent is cute’ as though you hadn’t been the one to write them.

“I won’t deny it; he’s easy on the eyes,” You shrugged, looking over at Kent, catching him looking at you. His face flushed red, and he looked away. “In, like, a puppy way.”

“Are you going to ask him out?” Yoko asked, her eyes looking over at him as well. “He’d say yes, but I think he’s just scared of you.”

“He’s scared of his own shadow,” You laughed, passing her phone back. “Again, he’s cute in a puppy way, not in an ‘I want to date him’ way- sorry, bud!” You called out the last words to Kent, who you knew had been listening in from the other table. Confusion and relief flooded his face, and you knew you’d picked the right person. Anyone else would have been more vocal about it. You would have risked being publicly rejected or, worse, asked out. You hedged your bets on Kent doing nothing about it, and it worked.

You scanned around the quad, hopping into people’s minds to see if you could pull anything out that would be useful to you later. It was like you were channel hopping, hearing bits and clips of people’s thoughts until something grabbed your interest.

“Wonder if Thing would like this new nail polish-” You heard from Enid.

“Who sets homework for-” You skipped Ajax almost immediately as you didn’t want to listen to him internally complain about homework for the seventh time in three days.

“Glad she doesn’t actually like him because I-” From Xavier.

“I just wish I-” You heard the start of Divina’s thoughts but panicked and switched back to Xavier. By the time you had, you had realised you were too late. Whatever he had been thinking had been derailed by Ajax talking to him about homework, and now his thoughts were focused on that.

Could he have been thinking about you? The timing would make sense. He was at the table over with Kent, and he would have been able to hear your conversation just as well. Your mind flooded with possibilities on how his thought could have ended. Against your will, it had fixated on the idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier was glad you didn’t like Kent because he liked you.

What was also against your will was your mind, for some unknown reason, liked that idea.

You decided that you needed to keep tabs on his mind just to gather proof that you were wrong. There was no way that thought was about you, and even if it was, there was no way that was the reason behind it.

“Earth to Y/N!” Yoko snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into the moment. “Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying?”

“Yoko, my love, I am sorry, but I have not,” You used the pet name, hoping it would quell her bubbling annoyance at you. It was seemingly successful as she smiled.

“It’s okay! I can repeat myself… again!” She teased. You could only hope that a certain someone would also repeat themselves soon.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You had been listening in to Xavier’s thoughts almost obsessively for a week, hoping to catch him thinking about you. You were barely paying attention in class as you were so wrapped up in this idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier liked you. It was driving you crazy not to get the answers you wanted.

Then one day, at dinner, you got an answer.

Well, sort of.

Bianca was upset, and as her friend, you wanted to cheer her up. You didn’t pry far into her mind. You just knew that it was something to do with her mom. It wasn’t your business, and you didn’t make it your business. You were throwing M&Ms up into the air, trying to catch them in your mouth again. It had resulted in stray M&Ms on the floor, which you swore you would pick up when you were done.

After fourteen failed attempts, the fifteenth landed in your mouth, and you very openly cheered. The whole ordeal had put a smile on Bianca’s face, despite her eye-rolls about how mature you were being.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard his thoughts.

“That was cute,” It wasn’t exactly the love confession you had been hoping for, but it was something, and something was better than the whole heaps of nothing you’d been getting up until then. It had left you almost frozen in time for a split second, only snapping out of it when the one who had invaded your thoughts as you invaded his reached over to pluck out a stray M&M that had somehow gotten caught in your hair.

Effortlessly, he threw it up in the air and caught it in his mouth on the first try.

“Show-off,” You teased, trying not to get caught up on how cute and suave that move had been. That idea was thrown when he winked at you as he stood up to return to his dorm.

You realised that in your endeavours to see if he had a crush on you, you’d developed one on him.

But you decided that two could play at the cute and suave game, and you set in motion a plan.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“What the fuck?” Xavier shouted as you, in your bat form, flew through the window and crashed against the wall. You transformed back to your human form and held your now-pounding head.

