#I also learn new things on each rewatch
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Every time I watch Sonic Prime I get blasted with embarrassment on behalf of Sonic and Nine, because I forget just how embarrassing they are about each other.
#sonic the hedgehog#nine sonic prime#miles nine prower#nine the fox#sonic prime#This also happens every time a new season comes out#I also learn new things on each rewatch#sonine#Like do you ever think about how Sonic thought this would end with him having two best friends in the whole wide world to go on adventures#with (+ Nine joining his friendgroup)#and Nine thought this would end with he and Sonic living in the Grim together (alone and isolated from other life) in a way where they#would need no one else‚ content enough to have found a home with each other?#Do you think about how the camera keeps cutting to Nine's face when both he and Sonic think Sonic's gonna die in episode 2?#Do you ever think about how HAPPY Nine was to show Sonic the grim after adding palm trees for him AND after Nine himself was like 'no life#is here and it's pretty grim. perfect'?#Do you ever think about Nine telling Dr. Don't that he doesn’t care about Sonic anymore and then 2 seconds later Nine going 'OMG SONIC👀😊'#when Sonic shows up on the cameras for a split second?#Do you ever think about Sonic almost throwing hands with Shadow because Shadow implies that Nine isn't real and doesn't actually care#about him?#They are so so so embarrassing guys
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Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this
Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader
Words: 15k words
Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.
A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!
So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.
There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.
This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.
Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!
Anyways, enjoy!
Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.
Not that he minded, really.
Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.
He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.
Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.
He was better off without such people.
They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.
So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.
There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.
No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.
He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.
Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.
All but you, though.
Never you.
Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.
He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.
But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.
It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.
That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.
That's when he first saw you.
You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.
Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.
When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.
“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”
“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”
Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.
“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.
“Absolutely. It looks good.”
You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.
Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?
Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.
Alfred replied just as quickly.
Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.
Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.
If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.
Right, he thought. The cupcake.
Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.
It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.
The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.
You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.
“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”
“It’s good.”
“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”
“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.
Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”
“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.
“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.
“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”
“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”
You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”
Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.
“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”
“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”
So, he made you feel safe.
Well, not him – Batman did.
Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.
And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear?
“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.
For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.
When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.
To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.
It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.
Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.
“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”
“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”
You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.
“You’re not at all like what people say.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.
“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.
“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”
Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.
“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”
“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.
You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.
“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”
Just a random guy.
Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.
In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.
It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.
But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.
You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.
Just a random guy.
“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.
And you were funny too.
“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.
“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”
“Please, just Bruce.”
“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)
“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”
You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.
“Me? Really?”
“Exactly you.”
“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”
“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”
At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.
Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.
“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.
(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.
“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”
You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.
“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.
“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.
Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.
The rest was history.
You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.
Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.
He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.
“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”
“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”
“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”
“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”
At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.
He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.
It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.
He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.
“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”
He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.
In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.
Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.
Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.
(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)
It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.
At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.
He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.
You two had, after all, your own little rituals.
You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.
You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.
“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.
“I think it was terrible.” You replied.
Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.
“Excuse me?!”
“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”
“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.
You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.
“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.
“Language!” Alfred tutted.
“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.
“Wait – why?”
“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”
Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.
“I – I – well. I see.”
“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”
Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.
“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”
“She doesn’t?”
“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.
“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”
You scoffed. Again.
“He’s a misunderstood ass – “
“Language – “
“He is Alfred!”
“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.
Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.
“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”
“Name one thing.”
“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.
“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”
“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.
Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.
You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.
“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”
Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.
Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.
“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”
"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”
“Simple, huh?”
You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.
“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”
“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.
Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.
You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.
“Reasons? Like what?”
Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.
“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”
You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.
Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.
You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.
You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.
All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.
Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.
“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.
He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.
“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”
You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)
“I can’t go.”
Bruce grimaced.
“Why?”
“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.
Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.
“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”
Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.
“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.
“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.
“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.
Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.
“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”
“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.
“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”
“I have literally nothing to wear.”
Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).
“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.
“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.
You pondered your choices.
He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.
Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.
“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”
Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”
“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.
You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.
Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.
When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.
“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.
“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.
As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.
Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.
In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.
When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.
Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.
Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.
“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”
You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”
“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”
Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.
“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.
“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.
“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.
Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.
“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”
Bruce shook it and nodded.
“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”
The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.
“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”
“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.
“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”
Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.
“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”
“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”
“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.
“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”
“What face?”
“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”
Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.
“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.
Bruce nodded.
“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.
“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.
“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.
After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.
“Come on,”
You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.
Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.
“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.
“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.
“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”
“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.
He snorted at that but did not say anything.
The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.
“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.
“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.
“I mean it. You do look stunning.”
The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.
He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.
“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”
You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.
Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.
“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”
None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.
“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.
All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“
Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.
“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”
Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.
Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”
“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”
“About two hours.”
“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”
He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.
Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.
Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?
Friend.
The word tasted wrong in his mouth.
No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.
He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.
He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.
It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.
One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.
(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)
Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.
The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.
Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.
Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.
Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.
You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.
“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.
Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.
“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”
You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.
Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.
At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.
“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.
“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”
You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.
Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.
“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.
“Yes please.”
Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.
“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.
He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.
“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.
“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.
(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)
“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.
Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.
You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.
“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”
He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.
He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.
Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.
“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”
“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”
“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”
Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.
An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.
“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”
“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”
“Oh!”
“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.
Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?
“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.
Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?
“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.
While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.
Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.
Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.
You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.
That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.
“Cold?” he asked.
“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.
“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.
“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”
Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.
After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.
Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.
“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.
“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.
“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”
Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.
He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.
“Better?” he murmured.
You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.
“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.
“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.
“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”
“I promise.”
You nodded and continued your silent stroll.
Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.
“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“
“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.
You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.
The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.
“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.
“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.
“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)
Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.
You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.
“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.
“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.
It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.
You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.
After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.
After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.
“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.
“You didn’t have to, Miss.”
“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”
He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.
“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.
“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”
You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “
“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”
“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.
“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.
“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”
When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.
“Alfred? Is everything okay?”
Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.
“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”
Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”
“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”
“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”
You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.
“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”
“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.
“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”
“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”
After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.
“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.
“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.
“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”
Alfred shook his head.
“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”
“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.
“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”
You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.
“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.
“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.
Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.
“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.
He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.
“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.
“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.
“You’re welcome.” You replied.
When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.
Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.
“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.
“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.
“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.
“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”
He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”
He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.
“What I’m trying to say is…”
He thought about Batman.
How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.
“Is…”
“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.
He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.
He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.
He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.
And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.
“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.
Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.
Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.
Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.
So, you tried to move on with your life.
A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.
One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.
“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.
“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.
“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.
Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?
And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?
Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.
After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.
Bruce cursed himself mentally.
On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.
Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.
Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.
As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.
It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.
You seemed so happy with him.
Seemed.
Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.
When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.
Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.
But that was it.
Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.
After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?
He was just a good friend.
You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.
So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.
But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.
You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.
And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.
So why were you so heartbroken?
Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.
You were in love with Bruce Wayne.
And he didn’t love you back.
So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.
Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.
Even if you didn’t really love Tom.
Yeah. No need at all.
On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.
You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.
You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.
There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.
There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.
Something inside of you flared up the memory.
The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.
You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.
Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.
How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.
“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.
“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.
“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”
“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.
“No – fuck – it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.
“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”
You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.
After a while, you broke the silence.
“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.
Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.
“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”
What?
He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.
“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”
Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?
“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “
Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.
“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.
You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.
“But – Tom –“
“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”
“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.
He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.
He could give up the love of his life forever.
Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.
Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.
He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.
You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.
When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”
You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.
“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.
Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.
“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.
You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.
“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.
“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”
“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”
You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.
“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”
“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.
“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”
He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.
“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”
Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.
“I love you too.”
For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.
Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.
Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.
Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.
There was no way he was ever letting go of you.
A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.
I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.
Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!
Have an amazing day, everyone! <3
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x you#bale!bruce wayne#bale!batman x reader#bale!batman#bale!bruce wayne x reader#the dark knight#the dark knight trilogy#nolanverse#the dark knight fanfiction#the dark knight fanfic#nolanverse fanfiction#bruce wayne fanfiction#batman fanfiction#batman x fem!reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader
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Fool Me Once
Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)
Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.
Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(
A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽
Blog masterlist
Fmo Masterlist
You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.
For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.
Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.
But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.
You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.
The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.
“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”
It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.
The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.
Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.
You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.
The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes
His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.
It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.
“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.
“Aegon!”
Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.
You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.
His whore
Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.
Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.
At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.
You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.
The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.
“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.
He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.
“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”
You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.
“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”
He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.
“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”
You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.
Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.
“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”
The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.
“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”
He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.
“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”
You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.
“A little warrior would be nice, no?”
Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.
You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.
He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?
You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.
Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.
“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”
Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.
“Send him in.”
Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.
“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”
You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.
“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”
“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”
You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?
“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.
Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.
“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”
He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.
My Alys
Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.
“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”
You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.
Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.
You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.
“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”
#aemond x reader#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#hotd imagine#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon imagine#black!reader#my writing
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I saw a post talking about how there’s a deep mischaracterization of Mk in the fandom specifically about his monkey form and I’m here to dissect it. (WIth doodles!)
Tldr: Will Mk end up hurting his family in season 5 due to his new Monkey form? Most likely no, but it is possible that he indirectly hurts them by not understanding the limits of his power.
First things first let’s collect a list of attributes that we know Mk has from past seasons. This will serve as a spine or checklist to see if certain actions are possible. A thing to keep in mind though is the ranking of each attribute as the writers of LMK wrote there are characters as complex and sometimes abandon certain character values if their center value is threatened.
Mk’s character value list (in my opinion) is as follows:
-Family
-Strength
-Freedom
-Dependability
with family and strength being so close to each other, so sometimes strength ends up as Mk’s main concern. Of course, all of these end up mixing at times and in the first seasons we see the mixing of these values gets him in trouble
Desiring the freedom of choice over listening to Wukong (Pig Pong Panic). Wanting to be dependable but overestimating his strength (Duplication). Wanting to be strong but forgets his family in the process (shadow play). Eventually, he gets his priorities in check and has ended up sticking to this list for most of seasons 3 and 4.
Now his flaws (in no particular order):
Impulsivity
Forgetfulness
Stubbornness
Blind devotion
He’s overcome a lot of these when he was forced to learn them in season 3. His stubbornness to not tell anyone what was happening with the LBD got people hurt. His impulsivity with his actions ended up crashing the ship, and almost sold his family to a goldfish demon.
(Text: Mk's Fault, Good Intentions, Trying mentor)
So he’s had to come up with methods of working around that. Mk’s blind devotion to Wukong almost got Mei killed, and we see how he changes because of it. At the end of season 3, Mk doesn’t explicitly say that he sees Wukong in a new light but he heavily implies it with the metaphor of a bowl of noodles.
So… Will Mk go crazy and end up hurting his friends?
I highly doubt it. While I toyed with the idea, Mk is a lot smarter than the fandom usually gives him credit for. He knows Wukong is flawed, and he still trusts in him because he knows Wukong is trying. Mk has faith in Wukong’s strength and the fact that Wukong also heavily values family, even if his isolation makes it a lot harder for him to do so. Just rewatch the ending of season 3 where Wukong apologizes to Mk and watch as Mk comes to the realization that Wukong is trying so hard to make up for his past. (They also drive this point home in season 4 with how disappointed Wukong sounds at himself for not finding Mk in the scroll in the season finale.)
(Text: He's flawed and trying, Has to accept harsh reality, Dissociating Coping mechanism)
So what about Mk’s impulsivity? I doubt that’d be something that directly harms his friends. He’s worked on his impulsivity by working with others (Redson in season 3 and Mei’s planning in season 4) to help fill in the gaps in his plans. In order for his impulsivity to harm others, you’d have to break that family value first or raise that value of strength and freedom. Most likely this flaw can manifest in Mk overdoing his Monkey form ™ and sending a shockwave that accidentally hurts the people around him. Probably manifesting either in training or while having fun with Mei (think about how Mk was in the Bad Weather episode).
