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nwjws · 8 months

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when you break something important to him - yjw 🎐

; pairing - idol!jungwon x gf!reader

; synopsis - you didn't mean to break jungwon's ipad, and he didn't mean to let all his stress and anger out on you.

; tags - fluff, angst? one shot, ; warnings - swearing, jungwon gets pretty mad, but he also ends up begging for your forgiveness, not proofread so there may be typos/grammar errors and other things i missed

; wc - 2.1k

; author's corner! this was requested! not my best work, but i hope u enjoy! :)

you're in deep shit.

staring at the broken screen of your boyfriend's ipad, you know you're in trouble.

with jungwon's schedule packed with practice and shows, you decided you wanted him to come back to a clean and tidy home. so you used the spare key he'd given you to enter the boy's dorms and do them a favour.

upon opening the door, you were met by the sight of clothes spread around the floor, piled on top of each other. unwashed dishes sat in the sink, and- is that a receipt from something sunghoon bought two months ago?

yeah, you had your work cut out for you.

taking a deep breath in, you mentally prepare yourself for the next hour or two.

you got through it though, and seeing the place get cleaner made you feel proud of yourself. it's like the dorms suddenly increased in space, with the lack of clothes and displaced furniture littering the rooms.

you only had to polish the surfaces though. so you'd been wiping the dining table absent mindedly, thinking about how jungwon would react once he saw the place. maybe you could even pull a few kisses out of him.

but you should have paid more attention, and you would have noticed his ipad sitting on the side of the table.

the device fell to the tiled floor with a loud crack, having fallen on its corner before flopping onto it's screen. you'd knocked it off the edge.

a gasp escapes you, and you quickly knelt down to inspect the damage.

the corner had been scratched, the damage seeping into black at the corner of the actual screen. a crack striked through the screen, and colourful lines lit up rather than the lockscreen when you turned it on.

god, how did it even manage to get that bad? you hadn't thought the fall was that bad at first. clearly you made a misjudgment.

panic seized through you as you realised how important the device was to your boyfriend, using it in his practices almost every day. and now it was sitting in your hands, broken and unusable.

your hear the door unlock and voices filtering in.

perfect timing, you groan in your head.

"oh- y/n?" you hear jungwon's voice shout in surprise, the happiness in his voice making you apprehensive.

"hi..." you greet him weakly, trying to hide the broken ipad behind your back.

"wow, you cleaned up the place?" riki gasped. "it's amazing!"

"i wish i had a girlfriend who'd do this for me," heeseung chuckles, placing his bag on the table.

"oh my god, what's this?" you hear sunoo gasp from behind you.

you quickly spin around, turning to look at him, while the device stayed behind your back. you and the boy stare at each other with wide eyes, and you're about to say something, when jungwon speaks up.

"y/n... what happened here?"

only then do you realise that you'd forgotten jungwon was right behind you after turning to face sunoo.

"i... accidentally knocked it off the table..." you admit hesitantly. "it happened just before you guys entered."

"ah..." jungwon sighed, taking the ipad from your hands.

you gulped as you watched him check the device, before deeming it completely useless, seeing as it couldn't even show the screen.

he gave heeseung a look, who then signalled the others to go to their rooms. they didn't want to see their leader angry after a long and tiring day on stage.

"look at this... do you even realise how stupid that was? how am i supposed to practice tomorrow?" jungwon says to you, pinching his nose bridge.

"i know... i'm so sorry. i should have been more careful."

"yeah you have! i just wanted to come home and rest today, you know? but now i have something else to deal with after a busy day."

"i'll buy you a new one," you offer.

"no, i just- i don't want to talk about this right now. not to you," he shakes his head and turns away, opening his phone to text his manager. "it might have been better if you never came in the first place."

you're shocked. you understood that he had a tiring day dancing - that's why you wanted to try and lift some weight off his shoulders. but is he seriously disregarding your own efforts?

"are you being for real right now?"

"yes i am, why wouldn't i be?" he challenged. "i just spent all day on stage, using up all my energy, and i come home just wanting to sleep but instead i have another problem to deal with?!"

"i just wanted to help you!"

"i didn't need your help! it did less for me than you thought," he shouts.

"you aren't the only one working your ass off all day! i also have my own job, and still decided to go here straight after to clean up the dorm - which, by the way, was so messy?! it's like you guys don't know how to clean up after yourself."

"you know we don't have time! isn't that why you wanted to help?"

"oh, so you're twisting my words on me now, huh? i spent two hours cleaning the floors, the dishes, i even washed the clothes just laying around! you seriously didn't have enough time in your packed schedule to just put a piece of clothing back in your closet? you just let it pile up like garbage!" you huffed out.

"if you're just gonna shout at me, leave! you know how much this is going to set me back? if you didn't break my ipad i could easily do my work with no problem," he yells at you.

"i can't believe you right now. you're letting a stupid device - which i obviously broke by accident allow you to ignore everything else i did? to get in between us?" you stare at him with exasperation in your voice. you want to cry, and it physically hurts having to stop the sobs from escaping your throat.

"what?" his tone shifts from an angry to a more dejected one.

"i know your ipad is important, and i had planned to get you a new one because of it. i just wanted to take a burden off your back. but if i'm clearly not doing enough, then i guess i wasted my time here."

you pick up your own belongings and make your way towards the exit.

"wait-" he grabs your wrist, but you shake him off.

"i'm leaving, like you asked. sleep well jungwon, you clearly need it."

jungwon hadn't left you any missed calls or texts the next day. and you hadn't really expected him to.

in your time dating him, you had learned that it was best to give him some time to process things. then you'd start pestering him to talk about it after a day or so - you two always came out of your arguments stronger this way.

by the time his first attempt at talking to you again came - a call at 10pm, of all times - you decided. decided that you wouldn't make this easy for him, not when he made it hard for you the other night.

so you ignored the call. sat and stared at your screen, waiting for him to stop.

when he did, you turned your phone off and watched some new series on your tv until you fell asleep peacefully.

the next morning, you woke up and found that your boyfriend had tried to call you five more times, but went right to voicemail since your phone was off. you also received the 20 messages he had sent.

still, you resisted the urge to reply, and went off to the store.

again, jungwon tried calling you throughout the day, when he presumably had breaks during practice. every time your phone lit up and rang that familiar tone, your fingers itched to press answer and accept his apology and offer for a date out on the town. but you persisted in your resolve to keep him on his toes. he's going to have to grovel for your forgiveness.

after picking out a new ipad, you paid and left the store with the box in your hands. you fished your phone out of your pocket and finally turned your phone off again, so his incessant calls would stop disturbing your peaceful shopping (read: everyone was giving you weird looks for not answering the ringing of your phone).

someone should give you an award for not giving into your strong urges to do so.

looking at the time, you think jungwon's probably leaving practice now. no doubt he'd find you soon, if he wasn't already on the way.

is it unfair? you ask yourself, but you know the answer is no. jungwon had been completely unreasonable during the argument. you understood he was tired and how important the tablet was to him, but it didn't give him an excuse to overlook everything else you did. to shout at you like that, over something stupid like a cracked screen, none the less.

okay... maybe it was more than a cracked screen. you should apologise for it again.

"y/n!" ah, there he is.

you turn to see the face of your lovely boyfriend, who's been chasing you all day.

"jungwon." he ran up to you, panting, but not giving himself time to breathe when he took your hands in his.

"please, y/n. i'm sorry, really," he started, staring at you with those wide, beautiful eyes. "i know i was harsh, and it was stupid. you did so much for me, a big favour, and i had the audacity to react like that. over an ipad!" he laughed.

"i'm literally the biggest idiot on earth. in the whole universe. you're amazing, you know? i feel like you give me way more than i give back to you. so i want to show you how sorry i am.

"let's go watch the latest movie at the cinema tomorrow. it's on me. and then, i'll ask for some time off so we can go to that butterfly garden 20 minutes away - i'll try to catch some for you. not that they'd be as pretty as you, though."

you watched as he gradually lowered to his knees, looking up at you with pleading eyes. you quickly pulled him back up, shaking your head.

"don't- don't beg for my forgiveness," you sigh. "i understand. i'm sorry too, for breaking your ipad. so i got you this-" you handed him the bag that held his new ipad. his jaw dropped as he took it from you, gaping back at you.

"thank you..." he trailed off softly. in disbelief.

"this doesn't mean i forgive you just yet, though," you harrumphed. "you'll have to work harder. that butterfly garden does sound nice."

jungwon smiled and followed as you began walking away, arms folded.

"i'll bring you to that cat cafe downtown," he said, trying to take your hand in his, but you refused.

"even if you're allergic to them?"

"i'll just take my meds," he shrugged nonchalantly. "as long as you're happy. i know you love their little calico."

you gasp, remembering the adorable cat from the cafe. "i miss him so much! can we go now?"

"you have your own cat! me!" he pouted, going in front of you to stop you.

"well, it seems like my 'own kitty's' been misbehaving," you rolled your eyes playfully.

"i know, i know! i'm sorry. i'll bring you there right now."

jungwon called for a driver, who picked you two up and dropped you off at the cat cafe.

you failed to keep your snickers to yourself as you watched him sit in your booth, sniffing and rubbing at his (now red) nose, while you played with the cute little cats.

the corners of your mouth tug upward when you see him open the case you had bought, which you had customised at the store to have your lipstick stains all over it. he immediately ran to you and snaked his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into the air, and spinning you around while shouting 'thank you, i love you'.

"i love you too," you laugh as you kiss him on the cheek, leaving another mark on his face, identical to those on his new ipad's case.

; perm taglist - @lovelovelovebts

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ requested 🎐#k-labels #k-films #jungwon #jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #jungwon x yn #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen x reader

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staytinyville · 9 months

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OUTLAW (1)

ATEEZ ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU/ Wild West (it’s giving Red Dead Redemption)

New Fanfic for ATEEZ boys. I got no clue yet if it’s gonna be mature quite possibly but we get there when we get there. For now, I’ll be giving warning here if there is a chance of those things. Please enjoy!

You worked in your family's Inn, attending to the patrons who came and went. The Illusion Inn was built by your grandfather when he had left his hometown in search of work. This was back when the town was barely putting in the cobblestone roads and better infrastructures. When the revolution started hitting closer, the Inn was the first one to house all the workers who were coming to better the city.

Now though, it wasn’t often that people would stay longer than a day or two, they were only traders moving along to sell their things. You had the select few who had some jobs to do in the area and stayed for longer, but most often than not the hotel always had at least one room open.

It made working there a lot easier for you seeing as you had three other siblings ranging in age from 20 to 6. The eldest were all placed to work around in some capacity which made the load that much easier to handle. Since being the oldest you were told to manage the front desk as well as the bar while your father was busy handing out drinks to the men who were often seen coming in just for alcohol.

Being a waitress for the saloon part of the hotel meant you got to meet people of all kinds of class. As well as stories from different parts of the country. Each patron came in with outlandish stories about their journey by horse to Cromer or the gangs they met along the way.

It was the time in history where so many people found it easier to steal and kill for things rather than do work themselves. Everyone was struggling to some extent. No one was safe from poverty when it came to building a society that was barely starting.

“I think the outlaw is moving this way,” Some man spoke to your father behind the bar counter. “I heard he shot up a bar in Sharpstown. You better be careful with your family.”