“That…” You stumbled slightly, trying to stay upright as you turned around to face him. “That went so much better in my head.” “Why the hell did you even do it?” He was definitely confused, but his voice was also laced with concern. “Shit, your head is bleeding a bit.” He grabbed an old black hoodie he didn’t care too much for anymore and walked up to you. He gently pulled your hands away from where you had been clutching your head and held the hoodie up to it to try and stop the bleeding.

“Vampires in movies are so cool and suave,” You groaned, the reality of your situation hitting you almost as hard as you had hit the wall. “I wanted to be like them.” You avoided adding the ‘and you’ that followed it in your mind. You thanked whatever Gods there were that he couldn’t read your mind in return.

“That really doesn’t explain why you did it in the first place,” Xavier laughed. He had carefully pulled you over to sit down on his bed, which your shaking legs greatly appreciated. You weren’t sure if you were shaking from the shock or the nerves of what was about to come out of your mouth or if it was a horrid mixture of the two that had turned your entire body to jello.

“Okay, so…” You sighed, figuring it would just be easier to say it than dodge around it. As you had just awfully demonstrated, subtlety was not one of your strong suits. “I wanted to be all cute and mysterious so you would be more likely to say yes when I asked you if you wanted to go out on a date.” You felt his muscles stiffen next to you, but his hold on the hoodie hadn’t stopped.

You felt the nerves bubble up in your throat, hoping that rejection would be quick and painless and that you could just laugh it all off.

Then, he started laughing.

Somehow, that made it worse. He was probably laughing at you. You tried to dive into his mind to confirm your suspicions, but you were met with pain and mental static. You almost laughed at the idea that the hoodie was blocking your signal.

“There are so many easier ways to do that,” His laughter had settled down a little after a few seconds. “You could have spoken to me in person, called me, texted me; even a written letter slipped into my bag would have done the trick.”

“My handwriting sucks,” You laughed a little with him. It was easier to laugh off than to let the embarrassment consume you, and his own laughter had helped, even if it was aimed at you rather than with you. “And texts aren’t cool or mysterious.”

“The bleeding has mostly stopped, but you might want to get it checked out at the infirmary in case you have a concussion,” Xavier carefully pulled the hoodie away and tossed it to the side. “So, are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to the infirmary on my way back to my room,” You nodded, wincing at the pain that it caused.

“That’s good, but it's not what I meant,” He held out his arm to prevent you from standing up.

“What do you mean?” You asked, doing your best to avoid eye contact and find some sort of escape plan so you could crawl into a hole and regret the life choices you had made thus far.

“Are you going to ask me out on a date?” Your eyes widened as the words registered in your brain, and you looked up at him, still doing your best to avoid eye contact in case you lost your nerve.

“Depends if you’re going to say yes,” You tried not to look too hopeful, trying to cling onto any sliver of keeping cool after the disaster that the whole interaction had been so far.

“You’ll have to ask me to find out,” He fired back, a sly smile on his face. You took a deep breath.

“Do you… want to go out on a date?” You asked.

“With who?” He teased. Annoyance flashed past your face at how difficult he was making things, but he spoke again. “I’m kidding! It would be an honour to go out on a date with you.”

Relief washed through you. It had worked. Despite the absolute chaos and everything going wrong, it had worked.

“Do you know how many times I had to think about how much I liked you around you until you heard it?” Xavier laughed. You looked at him with confusion.

“Wait, do you know-” You started to ask, but he cut you off. “Do I know that you can read minds?” He finished for you. “Do you remember your second day at Nevermore? I left my hoodie on my chair in botany. I realised it halfway out the door, but before I could turn and grab it, you were behind me, holding it out to me. Then, you said that the torn seam was easily fixable and that I could borrow the sewing kit you’d brought with you.”

“Which you did!” You recalled the memory from the months before. “How did that clue you in, though? I thought I’d been careful and said it as though I’d seen the tear.”