Okay, what if Mk is tricked into it like he was in Season 4 (back to the flaw of blind devotion)? Mk has spent every season backstabbed by someone he trusted. We see him snap at Azure after he finds out that he was going to keep Wukong in the scroll. He snaps at Macaque in season 4. It’s safe to say that he’s learned, at least partially, to not trust others so blindly. Mk is also supposed to have gotten the “skill of self-reflection” in “Revenge of the Spider Queen” but his reflecting has mostly just impacted the other flaws.
(Text: Side note, Monkey Mk doesn't have a nose)
But there is one possibility I toy with, bottled up emotions. Mk has extremely big emotions but hates showing any emotion that can be seen as negative. He loves being happy and he’s not afraid to show it, but as soon as those emotions turn to doubt, anger, or sadness he bottles them up fast. He knows he can rely on his family, but he’s stubborn and thinks that his emotions aren’t worth that hassle. Take the ending of season 3 where Mk states that “he tries not to think too hard” about his own place in the universe, which could be due to a fear of losing the value of freedom if he has a specific role to play in the universe.
(Text: Guys He's so avoidant, forced to think about his identity, 18-early 20's and Identity crisis)
It’s worsened by the fact that every. other. character. avoids. their. emotions. No other characters in this series are open about their emotions except Tang and Sandy. And from season 3 (and a bit of season 4) we know that Mk doesn’t view Tang in an extremely positive light.
Not exactly negative, but his admiration lies more on the rest of the team. Macaque points this out in season 2 stating in “Shadow Play” that Mk should talk out his insecurities, but no one else does that.
That being said Mk isn’t entirely forgetful either. Macaque was a season 1 villain with his betrayal going through season 3. Mk’s high value of family, and flaw of blind devotion, make him want to give him a chance as Macaque’s past is connected with Wukong’s. HOWEVER, Mk is also stubborn and hasn’t forgiven Macaque’s actions. That’s why he snaps, plus the fact that Macaque is terrible at direct communication. Like I said before, Mk won’t directly hurt anyone he cares about, but if his monkey form is highly connected with his emotions (as most magic tends to be) having those bottled-up insecurities might accidentally cause Mk to unleash more power than he means to.
(Text: Normal, Fed up Meter, rage (on jar))
I have no idea where season 5 is going to go, but I’m so excited about the possibilities.
(Text: Terrified of his actions hurting his family. UNSTABLE!!!)
#lmk#lego monkie kid#speck rambles#lmk analysis#lmk mk#monkie kid#lmk qi xiaotian#My analysis isn't perfect but i agree that most of the fandom paints Mk as this dumb overly trusting kid#when hes closer to a painfully optimistic adult who falls on bad coping mechanisms such as naivety and avoidance#He's smart yall. He can learn and adapt faster than most people in the show#He just has big emotions that pass off as childish moments and as a neurodivergent person I can relate too strongly ... anyways
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This Week in BL - new entries upset the rankings
Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.
April 2024 Wk 2
Ongoing Series - Thai
City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Like most Thai BL pulps, this show doesn’t have much story to it. But I'm discovering that what it does have I actually really enjoy. I love that the gay boys got to play matchmaker for a change and I like how just GAY they are. It's nice. Refreshing.
We Are (Weds GMMTV iQIYI) ep 1-2 of 16 - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon. I like it. It’s old school Thai BL, but having fun with itself and its tropes. I’m not expecting much, so I don’t mind it waffling. All the couples are comfy. Chemistry is okay. Friendships are nifty. I like Pond's floppy hair. We fine.
Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - What an extremely bloody episode. And bad guy turned out to be very bad indeed. And now pretty much everyone is dead. Nice kiss. Of course.
Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 6 of 8 - It’s cute, they happy, not a ton happened. Random gratuitous bathing. As you do in BL. And I still think the sides should just end up in a thrupple
Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Oh they very cute. Also very silly.
1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - No. NOT THE GUITAR. YES abandon guitar for the sniff test! Love this for them. And me. My most favorite trope defeated my least favorite trope. VICTORY!!!
Ongoing Series - Not Thai
Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 8 of 11 - It’s just so good. Baby went away, grew up, and learned how to become a temptation... and a husband.
Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea Thurs iQIYI) 1 of 5 eps - SooHyuk, only just surviving, reunites with YoonDae, his (brief) younger stepbrother who feels abandoned. They end up living together. The younger brother is played by Lee Jae Bin of Choco Milk Shake. OMG. STEPBROTHERS TROPE. Lucky me! Two in one season. Yay!!!! It's Korea so great visuals too. I shallow but yeah, this is great.
Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake. It’s utterly charming. I am charmed. Also the framing is gorgeous (of course). Very stylish.
Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 6fin - I don’t know. Kind of a flat ending with the leads apart for most of it. I enjoyed this show but it never really hit with me.
Summation
After a teen betrayal and resulting separation a reporter reunites with his first love. That love wants him back. I enjoyed the authenticity of a reunion romance explored in Japan's quintessentially contemplative yet surreal way. The juxtaposition of the tenderness of the sex scenes with this Japanese style of authenticity was oddly elegant but all in all this still fell a little flat for me. There's nothing objectively wrong with it, but in total the narrative felt sluggish and the main couple were just... stiff (in the wrong way). Frankly, I'd rather just rewatch Tokyo in April is. 8/10
Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - What is going on with this show? No, I get the plot. I just don't get the show or why I’m watching it. Annoying.
It's done, but I suck
What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps
To Be Continued (Sat C3 Thailand grey) ep 7-8fin - I can't for the life of me find the final 2 episodes. Haven't had a real hunt, but yeah. No dice so far.
It's airing but...
Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari (Japan Furritsubs) eps 1-? of 10 - I may wait and binge it.
Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.
Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - It’s so boring DNFed at 2.
Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) 6 - The problem with situational comedy BL is it must be situational, comedic and a BL. This show gets 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. Dropped at 3.
Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - only 4 eps, tell me if I should bother?
Next Week Looks Like This:
4/18 At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn. I think I've seen this before (joke) and also the trailer doesn't inspire confidence.
Still to Come in April
4/25 Boys Be Brave! AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) 8 eps - Trailer Jung Ki Sub is Kim Jin Woo's slacker friend - and secret crush. So when Ki Sub crashes at his place, his heart tingles to be near him everyday. But as the short stay turns into permanent mooch, how long can Jin Woo keep his true feelings under wraps and hold back from confessing?
4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.
I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.
Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?
Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.
NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!
THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT
Sniff test turning into a make out sesh? Please and thank you. City of Stars
(Last week)
Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a bother.
The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly
If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.
#this week in BL#review Love is Better the Second Time Around#Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto#BL updates#Two Worlds#We Are the series#Only Boo!#Deep Night#City of Stars#Unknown the series#Gray Shelter#Living With Him#Kare no Iru Seikatsu#1000 Years Old#At 25:00 in Alaska#25 Ji#Akasaka de#Love Is like a Cat#BL series review#upcoming BL#BL news#BL reviews#BL gossip#Thai BL#Japanese BL#live action yaoi#Taiwanese BL#Koren BL#BL starting soon#BL coming soon
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Shadowsongs
Summary: After Rhys and Feyre decide to take a trip away to the Summer Court for the night to escape the thralls of their newborn, Azriel is left caring for Nyx and finds that his greatest battle might just be getting him to sleep. I also recently rewatched the Labyrinth and forgot how much that movie slapped so the song from that is included.
As the Velaris tower clock chimed midnight, the sitting room of the River House was enveloped in the soft, ambient glow of faelight. Azriel sunk deeper into the plush, green, velvet couch, his expansive wings draped elegantly over the back of the chair, eyes heavy with exhaustion. His hand rhythmically patted the back of the squirming bundle nestled snugly against his chest. The babe, Nyx, resisted sleep with the tenacity of an Illyrian warrior, his tiny fists punching the air as if to protest the very concept of bedtime.
The room was a playful mess, strewn with toys - dolls lay abandoned, blankets were tossed aside, and bottles had rolled under chairs. Azriel had assured Feyre and Rhys he could manage babysitting for a day and night. They desperately needed a break after months of non-stop parenting in tandem with running the Night Court, and a trip to the breezy shores of the Summer Court was the only thing keeping Feyre from collapsing into tears. Feyre had sobbed when they left, overwhelming Azriel with reminders of Nyx’s schedule and a litany of do’s and don'ts, which Azriel already knew inside and out. Her maternal instincts flared to the point where Rhys had to gentle pull her away, reassuring her that Nyx would be fine for one night, and, if anything, they should be more concerned about Azriel surviving Nyx than Nyx surviving Azriel.
Typically, everyone shared babysitting duties throughout the week day, but with Nesta and Cassian off in the Autumn Court, Elain incapacitated by her first fae cycle, and Amren claiming she would rather cut out her own tongue than be left alone with a babe, the responsibility had fallen to Azriel. Leaving Nyx overnight for the first time might have been a tad ambitious.
“Come on, Nyx,” he coaxed with a whisper of amusement. “You’ve got to give in at some point.” Azriel briefly considered that perhaps this was how the victims of his torture efforts may have felt when they had been kept awake for hours on end. Perhaps he should start having them babysit a fussy Illeryian babe instead of cutting off fingers. He chuckled to himself before pushing the thought away.
Yet, Nyx remained defiant, his violet eyes locked on the ceiling, deep in thought, as if unraveling the secrets of the cosmos rather than giving in to slumber. Azriel exhaled deeply, his fingers threading through his tousled black hair. After learning about Feyre’s pregnancy he had stealthily devoured every parenting book Feyre had purchased, to the perfect formula-to-water ratio, optimal bath temperatures, and baby sensory activities, he had learned it all. When Feyre faced challenges with breastfeeding, Azriel had accidentally revealed his clandestine studies by suggesting a particular latching technique. Cassian had teased him relentlessly since. Despite employing every baby battle strategy known to him, Nyx was relentless.
With a resigned sigh, Azriel sank even further into the plush cushions, resigning himself to a long night. As he watched Nyx’s tiny chest rise and fall with each breath, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer stubbornness of the new babe. Azriel couldn’t tell if that was more from Feyre or Rhys, and then decided that that trait most likely came from his Auntie Nesta, whom Nyx had wrapped around his tiny, chubby fingers.
In the dimly lit room, Azriel’s gaze followed his shadows as they danced across the ceiling, capturing Nyx’s rapt attention. With a grin, he watched them twirl and twirl – they were always more playful when Nyx was around. His shadows seemed as curious about Nyx as he was about them. During gatherings at the River House, it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows to envelop Nyx, tickling him and teasing him, eliciting peals of laughter from the delighted babe as he reached out to catch them.
Elain had said before that the shadows and Nyx reminded her when she and her sisters were young, a black barn cat would seek her out to frolic among the late summer heat. Azriel wondered what Nyx made of these ethereal companions, if they were like an animal to him, or another playmate. He also pondered whether the shadows would maintain their fascination with him as he grew older. Azriel, himself, hadn’t spent much time around children this young, and his shadows seemed to be so gentle with the babe, as though they somehow could sense his innocence and hoped he would keep it forever.
As Azriel and Nyx both kept their gaze to the ceiling, the shadows began to craft intricate shapes and forms, transforming into a mesmerizing puppet show. Nyx’s restless squirming subsided as the shadows danced across the walls, casting enchanting silhouettes that swirled and twirled in their silent ballet creating a tableau of delight.