Your father met your eyes as you placed a tray full of empty glasses on the bar. You carried on with your work though, moving to clean the cups you had just cleaned up.

It was hard to miss the large wanted poster that was plastered nearly on every building in town. The bold Dead or Alive really caught everyone's attention. While it wasn’t uncommon to find a wanted poster of someone, it was rare to have the government want them dead or alive. You must have done something extreme to reach that point.

“Don’t worry about me, John.” Your father told the man politely. “I’ve seen plenty of outlaws come and go here. You just have to know what to serve them.”

You pursed your lips to keep from giggling at your father. You moved around him to get some empty bottles of liquor before going back to pick up more dirty dishes. It was a rather tame day due to being the middle of the week, so the saloon of the Inn wasn’t really packed. It was easy to forget about the outlaw and his travels.

It was around the time the saloon closed for the night and your younger siblings had all gone to bed that things seemed to change within the air. Your mother was moving things around inside preparing to lock the door for the night, when the sound of horses caught both of your attention.

You saw your mother pause at the door, moving the stopper to hold it open herself. She spoke some words to someone outside before moving to allow them room to enter. You were quick to put the cash from the day into a box, locking it to keep the two men from seeing just how much you actually had.

There were two of them, their styled boots hitting the wood flooring with a loud stomp. When they had walked through the threshold, they immediately glanced around the area, assessing the place.

You weren’t one to shy away from your opinion on people. As a child you would oftentimes get in trouble because you would openly make faces at people. As you grew older and started working with the patrons of the inn you learned how to be more subtle about it. So while these men assessed the inn you took the moment to assess them.

The tallest one walked ahead of the other, seemingly messing with the bands around his wrists. He only took a glance around the lobby before heading in your direction with purpose. He had a slim face with high cheekbones. The clothes he wore were meant to withstand the weather. He was decked out in leather and cowboy boots.

The other however walked with his shoulders squared, eyes moving about in search of something he might not like. Unlike the tall man, this one had a more stern expression on his face, he looked mature. He wore just about the same clothing as the other, however his pants seemed to stretch over thighs a bit tighter.

It was especially hard to miss the police badges on their chest as you eyed them up. When they reached you, you had to look up as the man spoke to you first.

“We would like a room.” He told you.

The Inn was technically closed for the night so you couldn’t give them a room until the morning. You glanced at your mother first, the woman giving you a nod.

“Just one?” You asked, glancing behind him to his partner.

“Just one. With two beds if possible.” He didn’t dare to move his eyes from you as you stared him down.

He didn’t speak more on the subject, but you knew he was coming up with conclusions on his own about the place he had just entered. It left a bubbling feeling in the pit of your stomach to think this person would assume you or your family would bring harm to anyone. Maybe you would if threatened.

“(Y/N).” Your mother cleared her throat. “Please give these kind officers the room in the back.”

“Of course.” You told her, moving along to get the key you needed.

“Follow me.” You told them, not waiting to see if they had listened. You could hear their boots clicking on the floor so you knew they had.

The room was on the first floor towards the back of the Inn. With the building stationed on closer to the outer limits of the town, the view from the windows was of the meadows and neighborhoods. Your grandfather had chosen the area to make it easier for travelers who came by horse or foot to find rest faster. Your home wasn’t that far, which meant oftentimes you all would walk back for a rest.

“I am the attendant for the night.” You told them in a rehearsed voice. “Should you need anything, I will be in the front.”

With that you immediately left the room and back towards the front with a shiver going down your spine. They weren’t dangerous men from what you could feel, but they still left you with an uneasy feeling.

“I’m going to head home now.” Your mother told you. “Be careful. You know where the gun is.”

It wasn’t the first time it was your turn to take over the night shift. When your parents deemed you old enough to attend to the hotel alone, they took rest and shifted the load. There were other employees as well but they still put you down as someone to watch over the inn. Besides, compared to others they trusted you a bit more.

It was midnight when you had finished going over the inventory and had decided to go to sleep in the backroom for the night shift worker. Before taking a nap though, you made your rounds around the inn to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary.

As you passed the two police officers bedroom, there was some shuffling heard but not enough to cause suspicion. Maybe they had still been awake. You shrugged your shoulders and moved along to take your rest.

That was short lived when around 3 in the morning there was a lot of noise going on outside of the window. There was a good amount of cursing and arguments of trying to keep others quiet as whoever the group was seemed to move along the hotel's side.

You kept the light off, hoping the street lamps would illuminate the aggressors. All you could make out were silhouettes cluttered at the end of the hotel. You tried to quietly open the window to peak your head out to get a better view.

The building stretched for a good amount so the group hadn’t caught sight of you peeking in at them. You quickly glared when you noticed them huddled at the window that was meant for the last bedroom of the floor. It was the room where the officers were staying.

With outlaws in mind, you were quick to put on your boots and a cardigan to cover up your pajamas. You rushed to the front lobby, doing a double take on the rifle leaning against the wall by the door. You made haste to grab it before rushing out of the lobby and into the foggy night.

When you turned the corner, you raised the gun aiming it towards whoever you could. Before you could shoot to alert others, the last person seemed to have made their way into the window ungracefully. You cursed to yourself quickly rushing to see where they had entered.

“Hey!” You screamed, rushing forward with the gun aimed right into the bedroom. Your eyes went wide as the barrel pushed into the stomach of the tall officer from earlier in the day.

His arms were stretched above his head as he was about to shut the window. His eyes went wide as well when he realized someone was looking into the room. He moved to the side in a panic, eyes searching for his leader on what to do.

As he moved out of the way, you noticed there were more men in the room than you cared to admit. You were more worried about how they all fit into the small space if anything. While your eyes scanned over all of them, you counted 6 new people in total. However the ones that seemed to stop you from scolding them were the two who seemed to be bleeding profusely.

There was one on a bed, more than likely staining the sheets that made you internally cringe at having to buy new ones. Another was holding onto his shoulder as he seemed to sit across from the one sprawled out on the mattress.

Just as your wide eyes swept back over the other men, your eyes caught the blue haired man who was looking at you with squinted eyes.

“Grab her.”

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allysunny · 6 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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honeybcj · 4 months

Text

after getting asked about my domestic rosekiller hc, i couldn’t stop thinking about it, so i’ve compiled a list. i could add so many more, so if anyone is actually interested in this maybe i’ll make another heheheh

- evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)

-barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.

-save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked

-evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)

-i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty

-evan is the early riser out of the two of them. that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy sleeping in. but he likes to get up early, even on his slow days, so he can make breakfast just for barty (this goes hand in hand with the cooking one). breakfast is his favorite part of the day, and he likes to make sure barty does eat in the mornings instead of claiming that an energy drink is sustainable enough to start the entire day.

-barty is the night owl!!! again, not to say that evan won’t stay up late, but there’s more of a chance for barty to stay up literally all night long because he gets distracted by everything around him. in that case, more often than not, he can be found scrolling aimlessly on his phone in bed with one hand while the other strokes lazily at evan’s hair

-on more than one occasion barty has gotten so fucking high that he gets on his knees and begs evan to take him through the mcdonald’s drive thru because he will die if he doesn’t consume a ten piece nugget and a large sprite. evan just laughs at him and always, always, always takes barty through the drive thru. somehow they always end up with more than what they came for, and barty always shares his fries with evan even when he’s cranky.

-evan is a stickler for following plans. time management is his thing even if it means literally pulling barty by the ear to get the fuck up or hurry because he doesn’t have time to wait around or play with barty’s antics. barty teases him relentlessly, but it’s all in the name of love because he secretly loves seeing evan all riled up like that man WILL get hard over the smallest of fucking things he’s that far gone for evan.

-even though barty tries, he can never steal anything from evan’s closet because his stupid waist is TINY and no pants fit over his hips and all the shirts in his closet look like fucking crop tops on barty which he thinks is hilarious and LOVES to point out to evan anytime he tries to weasel his way into one of evan’s shirts

-evan is weirdly into teeth like he WILL go through a whole process with barty every morning and every evening to make sure they brush and floss. on more than once occasion, evan has even convinced barty to let him floss his teeth for him because he just wants to get his hands on barty’s precious teeth.

-both of them are actually super sentimental even though neither of them will admit it out loud. barty still has the ticket stub from the first film they went to see together. keeps it inside his wallet for memories and what have you. and the one time barty showed up with a bouquet of godforsaken roses trying to impress evan, evan kept one of the flowers, pressing it between his big ass books until it was preserved and dried. he still keeps it safe between the pages of the book, opening it on occasion to just smile at the silly little gesture.

#rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller headcanon #barty x evan #marauders

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luvingspence · 1 year

Note

domestic stuff with spencer?

i wanna be his stay at home gf :(((

:(( make myself all pretty for him and send him off to work with lunch :((

i hate the idea of being a stay at home gf but for my favourite fictional bf? anything <3

same!!! being a stay at home wife is a legit fear of mine bc i don’t trust men but for spencer? my baby could never do anything wrong so i’d do anything for him <3 ty for the request lovey!

i wrote two different scenarios for this <3

warnings: nothing, just not proofread!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a lazy day, Spencer was on sabbatical and for once, they were both free and both in the mood to do nothing for a entire Sunday.

Y/n had allowed him to sleep in, she knew Spencer enjoyed a routine, but his routine, with how early he rose and how little he slept, sometimes killed him. He needed rest.

So there she stood in their shared kitchen, cleaning the counter tops and stacking all their mismatched, thrifted dishes. Knowing her boyfriend was still a child at heart she made crepes, full of strawberries and Nutella, drizzled in an amount of honey that would surely sate Spencer’s sweet tooth.

Once finished with the dishes she quietly stepped to the counter, giddily putting Spencer’s breakfast and a glass of orange juice on a bed-tray, excited to treat her love to breakfast in bed.

“G’morning”, she gasped, turning around and seeing her boyfriend padding towards her in the kitchen with sock-clad feet, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. “What’s this?”

“It was meant to be a surprise,” she whined, setting the tray on the kitchen table.”

Spencer hummed, stepping closer to her and placing his hands in her hips. “A surprise,” he mused, “for what?”.

Trying to get impossibly closer to him, she smoothed warm, flat palms over his chest and gazed up at him, “you just work so hard, Spence,” she rested her head on his chest, “wanted to do somethin’ nice for you.” she mumbled.

“And you were supposed to sleep in so I could give you your breakfast in bed.” Y/n pouted, Spencer huffed lightly and smiled gently.

“That’s so cute,” he teased, engulfing his girlfriend in a loving hug and rocked her lightly, side to side, “I’m sorry I ruined your surprise, angel.”

“S’okay,” she leaned up and kissed his nose, “just make sure you sleep in next time I turn your alarm off.”

“Duly noted.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Make sure you eat well and take a break, Spence!

Love you, honey!

p.s drink water, less coffee <3

She drew a sweet, endearing little heart at the end of the note and folded it as neatly as she could manage before placing it on top of the tub of leftover pasta she had kept for Spencer’s lunch. Y/n grinned and packed everything into her boyfriends satchel for him.

“Angel, where’s my satchel?”

She fastened the the buckle and skipped to where he was standing in the threshold of the kitchen, “Here, baby, just packed some lunch for you.” She chirped, handing Spencer his work bag and pressed a ginger kiss to his cheek.