“I’d mistaken the hoodie I had with me for another one,” He explained. “The hoodie I had was fine. The one with the tear was in the wash. I thought it was weird, so I tested things a few times. I’d think about certain things, and you would casually bring them up or direct the conversation so I could be the one to bring them up.”

“And during that time, I guess I fell for you,” Your face flushed as you heard that thought, loud and clear.

“I know you heard that one,” Xavier laughed nervously. “I hope that didn’t overstep any boundaries.”

“Xavier, I just flew in through your window after regularly reading your thoughts. If anyone overstepped boundaries, it was for sure me!” You snorted with laughter as you spoke. Hearing Xavier think it was ‘cute’ made your face feel hot but in a pleasant way. You managed to calm down a little as you made eye contact with him for what was the first time since you’d flung yourself into his room.

“I want to kiss you,” You heard his thoughts again, loud and clear.

“Then do it,” You told him. It was a challenge he was more than to accept as he gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your head up and pressing a soft kiss against your lips which you gladly returned.

A/N - have I beta read this at all? hell no - any mistakes y'all find please lemme know 💀

feel free to send in any requests for xavier or other wednesday characters and I will get to what I can!!

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #wednesday #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday oneshot #xavier thorpe x you #xavier x you #xavier x y/n

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in-a-mountain-pool · 10 months

Text

The Boy Who Swallowed a Dragon's Fire

Aemond Targaryen x Original Character (Reader)

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: T

warnings: So fluffy it made me feel sick~

word count: 4500+

summary: Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. This is, until the night of the hunt to celebrate your younger sister's marriage to her Lannister lion of a husband.

"You live inside my memories, you live forever into the melody of a brook, in the colour of this sky, in the fragrance of flowers."

The Promise of the World

authors note: I have returned from my holibobs! I've been listening to Joe Hisaishi for weeks as I've been lucky enough to get tickets to see him in London! I couldn't stop thinking about Aemond whenever I heard "A Walk in the Skies" from Howl's Moving Castle, and suddenly this little plot bunny formed. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are not a requirement, but lovely to return to. Huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @bottlesandbarricades for reading over this!

You had always hated the hunt.

Even more so the feasts afterwards and the raucous way the men would stomp around in all their armour and grandeur, proud to be covered in the blood of whatever poor animal they'd had the dumb luck to stumble upon in the woods.

The grounds of the Eyrie were covered in a rainbow patchwork of tents of all shapes and sizes. From the sky blue and silver colours of your own family to the deep black and red hues of the house of the dragon; anyone who was anyone was in attendance for this summer's eve. Smoke and the smells of spoils of barbecued boar and deer filled the air, spilt wine and blood-soaked deep into the ground beneath their feet.

And all of this, was to celebrate the wedding of your younger sister, the Lady Myranda Arryn, to her golden Lannister Lion of a husband.

You were the second daughter of the Lord of the Vale, and much to your parent’s despair, the only remaining daughter unmarried; the Lady Robyn Arryn. You had been overlooked almost all of your life, the short one with mousy brown hair and a face you had been told was 'fair but plain' on more than one occasion. When you had been lined up to greet the crowds of prospective Lord's your father had hoped to wed you to, yours was a face they often forgot.

Whilst your sisters had spent their opening seasons being dragged onto the dance floors of halls all over Westeros, you had often remained on the sidelines, slipping out as early as possible to peruse the vast libraries of the great houses you had been so lucky to visit. You still remembered the day you visited the libraries of the Red Keep after the wedding of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower. Even at the innocent age of five it had left a great impression on your mind and soul.

Ever since, your heart had ached to read every book you could get your hands on, to visit the great citadel at Hightower and to seek out the secrets of the magical world around you. The smell of an old library full of scrolls and parchment was your idea of home, of heaven… yet here you were sitting in a muggy tent at an ungodly hour, pretending to seem impressed when your new golden-haired brother-in-law brandishes the pike he'd used to gut the very boar you were eating.