On the ceiling, an array of animals appeared in what resembled a grand ballroom scene. Pegasus, birds, and sheep mingled before parting to reveal a single swan, its wings unfurling with ethereal grace. The swan bowed elegantly before twirling loftily above its admiring audience. Then, emerging from the gathered shadows, a sly fox approached, gracefully taking the swan’s wings in its paws and spinning it in a delicate dance. Although the room was silent, one could easily imagine the soft strains of music. Nyx reached up excitedly, prompting Azriel to adjust his hold, lifting him slightly higher for a better view.
As the dance continued above, some shadows descended the walls and playfully twirled around Nyx, their cool touch eliciting giggles from the dark-haired babe.
The shadows conjured forth visions of Nyxs’ family, distant echoes of life beyond the cozy sitting room.
In one corner of the room, the shadows morphed into delicate snowflakes cascading down the wall. Above the floorboard, three figures raced across the scene – two winged Illyrians and one without wings. The winged males playfully lobbed snowballs at their wingless companion, who shielded his head with his hands. Suddenly, a log sprung from the ground, causing the wingless man to trip and tumble face-first into a pile of snow below. The two other males doubled over with laughter, one even dropping to his knees as the snow continued to fall. Nyx’s eyes widened with wonder, his tiny fingers reaching out to grasp the fleeting shapes. The snowball fight between his father and brothers drew excited coos and giggles from him, his laughed echoing around the room.
In the other corner, the shadows drifted into a scene of a woman standing at an easel, the woman's stomach swollen with child. The shadow woman stood before an easel, her brush moving across the canvas, she ran her hand over her stomach, glancing down towards it when a man walked in behind her, twirling her around into an embrace. The man leaned over, placing a tender kiss on the woman's stomach. Nyx babbled joyfully, his tiny feet kicking Azriel’s chest with delight, which while uncomfortable brought a smile to his face.
Across the ceiling, the shadows painted a scene of a great battle, a field of war and chaos as two winged males fight back to back against a vast army, shooting arrows and swinging swords.
While the shadows swirled the tapestry of memories, Azriel looked only at Nyx, who giggled and babbled in delight at the unfolding scenes. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent to Azriel that while the shadows were doing their best to soothe Nyx to sleep, they had only awakened him more. It became glaringly obvious that bedtime stories wouldn’t work.
Nyx’s giggles and coos echoed through the River House. With a sigh, Azriel gestured for the shadows to cease their dance, and the room was once again plunged into a soft, dim glow.
“Alright, Nyx,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. “Let’s try something else.”
He drew Nyx back into his arms, cradling him close against his chest. Rising from the enveloping comfort of the couch, Azriel’s footsteps were muted against the plush rug of the sitting room as he began to meander through the house. Moonlight streamed through the towering windows, casting the ornate corridors in a serene silvery light, illuminating the walls adorned with Feyre’s vibrant paintings.
Feyre and Rhys had both endured their share of sleepless nights, pacing the same halls with Nyx in their arms. Rhys had noted that being the babe of the Night Court it seemed all Nyx wanted to do was explore the world when the sun had set and all had gone quiet. Perhaps Nyx was more bat than babe.
Undeterred, Azriel pressed on, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he swayed in arms in a steady rhythm. But Nyx remained stubbornly awake, his eyes darting from window to window cooing loudly. As he reached the grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a faint cry echoed through the silence. Nyx stirred in his arms, his tiny fists clutching at his shirt as he let out a wail.
Azriel attempted to shush the fussy baby who now was wailing louder for what seemed no apparent reason. Perhaps Nyx was finally fighting exhaustion as well. With a sigh, Azriel retraced his steps, as he stepped into Nyx’s nursery.
Feyre had taken months to finally get the nursery the way she envisioned it. She had wanted Nyx’s room to encompass the entirety of Prythian as they were unsure what powers Nyx might hold.
Each wall of the room was a canvas of vibrant colors and intricate designs including the bay window that Feyre had insisted be where Nyxs’ bassinet be.
Painting the Spring Court wall had been a battle unto itself with Rhys and Cassian joking constantly that the wall should be burning to the ground, or that she should paint Tamlin being pursued by a dragon. Feyre had just shot them an obscene gesture and instead painted spring blossoms of pastel pinks and greens. Delicate flowers bloomed amidst emerald meadows, their petals unfurling in the warmth of the sun. Amongst the meadow was a warm pool with a waterfall cascading down a mountainside.
Opposite, the wall of Summer blazed with the fiery hues of the sun, a tapestry of gold and crimson beamed down onto the deep blue sea, where Tarquin’s white castle glistened atop the white sandstone mountain.
Next to it, the wall of Autumn was a symphony of earthy greens, oranges, reds, and browns. The Autumn Court forest held deep shadows which made the wheat fields protruding from them seem like shining gold. Lucien had helped Feyre paint this wall, and his awkward-looking, disproportionate deer and fawns clearly showed that.
Beside the Autumn wall, the Winter Court lay shrouded in a blanket of icy blues and silvery whites. Snowflakes danced amidst frost kissed pines, their branches bending beneath the weight of the winter embrace. Bears and arctic foxes scampered on the piles of snow, wearing the traditional colors. Elain had insisted on giving the little foxes scarves. Azriel had reminded her they were made for that sort of weather but Elain had only glanced at him sadly before saying “But what if they get cold” before she painted tiny mittens on the bears.
On the half of the ceiling closest to the door, Feyre had painted the Dawn and Day courts. Sunlight streamed through branches of ancient oaks as it rose from the corner of the room, and hills of rolling green with children from each court playing amongst them filled out the space.
Over Nyxs’ crib, Feyre had painted a deep blue color of the sky with a sparkle of stars strewn across it. Rhys had enchanted the space just below the ceiling to be constantly in motion with sparkling star dust which moved in and out of constellations, with the occasional shooting star flying high above.
As Nyx continued his tirade of shrill cries, Azriel rocked him around the room, shushing him as much as he could. As he continued to sway gently with Nyx in his arms, the baby began to quiet, his tiny body nestled into Azriels chest as his breaths steadied. With a tender smile, he began to sing, his voice a gentle melody through the darkness, like a whispered prayer.
“I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry,” he sang, “What could I do?”
With each note, Nyx grew more and more relaxed, his eyelids fluttering closed from the gentle cadence and rocking.
“My baby’s love had gone and left my baby blue” he sang, his voice soft and tender, “Nobody knew.”
Azriel watched Nyx’s tiny fingers curl against his chest, his breathing slow and steady and sleep drifted closer.
“What kind of magic spell to use, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder or lightning,” Azriel continued to sing as he wandered carefully over to the crib.
“Dance magic, dance magic dance, dance magic dance,” He lowered Nyx into the soft blue oasis. “Jump magic, jump, jump magic, put that baby’s spell on me, kiss my baby, make her free,” Azriel placed his palm onto Nyx’s chest and continued to rub back and forth soothingly.
“I saw my baby,” He continued, softer, more of a whisper, “Trying hard as babe could try, what could I do?” Azriel dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the lines of the baby's face as he rested his arm on the side of the bassinet and laid his head atop it. “My baby’s fun had gone, and left my baby blue, nobody knew.” Nyx’s soft pink lips fell open slightly as his eyes finally closed and his head fell to the side. Azriel smiled and found his eyes drifting shut as well.
Feyre found them the next morning that way. Nyx sprawled on his back, his tiny fingers wrapped around Azriels, and Azriel, a piled heap on the floor, his wings splayed on the floor behind him with his head still resting against the crib.
Rhys walked up behind her as Feyre motioned him silently. “I guess he does sleep,” she whispered.
“Who?” Rhys chuckled, “Az or Nyx?”
Feyre turned her head to look at Rhys, “Both I guess.”
Rhys asked Feyre if she planned to go in and wake either of them up but Feyre only shook her head, “I think they both could use a little more time.”
With that, Feyre shut the door quietly, leaving the warrior and the babe to sleep a little longer.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acowar#a court of wings and ruin#acofas#a court of frost and starlight#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#acosf#a court of silver flames#acotar memes#sjm#sjmaas#sjmassbooks#sarahjmaas#acotar funny#incorrect acotar quotes#incorrectacotarquotes#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar nyx#nyx acotar#nyx archeron#nyx heir of the night court#feyre#feyre archeron#feyre acotar#feyre archeron acotar#azriel#azriel fanart
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I hate that I Love you
wc. 945
tw. toxic amber, cussing
pairing- Amber freeman x reader
Ever since you were younger you had a certain way you liked to do things.
You liked to have everything organized and structured. But as you learned life always comes with obstacles. Obstacles, you’ve learned, are inevitable.
Just like the obstacle laying beside you.
Amber freeman.
To say you were a perfectionist was an understatement, you had the same routine you stuck to every morning. Wake up, get ready for school, cheerleading practice, homework, get ready for bed, sleep.
Repeat.
Everything was perfect, and then a disruption in your routine happened. Wakeup, get ready for school, bump into Amber Freeman on the way to cheer practice, regret your life choices, homework, get ready for bed, sleep.
Amber was a character for sure, she was bad for you, and you knew that, even now as you sat in her bed, relaxed with your head in her lap while she watched the stab movies for the third time this week.
One year.
You guys have been together for one whole year. And you’ve never felt worse. Crying yourself to sleep at night when she accused you of cheating, arguing over stupid things such as your skirt being a little too short, silent treatment for weeks until you admitted you were wrong even when you weren’t, somehow making you feel like without her you could do nothing, you would be nothing.
You suppose it was your fault as amber would say, “you knew how I was when you first agreed to date me, so what's the problem now”
flashback
You were late.
Of course, as you realized you were going to have extra laps at practice for being late, you started to speed walk down the hallways, not paying attention, you bumped into one accidentally tripping and bringing them down with you. Frantically you looked up to see who you rushed in to and immediately apologized. “I'm so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and I-”
“Shut up” was all she said, glaring at you making you look down in embarrassment.
“I don't need an apology, I need you to watch where you're going”, she looked up and paused, analyzing the girl in front of her. You both looked at each other as if waiting for eachothers next move. You made a move to leave and get out of the awkward situation before she stepped in front of you and said “wait.”
And then it all went downhill from their
now
“Are you even paying attention?” Amber whispered as if not to scare you. You looked up at her before responding, “yeah im just tired, also we’ve seen this movie 10 times already, this month,” Amber rolled her eyes, getting ready to rant about how the stab franchise is worth rewatching, you sighed.
You moved your head off her lap and onto the pillow next to her. “I'm going to sleep” is all you could say before Amber started a new argument with you.
Again.
Amber looked over at you with a frown, “so your tired now, but not when that Olivia girl was talking to you, you seem so energized, but now your tired.”
One moment of peace was all you wanted, you turned to face amber before saying. “Amber, me and Olivia are on the cheer team together, where friends, and friends talk. Also it’s 3am and we have been watching movies for the past 6 hours, I'm tired.” You tried to reason.
Amber quickly responded with “you can either stay up with me and watch movies, or spend the night with Olivia since you seem to like her so much.”
You snapped, this wasn’t that big of a deal based on things Amber has done to you in the past, but it was like everything that had ever made you mad, upset, and sad came to the top. “Amber, my life doesn’t revolve around you and you honestly need to get over yourself!”
Silence.
Amber's eyes widened as if it was crazy that you would talk back to her, so she did what she did best, hurt you. “How can you say that, after all I have done for you, when we first met you were just some weird loner with no friends, I made you who you are, your nothing without me”
“Fuck you Amber, i'm leaving” here you were trying your best and it was never enough for her, you started to get dress as you felt hands wrap around your waist. And just like that happy Amber was back.