Spencer sighed and swiped a thumb gently over her cheekbone, “Thank you, angel.” He grabbed the back of her head softly and brought her forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, “that’s very sweet of you.”

“Well you always forget so someone has to make sure you eat!”

He feigned a gasp of offence, “I do eat! Quite often actually.”

Y/n pouted sarcastically, “Spence, coffee with too much sugar and police station doughnuts don’t count.” She patted his cheek teasingly.

“Now,” pressing his shoulders and pushing him towards the door of their apartment, “off you go, go fight bad guys, do paperwork or whatever it is you guys are gonna get up to today.”

“It’s a paperwork day, I’ll be home for dinner.” He beamed, clearly pleased at being able to return to his girlfriend at a normal time rather than seeing her days after he left for work. Of course he loved his job and the BAU, that place and his co-workers were a second home, but he loved his angel more.

She giggled lightly, “Good, maybe we can go out tonight instead.” She noticed her boyfriend’s perpetually crooked tie and began to fix it for him, “we haven’t done that in a while?”

“A date night sounds nice, angel.”

She nodded, already flicking through potential dresses in her head.

“Now seriously, work!”

“Do you want me to leave or something?”

“No,” she said, “I just don’t want Hotch to fire you.”

“He would never.” Spencer grinned.

“Yeah, well let’s not test him.”

#kacey talks <3 #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the bad shit

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,192

warnings: swearing, possible allusions to depression, brief mention of death, a tiny finger injury, comfort

a/n: my brain does not seem to be in a writing mood right now, but i did manage to crank this out. i do enjoy making billy cry, so there’s that. i hope it’s alright! please let me know what you think. i’d really appreciate it. <33

————

Billy’s been fidgety since he woke.

You hear the soft thud of his boots, muffled against the carpet of your bedroom floor. He makes his way towards you and kisses your forehead, knowing you’re probably too sleepy for a real kiss this early.

He doesn’t tell you how badly he needs one—that his hands are shaking with it. Though he doesn’t need to tell you.

You’d heard his alarm clock go off, felt him stay in bed longer than usual, glimpsed him rubbing his face on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to get up. Not one bit.

And even though you can feel sleep calling you, feel the way it presses at your eyes, the way the warmth of the bed pulls you in—you sit up.

Billy’s closer to the door now, but he hears you shuffle, and he’s quick to move back to you.

“You need to sleep, baby.”

But your hands are already on his cheeks, and then you’re kissing him, shutting him up and telling him you’re right here. And you’ll be right here when he gets home from work. You’ll be a phone call away if he needs you during his shift.

“I’ll walk you out,” you say, and your tone informs him that there’s no room for arguments.

You hook your fingers in his belt loops as you push off the bed, hoping that this will keep your half-asleep form from slamming into the wall.

You kiss Billy again on the stoop, even if he is berating you for being barefoot in the cold. You watch him walk to the car, catch the way his fingers fumble with the keys, the way he doesn’t even have it in him to slam the door shut.

He waves at you from behind the steering wheel.

“I love you,” you mouth, blowing a kiss. He’s quick to catch it in his hand, gesturing so that he’s tucking it away in his pocket for later. He responds just as he always does, but you can tell he’s still sleepy.

That he’s tired.

————

You aren’t home when Billy gets back to the house. There’s a note on the counter in your sweet scrawl, telling him that you ran out to pick up dinner. Eating at all had completely slipped his mind.

Billy’s just having a day. He’d wanted to stay home but couldn’t, and not only has he been fidgety, unable to focus for want of home, of you, but his thoughts are getting the better of him. They’re suffocating. Telling him he’s not good enough for you, that he’s a waste of time—of your time. That he should’ve died like he was supposed to in that fucking mall.

And he knows it isn’t true. He knows that you loved him before any of that, when he was just being an asshole, when he was just pissed that he’d had to move. And you love him now, even when he has bad days like this.

But his head. His mind. It tells him otherwise. It fights and it claws and it screams at him. And today he is losing that fight, letting his mind yell and tear at him.

Billy tries to distract himself and wash the dishes, but he only gets so far before he drops something and almost breaks it, before he cuts his finger on a knife he put in the damn sink. After that he tries to find a band-aid but spills all of them on the floor, and the first one he opens gets stuck on the wrapper and he can’t use it.

Once he does secure the pink bandage around his pinky, he goes to clean up his mess and hits his head on the counter. He tries to change clothes and trips, gets his belt loop stuck on a drawer handle.

“God fucking dammit.”

After that one he gives up and throws himself on the kitchen floor, choosing a beer with a pull tab rather than a cap for fear he might actually hurt himself and bleed out.

He hears the sound of you locking your car, the door squeaking when you open it, and he knows he should’ve gotten up to help you, but he just couldn’t. He starts to cry.

“Billy? Where’s my baby?”

The sound of your voice causes him to hiccup, and you’re on the floor in front of him in a matter of seconds.

He’s covering his face with his hands, and you know then that the day must’ve gotten the better of him.

“Hey, let me see you. It’s okay, honey, I’m right here.”

Billy looks up at you, lashes clumped together with tears, nose red and lips all swollen. He looks so frustrated with himself, so beat, that you ache for him.

He wishes he was stronger. That he wasn’t breaking down in the middle of the kitchen, but you told him once that it’s okay to have bad days. That you're always going to be there on the worst ones.

He puts the beer down the moment you hold your arms out, crawling into your lap and burying his face in your chest. You don’t care that he’s heavy or that you’re not entirely sure you’re getting any air in your lungs. You care that he’s letting go and that he’s showing you this vulnerable part of himself.

Billy cries, he weeps, against you for what seems like forever. But you don’t mind. You only want him to feel better. You rub his back, play with his hair, anything to soothe him just that little bit.

When he’s finished, when he’s caught his breath, he pulls away. His cheeks are pink and you’re sure he’s berating himself for having just sobbed like that. He’s sitting on his knees, fingers scratching at the freckled skin of his arms. He looks young like this. Lost.

“Was it just a bad day? Or is it the bad shit?”

That is Billy code for I’m spiraling and I need help. For I’m having a hard time and I can’t do it alone. I don’t know how to say it.

You established that little code pretty early on in your relationship, knowing it would be helpful in getting Billy to talk about his feelings with you.

“The bad shit,” he tells you.

“It’s not true,” you say. “Whatever your head is telling you today, it’s not true. Not today, not ever. You gotta say it for me, okay?”

He gives you the barest shake of his head before he pauses and tries to steel himself so that he can do it. He doesn’t want to let you down.

“It’s not true.”

You grin at him. “Right. And you’re a badass. And we’re gonna eat dinner, and then we’re gonna talk it out, and then we will lay down. And maybe I’ll scratch your back for you.”

Billy nods. He hates that his breath catches at that, that the offer brings him pure, unadulterated joy.

“Okay.”

He can do that. He knows he can offer that much.

Because he is a badass. And he can try for you. For himself.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff

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celestiababie · 2 years

Note

stay at home dad/ house husband mingyu who gets up early to make to make his wife and daughter cute lunch bentos, dress up as the prettiest princess to play tea party with her, makes the best dinners for his family but would also rail you into the sheets almost every night in the most filthy way possible. is an absolute sweetheart afterwards and the next morning and gives his girls kisses after dropping them off to work and school

Stay At Home Dad/Husband! Mingyu Part 1...

Warnings: Fem!reader btw, not much other than mingyu fucking you hard, use of the term "mommy" but not during the sex part really, cum eating, oral (f) , most of this is fluffy

A/N: Dare I say this is one off the most perfect things I've ever received in my inbox 😭 plz send more. I hope I did this justice:(( oh and sorry not sorry for using these iconic photos...they've just always screamed "husband" material to me rather than boyfriend material. Feedback is always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Send Me Something :D

• Mingyu loved being a husband just as much as he loved being a dad.

• He was living his dream life. Beautiful wife, beautiful daughter, nice house. He wouldn't have it any other way.

• He wouldn't pay mind to those who judged him for choosing to stay home and take care of the house while you went to work. He still supported you two with some side investment money, but he wanted to be the most supportive husband and dad he could.

• All the other mothers would be jealous of you. How on earth did you find that sexy of a man who was willing to do house chores AND take care of the kids AND was just as in love with you before you got married.

• But they just didn't understand that Mingyu was a giver at heart and thrived over taking care of his family. It brought him more happiness than anything else could.

• And how could he not be in love with you? You brought him the most amazing daughter in the entire world and he would always feel the need to repay you for bringing him that happiness (even if you told him over and over that he didn't need to thank you for having a kid with him).

• Mingyu was the cutest husband, greeting you with a warm hug and kiss every time you came home, grabbing your bag for you and telling you to unwind while he finishes up the dinner that him and your daughter were preparing (she wasn't actually helping but she thought she was and that's all that mattered).

• He'd glare at you if you even dared to help him do the dishes, telling you that you didn't have to clean up after a long day at work since it was his self proclaimed job.

• But he'd pout and eventually give in to your push back because he did enjoy your company.

• You two would be washing dishes side by side, him doing the washing and you drying the plates as he passed them off to you while your daughter sat on the counter giggling and playing with the dish soap bubbles.

• Mingyu would be very attentive to your needs as well as your daughter's needs. Anything you needed or were running low on would "magically" appear the next day. Any holes in clothes would be patched up before you could even complain about having to buy a new pair. Anything broken (he probably broke it with his tall ass smh) would be fixed without you having to remind him.

• You never needed to waste money for lunch at work because your loving husband would always prepare a meal for you and his daughter to take before the two of you woke up.

• His alarm...would probably wake you up but he'd press a kiss to your forehead and shush you back to sleep before checking on your daughter

• Because your daughter spent so much time with him, she'd probably pick up a few of his habits which always warmed your heart.

• She had his smile, his laugh, his adorable pout that was hard to say no to (you have to be the strongest soldier fr to say no to not only your puppy of a husband but your adorable daughter)

• Mingyu loved spending quality time with his daughter. He knew she would grow up eventually but he'd always have these memories to cherish and look back on.

• It was quite the sight to see coming home from work sometimes to see your 6 foot 2 buff husband dressed up in one of your maternity dresses (probably the only ones that would fit his big ass body) with... questionable makeup on his face while he played princess with your daughter who was clearly having fun with her dad all dressed up.

• Once he noticed you watching, he wouldn't be embarrassed. Instead, he'd have the sweetest smile on his face as he picked up your daughter to carry her to you, the both of them pressing glossed kisses to both of your cheeks.

• But as much as your husband was this tall teddy bear of a man, you never forgot about his duality although it did always amaze you.

• Mingyu liked to keep in shape, not for aesthetic reasons, but he wanted to make sure that his growing age didn't hinder anything he needed to do for you and your daughter. Maybe there were a few shallow reasons for him staying so buff, but he still loved looking good for you after all these years and he knew you appreciated how sexy he was. He loved how proud you got when introducing him to others. He loved how turned on you'd look over the most basic tasks he'd do just because his muscles would flex in his shirt.

• Mingyu was the sweetest husband and father but he also was just just a man at times and couldn't help himself as he snuck in a few "innocent" touches while your daughter was distracted.