You can hardly hide the distaste on your face as he shoves the pike into his squire’s hands and takes a long swig from an obnoxiously large tankard of ale, with a bejewelled lions head on the side, before pulling your sister onto his lap to stick his tongue down her throat.

With a snivelling sneer he proclaimed out loud, "I do not know what a finer conquest is, the boar I stuck this morn, or the falcon I'm going to stick tonight!"

The room explodes with the sounds of the laughter of drunken men, slamming their glasses on tables and cheering on the young lion who currently had his hand up your younger sister’s skirt.

You could hardly stand it, the disrespect, the brazen attitude of it all. Memories of your sister's childhood rush through your mind, her love of the great romantic knights, tales of gentle touches, roses and chivalry… none of which were present in this tent, at this lavish wedding party. Bile raised in your throat as a deep-seated anger filled your body, and you stand up suddenly to speak, the throw pillows underneath you falling to the ground.

Before you can spit out your vitriol, you feel a large hand on your shoulder. It was your father. He pulls you to the side pressing a goblet of wine into your hands, whispering harshly to you over bards playing the Rains of Castamere. You swore they'd already played it at least five times this eve.

"Robyn. You will do well to remember yourself. The Lannisters are family now. You should be proud of your young sister. Tis’ a good match."

You barely get to open your mouth in protest when you notice your father’s eyes flash to someone across the room, and before you know it, his hand is pressed to your back, guiding you towards a crooked old man who must have been at least twice your age.

"Lord Royce! Have you met my fair Daughter, Lady Robyn?"

Lord Royce looks you up and down with a disgusting glint in his eye, licking his lips to catch the wine he'd almost poured down his chin just a second before. You see he has a few teeth missing, and a slight shaking in the hand clutching at his wine.

"I do believe we have; I was present at her christening in the Sept of Baelor. My, how she has grown. A Lady now indeed." He drawls, slurring his words.

Your father gives him a tight smile and gestures between you both drunkenly, before shooting you a glare and all but shoving you towards the older man, "Well then, you will have much to talk about and catch up on! Mayhap a dance on this joyous of occasions?"

"Father, I-" There was no time to express your displeasure, for Lord Royce had already dragged you to the centre of the tent, his gnarled hand wrapped around yours in a vice grip and his ringed fingers digging into your skin painfully. He spun you around in time with the other dancers, his hand lingering on your waist for all too longer than necessary at every opportunity. The smell of his breath was pungent and rotten as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.

"To think I have not laid eyes on you since you were a babe." Lord Royce's hand slips down your waist to your hip and further still to squeeze at the soft swell of your behind with a wicked chuckle. "You are a babe no longer it seems…"

A soft yelp escapes your throat, your eyes wide with shock and fear. No one had even noticed you shriek, the music too loud, the flow of wine too heady, the heat of the night all too great. You wretch your body away from him in distaste.

"My Lord, forgive me but you forget your manners! Touch me again and I will summon my sword."

A cruel grin spreads across his face, his missing teeth giving a lispy rasp to his voice as he suppresses his own laughter. "It makes no difference to me, I am afraid. Your sword is soon to be my sword, my dear. Tis' already decided. We had best practice our dances, for soon we will be dancing at our very own wedding feast."

A cold chill runs down your spine as the reality of the situation hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Father planned to marry you to Lord Royce. He needed to secure his Bannerman. You were the last unmarried daughter. It was two birds with one stone.

You stumble backwards, almost tripping on a discarded tankard on the floor of the tent, shaking your head over and over. It couldn't be true. Surely Father wouldn't be so heartless? Your vision tunnels as your feet carry you away hastily out of the tent and into the humid summer air, all to the sound of Lord Royce's cruel laughter.

Your slippered feet ache as you run away, disoriented and panting, tears streaming down your face. Shakily you grab a black discarded cape hung on the back of a chair, shrouding yourself and running as fast as you can through the hunt.

Colours of the great houses flash you by, the white falcon, the rich gold and reds of the lion, the silver wolf, all passing over you in a blur… and when you finally stop, you've ran so far you had hardly noticed the colours had turned black as night, with the blood red sigil of the three-headed dragon flying lazily upon banners in the dull summer's breeze.