Amber smiled at you as if to make the situation better. “I'm sorry, you know how I get, you know I didn’t mean it, please stay,” as much as you wanted to relax into her touch you knew better, so you ignored her and put your shoes on.
“Are you really going to walk home at three in the morning, that's not safe” Amber smiled as she nodded her head to the window, and just now you noticed how dark it was. Weighing your options, you sighed and went to make a move to go outside. She quickly grabbed your wrist before saying “don’t be stupid it’s not safe, stay here, where I can protect you, where I can hold you, you just said you were tired, let's go to sleep.”
Before you could say anything she started pushing you back towards her bed, using her strength to keep you from trying to leave. You tried to leave, you really did but you were tired, it was scary outside, and the way Amber was looking at you right now made your heart melt. So you sighed as she tried to coax you to come back to her bed, you relented, you gave up, and just like that you were back in her arms, back in her bed.
Again.
This was the part in your routine where you regret your life choices.
#scream#scream 6#scream 5#tara carpenter#sam carpenter#amber freeman#amber freeman x reader#amber freeman x y/n#amber freeman x you#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#scream x reader#scream x you#scream x yn
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Cold.
Pairings: Casey Novak x reader.
Summary: Based on 9x19: Cold. The squad is involved in a mess made by Lake without any guidance of what really happened. Casey Novak had made sure to tell all of them that they would do it by the book; reader was willing to do anything as long as it was the right thing to do, but once she finds out her girlfriend is getting too carried away, she has to stop her.
A/n: This was requested by an anon, and lemme be honest with you here...I have rewatched SVU so many times, from season 2 to probably season 19 (mostly because I love rewatching from 2 to 9), but the truth is that I have seen this episode probably 2 times in my life, 3 if we count this time. The way I feel so frustrated that they decided to 'end' Casey's character this way, was so frustrating for me, I actually sobbed knowing Casey wouldn't be back the first time that I watched it. Of course, after that, Casey's farewell was not any better, and I'll forever be mad. So I thank the anon who asked for this request for giving me the chance to rewrite this and pretend as if Casey never actually left. There is some angst, some things I changed, but I do hope you guys enjoy this. Enjoy and leave your comments, reblogs, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻
*not my gif*
For the last five years that Casey Novak had been working in Sex Crimes, she learned that life was definitely not fair, and justice was not what they painted in Law School. She had tried her best to surpass the guilt whenever she lost a case, to move on and go on with the next case, she saw how the squad easily did it. Of course she knew it wasn’t easy, she knew that it also hurt them, and they probably carried it with them for a long time, maybe for their whole life. She had talked about many cases with them, some that they remembered from years ago, some that were never forgotten. She also learned that working with SVU, definitely changed her way of thinking; when she started working with them, she wanted to do everything by the book, because she had heard that sometimes the squad made things they were not supposed to do just to favor them, which of course part of her understood why they did what they did, but she needed to go by the book or the DA’s office would go for her head. She slowly grew up with them, which also meant that her work ethic changed entirely once she learned that sometimes, they didn’t have to go by the book; do it legally, but not exactly in order.
Casey learned that the squad always had each other’s back, and slowly, they started having hers, which made her believe that they had accepted her as part of their family. They had their ups and downs, Casey got on their nerves just as much as they got in hers, she learned to treat them, she learned to go at their same pace, she learned to be part of their squad, and truth to be told, she did not regret anything. Branch and Donnelly had warned her about how the squad worked, and that she had to look out for herself and not exactly them, but Cragen’s words always stuck with her; it was only them, they only had themselves, no one else, and she learned to embrace that. She learned so many things from them, things she’d always cherish, things that would always stay with her, things that still upset her but, they were her family, and she’d do anything for them.
Meeting y/n had been the best part of joining SVU, she was also a new recruit and both of them basically grew together in the job, bringing them together; what started as a friendship, became more as the time passed, and even if it was unexpected, they were more than happy to embrace it. They both learned from each other, and even if y/n was more on Casey’s side than the squads, sometimes y/n had her moments where she really needed to be on the squads side, just because she knew they tried their best. They supported their rights and wrongs, y/n joked that she’d always accept any wrong that Casey did, and she’d be by her side no matter what, and Casey believed the same, she had joked that she’d get y/n out of any possible problem, even if it meant getting herself in trouble; and y/n knew she meant that. Doing it for another person? Y/n would always protect her squad, always. Casey? She would, she loved them. But get as far as losing her job for them? Y/n didn’t think so. Right?
“Casey clearly said we cannot question him, Elliot. Are you really gonna go to the hospital and do exactly what she said we could not do?” Y/n asked as she followed Elliot and Olivia to their car.
“We need to know what we’re dealing with, y/l/n. We’re basically blind here, how are we supposed to help him if he’s not letting us?” Elliot turned to look at y/n as he opened the door of the car.
Y/n shrugged. “Elliot…” she sighed. “I know this is not looking good, we have no idea what really happened here. But we cannot just go and do what we’re not supposed to do. We need to stick to what Cragen and Casey said.”
“We’re just gonna check on him, y/n. Nothing more.” Olivia shrugged as she looked at y/n.
Y/n scoffed. “You don’t even believe that yourself, Liv.”
“If you wanna go by your girlfriend’s rules, we won’t blame you. But don’t try to stop us from doing our jobs.” Elliot said before he got in the car, followed by Olivia.
Y/n sighed as she watched them go. “You know them, and honestly, I don’t blame them.” Melinda said as she stood beside y/n.
Y/n turned her head to look at her. “I don’t like this at all. I know he has a reason for why he did this, but this is not looking any good. Right?”
Melinda sighed as she shook her head. “No, not at all.”
********************
“I take it that you knew Elliot and Olivia were going to the hospital to see Lake.” Casey looked up as y/n walked in her office, closing the door behind her.
Y/n sighed. “I promise that I tried to stop them. They’re stubborn.”
“Just like someone I know.” Casey grinned.
Y/n chuckled softly as she sat on a chair, sighing. “What are we gonna do, Case? Melinda ruled it a homicide.”
Casey shrugged. “Get as much evidence as we possibly can and hope for the best.” She looked at y/n with a serious look on her face. “We need to do this by the book, y/n. We cannot risk anything here.”
Y/n nodded. “I know.” She sighed as she stood up and walked to Casey, pushing her chair, and sitting on her lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. “Everything will be okay, and whatever you need, I’ll be here.”
Casey smiled as she wrapped her arms around y/n’s waist. “I know you will. You’re the only one who listens to me.”
“And they hate me for that.” Y/n chuckled softly.
“You’re just being a good girl.” Casey grinned as she leaned in to kiss her lips softly.
“I am.” Y/n said against her lips, kissing her again but the kiss was interrupted by her cellphone, groaning softly as she pulled it out. “Y/l/n.” She frowned and pulled away from Casey. “I’m on my way.” She hung up the call and looked at Casey. “He’s not at the hospital.”
Casey sighed. “Damnit, Lake.”
“I gotta go, I’ll call you if anything comes up.” Y/n kissed her lips one more time before standing up.
“Please do and be safe!” Casey sighed as she saw her girlfriend go. This was definitely going the wrong path.
********************
“I know what you want me to say, but the science doesn’t support it.” Melinda said as she stared back at Casey.
Casey stared back at Melinda, taking a deep breath. “When the defence gets these lab reports, they might have enough for reasonable doubt.” She stopped for a moment as she stared at Melinda. “Can you live with that?”
Melinda shook her head. “If I have to. Because I sure as hell won’t risk my reputation for a verdict we didn’t earn.”
Casey stared at Melinda for longer than she wanted to, she could tell the stare she was giving her as Melinda took a step back and her face relaxed; Casey was definitely upset, and she didn’t mean to be upset at what she was saying, but none of this was gonna help them win the case. She only thanked Melinda and left the office, walking as fast as she could to get out of the building and get some fresh air. She was frustrated that this was happening, the last thing she had expected was to have to deal with something like this with one of the detectives. She knew they could do dumb stuff, she had to get them out of trouble before, but something like this? Never in a million years did she expect that something like this would happen and that she’d have to solve it. Not only that, but actually thinking about risking her career for it. She decided to go back home as she thought going back to the office was no use, she’d only be frustrated to be there and she didn’t need any interruptions from the squad, so she took all the files home. She was making some notes when she heard the door closing.
“Hi baby.” Casey said softly as y/n walked to the living room, looking up to offer a smile but the look on her girlfriend’s face told her that something had happened. “What’s wrong?” Her smile fainted then, scared that something else had happened.
“Tell me why Melinda called me and told me to make sure you were not about to do something stupid.” Y/n crossed her arms as she stared at Casey, standing right in front of her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Casey simply said.
“Don’t lie to me, Casey. I thought you said we had to do this by the book. You were the first one to say that we could not question Lake, and to have you updated on everything. And now Melinda tells me that you want to risk your job?” Y/n shook her head. “Please tell me she’s just tired and she read the room wrong.”
Casey sighed as she put aside her notepad, looking up at y/n. “If the defense gets this, they’ll have enough proof to let him walk free, and then we’re screwed. We won’t even have a chance to save Lake from this.”
“Casey, I hate to say it and be harsh about it, but he got himself into this fucking mess, he didn’t want our help until he saw he was really drowning. You need to do what you can, and that’s it.”
“If I can do more, trust me, I will, y/n. There’s still a chance.”
“A chance?! And what do you have to do to get this chance, Casey? Hide the evidence? Stop Melinda from testifying?”
“She’ll say what she told me and describe it as best as she can.”
Y/n stared at Casey and shook her head. “Please tell me the evidence was sent.” She stared at Casey with concern on her face. Casey looked down at her hands and sighed. “Fuck Casey…” y/n ran her hands through her hair, starting to pace around the room. “You said we’d go by the book!”
“If we let them have it, we won’t win this case!” Casey stood up from the couch then, feeling frustration wash over her body.
Y/n turned to look back at Casey. “And you think they won’t find out?! It’s Donna for fuck sakes, Casey! It’s fucking Petrovsky! You want to get in trouble?!”
“I’ll say the reports are not complete yet! I’ll send them, just not yet, not by tomorrow.”
Y/n scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you, Casey?! You could lose your job for this!”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?! He’s part of your squad! Other times, I see you guys doing the impossible to be able to get the minimum of evidence, and now you guys are stopping yourselves and doing nothing!”
“Because you told us not to! For once, we’re listening, Casey! And you’re the one screwing around! If you do this, you’re risking your license, and you know it!” Y/n shook her head. “And don’t give me that crap that if this isn’t justice, you don’t wanna do this anymore, because we both know you wouldn’t want to lose your career over something like this.”
“I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. He needs to go to jail.” Casey walked to y/n, trying to stop her from pacing around the living room.
Y/n scoffed, standing right in front of her. “Are you doing this for justice or for Lake?” She raised her brows.
Casey frowned and shook her head. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re gonna tell me that Lake didn’t want to go on a date with you before he found out you and I were dating. Oh, because I remind you that you didn’t say shit about it, and you just played along. Yeah, Fin told me about it.”
Casey scoffed. “Are you doing this because you’re jealous of him? Nothing happened and that was nothing, and you know that! This is not about him.”
“You said it, we’re not doing anything for him. You’re so worried for him, you’re willing to cover up for him and risk your job.”
“I’d do the same and more for you.”
“It’s not me who fucked up.” Y/n snapped, her eyes never leaving Casey’s. “I’m right here, doing exactly what you asked me to do. And I expect you to do the same, Casey.”
“Or what?” Casey snapped.