• Luckily your daughter couldn't hear all the filthy things he'd whisper in your ear as he gave you back hugs.

• But your daughter would be concerned when you'd let out yelps whenever your touchy husband playfully smacked your ass while your daughter was playing.

• "Princess, what's wrong with mommy? She's been acting weird lately." Your husband smirked at you before feigning concern for you in front of your daughter.

• You weren't complaining though, you loved how Mingyu still found you sexy after all these years and how he had no problem showing it and voicing it.

• Especially when he was balls deep inside you after the two of you read your daughter to sleep.

• "God damn, you're so fucking sexy, baby. Fuck—your pussy's so fucking good," he moaned out, his hips slamming his cock deep into you as he took you from behind, his strong hand pushing you down on your stomach while the other pressed against your head to muffle your moans in the pillow.

• "We can't be loud, Y/N. You wouldn't want to wake up our little princess, right? Fuck, shit—I've fucked you hundreds of times, how are you still this fucking tight."

• He'd quicken his pace, fucking into you so hard it was pretty much guaranteed that you'd be walking funny the next day.

• After making you cum around his cock and burying his face into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you. He offered to clean up the cum inside of you with his mouth (again how could you say no) and giggled as he watched how your eyes could barely stay open after multiple orgasms.

• "Let's go to bed, baby."

• It always amazed you how your husband could easily slip back into the loving, clumsy, puppy husband and father role as if he didn't fuck you into the mattress the night before.

• He'd have the brightest smile on his face as he listened fondly as your daughter raved about her new drawing while Mingyu was cooking up breakfast for the family.

• But he'd have his moments in between where he'd let that innocent imagine down, whispering into your ear as your daughter started a new drawing at the table.

• "Baby, you might wanna fix how you're walking, our little princess was asking why Mommy was walking so funny and I can't exactly explain that I fucked her sexy mommy until she came six times." He sent you a wink before turning to your daughter with another bright smile as he brought the plated breakfast to the table.

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desideriumwriter · 9 months

Text

Anyone But You | Chapter 2 | F.W. x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary - An introduction to your bestfriend, you're forced to go to a dinner party at the Weasleys over the holiday break, the twins give you a small gift you're absolutely not going to open.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, slowburn

Content Warnings -cursing

Word Count - 3.8k

Even though you were seen as rude and snippy in the twins' eyes, you had friends, people you actually enjoyed being around, people who didn’t attempt to get on your nerves every five seconds. Cedric Diggory was one of them. He was your bestfriend.

Despite being put in different houses, you and Cedric became great friends, you’ve gotten along better than anyone else. You met him on the train to Hogwarts your first year, and you two connected like puzzle pieces. He’s definitely someone who isn’t unbearable to be around.

Of course, there was the occasional rumor or gossiping that would spread around annually about you and Cedric secretly being together, or that you two had something going on at least. Those were just rumors though. Cedric feels like a brother to you, he had eyes for other girls and you had no interest in a relationship. You had no interest in each other. You loved him, but only in a sibling way. He was treated like a brother.

You had other friends rather than Cedric, but you were closest to Ced. He was the only friend you would actually keep in contact with and write letters to outside of school.

✦✦✦

You carried your owl's cage and dragged your large leather suitcase down the stairs as Cedric boasted about his most recent win.

“And who did Gryfinndor get their arses whooped by last week?” He brought his hand up behind his ear, waiting for you to admit your house's loss, you simply shook your head in refusal.

“Hufflepuff!” He sang, “Who caught the snitch? Number seven, Cedric Diggory!” He cheered to himself, you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Whatever, Gryffindor only lost because Fred couldn’t keep his eyes off Angelina.”

“Ah yes, Fred is to blame. Always to blame. Another chance for you to hate him!” Cedric teased, he knew all about your hatred for the twins. Of course he has, he’s your bestfriend for Godric's sake. You’ve complained multiple times about them to him, gone on hour-long rants over whatever prank they pulled.

“Yep! Anyways, what do you have planned over the break?” You stopped at the landing of the staircases, setting down your owl and suitcase, leaning back on the stone railing, letting crowds of students pass you.

“Absolutely nothing. My dad might make me help him at work.”

“What? Wouldn’t that be cool? You’ll get to see cool creatures, right?” He scoffed at your upbeat reaction.

“I’ll get to see boring paperwork. I’ll get to organize boring folders. I’ll get to do the boring work.” He said flatly as he shrugged. “I got to see a hippogriff once though.”

“Really? How’d it go?” You

“Nearly bit off my arm.”

“Oh.” The excitement in your voice lowered. “Well, I won’t be doing anything either besides sleeping.” You teased as you grabbed your things and began to walk down the staircases again.

✦✦✦

Winter break had been going nicely. Your friends had sent letters and early Christmas gifts, small and light enough for your owl to carry, you did the same for them. You were able to sleep in, you didn’t have to worry about your things being messed with, you didn’t have to be woken up by loud and annoying voices early in the morning, and you didn’t have to deal with those bloody twins.

You woke up early today, you chose to not sleep in and went into the kitchen for breakfast. While searching the cupboards for your favorite cereal your mother walked in, an empty mug and plate in her hands.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” She said as she placed the dishes in the sink, watching a scrubber begin to float and clean the dishes by itself.

“Morning, mum. Have any letters come today?” You asked as you took the cereal and poured it into your bowl, followed by some milk.

Before your mum could open her mouth, a strong screech came from outside, followed by a loud hit into the open cupboard door next to you, both of you jumped at the sudden entrance.

You knew that old owl from anywhere. It was Errol, one of the Weasley family’s owls. He laid on the kitchen floor for a second, then stood up straight, shaking himself off and fluttering onto a chair near your mother, handing her a nicely sealed envelope. Your mum sent the owl off without giving him anything to deliver back.

“That poor bird is on its last leg.” She muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she opened the envelope. Her unamused face changed into delight as her eyes moved through the letter.

“Oh, would you look at this! The Weasleys invited us over for a dinner party!” She grinned at you, showing you the paper.

“What?” You dropped your spoon into your bowl when you heard the news, droplets of milk hitting your shirt.

“The Weasleys invited us, Molly and Arthur are hosting a dinner party for their anniversary. How sweet is that?” You grabbed the letter from her a bit too aggressively, staring at the invitation intently.

“Very kind! Do I have to go?” You got straight to the point once you asked hesitantly, looking up, you already knew what your mother's answer would be.

“What?- Yes you have to go! Don’t be ridiculous.” Your mother scoffed, slightly shocked at your response to the invitation, taking the letter back from you.

“Please, mum! You know I will not be able to handle being there for more than five minutes.” You pleaded.

“What are you talking about? The Weasleys are very good people, y/n. You know that. You should be appreciative that they invited us.” She said sternly, a slight scowl forming on her face.

“I’m not talking about the Weasley family, I’m talking about Fred and George! The twins! They’re horrible! Please, just let me stay home, mum. You can tell them I’m sick or already on a trip with friends!” There was pure determination in your words, you were not going to spend any amount of time around Fred and George Weasley during your break.

“No, Y/N. They invited us, which means you too. It’ll only be for a single afternoon, you can deal with it.” Your mother shut down your begging, “Make sure you have a dress or…just find some nice clothes to wear, the dinner is tomorrow.” She began to leave the kitchen, turning around to ask you one last thing.

“Also, could you send a letter back? Saying that we will be there? Thanks, darling.” She walked out of the room before you could protest anymore. You groaned, placing your head in your hands.

✦✦✦

This wasn’t the first time you were invited to the Weasley's house. There was one or two times where they invited you, you would’ve gone if Fred and George didn’t live there, so you faked being sick.

Of course, your mother wouldn’t fall for it this time. So, you slipped on a nice pair of jeans and a comfortably warm sweater.

While checking yourself out in the mirror, making sure nothing looked weird on you, an owl flew onto your windowsill, holding a bright purple envelope sealed with orange wax in between its beak. You were hesitant to take the envelope from it. You’ve never seen this bird before.

You nervously took the envelope from the bird and it flew away without any problem. Being more confused than ever, you flipped the envelope to the back, maybe it had been delivered to the wrong person?

However, your address was issued underneath it, it even stated where your bedroom was. Your stomach tensed, this was creepy. A bird you’ve never seen before shows up at your window with a tacky envelope that has direct instructions to your bedroom.

You opened it cautiously, not knowing what would be inside, as soon as it was halfway open, confetti and a few miniature fireworks popped out.

A little birdy (no pun intended) told us you were coming over tonight! Can’t wait to see you, we miss seeing your scowls and hearing your mean voice! - F & G

Of course, the twins. How the hell did they know the exact location of your room? While trying to figure that out, you nearly missed the small writing at the bottom of the card.

p.s. we have a gift for you, hopefully, you’ll like it :)

You furiously crumbled it up, practically slamming it into your trash bin. Stomping back to your mirror, you picked out all the bits of confetti that had got caught in your hair and the few pieces on your sweater and floor until your mum told you it was time to leave.

Merlin, have mercy on me. You thought to yourself.

✦✦✦

The dinner party wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. The first thing you noticed was how Mrs. and Mr. Weasley were the most welcoming and kindest people you met. You wondered how Mrs. Weasley especially dealt with the twins and their mischief for fifteen years of her life.

When you sat down at the table with everyone else, you were disappointed in Harry and Hermione's absences, you expected at least one of them to be there. However, Hermione was traveling with her parents and Harry wasn’t allowed to leave the Dursleys home.

You kept your distance from the twins, choosing the seat that was farthest from them at the table, sticking by Ginny's side and making conversation with her. Yet, the twins still took any chance they could get to mess with you.

They stole food off your plate when you weren’t looking, taking whatever bowl of food you were reaching for first, even putting whatever potion they made to cause your roasted ham to turn into a green color.

“Hey, it’s like that one muggle book, with the guy who rhymes!” Fred pointed out.

“What was his name? Dr.Sauce?” Fred quipped, Ginny let out a small giggle at the name.

“Dr.Seuss, Fred.” Mr. Weasley corrected, “I’ve actually had to take in a few of his books at work. One bloke was trying to figure out why the drawings weren’t moving.” Their dad chuckled and nudged you playfully with his elbow.

Anyway, you tried to stay as positive and nice as you could at the table, but you had to refrain from rolling your eyes anytime Fred or George opened their mouths. Any slight expression of annoyance would earn you a small kick under the table and a stern stare from your mum, your dad would clear his throat or raise his eyebrows at you, these were their ways of saying “Behave, be nice, I’m warning you.”

You were still upset that you had to deal with the one thing- two things you were glad to stay away from, that you expected to stay away from during your winter break. You only had one unwanted big interaction with them, the others were small.

All the adults were in the front yard drinking and having their “alone time from you kids” as Mr. Weasley jokingly said to you. Ginny and Ron were arguing over the TV remote, constantly stealing it from each other and changing the channel to what one of them wanted.

You made your escape by excusing yourself to the kitchen, going to the sink, and refilling your glass with water.

While taking a drink from your glass, you weren’t paying attention to the sneaky and slow footsteps coming behind you. The next thing you felt was two sets of hands on each of your upper arms and you heard two loud troll-like screams.

You jumped and choked on your water, coughing violently as you put down your glass and turned around, shoving both of the twins away as they chuckled.

“What the hell was that for?” You fumed through hard coughs.