You were no longer in the Lion's den; you'd wandered somewhere far more frightening… straight into the Dragon's hoard. Only your father, sister and her new husband had been allowed into the royal tents, to present themselves to the good King Viserys. If they caught you here alone and unchaperoned your reputation would be ruined.

With shaking hands, you wrap the dirty cloak around your shoulders tighter to hide the rich azure blue of your dress, as you creep away from the large tents and towards the woods at the outskirts of the camp. It was either you brave the dangers of the wood for the night, or return to the clutches of Lord Royce.

With a heavy heart you plunge deeper into the darkness of the woods. Settling upon a tree stump beside a small creek, your gaze falls upon your once silver slippers, now ruined and caked in mud. There was once a time when you would have cared about such a thing, but now all you could feel was numbness in your soul which made your whole body cold. Your hands were tied and there was nowhere to run. Life was not a beautiful song, or a romantic tale of heroes and great loves. You break into a sob, burying your face into your hands, heaving breaths leaving your chest.

You had done well to get away without an arranged marriage for this long. At the age of twenty-five you had come to be considered an old maid amongst the court. Now, gone was the age of innocence, and the dreams that you might one day experience true love.

*Crack*

The silence of the wood and the night air was broken by the snapping of twigs underfoot, as slowly from the distance two figures emerged from the brush. Your body freezes as you see the sigil on their breastplates. A shower of pebbles upon an orange square. It was two knights sworn to the House Royce. They saunter over to you smirking, as you scurry off the stump to lean against a great oak trunk protectively. The larger of the two men places his hand to lean just above your head, peering down at you with a smirk.

"Looks like a little falcon chick has lost her way."

You shake your head nervously, paling as you realise that you are so deep into the woods that no one would hear you scream. No matter how hard you try.

"No- No, I'm not lost. I-"

They share a look between them, reeking of ale and blood.

"I think this little falcon chick looks thirsty. I think we should take her for a cup of ale, don't you? Lord Royce wouldn't mind."

His eyes flicker to yours with a glassy look, he was drunk, they both were. And you'd heard stories of what drunk men like him did to women like you.

"No, no thank you. My sister will be expecting me."

They lean closer still, the smaller one getting so close you can feel the heat of his body towering over you.

"She's pretty cute for a little falcon chick. How old are you, anyway? You live up in the big castle, dontcha?" He tries to grab at your wrist, but you wrestle it away violently.

"Leave me alone!"

The taller man chuckled darkly, shooting a derisive look at the shorter knight, "You see? Your big old beard always scares off the pretty girls."

"So? I'd say she's even cuter when she's scared, don't you think?"

You decide your only chance is to run. You'd never outrun them, but you had to try. Blood starts pumping through your veins, the adrenaline hitting you as you get ready to sprint, but as soon as you try to retreat away your back hits something hard and warm… and a slender hand places itself gently on your shoulder.

A deep voice speaks down into your ear, tickling warmly at the soft skin of your neck.

"There you are sweetheart, sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."

The two men stand up straighter ready to fight with their hands upon the hilts of their broadswords.

"Hey- can you not see that we're busy here? Lord Royce wants her back in one piece."

The cloaked man behind you grips your shoulder tighter still, almost protectively. The only part of him visible to you is the curling of his lips, which seemed to twitch at the knight's words uneasily. The deep voice behind you lets out a dark chuckle before he brandishes a large sword with a black hilt, shining in the moonlight… Valyrian steel.

"Are you really? It looked to me that the two of you were just leaving."

At the sight of Valyrian steel the two men cower and shift themselves quickly, bowing at the mystery man and sprinting off into the dark of the wood. Slowly the tall man takes down his hood, and the first thing that strikes you is the glinting of long silver hair in the moonlight… and a single lilac eye searching yours.

It was him, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Aemond One-Eye.