Y/n shook her head. “I seriously cannot believe you. You’re truly unbelievable. I am not gonna let you do this.” She walked out of the living room, not wanting to look at Casey anymore.
“Where are you going?!” Casey followed her, trying to ignore the range she felt.
“Ask Lake, since you’re teaming up with him now.” Y/n snapped before she walked out of the apartment and slammed the door closed.
Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little jealous at the thought of Casey worrying too much about this case. She knew that Casey was mainly doing this to put that bastard behind bars, she was right, he deserved to go to jail, and he was the only person she could prosecute. If they didn’t win this, Lake would be in more trouble. And it’s not that she didn’t care about him, she did, but he had decided to drown himself until it was too late to ask for help. There was still a slight chance, but even then, there was nothing else they could do to help him. Y/n was angry that Casey was putting someone else before herself, she didn’t care it wasn’t for her, she knew Casey meant it when she said she’d do this and more for y/n, because y/n would do the same for Casey. But the thought of knowing that Casey was going to risk her career over this, made her angry and helpless. She didn’t know where she was going, it was still early, she could either go to the precinct to try to find anything else to help the case, or she could simply walk around to calm her anger. But before she could figure out where she was heading, she was walking inside a building and into the elevator. She kept fidgeting with the promise ring that Casey had given her, trying to control both her anxiety and her anger. As the doors opened, she walked through the hallway and for a moment stood by the door before knocking.
“Come on in.”
Y/n opened the door and took a deep breath. “Donnelly.”
Elizabeth looked at y/n and huffed a laugh. “C’mon, y/n. Drop the mannerisms. Anything I can help you with?”
Y/n sighed as she closed the door and smiled shyly. “I sure hope you can.”
Elizabeth stared at her for a moment before she took her glasses off, putting them on her desk and looking back at her. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“I am. This is about Casey.” Y/n said as she sat down.
“Is she okay? What happened?”
“She’s okay, for now. But I need you to take Casey off the Crane case.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Why would you want me to kick your girlfriend off this case? She’s your ADA. I don’t want to hear if you both had a fight over something stu-“
“She’s thinking about doing something stupid, Liz. And if I’m here, it’s not for you to tell on her, but to help me avoid it before it’s too late.” Y/n stared at her with a serious look.
“I need more than that, y/n.” Elizabeth raised her brow.
“She wants to hold the file that provides the evidence of the case, which is sort of more help to the defense than to us.” Y/n sighed as she shook her head. “I know she’ll hate me for telling you this, I…I might even lose her for this.” She huffed a chuckle. “But Liz…you need to take her off the case. I don’t want her losing her license and I know you don’t want this for her either. You can scold her, suspend her, whatever but please…don’t let her ruin her career. We both know this is not Casey.”
Elizabeth sighed as she shook her head. “Y/n…if she’s willing to do this-“
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing. I know me telling you this has the same risk if she does it anyway. But I want you to consider that I came here so you can stop it before this actually goes further. Please, Elizabeth. I know you don’t want Casey to ruin her career too. Please.” Y/n whispered softly as she felt tears in her eyes.
Elizabeth nodded as she sighed. “I’ll call Melinda and tell her to send me a copy, I’ll send the file myself and assign someone else to the case. I’ll call Casey to come to the office.”
Y/n tilted her head. “Will you report her?”
Elizabeth stared at her for a moment. She shook her head as she sighed. “No. But she will be punished for this. You too know that what she’s doing is not right.”
“And that’s why I came to you for help.”
“I know. I do wish you luck, though.” Elizabeth offered a faint smile.
Y/n sighed. “I think she already hates me. This will only be a bonus.”
Y/n talked to Elizabeth for a while until she decided she’d go back to the precinct to clear her mind for a bit, trying to talk to the rest of the squad, updating herself on where they were with the case. Two hours or so passed before Cragen broke the news that they had a new ADA for the case, and that whatever happened, they now had to inform her instead of Casey. Of course everyone stared at y/n, confused as to what was happening but y/n had no words, she had nothing to say about it, even if she wanted to tell them that it was her fault, that all of this would go to hell because of her, she just didn’t want them to find out yet, she had enough with arguing with Casey, and the last thing she needed was the squad yelling at her.
Eventually, she decided to go home, knowing that as much as she tried to keep herself busy, she couldn’t avoid Casey forever. She took her time to walk back home, missing one subway and then taking her time to walk back home. She took a deep breath once she was right in front of her door, getting her keys and opening the door slowly, noticing that most of the lights were off. She made sure to lock the door, and slowly walked through the apartment, until she noticed that the light for their bedroom was on, perfectly knowing that Casey was there. She took a deep breath before she walked inside the bedroom, finding Casey sitting at the edge of their bed, her arms crossed and her eyes staring at the floor. Y/n thought for a moment to go to the bathroom and give Casey a bit more time, but she was worried and scared of what had happened in Elizabeth’s office, so she decided to accept whatever was coming.
“Casey.” Y/n whispered softly.
“You went to Donnelly.” Casey simply said, her eyes still staring at the floor.
Y/n sighed softly. “I had to, Casey.”
“You didn’t have to do anything. I told you I’d deal with this.” Casey’s voice was low, she was not yelling, she was not going off on y/n -yet-, but y/n could definitely tell that she was filled with anger.
“I was not going to let you lose your job.”
“Even if it meant going to my boss and telling her what I was doing, knowing perfectly that the result could be the same.” Casey finally looked up at her, her eyes puffy and red.
Y/n’s heart sank as she stared at Casey. “Casey…I-I asked Elizabeth to not let you do this, so you didn’t lose your license. I didn’t-“
“She just suspended me. A month without payment.” Casey sighed. “And I’m off the case.”
Y/n almost sighed loudly in relief but knew that it could piss Casey even more. “I’m sorry, I-“
“No, you’re not.” Casey shook her head as she stood up, walking to y/n. “You’re not sorry. You decided to go to her to tell her what I was doing, and you thought you were doing this for me, but you were not. You didn’t want to deal with whatever happened next.”
“Casey, that’s not-“
“You were jealous that Lake was interested in me, that he tried everything to talk to me before he knew we were dating. You were not even thinking about putting that asshole behind bars, and now, he’s definitely not going to, he’ll walk free. And you know what, this won’t be on you, it’ll be on me.” Casey tried to hold back her tears as she stared at y/n the whole time, feeling both anger and frustration taking over her. “One way or another, there was the chance of me losing my license. If Elizabeth would’ve wanted to, I would’ve been called before the bar. Am I supposed to thank you?” She squinted her eyes.
“I did this for you, Casey. Even if it meant you hating me, I did this, so you didn’t lose your license and your job, because I know how much you love this job.”
“You’re right. I do love it more than I love you. I’d do anything for this job.” Casey snapped before she walked out of the room.
Y/n felt her body starting to shake as Casey’s words played over and over again in her mind. She knew Casey would be mad at her, but saying this to her? And the painful thing was that she actually believed that Casey meant it. Y/n sobbed as she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to hold back her tears but it was too late for that. Was Casey gonna leave her after this? What if Casey was right and she did this because she was clouded with jealousy? But no. All she wanted to do was prevent Casey from getting into a bigger problem. She wanted Casey to keep her job and her license, she knew it would be way worse if this was used again Casey in court, not only would Donna bring it up to the jury, but Petrovsky would make things worse, and then Elizabeth would’ve done something more than just suspending her. She did it for Casey. She was only looking out for her, and now Casey was mad. And y/n didn’t know if there would be a chance to fix this.
********************
Y/n had decided to stay at the precinct with the rest of the squad waiting to hear from the ADA how the trial was going. Y/n knew anyway what was going to happen already, and she felt guilty, not letting her squad know what had happened with Casey, what she had done, they were definitely going to blame her. And they had every right, Casey had a right to be mad too. She had not gone back to their apartment at night, getting a call from Elliot saying that Casey had stayed with him, and that they could talk back in the precinct, but she really didn’t want to talk about it. To anyone. Cragen finally came back with the news that the jury was back, and the bastard had walked free, there was nothing they could do, the ADA would try to do it again, but y/n knew that even if they did, there was not much of a chance for them to win. Everything was definitely going wrong, and this had been her fault. And she couldn’t even go to Casey because she was not talking to her, so she had to keep it all to herself. She decided to go lay down for a bit, tears rolling down her tears as soon as her head hit the pillow, quietly sobbing. She didn’t notice the door had opened and Olivia had walked in, she had noticed y/n’s attitude since they arrived early in the morning. She walked slowly to y/n and sat on the edge of the bed, her hand going to y/n’s back.
“Y/n…” Olivia whispered softly.
“I want to be alone.” Y/n cried out, drying her tears.
“Please. Talk to me.” Olivia said softly.
Y/n sat down on the bed, bringing her knees to her chest, and wrapping her arms, wanting to bury her face on them but looked up at Olivia. “I fucked up, Liv.”
Olivia tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“They took Casey off the case because of me.” Y/n sobbed. “I went to Donnelly. Casey was going to keep the file, she was not going to let the defense have it. And I couldn’t let her do that.” She shook her head as she cried. “I couldn’t let her lose her job and her license. I know Donna and Petrovsky. She’s suspended for a month.”
Olivia sighed. “And she’s mad at you.”
“She said she loved the job more than she loved m-me.” Y/n sobbed as she let her head fall to her knees.
Olivia moved to sit beside y/n and wrapped her arms around y/n. “Y/n, sweetheart, you know that’s not true. I know she didn’t mean that.”
“After all these years…I never expected Casey to get mad at me. We both said we would do anything for each other, and now she’s mad at me for this. I only tried to protect her. I knew that her losing the job would hurt too much. I couldn’t bear the thought of her blaming herself for this.” Y/n huffed a chuckle. “And we lost the case. It was my fault.”
“There was no other way of doing this, y/n. And Casey knows it. She was blinded because she didn’t know what to do.” Olivia shrugged. “She also prevented us from doing something stupid. Because she knew we would try anything.”
“She thought I was jealous of Lake. And…she wasn’t entirely wrong. But I didn’t do any of this for him. I did this for her.” Y/n whispered softly as she looked at Olivia. “I’m gonna lose her, Liv.”
Olivia shook her head. “She knows this, y/n. She’s angry. She couldn’t do more, and we both know that’s hard for her. She would’ve done this and so much more for you, and we all know it.”
“I don’t think I’d have let her do this for me.”
Olivia smiled as she tilted her head. “We both know nothing would’ve stopped Casey.”
Y/n chuckled as she nodded. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “But now, I don’t think she wants to see me.”
“It’ll pass. Give it time.” Olivia smiled.
Elliot opened the door and stopped on his tracks for a moment, gaining the attention of both women. “Sorry, but uh…something happened.”
Y/n looked at Olivia for a moment and sighed heavily as they both stood up, following Elliot. Y/n wiped away her tears and tried to push back the pain she felt, she had shown weakness to Olivia, but she couldn’t show it to the others. Elliot didn’t say a word during the whole ride, but y/n knew something bad had happened with the way he was desperate to get to the place. And once there, she noticed the place full of cops and ambulances, feeling her heart sinking as they exited the car and walked to the scene, finding Crane’s body on the floor. She looked to her side and found cops cuffing Lake, he was avoiding their stares, a mix of anger and pride in his face. Y/n then looked to her other side to find Casey standing beside Fin, her heart sinking once again at the look on her face. They all watched how Lake was taken to the police car and that’s when he stared at them. Y/n understood why he did it, but she still wished he would’ve gone to them for help. They all stood there for a moment, not sure what they were supposed to do or if they were supposed to do anything at all. Y/n’s eyes landed on Casey again, noticing how Elliot was now dragging Casey out of the scene and telling her something, and for a slight moment, their eyes met, and y/n wanted nothing more than to run to her and hold her, but she knew she couldn’t. She turned back to look at Olivia, both staring at each other for moment and then staring back at the scene.