“We missed you! We haven’t been able to tease you in months!” George chuckled.

“It feels like we’ve been going through withdrawals.” Fred dramatically said, putting a hand over his heart.

“It’s not teasing, it’s annoying and rude. Now I'd like for both of you to get away from me.” You shoved yourself through both of them, splitting them apart from each other.

✦✦✦

The biggest sigh of relief left your body when you finally got back home. You traveled by floo powder and while getting ready to throw the dust down, you heard those two annoying voices call your name.

“Y/N! Y/N! We haven’t given you your gift yet!” You smiled mockingly as you said your address out loud, throwing the powder down and letting the green flames engulf you and send you back to the fireplace at your home.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?” Your father teased as you brushed the floo powder off your clothes. “I know those boys irritate you but you’re going to have to learn how to deal with it unfortunately. I don’t believe that won’t be the only visit we make to the Weasley's burrow. You know your mum will want to invite them over too now.” He patted your shoulder and left the room.

You slipped off your shoes and headed upstairs, by the time you opened your door, there was an owl sitting at your windowsill once again. The same owl from before you left with the same tacky envelope.

You took it and opened it clumsily. You breathed out and began to read the messy handwriting.

It was very nice to see your face again! We missed you!

They didn’t miss you, they missed playing pranks on you.

So sweet for you to come over and see us! Can’t wait until we get back to school, we have a few surprises up our sleeves. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the dinner!

Love, Gred and Forge

p.s. you forgot your gift! :(

You rolled your eyes as you tossed the card into the trash, walking up to the owl, you hadn’t noticed the small box in its claws, the owl dropped it in your hand, and you stared at it intently.

A small purple box, wrapped with an orange ribbon and tie on top. What’s with them and the colors purple and orange?

You noticed the owl was still sitting at your window as if it was waiting for you to give a letter back.

“Go on, shoo! I’m not sending anything back!” You waved the feathery bird off, lying back down on your bed, going back to analyzing the little box. You didn’t open it, you knew there was most likely some trick to it, maybe like a bunch of glitter would shoot out, or a million tiny fireworks. They wouldn’t give you a plain present, there always had to be something mischievous added to it.

You set it down on your nightstand by your bed. Maybe you’d open it. But not now, you’ll deal with whatever happens when you open it later.

✦✦✦

Maybe about two hours later that bloody owl had come back. You snatched the letter and tore it open, there was no more care in you to be neat with the envelopes.

It’s a bit rude to receive our letter and not respond, I thought you’d said before that you were the one with manners, Ms. Y/L/N. How’d you like your gift? Don’t leave us waiting and wondering!

One of them had drawn a stick figure with a sad face, with tiny rows of tears falling from its eyes. You smiled at it, then stopped, going back to a straight face once you remembered who this drawing was from. You did not find the twins funny, you never will.

You stomped over to your desk, grabbing a piece of paper, a bottle of ink, and your quill, writing the only letter you would ever send them willingly.

The dinner was very nice, I’m grateful and appreciative that your mother let us come over. I thank her for that. I’m not trusting that box you gave me. I’m not sending any more letters to you two dimwits. Now, shut up and leave me alone you CREEPS!

You wrote the last word in red ink with multiple underlines, hoping they would get your message and finally leave you alone, you knew they wouldn’t, but you tried anyway. You signed your name off nicely, unbothered to put it in an envelope, you weren’t going to put a single bit of effort into anything that was for Fred and George. You gave your paper to your owl this time instead of theirs, giving her sweet words of appreciation and asking her for one extra favor.

“Bite Fred for me, or whichever twin is closer.” You smiled, sending your owl out your window and off into the air.

Only thirty minutes later your owl had returned with a letter, the same one you had sent to them, the only difference was that it had different writing on the back.

We’ll see about that. You let out an angry sigh, crumpling it up and throwing it into the bin, along with the various other purple envelopes.

You closed and locked your window, putting your owl in her cage and letting her go to bed, covering her cage with a sheet so she wouldn’t be woken up by any light. Then, you decided to go to bed as well, hoping you would sleep through any other attempts of the boys trying to piss you off by sending you letters.

Fortunately, after that it was silent. Unfortunately, your own thoughts were too loud, they were keeping you awake.

There was a small interaction you had with Fred, it lasted probably for only a minute.

You were standing in the corner of the kitchen as everyone was conversing in their own separate groups. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking to your parents, Ginny and Hermione both complaining about Ron, Ron and Harry were debating about something Quidditch related with the twins.

All the social interaction had drained you, and you really needed to be alone. You excused yourself once again to the bathroom, which was on the third floor. You stood around for a little while in the bathroom, with how talkative your parents were, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving for the next few hours.

You wondered how long you could be there, how long it would take for anybody to notice that you've been gone for an abnormally large amount of time. You realized you couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever so you left.

You reached the first floor when you realized you weren't ready to go back down where everyone was, you decided to wander down the hallway. Walking slowly and taking small steps, taking a look at each room with an open door. The rooms were a bit small but still nice, at least Ginny’s was still nice.

Her bed was neatly made, there was a wooden desk that had little trinkets lined up across it, a quill and ink sat carefully on top of some papers. Her wall had various Hogwarts and Gryffindor-related things stuck to it.

The next room was above hers, on the second floor. This one was a bit more spacious than the others. Two beds on opposite sides of the room, and another large wooden desk, the same as Ginny’s placed right in front of a window. Except this desk was messy, the whole room was messy.

Beds unmade, socks sprawled across the floor, clothes shoved poorly into their dresser drawer, some popular rock wizard bands posters terribly taped and quidditch medals pinned to the wall. Their desk had multiple crumpled-up balls of paper on it and around it, envelopes, drops, and splatters of black ink staining the glossy wood, candy wrappers, an open textbook nearly about to fall off the edge, and papers with sketches and such bad handwriting it looked like scribbles.

You fully walked into the room and went over to the desk, picking up one of the parchments that had the most eligible writing. It was a list of sweets, apparently. You’ve never heard of these before.

- CANARY CREAM

- SCREAMING YO-YO

- FEVER FUDGE

- PUKING PASTILLE

- GLOW IN THE DARK GUM

- WEATHER IN A BOTTLE

“Hasn’t your mother told you not to snoop around?” A voice asked from behind you. You jumped and turned around quickly, only to see a tall, redheaded, smirking boy leaning against the doorway.

Fred, you could tell it was him. He and George are easy to tell apart, for you at least. The way Fred carries himself, how he stands, how he looks, how he annoys you.

“Hasn’t yours told you not to sneak up on people?” You bit back. He shrugged and pushed himself away from the doorway, slowly walking towards you.

“Ah! You’ve found me and George's great ideas!” He nodded at the paper that was still in your hand. The paper that had their “great” ideas, sure.

“How are these great? Fever fudge? Puking pastille? Who would even want these? It’s sick!” You said disgustedly.

“They are sick. Literally.” He chuckled, only to get a grimace from you. “Anyways, kids who want to get out of class want these. But, we’re still working on them. Some of them haven’t worked out the way we wanted them to.” He trailed off.

“Yeah, like the canary cream.” You let out a small scoff.

“Listen, it was an accident!” Fred cried out, taking the paper from you.

“An accident you thought was hilarious.” You spat. Fred’s eyes wandered until they got stuck on a shiny piece of something in your hair. Confetti.

“Uh, you’ve got some confetti in your hair.” He pointed out. Your eyes grew wide in embarrassment, you’d been here the entire time with confetti still stuck in your hair and no one informed you about it. You took your fingers and immediately started combing through your hair.

“Did I get it?” You asked anxiously, Fred only shook his head from side to side. You repeated your actions and asked again, he repeated his again in response.

“You know what, let me just…” He mumbled, his hand reaching out to your head, plucking out the piece with caution to not pluck out a strand of your hair as well, you didn’t stop him. “There. It’s out.” He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

There was a pause between you two. Time felt like it slowed down as he removed his hand from your hair. There was a twinkle in his eye, his face glowed in the moonlight which was the only source of light in the room.

“Well, no thanks to you. You’re the one who caused it to get stuck there in the first place.” You shoved past him once again. Heading back downstairs.

Tossing, turning, constantly changing your position, removing blankets, flipping your pillows. Nothing seemed to help you get comfortable. You even tried the classic counting sheep. Nothing.

The moonlight peeked through your windows, and a large stripe of light shined on that stupid little box. You couldn’t take your eyes off it.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfic #anyone but you fic #fred weasley series #fred weasley smut #enemies to lovers #anyone but you series

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writersdare · 11 months

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Korean Quest | Bang Chan 방찬 Drabble

Pairing: boyfriend!Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: One day Y/N spontaneously decided to cook Korean dish for Chan.

Warning: fluff, mentioning of food

Word Count: 631 (drabble)

Author’s Note: This one was so fun to write! It was nice experience to try something light for a change, as usually angst is a must-have in my works. I hope you'll enjoy reading it ♡ Please, keep in mind that I do not know how to cook the dish, and even though I did my research, there might be some mistakes. Requests are open ♡

Chan has been complaining about his favourite tteokbokki (떡볶이) being too spicy for almost an hour yesterday. It’s quite a mystery why he bought one with chili paste at first place, but Y/N didn’t ask many questions to avoid that conversation going for another hour or so. However, the next day, while she was having a lunch break at work, the girl decided to plan their dinner herself, texting Chan a short “let me do it”, so he wouldn’t order something ridiculous again. With all honesty, Y/N didn’t exactly plan to cook anything herself, but scrolling through the menu of a restaurant, the girl realised she really wanted to try to make something Korean. Indeed, it was rather scary, as her culinary skills were far from perfection, especially when it came to national cuisine of her boyfriend, yet she was eager to try. Making sure she had all ingredients she needed, Y/N turned on a YouTube video once again and started making tteokbokki with a non-spicy soy-based sauce. Time to time the girl was coming back to a thought that all of it was a bad idea, and she only hoped for the dish to be more or less edible. After few unsuccessful attempts, there finally was a plate of tteokbokki on the kitchen counter. The dish smelled delicious, and the taste was similar to the one she had tried in the restaurant last week. Y/N was proud of herself, even though she managed to turn the kitchen into a total mess during the cooking process.

“What happened here?” Chan, coming back from a music studio, entered the room and observed the surrounding. “Did you have a party here?” he chuckled and glanced at a plate with some weird mixture next to a sink. It was Y/N’s first attempt of the sauce, and Chan was about to dip his finger in it.

“Don’t!” the girl caught his wrist and stared at her boyfriend with a horror in the eyes, so he even got worried. “It’s a bad one. But I made another one, and it’s much better. I made tteokbokki for you,” her lips quickly stretched in a big and proud smile.

“You did what?” Chan raised the eyebrows and then just grabbed Y/N in a warm hug, making a funny happy noise. “Baby…” he squeaked, burring his face in her shoulder.

“You were so upset yesterday, so I decided to make it myself. It wasn’t easy, but…”

“Thank you,” he interrupted, smiling wider and only squeezing the girl in the cuddle tighter.

As Chan’s stomach made a hungry noise, they pulled away from each other, and Y/N served a table in a living room. The musician promised to clean the kitchen himself after dinner.

“Oh my god, it’s actually so good!” he exclaimed, stuffing a mouth with his favourite dish.