He reaches up ever so gently to take down the hood of your dirtied cloak, his finger brushing your cheek tentatively as he does so before he takes your hand in his and bows down to kiss the back of it with the ghost of a touch of his lips.

"Lady Robyn Arryn. My apologies for not finding you sooner. Where to? I will be your escort this evening."

Words fail you as he continues to hold your hand in his like it was made of porcelain. He almost has to bend down to speak to you he was so tall and imposing, yet there's a deep kindness in his eye that has you transfixed. You'd never met him, but you'd heard the stories. He was quiet and cruel. Studious. A loner through and through. And a demon with a sword.

"Prince Aemond- I-" you try to courtesy, but he continues to hold your hand firmly, shaking his head and chuckling.

"That won't be necessary. Now tell me, where do you wish to go? You must be desperate to brave the woods all on your own." He almost whispers as he speaks, his words delicate and falling off his tongue like the sweetest honey.

You decide to tell the truth, you had no choice, he was the prince, and… he was startlingly handsome in a way that made your chest ache and your fingers itch.

"Please, my Prince, if you would escort me home? I- I cannot go back to the camp. I must not. My father- the Lord of the Vale, he wishes to marry me to Lord Royce the Elder and-"

Suddenly he lifts his hand to quiet you and surveys your surroundings, his sharp jawline prominent and strong against the night. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders, cradling you to his side and walking you both swiftly forward, as his silver hair tickles you at the collar of your low-cut dress.

"Don't be alarmed, but we’re being followed by more of his men. Just act normal."

Aemond is so close you can smell him. He was still wearing his riding leathers from the hunt, smelling like sweat, ash and the damp night air in a way that was all too intoxicating. There's something else there too, something smoky that you can't quite put your finger on. Aemond's touch was different from any other man that had placed their hands on you. He felt safe, warm, inviting and oh so protective of you.

You steal a look at his face in the moonlight as you walk and find he's far more beautiful than the stories give him credit for. It was true what they said that Targaryen's were closer to gods than men, for the beautiful creature next to you could hardly even be human. His profile was enough to make you ache with desire in a way no man had ever produced in you.

*Snap*

Another twig cracked underfoot. Aemond's face dipped down once again close to yours to whisper into your ear, watching your face carefully.

"More of Royce's men. It would appear I am to become involved in a scandal." Aemond sighs and growls slightly in annoyance. His hand releases your shoulder and slides down, enveloping your own in a strong grip. "Now, when I say run, run, ok?"

Further twigs start to snap underfoot behind you, the sound of chainmail in the distance now impossible to ignore.

"This way. Run!" He whispers, pulling you along with him.

His long legs pelt into the ground, his cloak billowing behind him, and his silver hair shining like starlight under the full moon. It's a challenge keeping up with him, his legs are so much longer than yours, but he never let's go for even a moment. All of a sudden you're pulled into a large opening in the woods and a strange burning smell fills your nose… as you’re brought face to face with the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar.

“Wha- Prince Aemond!? What are you suggesting? You can’t be serious!” Your feet dig into the ground as you pull against him, but this only makes him grin wider and chuckle darkly. The rational part of your brain tells you he’s insane, that the stories were indeed true and that you should scream… but then a flicker of wonder appeared in your mind, the very same flicker you felt when you stood in the library in the Red Keep all those years ago.

There in front of you in the flesh was a real dragon, over 150 years old. And beside her, a silver-haired, Targaryen prince. This is it; you think to yourself. All those books you had read, all those stories of old, stories of good triumphing over evil… here was your chance to live it.

“Oh, I’m deadly serious. You do want to go home, do you not? The Eyrie is situated on the top of a mountain, as I recall. Vhagar and I can have you home and in bed safe and sound in mere moments...” He teases excitedly, before his voice and face drops to a more serious and soft tone, his long index finger coming up to raise your chin to look him directly into his eye.

“… Can you trust me?”

The sounds of shouting and swords leaving their hilts echo behind you. Your eyes shift from his striking face down to his hand as he reaches it out to you invitingly. Inhaling a deep breath and closing your eyes for a moment, you utter out an answer grasping his hand in yours.