********************
Y/n sighed as she closed the door behind her and dropped her keys on the small table beside the door, turning to lock the door and rested her head against it for a moment. She took a deep breath and made her way to her bedroom, debating if she was going to take a shower or she was just going to drop in bed and try to sleep. But as she looked up at the bedroom, she noticed the lights were on, frowning slightly as she walked inside, just to feel like she had deja vu as she saw Casey sitting at the edge of their bed. For a moment her eyes inspected the room, her heart beating fast as her eyes tried to find a suitcase and bags, but the room looked the same as she left it in the morning. Her eyes then went back to Casey’s who was already looking at her, she could see that her eyes were red and puffy just like the last time they had been in the same situation.
“Hi.” Casey whispered softly.
“Hey.” Y/n whispered back, not sure if she was supposed to walk to the bed or just stand where she was. “I uh…I didn’t expect you to be here.”
Casey nodded. “I know.” She nibbled on her lip as she looked down at her hands. “But I needed to talk to you.”
Y/n nodded softly. “Should I start or…”
“I’m sorry.” Casey sobbed, looking up at y/n, her eyes teary once again. “I…I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. I know why you did this, I know that you were only trying to protect me. And I was so mean to you.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said a thing.”
“Casey…”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I know what I was doing was wrong and I was still willing to do it. I had stressful cases, and I just didn’t want another bastard to walk free. But none of this was your fault and I took it out on you, when you just…you were trying to help, and I-“ Casey shook her head.
“I went behind your back, Casey.” Y/n said softly, feeling her own tears form in her eyes. “I should’ve stayed so we could’ve talked about it, and I could’ve helped you. But I was so blinded by anger, I didn’t know what else to do, and my best option was to go to Donnelly.” She shook her head as she took a shaky breath. “We could’ve gone together. I could’ve talked you through it, but I left.”
“You did what you thought was right. You saved me from getting censured and probably losing my license.”
“And I got you suspended for a month without pay. Donnelly must have gone off on you, and I just left you go through it alone.” Y/n sobbed as she looked down at her hands. “And I understand if you want this to end.”
Casey frowned. “What?”
“You said it. You…you love the job more than me. I went behind your back, I could’ve given you the same ending for going to Donnelly and I-“ she sobbed. “Casey, I’m sorry.” She brought her hands to her face as she sobbed.
Casey stood up and went to y/n, wrapping her arms around y/n, pulling her to the bed so they could sit down. Y/n wrapped her arms around Casey’s middle and buried her face on her neck, while Casey placed one of her hands on y/n’s head and kissed her head softly. “Baby, I am not leaving you. What I said…I didn’t mean it. I didn’t think about it. I was angry, I was stressed. And that’s not an excuse, but I truly didn’t mean it.”
“How could you not? I tried to help you and I could’ve done things worse anyway.” Y/n cried out.
Casey moved back enough to look down at y/n, placing her hand on y/n’s cheek to make her look up at her. “Y/n…the talk I had with Elizabeth would’ve been ten time worse if you wouldn’t have gone to her. Yes, she was upset at me…but I’m only suspended for a month. I could’ve been censured. And I didn’t because you stopped me from doing a big mistake.”
Y/n took a deep shaky breath as she looked at Casey. “You mean it?”
“I do, my love. I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that. You were willing to help me and do everything to be here for me, and I pushed you away.” Casey smiled sadly. “I would’ve made a big mistake. But my biggest mistake was to push you away. I cannot lose you, y/n.” More tears rolled down her cheeks as she rested her forehead against y/n’s.
“I cannot lose you either, Casey. I can’t.” Y/n’s hand went to Casey’s cheek and smiled sadly. “We both let our anger take the best of us.” She huffed a chuckle.
“We did.” Casey grinned. “Let’s not let this happen again.”
Y/n nodded. “Ever.”
“Plus, we’re not allowed to breakup, remember?” Casey smirked. “You’re pretty much stuck with me. And now you’re stuck with me for a whole month.”
Y/n grinned as she chuckled. “I’ll ask for a month off so I deal with you.” She smirked. “If we’re mad…we take our time, but we don’t go to sleep mad. We talk about it.”
Casey nodded as she smiled. “Sounds like a deal to me. And you know I don’t normally take deals.”
“I’m the exception.” Y/n smiled.
“You are.” Casey smiled as she leaned down and kissed her lips softly, finally feeling some sort of relief as she had her lover back in her arms.
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If I had a nickel every time my sea prince au designs or ideas were predicted into actual skins and the like, I’d have three nickels, which isn’t a lot but that sure is an interesting coincidence!
I mean, I predicted (accidentally) that Scott would have ginger hair (both in New Life and in Pirates SMP) along with him having heterochromia of orange and blue in New Life! I am IMPRESSED!
Also Martyn being a pirate with scars. I am. I am so interested to what happened to him but I can GLOAT about predicting this-
I’m super excited to what Pirates SMP will give, I’ll definitely have the time to draw their designs together, I just have to at this point!
Here are the designs in case you were curious, I’ll talk about the state of the fic and the future of it after >:)
Alright, fic status!
To celebrate this AU existing for a few months now (starting April) I’ll talk about how it’s going and all that jazz >:D
Currently I’m slowly recovering from my artist’s block and my writer’s block, the announcement of Pirates SMP really is starting something back up again! The fic so far is being written as a summary, the lovely @mewhoismyself is helping me out!
The summary is at 44.6k words. Acts I, II, and III have been completed with IV a fourth done, and Act V is loosely scripted! There will be a LOT going on but I can assure you, you will not want to miss this.
In general, the fic centers around Martyn and Scott’s dynamic as they learn more about each other and the consequences that follow from their feelings. As someone who loves to rewatch the Life Series tho, I’d love to work in the other previous groups and dynamics; I know Scott and Pearl will have an interesting development along with Martyn and Ren.
I gotta be pretty vague about things but I’m excited to share more about these guys!
#the sea prince au#limited life#limited life smp#life smp#life series#trafficblr#traffic life smp#scott smajor#smajor1995#dangthatsalongname#pirates smp#martyn inthelittlewood#martyn itlw#inthelittlewood#majorwood#mean gills
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I've been rewatching HTTYD and of course I had to combine my two interests
John MacTavish (27) is a native to the village, most recognized for his shaved sides and long mohawk. He's the village blacksmith, with an affinity for crafting new weapons, large ones that counter even a dragon's fireball.
Once when he was a teenager, he got his hands on a craftsman's items, and decided that he needed some of it to slick down a part of one of his contraptions. It exploded, as those kinds of things do, into a mass of bubbles and sweet scents, earning him the nickname of Soap.
John Price(37) is a trainer. He was an older viking whose battle seemed all but over when a dragon took his arm. He was still the same, just more experienced, and 10 years older.
He's had a few apprentices, his most recent being a younger man named Kyle Garrick(28), or commonly referred to as Gaz. If you ever ask why he's called that, Price will mutter something about it being "need to know", and he'll sick a particularly nasty dragon on you the next time you train with him.
There's a common pattern amongst Price's protégés.
Most of the times they're outcasts, alone. Gaz's parents were killed in a dragon attack when he was a child, but he didn't consider himself alone. He had plenty of friends, of course he did, there's Soap...-
No but totally, he was fine. He's fought dragons! Sure, he hasn't killed any yet, and sure, Price has saved his ass more than once, but he's come out unscathed!
Most of the time.
But Price's most famous protégé, or shall I even say very close ally, was the Lieutenant: Simon Riley
From the stories, Simon Riley was a man who fought dragons like no other. They both learned from each other, Price and Riley. He was a beast of blades and man, they slayed more dragons together than the entire village combined.
It would be a lie if I said that the two boys didn't look up to him, a lie if Price didn't see Riley in each of them.
It would be an even bigger lie if he hoped they didn't turn out like him, either.
Neither Gaz, nor Soap had ever met Simon Riley.
He was killed in one of the worst dragon attacks the village had seen in its entire 300 years of history.
They descended from the heavens, flying warriors sent from hell, carting off men and cattle, snapping them up in powerful jaws and flame. Price was one of those men, it was how he lost his arm. He was also the only one to survive a personal attack of that scale.
Riley had thrown everything he had to save Price. There were tricks he had up his sleeves, some that not even Price had known, that he used to get the Captain back when even he thought he was done for.
All they knew was that Simon Riley had been killed that night in place of John Price.
Those parts of the stories were left untold.
It wasn't a sensitive subject, but Price had a tendency to shatter the glass he was holding if someone asked one too many times.
It had been ten years since Riley's disappearance. His name was inscribed on the village memorial in the square, a remembrance statue to all the greatest warriors in the village's history.
It was a particularly late night when Price had let Gaz go early, as the dragon tournament was coming up, and he wanted the man to get some rest. That's how both Gaz and Soap were out by the bluffs overlooking the ocean. It was hidden through a mile of brush and trees, but tonight was one of the first clear nights since the winter, and they were excited to see the stars.
It wasn't until stars had started blinking out, half the sky was black, that they realized something was wrong.
"Dragons...." Gaz breathed suddenly, as mouths began to light up, hundreds of feet in the air above them. "It's dragons!"
Gaz pulled Soap to his feet and they began running like their lives depended on it, which in this case, it did.
Their lungs were already sore, their voices hoarse as they shouted to a few men on the outskirts.
"Swarm! Swarm!"
Vikings readied their weapons, and minutes later, the beasts shot overhead. Flashes of red, blue, greens, and yellow, silver glinting unnaturally in the moonlight.
There had been rumors about dragon riders. Those who had tamed the beasts, or maybe found a common ground with them.
There was nothing more dangerous than a man-tamed dragon.
"It's Kingfish!" Someone down the hill had shouted, and Gaz's blood ran cold.
There were whispers about a man they called Kingfish, one who hid in the shadows with armies of the scaled monsters, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting villages and pillage them for himself. No one knew his real name, where he came from, or where the nest was. But everyone knew that once Kingfish set his sights on a village, they were as good as dead.
They saw Price leave his house, half armored, but a fire in his eyes as he heaved his Warhammer behind him, disappearing behind the body of a massive dragon that was scaling the watchtower down by the water.
"Soap! C'mon!" Kyle shouted, dragging his friend down the hill. The Blacksmith paused at his shop window, pulling a few weapons away from the sill and into his arms. They kept running. Soap passed an axe to Gaz, and they ran first to a house that was lit aflame. A few people were tossing buckets of water, while a woman pulled arrows at a Whispering Death.
Farther away, they heard the crunch and splintering of wood, and Gaz looked over in horror to see the watchtower fall, both the dragon and Price going with it.
"No!" He had screamed, all but dropping his axe as he started running like mad down towards the docks. "Captain!"
"Gaz!" Soap was shouting behind him as a trebuchet fired, throwing a large stone at some dragon above him. "Gaz, look out!"
Large, leathery wings kicked up a storm of dust around him as he was tackled to the ground, rocks digging into his knees and elbows as he fought to get the beast's claws out of his shoulders. It pressed his face into the dirt as he struggled to fight against it. It cut through his shirt, digging straight into his skin. He cried out, fighting against it, but his movement was impaired, he wasn't able to swing his axe around to-
The dragon opened its mouth and screamed, the shriek going directly to his ear drums, and springing the worst headache he'd ever had, his head felt like it was going to explode, he couldn't feel his shoulders. Gaz squeezed his eyes shut, praying to Odin to make it stop, make it-
A dagger sunk directly in between two of its center scales, shocking the dragon into dropping him as it turned on its next enemy. Someone was shouting, but Gaz couldn't get his eyes to focus enough on the figure.