“Is it?” Y/N even forgot about her own portion, mesmerising by Chan, who looked adorably cute at that moment. Honestly, it was worth all the troubles to see him so happy.

“Yeah! What brand did you use?” the guy asked casually, eyes still focusing on the plate.

“Brand?”

“Yeah, it’s pre-made, isn’t it? The rice cake, garae-tteok?” Chan glanced at Y/N and caught her confused look. Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“So you ‘re telling me that I could just buy it in a shop rather than spending hours on making it?…” she asked and sighed disappointedly.

The guy blinked few times and then giggled quietly, still chewing. Most of the ingredients for Korean dishes were pre-made and could be easily found in grocery stores. Y/N, though, went the hard way and did everything from the scratch.

“You are so cute,” he chuckled and only continued to make happy noises, chewing.

– bonus –

– photos and a gif aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner –

taglist: @yukichan67

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 8 months

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I LOOOOVE Ur Alfie fics. Could u do just general headcannons about being married and starting a family with him? ❤️

Hi bb!!! Im so glad you like them! I hope you enjoy these HCs, I know I kind of went overboard! Maybe I’ll do a continuation?? Maybe I’ll focus on different aspect of life with him? Idk we’ll workshop it. As always, sending all my love 💕💕💕

Married Life with Alfie Solomons - HCs

In planning the wedding, you initially were planning on a small wedding. Nothing too extravagant, just close family and a party at the house.

That’s what you planned anyway. It grew and grew with every family member that “HAD to come treacle!” Both of your families are rather large and extended. Mixed with business associates that had to be invited for sake of peace… it exploded into a 200 person affair.

Despite the fact that Alfie prefers to not be disturbed, it ended up being a grand affair. Drinks flowed. Laughter was raucous. The dancing never stopped! And there were only 3 fights, which Alfie involved himself in only 2 of them. Needless to say, it went rather well!

But your favorite part of the night above all was when you got home. Still giggling and warm from the party, you’re pulled into the parlor by your darling Alfie. Shirt half done, and hair a disaster, he looks so so handsome. His eyes so soft, he puts on the radio, bringing you in close to him, “Mrs. Solomons… would you give an old man a dance?”

And you do. Song after song, twirling around the parlor, enjoying the life that had a new layer of meaning.

Despite Alfie’s insistence that you shouldn’t keep working because, “No love of mine should be lifting a finger.” You kept your job at the distillery as his secretary and head of the jewelry shop. You insisted to Alfie that keeping your job that still made you feel like your own person, not just Alfie’s spouse.

There was something so intimate and special in waking up every morning with him, walking to the office with him, going through the work day, and coming home with him. If Alfie was clingy before, it had only grown worse since your nuptials. He loved having you near. He never wanted you away from his side.

Though the mornings were sweet, the evenings were by far your favorite with Alfie. Coming home, drawing the curtains closed to hide away in your own little oasis of solitude and quiet.

Instead of leaving you to do all the cooking and cleaning for the evening meal like other men of the time, Alfie stays wrapped close to your apron strings. As you craft a soul warming meal, he stays chopping and cutting, washing up the dishes as you go to ensure that the evening is free of any impediments.

Alfie takes Shabbat incredibly seriously. He is on a strict schedule on those days, and actually forbids you from working on Fridays, to let you prepare anything needed for the Sabbath. Many times your family joins you in your home, and Alfie takes the lead in prayers. Though you didn't think it was possible, your heart grows with adoration each time you watch him quietly go through the ritual. Watching his devotion and care to the faith and your people's history reminds you of the type of man he his.

Marriage with Alfie does not come without some arguments. It is Alfie Solomons. Both of you stubborn and passionate, it’s what makes you a formidable force together, but it also brings some… loud outbursts.

It usually is about whether or not he’s being wise in his decisions. But it also comes out when he thinks you’re not being careful. When a jealous flare rises up in him. Or just when he gets a little snippy.

But it doesn’t take much to make up. Once you and Alfie have let it all out, either one of you will go to the other and bridge the gap. When he’s particularly cross, all it takes is for you to find him in his favorite chair. Lean over the back of it, draping your arms across his neck. “I’m so sorry Alfie,” you whisper in his ear, a particular weakness, “I know you’re just looking out for me. Forgive me?” A few kisses in his neck and he’ll be dragging you into his lap, grumbling about how much of a vicious siren you are.

When you’re cross… Alfie pulls out all the theatrics. He comes to your room where you’ve holed up, seething. He gets on his knees, taking your hand in his, “Awe treacle… have pity on an old man. I’m sorry my love, I am. Don’t punish me too harshly now! Please give you husband a kiss yeah? This life is so short! Let’s not go to bed angry my love!”

And of course you forgive him. How can you not when he kisses you so sweetly, and begs so beautifully.

It will be a few years before you and Alfie have children. Alfie was worried that he wouldn’t be a good father due to his age, but in his heart of hearts he wanted little ones. He yearned to play with the kids on the floor with the dogs. To swing them around in the garden. Watch you be an incredible mother. Though he was afraid, you knew he would be the perfect father.

Once you both confessed your mutual desire for kids, it happened shockingly quickly. But is anyone really shocked? Alfie is determined and disciplined above all else.

Once you do get pregnant, Alfie does put his foot down. You are not coming into the office. It is far too dangerous for you to be coming in around all 'that business'. And Alfie heard from someone (he made it up) that working isn't good for birthing or babies.

He benches you for the entire pregnancy, and brings his former housekeeper Sarah out of retirement to help tend to you.

Every night Alfie would come home with something new for you. Brilliant and fragrant flowers. A sweet from the bakery. A new necklace or bracelet that you just had to have. "Growing a baby is hard work love! Especially with my kids! Big ol brutes growing in there eh?"

Whenever you became shy or uncomfortable about your changing body, Alfie would just croon in your ear, "Oh my love, you are absolutely radiant. An angel from God yeah? No no, a goddess. You're an absolute goddess yeah?" He'll rub your swollen feet as you cry, kissing your ankles as you release your stress and worries about the day.

As you can imagine... naming the baby (or babies as he liked to remind you of the possibility) was an incredible ordeal. No name was suitable.

"No no, he'll get hit. If I knew a little boy with that name in school, I would decimate him." "Now treacle that doesn't even sound good with Solomons!" "Mmm no. I don't like the meaning of the name. Not a good omen." "Can't do that name. I killed a man with that name."

After six days!! You both are able to come to an agreement. Joseph for a boy. Chava, after his mother. In the evenings, Alfie takes to reading to the baby, referring to them by both names. "Alfie dearest, there's only one in there!" "No no treacle. I know they're both in there. You may only feel one, but that's because Joseph is just a little shy ain't you my boy? Chava is going to be a little spitfire, just like her mum. They're in there, I know they are."

At night, Alfie pulls you to his side as he always does, with a protective hand splayed over your swollen belly. It's getting harder for you to sleep at night, so many times you lie awake, staring at your husband, running your own hand over your stomach, feeling the kicks and turns.

The prospect of twins is near impossible. But Alfie... he is so certain. And sometimes... sometimes you feel an extra flutter. An extra bit of energy that is almost missed.

The labor is hard. Long. Your mother comes to help along with Sarah and the midwife, and you had never felt pains like that before. Despite Sarah's admonishment, Alfie pushes himself into the room, wanting to be right next to you the entire time. He never leaves your side, brushing the sweat off your brow, kissing your head, reminding you how strong you are.

After 12 hours of labor, Joseph finally makes his appearance in the world. A large baby, with fat cheeks and long limbs. After a few announcing cries, Joseph settles into the arms of his father, fast asleep after his long journey. Alfie rejoices with you, holding up his son with joy, "Joseph! My boy! Welcome my son!"

You smile, a final sense of relief washing over you, until you feel another push coming.

7 minutes later, Chava comes careening into Earth, as loud as the choirs of heaven. Alfie catches Chava, marveling at how such a little body can produce such a sound. As Alfie cleans her face he just whispers, "This one... she will be an opera star."

Alfie joins you in bed once everything is settled. You spend the rest of the evening in and out of sleep. When awake you and Alfie just take turns holding the babies, marveling in how precious they are. How absolutely beautiful they are. While you sleep, Alfie walks around the house with both in his arms, just talking to them.

“Now you might not know this yet my angels… but you have the absolute best mother in the world. No I know, I don’t know how I got to marry her. But she is perfect. The best. We gotta protect her yeah?”

Alfie is the one who gets up in the night. Doesn’t want you to do more than you have to. And you’re already doing so much. Plus, he feels like he missed so much already, waiting till he was older to have a family and all. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment.

Alfie becomes even more soft and tender with you. Each morning he starts his day worshipping you almost. Telling you how much he loves you, how much he loves your children, how much he would give to protect you.

But he does become more paranoid about the dangers surrounding him. There’s two men posted at the door of the house at all times now, and you aren’t to go anywhere without either him or another trusted member of the gang. Though you fought him on it at first, you relented when you saw the palpable fear in his eyes.

He loves to show off the kids. He’s just so proud. He loves how much they look like you. “Better for them eh treacle? Glad they got the more beautiful out of the two.”

And while they did favor your features, they both carried Alfie’s eyes. Both gentle Joseph and powerful Chava carry that roaring ocean behind those dark lashes that brought you to Alfie all those years ago.

As the years go by, you only grow to love each other more and more. And every risk and every trial is worth the beautiful dream you get to have with Alfie.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic

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komotionlessqueenmm · 28 days

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Imagine # 1,062

Gif NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 5 minutes

I've been playing a bunch of the Ghostbusters game, and it honestly drives me crazy how messy it is at the firehouse. So this imagine way born from that pet peeve of mine. Enjoy. :)

Walking up to the second floor of the firehouse, (Y/n) sat down her bag, looking around the large room she sighed softly. The place was a mess, as always. She understood perfectly well why the place wasn't always clean, they guys were busy, always busy. Especially after Peck shut down the containment unit, and released all the ghosts they had captured over the past few months. Walking into the kitchen and dining area, she began picking up loose trash and tossing it into the nearby trashcan. The trash was nearly half full to begin with, and after a few minutes of working, it was totally full. She pulled the bag out of the bin, tied it up, and sat it aside.

As she was putting a new bag into the bin, the boys came wandering up the stairs. Funny she hadn't even heard them pull in downstairs. They all greeted her tiredly as they passed by, going straight to their quarters. (Y/n) continued to clean up the littered trash, and the expired food from the fridge. A short while later, Ray come back into the common room. His hair still dripping from his shower. The others having showered and gone straight to bed. "You know you don't have to do all of this (Y/n)." Ray said as he assisted in gathering up the dirty dishes. "Well I am an assistant, and I assist where I'm needed." She smiled softly at her favorite ghostbuster.

"Yeah I guess, but this is our mess." He shrugged, smiling bashfully. "I'm happy to help Ray, besides you guys have your hands full as it is. Speaking of which, go to bed, I've got this covered." She insisted as she took the dishes from his hands, placing them beside the sink, and then preparing the water. "No I'm alright, let me help." He argued, standing beside her stacking the dishes accordingly. "Ray you've been working all day, and you're exhausted. Go get some rest." She smiled at him, playfully bumping her shoulder into his. "I'm not going anywhere." He stated in a playfully serious tone. "You're stubborn, you know that?" She smiled at him, but stopped arguing over the matter any further.