“Yes. I trust you.”

A small smile you almost miss etches itself onto his face before he leads you swiftly over to the old dragon, pulling on a large black leather coat and passing you his dark hooded cloak.

“You will need the extra layer, my Lady. Now... May I lift you? You will need to climb up to the saddle, and I fear we do not have much time.”

A deep pink blush covers your cheeks at the thought of his strong arms carrying you. There is barely any time to squeak out a small ‘yes’ before Aemond is grasping you at the waist and thrusting you up onto the ropes leading up to Vhagar’s saddle. His hands are so large on your body that they almost encompass your middle section completely. Aemond follows closely behind, catching you a few times to steady you as your foot misses the gaps in the ropes clumsily.

You pull yourself up with a strength you never knew you had, settling into the saddle nervously. You could feel Vhagar breathing underneath you, feel her stretching out at the command of Aemond who was shouting out words in a tongue you’d never heard before. Of course… he was speaking High Valyrian.

“Rȳbagon naejot nyke, Vhagar. Heed ñuha udra.” Ready yourself, Vhagar. Heed my words.

Aemond all but jumps up to the saddle, and with a heavy thud he settles himself behind you. When he scoots forwards to grab at the chains hanging at your side, an even deeper blush covers your face and neck, heat pooling in your stomach. The hard plane of his chest presses against your back, the top of his thighs nudging the underside of your own, now bare as you straddle the seat.

“My apologies, Lady Robyn, but I must strap us to the saddle, and you to me lest we fall.” He laughs softly as he feels you tense against him in fear. “But we won’t, I promise you. I’d never let any harm come to you.”

With deft hands he ties the chains across your lap and his, wrapping a rope around your waist to secure you to him. All at once it hits you just how crazy the situation had become.

“Prince Aemond… I’m frightened! Please, let me off! I can’t do this!”

Aemond leans forward to grab for the reins, his arms tight either side of you, and his chin just above your ear. With hushed tones, he stops you, whispering into your ear.

“Yes. Yes, you can. You are of the Vale. You are of the sky. You and I are made of the same… We own the skies, little Falcon.”

Determination fills you, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had to do whatever it takes. You would make your own destiny. You would make it out of here. You place your hands on the reigns next to his, so small and delicate next to his large strong fists.

“That’s my girl…” He murmurs, and you swear you can feel the crinkle of his smile against your hair before he shouts out to Vhagar.

“Vhagar, ñuha jorrāelagon, urnēptre īlva se nūmāzma hen speed!” Vhagar, my love, show us the meaning of speed!

Aemond places his hand over yours suddenly on the rope, making your heart surge.

“Hold on!”

With a deep rumble, the ground shakes, it feels like the Earth is turning when Vhagar moves to stand on her haunches. Already you are above the trees, and she had not even taken off yet. Vhagar lets out a deep roar stretching her neck into the sky, the screams of Lord Royce’s men in the woods beneath echoing around her as they scramble to run away. She stretches out her wings beating them and like a hurricane they ascend into the night sky.

The forests fade beneath you, deep greens become soft pillowy whites as you soar into the clouds together. After a short while Vhagar’s wings extend, bringing you to a slow glide just above the clouds.

“Now, straighten your posture against me… and see, you’re flying!”

A rich and infectious laugh leaves his throat as the wind surrounds you. The careful pins and ties in your hair are long forgotten, your hair now cascading behind you, flying free.

You can’t help it, you’re not sure if it’s the euphoria of the dragon flight, the drama of the night, or the way Aemond had wrapped himself around you so, but soon you’re laughing with him, exclaiming out loud in a way that was hardly lady-like.

“See? My dear, you are a natural!”

“Prince Aemond, this is incredible! Vhagar, she is magnificent!”

“Se dōna riña thinks iksā gevie, Vhagar!” The sweet girl thinks you are beautiful, Vhagar! Aemond releases a deep belly laugh, slapping the side of Vhagar’s neck fondly.