They were waving wildly at the dragon, now weaponless, and shouting for its attention. The dragon cocked its head to the side and stepped over Gaz, who was struggling to stand to his feel, his whole equilibrium thrown off from the noise.
And he glimpsed the the mohawk just behind the scales as the dragon lunged forward, grasping Soap in his claws and shooting off into the air.
"No!! Soap!!" Gaz shouted, chasing after the dragon as it flew. He could just see the outline of Soap, struggling, screaming as the claws pierced his leather armor, sinking into his chest. He was too high, and there was nothing Gaz could do, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try. He shoved past people, ran through fights, passing the dark clad enemies of Kingfish's men, all while shouting for his friend, never once taking his eyes off the Whispering Death that was slowly growing smaller and smaller in the night sky.
An arrow pierced his shoulder and he cried out, stumbling, but he kept going forward, ducking behind a house. "Soap! Soap!"
A fireball exploded the wall next to him and he hit the wall hard, his consciousness leaving him before he even realized what had happened.
Soap was helpless as he squirmed, gasps being torn from his chest with the leather apron that fell away into the ocean below. He was gonna die, this was it. He couldn't see the island anymore, but he wasn't giving up. And yet this wyrm of a Whisper wouldn't let up, only shrieked until the pounding behind his eyes made him too lightheaded...
He wasn't sure what was happening when he woke up from a faint, but he sure as he'll knew he shouldn't be plummeting to death, rocketing towards the sea below him in a free fall. "Och! Shi-i-i-ite!" He flung himself onto his stomach, spreading his arms and legs apart to catch the air. His braid had come loose, whistling around his ears as the moonlit waves approached him too quickly.
Something else snatched him up like he was free prey and he shouted out again, the wounds on his chest screaming from the strain. His hands scrabbled at the beast's nails that wrapped around both his shoulders, carrying him like he was precious cargo. This was a different dragon, unfortunately for him. It was red, from what he could see, with long claws and a pale underbelly. There were antennae like appendages that dropped off the sides of its head, fading from red to orange to yellow towards the end, like leaves in autumn. But what jarred him the most was the straps of a saddle that tucked underneath its belly, and wrapped up the sides. There were a few ropes attached to the tail and- oh fuck he was falling again.
"No no no no-!" He shouted, flailing in the free air, before he hit something hard beneath him. But he wasnt.... dead...? No, he was sitting-
He was sitting on a dragon.
There was a man who sat in front of him, blond hair peaking out of his hood and helmet. Most of the helmet covered his face, save for the dark brown eyes glaring at him from behind it. In the darkness, the moon light shone off of the raised texture of pale skin that Soap could see, before smoothing off. He'd seen scars like those around the village, but only rarely. People like him never usually survived dragon's fire.
This person wasn't wearing black like Kingfish's men were. Instead, he was wrapped in a camouflage of browns, greens and furs, similarly to the dragon. He was tense, his shoulders bunched up as he glared at Soap, radiating a dark, or in other words, mysteriously powerful energy.
It occurred to him, then, that he wasn't staring at just a dragon rider.
And it occurred to him, then, that they had been wrong.
This.... this was Lieutenant Simon Riley.
#call of duty#cod mw2#modern warfare 2#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghostsoap#incorrect quotes#captain john price#alejandro vargas#alerudy#kyle 'gaz' garrick#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john price#simon riley#john mactavish#httyd#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#how to train your dragon#call of duty modern warfare
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When in Rome...
Lately I've been rotating the Rome scene in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. It's a very short one -exactly 1 minute of screen time- and yet it feels pivotal in showing the evolution of Aziraphale's and Crowley's relationship. It also includes some interesting references, and it just feels... different from the other flashbacks.
I've been thinking about it so much that I had to go back and rewatch the flashbacks leading up to it. Take my hand (take my whole life too) as I take you on a journey...
3004 B.C. - Mesopotamia
Aziraphale is the one breaking the news to Crowley: God, displeased with the humans, is going to wipe them out with a flood of catastrophical proportions. But fret not! He immediately downplays it: it's probably just the locals. And Noah's family and the animals on the ark are going to be fine. And then God will give them a "rain-bow"! Whatever that is, it's the promise it won't happen ever again.
That... doesn't sit too well with Crowley. "Not the kids! You can't kill kids!" he points out (does he mean human kids or goat kids? Probably both), and he scoffs at the rain-bow thing.
But quick comes Aziraphale's rebuttal:
You can't judge the Almighty, Crowley!
... perhaps too quick, like a line he's been fed and he internalized. Like he's subconsciously trying to justify God's actions to himself, more than to Crowley.
As it starts to rain, the crowd around them stands unaware of their own imminent fate.
2500 B.C. - The Land of Uz
Aziraphale learns, very much to his disbelief, that despite Job being a good man, his fate has been determined by a bet between God and Satan.
Here, he gets both to see Job's despair first-hand, and to exercise his own free will.
He teams up with the "enemy"; he lies to Gabriel; he gets a taste of self-agency and a taste of the oxrib (aka worldly pleasures). He gets to do the right thing and save the kids (human and goats alike), learning in the process that his and Crowley's conditions are not too dissimilar: they both feel lonely.
By the end of it, Aziraphale is sure he will get punished by God.
And then... nothing happens.
33 A.D. - Golgotha
Aziraphale and Crowley witness the crucifixion of Jesus.
"Your lot put him on there."
"I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley."
Unlike with Job, Aziraphale has no say and no power to stop what's happening. Despite that (and in contrast to the flood scene) he empathizes with Jesus: asking if Crowley knew him; recoiling as he watches him being nailed to the cross; acknowledging that all it took was him saying "be kind to each other".
Notice how the events shown in the flashbacks get progressively close and personal.
From the undefined crowd at the flood, to Job and his family, to this "very bright young man": yes, God has honoured the promise to not wipe humanity out ever again; that doesn't make the smiting/destruction/suffering any less painful and unjust.
There doesn't seem to be any logic, nor compassion, to God's decisions. There doesn't seem to be any immediate consequence, too, to going against them (if you're clever enough about it). I think that -as much as Aziraphale wants to keep believing in God's ineffable plan- he must feel, in some capacity, that it's all rather... pointless.
I think that here, in front of the grueling, graphic death of a single man, Aziraphale's moral journey reaches its (first?) breaking point.
In fact, where do we find him next?
"8 years later" (41 A.D.) - Rome
Aziraphale and Crowley meet again very shortly after - relatively speaking, at least (even the scene's title card highlights that: just "8 years later".)
This time around, there's no grand event happening: it's seemingly by chance, they run into each other in a tavern. Well, Crowley is there for "a quick temptation", which is not out of order considering the setting: Caligula's Rome, *the* time and place for decadence and dissolution. And Aziraphale?
He's just... there.
Well, in a scrapped scene from the script book he said he was there to "influence a boy named Nero, get him interested in music". But that didn't make it on screen - though maybe it's still relevant, as you'll see in a moment.
Thing is, he's been there for a while. Unlike Crowley with his odd-looking attire, Aziraphale blends in with the locals and with their customs: wearing a rather pretty tunic; toasting with a "salutaria"; playing a Roman board game by himself. Drinking wine and planning to check out "a new restaurant".
...if he's even talking about an actual restaurant, that is. It's all in this post (check out the comment section too) - but to sum it up: the first thing Aziraphale does is inviting Crowley out (actually, tempting him!) to try "Petronius' new restaurant". Petronius, the notorious "master of elegance" at Nero's court. And by "master of elegance", we mean he was in charge of everything concerning luxury, aka making the court's parties as lavish as possible. Petronius, who was described as a hedonist and an excess seeker. Aziraphale has heard "he does remarkable things to oysters". If that doesn't sound like tongue-in-cheek for some pleasure other than just food, I don't know what does.
In short, it looks like Aziraphale is on vacation, and a rather enjoyable one.
I think he's had about four thousand years to let everything sink in: where Heaven and Hell stand, God's plans and what they mean to humanity (and I'm not even considering what we didn't see: the first war, or Sodom and Gomorrah, or any other horror he might have witnessed).
I think that after Jesus' crucifixion, he was like: fuck it, where can I take a break from all this? Where's *the* place I can most indulge in... being as much human as I can get to be?
And of course he ended up right there. And as the saying goes... when in Rome, do as the Romans do.
I think Aziraphale is having his hot girl summer, and not even God knows what he's been up to.
#good omens#good omens meta#well “meta” might be a generous term lol. musings?#aziraphale#crowley#oh how I wish the Rome flashback showed us more#to be expanded on/continued? possibly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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I watched the Netflix series and I liked it.
Is it different from the original? Yes, but does that make it worse? Personally I wouldn't say that.
And all because what is important is not how clearly the story develops in the footsteps of the original, but how logical it is within the given rules of the series.
Shyamalan's film was bad not because it didn't retell the cartoon, but because it was extremely illogical and stuffy (for example, the earthbender prison in the ravine was extremely stupid). Here the given rules were followed, so I think the adaptation was a success.
Did they change any characters or character arcs? If it fits into the events, the experienced backstory, and also creates new arcs, then everything is fine.
Is Katara not as fierce as in the original? But that doesn't mean she's not a character at all. I saw the growth from a frightened girl into a strong warrior, and it fit into story.
Is Sokka not sexist? But he learned to understand what it is like to be a real warrior and what is necessary for this.
Aang isn't making jokes at every turn? But he's a child in a world of war, which is merciless to everyone, including him.
For every change, we're offered an alternative that creates a logical progression for each character with a beginning, middle, and end to the arc. Does this completely change the character? Well, do you need absolutely the same thing that was in the cartoon?
If you want a specific reading of the story, then rewatch the original, it's not a problem. However, the Netflix series gives us something that many adaptations don't have - a different look at the same events. We were encouraged to look at characters and events from a different angle, and I personally loved that angle.
I consider this a competent adaptation, because all the elements of the original worked in the folded mechanism of the new interpretation.
Are there any errors in it? Of course, at the very least, the narrative and conversations into the camera remind me of Shyamalan’s technique, and this sometimes hurts the ears. Some actors sometimes don't finish their performances, and I also didn't really like the piling up of subplots in Omashu, etc.
But here's the thing, having cons doesn't make the show bad. Every adaptation has imperfections, this is quite normal. And to forget about the pros because of the cons is quite pessimistic, especially since the series didn't deserve such condemnation. There's too much effort involved to turn a blind eye to them.
I advise you to take this as fan fiction. And, as for me, this is an extremely well-developed fanfic that can tell the same story in a new way.
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I'm watching Moon Knight (again) to help me go to sleep and I've rewatched episode 1 so so many times on nights like tonight but I still absolutely adore all the little details.
Like, okay so when Steven wakes up in the Alps (I think that's where it is), Khonshu says "go to sleep, worm" and okay, first watch and without knowing the context of Jake existing, that makes sense. Khonshu doesn't like Steven which we learn more and more as the series goes on but then he says a few lines later "the idiot's in control" in that same scene in the Alps.
There is such a clear shift in attitude between 'go to sleep, worm' and 'The idiot's in control' and it's so obvious on a rewatch that Khonshu is talking to two different people with each line.
He's referring to Jake as 'worm' and he thinks that telling him to simply 'go back to sleep' would work because Jake is aware of the alters and their situation. Although from the brief glimpses we get of Jake, we know that he is an... interesting guy yet we can gather that he at least has some sort of alliance/respect/something going on with Khonshu. However, when he realises it's Steven, it's not hostility in the same way. It's more exasperated frustration. He's mad at Marc for letting Steven suddenly appear rather than being annoyed at Jake for making a random appearance. The way that the dialogue is written just exposes so much on a rewatch.