"People usually say that about Peter." Ray joked, effectively making (Y/n) snort with laughter. "Yeah and he definitely is, but apparently so are you." She mused, making him smile. "I wash and rinse, you dry and put them away?" (Y/n) offered as she set to work on scrubbing the dishes. "I think I can manage that." Ray hummed as he retrieved a clean dishtowel. "Well I sure hope so, we've got plenty to do here." She teased as she began rinsing the first sink of dishes. Once the dishes were finished, they picked up the last bits of trash, swept the floor, and then began hauling the trash bags out to the dumpster out back. "I'll get some groceries tomorrow morning." (Y/n) stated as they hauled out the last two bags.

"I'll go with you." Ray added as he tossed his bag in the dumpster, he then took (Y/n)'s and threw it out as well. "You don't have to do that, I can manage alright." She blushed lightly as Ray held open the door open for her. "I know... But I want to." Ray smiled bashfully, following her back upstairs. "Well in that case, I'd love the company." She mused as they stood at the top of the stairs. "Now you should go to bed, you need some sleep." She stated as she grabbed her bag. "I'd rather spend some more time with you." Ray admitted, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "And do what Dr. Stantz?" (Y/n) asked as she peered at him, their chests nearly touching from how close she'd moved towards him.

"M-maybe get some dinner? I-I haven't actually eaten since lunch." Ray stammered a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Home cooked, or takeout?" She asked. "Considering how late it is, how about takeout?" He asked, trying to sound relaxed, but looking anything but. "Sounds like a date, come on you can stay with me tonight, wouldn't want to disturb the guys." She smiled as his blush depend. "A d-date?" Ray stammered again, following her back downstairs. "If you want it to be." (Y/n) turned to him on the landing of the stairs. "I-I." He cleared his throat. "Do you want it to be?" He asked, again trying to act casual. "I'd love nothing more." She admitted, blushing a bit herself.

"Really!?" Ray beamed in visible excitement, again clearing his throat and trying to play it cool. "I mean... Then it's a date." He smiled charmingly, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "Good." She mused, leaning towards his face to kiss his cheek. Ray blushed deeper, following after her like a lovesick puppy. "Do you think..." Ray trailed off as they walked to (Y/n)'s car. "What is it Ray?" She asked curiously. "Would you maybe want to go on an actual date sometime? Like to a restaurant." He asked. "How about a picnic in the park? Restaurants are always so busy, and a picnic is more intimate." (Y/n) countered. "A picnic... Yeah that sounds really nice." Ray smiled at the thought. "Saturday maybe?" She offered, making Ray beam at her again. "It's a date." He hummed happily.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

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darylas · 2 months

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Chapter 3 - Ghost of a Chance

John "Bucky" Egan x singer!fem!reader first ♫ previous ♫ next ao3

You go on a double date to distract yourself from thoughts of Bucky, a task made more difficult when he is sitting in the same pub.

4.2k words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Non-consensual use of drugs, Attempted sexual assault, Mild violence

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

A/N: Please read the warnings! MAJOR tone shift coming in from the north. I promise next chapter will be lighter!

“So, how long have you been in merry old England?”

“Less than a month, though it doesn’t feel that way,” you answered, swiping your thumb across the condensation that had formed quickly on your glass in the humidity of the pub. You were sat across from Lieutenant Tom Foyle, a pilot in the 351st. His dark hair was styled neatly with pomade, his handsome face clean-shaven. Next to you sat Millicent “Millie” Vance, another Red Cross girl who had somehow roped you into being one-fourth of a double date.

“Oh? Does it feel longer or shorter?” Tom asked. He seemed genuinely interested in your answer, as he had with everything you’d said that evening. He had kind, curious green eyes that made you feel like the only person in the room.

You looked down at your glass, half empty. “Both. Neither. To be completely honest I’m not quite sure. The work gets so repetitive that time seems to stand still some days, but other times it feels as though the clock is ticking faster than a runaway train. I suppose there’s nothing like war to make time feel rather short.” You gave Tom a reassuring smile, ending your little monologue before it grew any more depressing and soured the whole evening. “Sorry,” you said, holding up your glass. “It appears that gin makes me a tad melancholy.”

The blond pilot sitting across from Millie spoke up. “That’s funny, it makes me giddy. Of course, that could just be our present company.” He leaned forward, addressing Millie. “I told Tom that you had to be the prettiest girl this side of the ocean.”

Millie grinned and replied, “Glad we’re not on the other side of the ocean, then,” causing the pilot, Dan, to let out a surprised wheeze of laughter.

While Dan continued his boisterous flirting, saying something about Millie having wit as well as looks, Tom leaned toward you, filling your nostrils with the pleasant scent of his aftershave. He smirked and said in a low voice, “I believe his exact words to me were, ‘What a dish!’.”

You chuckled softly, pleasantly surprised that you were actually enjoying yourself. “I suppose we can’t all be Humphrey Bogart.”

“Sure, we can.” Tom cocked his head slightly to the side and spoke with Bogart’s deep and gravelly voice. “We’ll always have Paris.”

You laughed as he sat back in his chair with a smile. “You saw Casablanca?” you asked him.

“Yep, right before flying over. I’d go see movies whenever I could.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Used to think I could be an actor. Wouldn’t that be something? Seeing yourself on the big screen?” He certainly had the looks for it.

“Maybe after the war, you could pursue an acting career. I’m sure Hollywood would snatch you right up.” Tom smiled bashfully at the compliment. “I actually wanted to be in movies myself when I was younger. Particularly musicals. I’m not much of a dancer but hell, neither is Bing Crosby, and he gets away with it.” You took another sip of gin, inwardly wincing. It was stronger than the drinks you normally favored, but Dan had ordered a round for the table. You had never liked when a man ordered food or drink for a woman, but you didn’t want to embarrass Millie by declining.

“I’d see your films over Bing’s any day,” responded Tom, who managed to combine flirtation and authenticity with such ease that you were beginning to feel skeptical. You couldn’t help but glance toward the back of the pub, where Major Egan had been sitting with some of the other men for the past hour. You were surprised to find him looking right back at you. He gave you a small smile and a subtle nod. No wink, no devilish grin. Curious. Reflexively, you smiled back, then looked away.

Much to your annoyance, John Egan had begun to appear in your thoughts almost regularly and uninvited. Ever since that night at the club, he had gotten under your skin like a persistent itch. An egotistical, irritating, handsome, intriguing itch. You kept these thoughts to yourself, as you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his asinine attempt to insult you into a conversation almost worked. By the same token, you were still wary of him, knowing his track record with women.

You knew, not so deep down, that you had agreed to come on this double date to distract yourself and perhaps meet someone else to occupy your thoughts. Someone like Tom, who picked up his glass and said, “To our Tinseltown dreams, then.”

You clinked your glass with his and said, “To Bing Crosby and his two left feet.”

Millie spoke up. “You know, our Red Cross canary here sings an old Bing song just beautifully. The one from that short with Mary Kornman. Anyone who’s ever made coffee and doughnuts with this one in the morning has heard her sing it.”

You shrugged one shoulder. “Anything to distract me from throwing that blasted doughnut machine out the window. I swear, my poor old Zippo is more reliable than that thing.”

“I thought you said your lighter doesn’t work anymore,” said Millie.

“Exactly,” you replied, to the laughter of your companions.

Tom, with laughter still in his voice, looked at you and said, “I’d sure love to hear you sing it sometime. After all, when some bigshot movie producer calls to ask me about your talents, I want to give him an accurate description.”

Dan scoffed. “Why would a movie producer call you about her?”

Tom lightly smacked his friend on the shoulder. “Why would anyone call you about anything?”

Dan’s blond mustache twitched as he smirked. “You’re hilarious. Anybody ever tell you what a gasser you are?”

There was a brief pause, during which your traitorous eyes suddenly flicked back to that table in the back of the pub. Major Egan was not looking at you this time, his attention currently fixed on his friend Lieutenant Curtis Biddick while he seemed to be mimicking various boxing forms. Egan laughed and hollered with the rest of the men at the table. He looked younger when he laughed, less like a commanding officer and more like a carefree young man. You assumed he shouldered a great many cares, and that the weight of them would only increase as the war continued. The humidity of the pub had caused a few curls to come loose over his forehead, the fire behind him giving his skin a warm glow.

“I’m sure the pianist knows it,” said Millie, breaking you out of what you could only describe as a trance before the Major caught you staring.

“Knows what?” you asked, praying to high heaven you weren’t blushing.

“The song! You could sing it here!”

“Oh, Millie, please. Most of these boys hear far too much of my caterwauling back at base. They come here to get away from that. Besides, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m in the middle of a date.” You gestured between yourself and Tom.

Tom smiled. “As much as I’m enjoying said date, I think the one thing it’s missing is a beautiful song sung by a beautiful lady. And I think all the guys in here would agree with me.”

“I don’t think they would-”

“What, you want me to take a poll?” asked Millie, teasingly. “Dan, sweetie, would you mind?”

Alright, maybe she wasn’t teasing. Dan stood up and shouted, “Gentlemen! Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” His question was answered with a chorus of affirmative shouts and whistles from around the pub.

Tom looked at you and grinned. “Sounds like you better head over there.”

You grinned back and let out a resigned huff of breath before standing up. “I suppose orders are orders, Lieutenant.”

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky heard your laughter from across the pub. His eyes immediately turned towards you as the sound reached him, his instincts taking over before his thoughts could catch up. He’d seen you walk in with one of the pilots in the 351st, decked out and chatting with Millie Vance. You were smiling at that pilot now; not the plastered-on, rehearsed, all-American smile he had grown used to seeing at Thorpe Abbotts. This was the real thing, and it was beautiful. What would he give to be the reason for that smile? To be the one to make you laugh like that?

He would fly through a thousand miles of flak.

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. He might just be the most pathetic man in the entire fucking world.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was so keen on someone. You had to be some sort of siren, luring him out to sea with your alluring voice, only to drag him down, down, down, to the depths of the ocean. He was surprised to find he didn’t mind. With a barely concealed smirk, he realized that being eaten alive by you would not be a terrible way to die.

You had glanced his way once or twice, no doubt feeling his eyes on you. He had tried to look away, to focus on the stories told around the table, but he simply couldn’t help himself. His gaze kept falling back on you. He had never seen you without your Red Cross uniform, and the dress you were wearing had clearly been custom-designed to drive him crazy.

Bucky was grateful for Curt’s loud voice and enthusiasm as he talked about boxing. The distraction was a welcome one, though he supposed that you were the true distraction in this case and not the other way around.

“I can’t believe Buck didn’t come,” said Curt, finishing off his whiskey. “He knows exactly what I’m talkin’ about. The high guard stance ain’t shit in the ring. It’s all about-”

“Gentlemen!” called a voice from across the pub. “Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” The place was filled with the sound of whoops and hollers from nearly every table. Bucky watched you grin at your date–Foyle–and stand up before walking to the piano.

Curt didn’t miss a beat before saying, “Uh oh. Look out boys, you might see Bucky cry. The music really gets to’m.”

“Yeah, the music’s lookin’ like a solid sender in that dress,” said Hambone, earning a round of laughter from the table.