With a shaking roar, a shooting of flames and sparks spit from Vhagar’s mouth.

He cranes his neck to look at you closely, a warm smile gracing his cat-like lips. “I think she likes you, Lady Robyn! Why don’t you tell her yourself!”

“I am thoroughly impressed, Vhagar! You are a first-class dragon; I adore your spark!” You shout to the ancient dragon as loud as you can against the rushing winds, almost as if you were praising a rather large scaly cat. The rumble that leaves her jaws sounds like a purr, almost the same way her master was chuckling behind you.

Beneath you the clouds become a mismatch of greens and multicoloured tents as you approach the grounds of the Eyrie. From up here you could see the ancient castle in all its beauty. Situated in the Mountains of the Moon and surrounded by cotton clouds, at this height it almost seemed small, like a child’s playset. The waterfall, Alyssa’s tears cascaded down the side of the Giant’s Lance, reflecting off the marble walls of High Hall.

“It’s beautiful… It’s gorgeous, Aemond! It’s like a dream…” For the first time in years, you feel truly alive, and it’s all because of him.

With a whoosh of her wings, Vhagar descends towards the castle and the Maiden’s Tower and it hits you that Aemond really meant what he’d said about having you home and in bed before you knew it.

“Prince Aemond… You’re not- You don’t expect me to climb through the window?!”

A snickering laugh escapes him as he presses his head against yours. You swear for a moment you can feel him smelling your hair, the thought making your thighs clench.

“Of course not. I intend to carry you through the window.”

“What?!” You utter before he shouts over your protests to his Dragon.

“Konīr Vhagar, tegun īlva!” There Vhagar! Land us.

Vhagar’s wings billow out behind her, as she hovers down, clutching to the mountainside and the tower, bringing you level with the balcony of your chambers.

Quietly and ever so gently, he undoes the chains around you both, and the soft rope securing you to his front. Aemond swings his legs to the side, and clambers down the ropes at Vhagar’s large neck. There’s a confident look in his eyes and a glint of warmth as he reaches his arms out towards you, one leg propped up onto the edge of the balcony.

“Come down with me… I promise I’ll catch you. Vhagar already loves you, she’ll be still.”

You take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling before you climb down slowly and turn to face the Prince. His words from earlier echo in your mind… Trust me.

And you did. Without any hesitation you jump from the ropes and into the warm, strong arms of Aemond Targaryen. He cradles you to him in a bridal carry, strong legs pushing you forward through the balcony doors to place you down softly on the chaise lounge next to your fireplace.

A thousand thoughts run through your head as he lingers closely to you, laying you down gently. Aemond’s lilac eye searches yours intensely, his hand still resting beneath your neck, caressing the soft hairs at the nape.

“My lady… Robyn… you were spectacular tonight,” He swallows softly as his gaze slides down to your slim neck and collarbones, whispering your house words to himself as much as you in wonder, “As High as Honor.”

Slowly, he leans forward, staring at your bottom lip passionately. Your eyes flutter shut, your eyelashes batting against your cheek. With a gentle caress of your hair, he presses the tenderest of kisses, the only kiss you’d ever had, to your lips.

It lasted but a moment, but you knew it would stay with you forever.

Aemond pulls away gingerly, his silver hair tickling your chest. Like a knight from a storybook, he stands up tall and bows, taking your hand in his to kiss at the back of it with unearthly grace.

“… My lady, do not leave your room, keep the door locked… I will return to you soon.”

He moves to leave quickly, the sound of Vhagar rumbling outside the balcony doors. Before he can clamber over the side of the fencing you find the courage to stop him, calling from your room.

“Aemond! Aemond wait… Where are you going?”

With a flick of his silver hair, he throws a radiant smile to you over his shoulder, his lilac eye shining in the moonlight.

“To see my father. You will not be wed to Lord Royce… And I plan to fly with you till the end of my days.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #howl's moving castle #hotd fanfiction #aemond one eye #fics by me

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