Bucky smiled good-naturedly, used to the ribbing at this point. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. Since when is a guy not allowed to appreciate a beautiful dame, huh?”

"Bucky, you've been eyeing her all night," Jack interjected. "You stare at her more than Douglass stares at that photo of Betty Grable he keeps in his pocket." Another round of laughs. Bucky took a long sip of whiskey as Curt patted him on the back with a grin.

He watched you lean down to speak softly to the pianist before standing up straight and clearing your throat. “Don’t you boys hear enough of me as it is? I don’t know what’s gotten into you; well, I suppose I have some idea,” you said, tapping your nail against someone’s glass to make a plinking sound. The crowd laughed, many raising their drinks. “I’m going to sing an old song, but I asked my new friend Alan here to keep it short. I have a drink of my own I’d like to get back to.”

Next to him, Curt laughed before leaning over and saying, “She might be too much of a firecracker for your sorry ass.” Bucky elbowed him in the arm, making him laugh harder. As the pianist started playing a slow, pleasant melody, Curt leaned in again and said, “Or…she just might be perfect for your sorry ass.” Bucky furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at his friend, who smirked and shrugged. “What? I get sappy when I drink.” Bucky didn’t have time to reply before you began to sing.

I need your love so badly

I love you, oh, so madly

But I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You sauntered between the tables as you sang, the patrons smiling up at you. Bucky preferred when you sang slower songs like this one, the drawn-out notes more sensuous and poignant. As you came within ten feet of his table, you stopped moving. Your eyes met his and lingered for a moment as you continued your song. He was spellbound.

I thought at last I'd found you

But other loves surround you

And I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You walked back to the piano, leaning elegantly against it as you finished the last line of the song. Applause rang throughout the pub and you nodded graciously before shouting, “How about my new friend, our amazing pianist, Mr. Alan Bennett?” The applause and shouts continued as you said “Thank you; enjoy your evening,” then headed back to your seat.

When Bucky saw you smile once again, genuinely, at Foyle, the spell was broken. No, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that smile yet, but your shared moment just now gave him a glimpse of hope. You had looked at him differently then, not with contempt or that devastating neutrality from before, but with something else.

Christ, he really was pathetic, knowing that look would be all he thought about for the rest of the night. He deserved the boys’ ragging, as well as another glass of whiskey.

═════ ♫ ═════

You listened to Millie tell an amusing story about an old neighbor back home as you finished your drink. Even though you weren’t currently talking, you noticed Tom stealing frequent glances at you. You smiled encouragingly at him before fanning yourself with a napkin, the heat in the pub somehow having gotten worse.

As Millie continued her story, your thoughts drifted to Major Egan. When your eyes met his grey ones during the song, you were struck by the tenderness and reverence in his gaze. He hadn’t looked at you like a prize, like an object to be used until he grew bored of it. You had held that gaze for longer than you intended; it didn’t change, but you felt like you did.

For that brief moment, no more than five seconds, you were no longer in the pub, but somewhere else entirely. You weren’t sure exactly where you were during this momentary lapse of reality, but you knew you had gotten there through his eyes. You had always heard of getting lost in someone’s eyes, but in that moment, you didn’t feel lost. Instead, you felt as though you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Perhaps you had been too quick to judge him.

Perhaps you should get to know him better.

Perhaps it had just been a man watching a woman while she sang.

All of these confusing thoughts were beginning to give you a headache.

In fact, the noise of the pub seemed to grow louder by the second, and the lights seemed to get brighter. You squinted.

“Honey, are you alright?” asked Millie. You hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking. You gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I think the crowded room is getting to me. I might need to step outside for a moment; get some fresh air.” You scooted your chair away from the table.

Both men stood as you did so. Tom pushed in his chair and came around to your side of the table, looking concerned. “Can I accompany you outside? I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course. I’d appreciate it, actually.” You looked at Millie. “We’ll be right back.”

As you stood up, you lost your balance and braced your hands on the table, causing the legs to make a loud noise as they shifted. You flushed with embarrassment as multiple patrons looked in your direction, some sniggering to each other. Millie put a delicate hand on your arm. “Are you sure you’re alright? I think we need to head back.”

You waved her off. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just stood up too fast. A few minutes of fresh air and I’ll be good as new. Don’t you dare move; this is your one night out. I’m fine.”

Millie continued to look at you with skepticism and concern, but Tom offered you his arm and you took it, walking toward the front of the pub with slow, deliberate steps.

Suddenly, you were outside the pub, still holding on tight to Tom’s arm. You breathed in the night air, hoping it would clear your head. It didn’t.

“Feel any better?” asked Tom.

You looked at him and were alarmed to see that you were no longer outside the front entrance, but alone with him around the side of the building. You couldn’t remember how you got there, but Tom’s arm was still in your grasp. You continued to cling to it, as your dizziness had gotten worse and you were afraid you might fall flat on your face if you let go.

“No, I….don’t,” you answered, having difficulty forming the words. This sudden ailment was clearly something that needed more than fresh air to fix, and you knew it was time to call it a night. Could you really be this drunk? Yes, the gin had been stronger than what you normally drank, but you only had one glass.

Tom looked at you with concern. “I’m so sorry. Are you feeling well enough for the trip back? It would probably be safer to book you a room for the night.” He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I think I’d like to…to go back to base and get in bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked softly, brushing the backs of his fingers down your bare arm.

“Nnnn…no.” The pain in your head was worsening, your mind telling you that you needed to leave. Now.

Tom spoke your name, his voice still soft. “I think that you and I go together so well. You’re incredibly witty, charming, and so lovely.” You felt him stroke the side of your face. You went to push his hand away, but it was gone when you lifted your hand to your face. “I’m curious to see if our compatibility goes beyond the conversational level, aren’t you?”

When you looked at him again, your head spinning with the effort, his handsome face still held the same charm and sincerity from before.

“Tom, I want to leave. Right now!” You wrenched yourself free from his grasp and turned toward the street. Your movements had been too sudden and you stumbled forward, haphazardly throwing your hands out to avoid falling on your face. You closed your eyes and braced for the feeling of asphalt on your palms, but it never came. When you opened your eyes, you saw the dark olive drab of a military uniform and felt strong arms around you. Of course Tom had easily caught you. You prepared to scream for help—

“The hell is going on out here?”

The person who’d caught you hadn’t been Tom. It was that major. He stood with you still limp in his arms, Millie close behind him looking panicked.

He looked at you, then at Tom, then back at you, his expression quickly morphing from confusion to alarm. You must have been quite a sight.

With urgency in his voice, he spoke your name. “Are you alright? What’s the matter?”

You stood up, another wave of dizziness crashing over you as Millie rushed to help you. “I think I’m…quite unwell, Mister…sorry, Major…” You looked at him quizzically, his name escaping you. Why couldn’t you think of his name? His face had been in your thoughts constantly over the past few days.

The man reluctantly removed his arms from around you and allowed Millie to support you. “It’s Bucky. But you still only call me Major Egan, remember?” He looked terribly worried, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to address it. Your only concern right now was getting away from Tom and into bed. You were so tired. When you didn’t respond to him, stumbling once more into Millie, his expression changed again to one of fury. He turned toward Tom, who had begun inching his way out of sight.

Bucky moved fast enough to exacerbate your dizziness, grabbing Tom by the lapels of his jacket and shoving him against the wall. “You put somethin’ in her drink? Did you do this to her?” The quiet, menacing calm of his voice was a stark contrast to his violent actions.

Tom had the good sense to look frightened for a moment, before flashing his handsome smile at the seething major. “I was just offering to escort her back to base,” he said. “Clearly the poor thing can’t take her liquor. I didn’t do a damn thing to her drink.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” replied Bucky, before he let go of Tom’s jacket and punched him in the face. Hard. Millie shrieked.

Tom fell to the ground in a graceless heap, his nose bleeding and misshapen. Putting a hand up to his nose, he yelled, “What the hell was-”

“You need to get the fuck out of here right now or your nose won’t be the only thing I break tonight.” Bucky’s fist was clenched, blood on the knuckles. Tom scrambled away and was soon out of sight.

Bucky turned back toward you and Millie. “She needs to see a doctor,” he said to your friend.

Millie let out a sigh and replied with a tired voice. “No, she doesn’t; not right now anyway.”

Bucky gestured furiously at you. “Look at her!” You frowned and looked away.

Millie spoke with a cold gravity you had never heard from her before. “I see her, Bucky, and unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this. I know how to help, and I’m taking her back to base. Her symptoms should be gone tomorrow, but she needs rest.”

Bucky said nothing for several seconds, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He said quickly, “Alright. Fine. But if anything, anything, seems off, you take her straight to Smokey, understand?”

“I understand. I’ll take her tomorrow, just to make sure everything’s okay.” Millie began leading you toward the front of the building and the street, with Bucky following close behind. Eventually you were back in front of the pub.

Bucky looked at you, began to reach toward you, then put his hand in his pocket. “Let me take you home. Or would a room here be better?”

You stiffened.

“Excuse me?” you said, your head pounding.

Bucky looked taken aback at your sudden tone. “I just wondered if it would be better for you to get a room here for the night so you can rest.”

Son of a bitch.

You pointed a finger at his chest, missing and poking his shoulder. “You. Is this what you wanted?”

Bucky furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What are you talking about? You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I saw you. I saw you looking at us…looking at mm..me. Was this part of your plan?”

Millie, who had her arm looped through yours, put a hand on your shoulder and said, “Honey, I know you’re confused, it’s not your f-”

“Did you think that you would play the knight in shining armor and that...that I would fall into your arms, overcome with- with gratitude? You thought I would g..go to bed with you?” Bucky shook his head vehemently and opened his mouth to speak, but you kept going. “I knew it. I knew that a dance would never just be a dance with you. I knew it.” You swayed, but Millie tightened her hold on you and you stayed upright. “I knew it,” you said to her.

She rubbed your back soothingly. “Okay, honey. Let’s get you in bed, alright?” She turned to Bucky and spoke so quietly you couldn’t hear her over the noise of the music inside. You watched as Bucky nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. He looked back at you, nothing but concern in his eyes. But that’s how Tom had looked.

Fighting the pain at the front of your skull and the increasing urge to vomit in the nearest waste bin, you let go of Millie’s arm and took a wobbly step toward him. He removed his hands from his pockets, ready to catch you again, but you stayed upright. You said to him in a low voice, “I think you’re despicable.” The major said nothing, still watching you with the same worried look on his face. Inside the pub, you heard the pianist start playing “Blue Skies”, followed by at least two shouts of Bucky’s name. “Sounds like you’re missing your ‘signature song,’ Major. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

With that, you allowed Millie to once again wind her arm through yours and lead you away from the pub, hopefully on a path toward your bed. She sighed. “Don’t worry, I told him you didn’t mean a word you said.” You frowned at her, confused. “I’m so sorry; if I had any idea that Tom was such a…” She sighed again. “Never mind. It does no good to apologize to you now when you won’t remember it. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

As you made your way back to your barracks, fighting sleep the whole way, all you could think of was a slow song and two grey eyes staring into yours.

#guys i wasn't kidding about the tone shift but I promise things will get better!#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john bucky egan #john egan #mota #masters of the air #mota fic #callum turner #reader insert #fanfiction #Spotify

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