But going back to Jake/Khonshu even if they do have some respect, it's also pretty obvious that Khonshu does not want Jake around. I'd speculate that that's probably because if Marc loses time when he knows that he's not in London as Steven, that would create suspicion. Suspicion that Khonshu wouldn't want because that would put their avatar/God relationship at risk.
Though, I also suspect that Khonshu and Jake probably were working together but Marc never became aware because Jake worked at nights (maybe why Steven is so goddamn tired) or simply took over while Marc thought that Steven was in control.
I know that the Moon Knight portrayal is not the most accurate DiD portrayal but from my research, there's this whole idea of like different levels of awareness. Like the blackouts for Steven are because he initially has no awareness of the other alters. Then when Steven and Marc black-out, it's because neither of them are aware that there is a third alter aka Jake. Which means that Jake can do things for Khonshu while Marc believes that he is in London and neither Marc nor Steven would be aware.
I'm kind of just rambling about the show at this point but also, what I find really interesting every time I rewatch is the date thing. So, right, if Marc was the one that set-up the date why would he let Steven stand her up without saying anything to her? Marc isn't exactly the best guy when it comes to romance but he is incredibly protective over Steven because he wants to protect him from Khonshu. So, why in the world would he let the whole date rejection thing happen?
Because it wasn't Marc. It was Jake. Jake asked out Steven's colleague and that also makes sense why they went to a steak place. Jake doesn't give a f*ck about Steven's veganism while Marc absolutely would. Marc wants to protect Steven so he wouldn't make such a silly mistake.
But Jake would. Honestly, at this point, convinced that Jake just wanted to fuck with the Moonboys and Khonshu just played along.
I don't know.
I always find the dynamics of the Moonboys so interesting and I love how even when you rewatch it, there are new little discoveries that you can make. Like there was so much love, thought and attention put into this show?? It makes me SO SO happy.
This show honestly means the world to me and excuse the ramble/rant but I just love talking about my Moonboys and I never really get to speculate or discuss the show. I talk about it with my dad but being at uni means that I do not get to ramble at him as often. So, tumblr gets it instead.
But yeah, they're my (not very) astute observations about my beloved Moon Knight
#moon knight#marc spector#moonknight#moon boys#steven grant#jake lockley#ruby rambles#moon knight system#ramble post#moonknight is my comfort show <3#i miss my moon boys#sleepless night with ruby <3
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Can we please get Loona x Male Sinner Reader? Thanks for your time!
Oh boy, I'm not the best at writing for male readers, but I'll do my best!! Hope you like it <33
Song Recommendation:
Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding
Part 2
The Intern - Loona x Male Reader
"I swear, I'm gonna shoot myself if Blitz has me get him one more cup of fucking coffee," you grumbled, setting down the plastic cup full of the hot liquid.
"Well, that's what an intern does, Y/N," Moxxie said. "They run errands, get coffee, get lun-"
"I get the point, Mox," you mumbled, running your fingers through your H/C hair. "Did you guys need anything?"
"Nah, we're good," Millie said. "Thanks Y/N!"
"Mhmmm,"
"Y/N!!! WHERE'S MY FUCKING COFFEE?!"
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" you cried out, grabbing the coffee cup, starting to walk towards Blitzo's office.
"You better get in there," Loona joked. "You don't wanna see him without his coffee."
You turned your head, hoping to hide the blush creeping up on your face. "He's not that scary,"
At that moment, Blitzo came out of his office, looking very tired and very angry.
He looked scary.
"Y/N, if you don't give me my coffee right now," he said in a deadly calm voice. "I will rip your dick off and shove it down your throat and out of your ass you FUCKING CUNT LICKING BITCH!!!
You looked over at Loona, smirking at you because she was right.
"Sorry Blitz," you muttered, handing him the coffee cup. "Here's your coffee sir,"
He swiped the coffee cup from your hand and chugged the whole thing.
"Ah! Now that's much better!" Blitzo said, stretching out his limbs, throwing the empty coffee cup at your head. "Now go get me some booze."
"What kind would you like, sir?" you grumbled.
"I don't fucking know, anything to get me drunk off my ass," he said, walking back into is office. "It's a get drunk off my ass kinda day."
"Right away Blitz," you mumbled as he slammed his office door.
"You want me to come with you?" Loona asked.
"Oh-uh" you stuttered. "Only if you want,"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What's Earth like?" Loona said suddenly, as the two of you walked back to I.M.P headquarters.
"A lot better than Hell, that's for sure," you chuckled, swinging the bag filled with beer.
"How did you die?" she asked.
"What's with all the questions, Loona," you joked. "I was driving home drunk one night and t-boned someone."
"Damn," Loona said. "That sucks, I'm sorry."
"It's whatever,"
There was an awkward silence for a moment.
"Why did you decided to intern at I.M.P?"
You had to think about it for a moment.
"I guess I wanted to learn to protect myself against the exterminators," you said. "And what better way to learn than from assassins."
Loona stayed quiet.
"I don't know if I'm gonna stay an intern, though," you said, rubbing your bicep. "I might just check in to that redemption hotel."
"Well if you do," Loona began. "We'll stay in contact, right?"
"Yeah, of course,"
You and Loona awkwardly smiled at each other. Blush creeping onto both of your faces.
"Hey, you wanna get a bite to eat?" Loona asked, pointing to a fast-food place across the street.
"Sure," you said.
"Blitz would throw a fucking hissy fit if he found we were hanging out,"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU SAW MY LOONY AND THAT HPV HAVING PRICK LEAVE TOGETHER AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!?!"
"I-I didn't think anything of it sir-"
"IF THOSE TWO END UP PLAYING TONSIL TENNIS, I SWEAR TO GOD MOX, I WILL FUCK YOU AND YOUR WIFE SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOUR DAD WILL FEEL IT IN HIS MOBSTER BOSS BALLS!!!!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I haven't written for Helluva Boss before, so I hope it's good lol. I also need to rewatch the series. Hopefully we get a new episode soon lmao.
Remember to drink lots of water and stay safe <33
xoxo, Izzy
#helluva boss#helluva boss x reader#loona#loona x reader#hazbin hotel#blitz#blitzo#moxxie#millie#moxxie and millie
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Love Supremacy - brain rot part 1
So I have a problem. I enjoyed the first half of Love for Love's Sake without knowing I would get absolutely bowled over by the second half. I have so much to say holy fuck, I'm all over the place.
Unfortunately for everyone, my brain has been love supremacied, and I'm unable to move on. The show has a high rewatch value. It’s full of details; big, important ones, and small, insignificant ones, but they all add a lot of weight to the story. I need to exorcise my thoughts for my own sake. I guess if I have to intellectualize it somewhat, I really liked the show cause it’s perfectly balanced in terms of structure, and its themes. Judging from the amount of notes I have made on this show on my second watch, it’s safe to say it’s got some substance. It cleverly uses a mise en abyme, “a story within a story (within a story)” to really stack all those layers, and answer an age-old, quite difficult question: “what’s crucial to a happy life?” Dialogues, scenes, characters, and motifs all echo, mirror, and circle back to one another, giving the story enough dimension to avoid banalities.
Simply put, the thesis of the show is surprisingly philosophical, with universal themes. It posits that life is neither fate nor chance, and the answers are in mundane details of life. "Happiness is hidden somewhere in each of our days."
It’s obviously about love; a double love story even. Myung-ha learns to love someone else, and himself too. It's about life, and it's about death, new beginnings, and everything in between. The show made me feel like this, and like this, and like this, and...
▶️1. Mirrors/Symmetry
2. Fate, Free Will, and Happiness
3. Game/Reality
The story structure is very symmetrical. Circular almost. I LOVE IT, I EAT IT UP LIKE A HUNGRY, GRUBBY GOBLIN. Things begin where they end, elements keep repeating themselves like a series of mirrors.
By going through the game, Myung-ha finds himself on the other side of the mirror: he is supposed to find his own happiness, and will to live.
Yeo-woon is introduced to the audience as a sad side character in someone else’s story, victim of his “fate.” He almost perfectly mirrors Myung-ha: his background is eerily similar to his. He was raised by his (recently deceased) grandma, with an absent mother and a dead-beat dad. He’s lonely, unhappy.
When Myung-ha first meets him, Yeo-woon is resolutely standing on top of a building, about to fall or jump, which directly parallels Myung-ha's own suicide. In this new iteration of life, in this “game,” he saves Yeo-woon from hurting himself, which is the start of his own salvation. Saving Yeo-woon, the poor guy who didn’t get his happy ending, is saving himself. Yeo-woon is like a version of him right before he lost control of his life, after his grandma died, and he felt abandoned by all. It’s the core of the game, and the core of the drama, but Myung-ha (and we, the audience) can’t understand it right away.
Several details, in retrospect, show that he is the driving force behind this "game", and that it’s, by lack of a better term, both a test (as in, an exercise, a learning mechanism) and a Test (as in, an exam you don't wanna fail.) Myung-ha’s main, most important mission is to “make Yeo-woon happy.” Which he happily and enthusiastically tackles. He does what we all do: he takes a liking to the character most relatable to him. Time and time again, the way he reacts when presented with someone who struggles the same way he did is very telling.
He provides comfort. The comfort he lacked in his own life. (distant sounds of my heart shattering.)
But Yeo-woon isn’t the only one mirroring elements of Myung-ha’s life. Sang-won is a careless, tough-looking student, who seems slightly directionless. He picks fights easily and has a reputation at school for being “crazy.” He also smokes and rides a motorcycle (both illegal lol). His mom having abandoned Myung-ha, it’s also relevant to note Sang-won doesn’t seem to have a very good relationship with his own mother, and craves her attention. Although, he is your typical badboy, he is overall nice, sensitive, and has good intentions.
Myung-ha himelf appears to have been quite the turbulent student, with his own “mad dog” nickname. He, just like Sang-won, knows a thing or two about school fights, also drives a bike (lmao 100% sure he didn’t wait to have a license to drive though). Although he berates Sang-won for his rebellious side, with the patronizing tone of someone who’s done it all before, he shows genuine care.
Finally, Kyung-hoon. To me, he’s like another facet of Myung-ha’s personality. An absolute sweetheart, without friends, but always ready to help, and open to be befriended. While Myung-ha seems nonchalant about speaking badly of himself, he cannot stand it from others. He makes him his friend on the spot.
Once again, he provides like-minded friends the safe space he probably would have liked as a troubled, most certainly depressed teenager. Of course, it turns out Yeo-woon hates himself the most too (and by extension, dislikes everyone else.) It's the first clue for Myung-ha to realize some self-love might be the answer.
As it will become increasingly clear, Myung-ha has no issues protecting, providing for, and loving others, but fails to realize he should do the same for himself to achieve balance, and maybe, a little bit of happiness. The journey to get there makes him care for someone else the way he should care for himself, love someone else, like he should love himself.
The last episode does a wonderful job of confirming what seemed to be threaded through the whole show, and explaining very clearly, in no uncertain terms, what it was all about.
However, the interesting aspect of this “mirror world," is that all of them, and Yeo-woon in particular, flip the script, in more ways than one. They all are a reflection of Myung-ha's life, but transcend their condition of “fictional character.” They’re not virtual. Yeo-woon is not made of something unreal, and he’s not a messed up copy of someone else. He has his own needs, desires, and quirks.
I don't think I can name them all here, but one of my favorite circular storytelling moment happens when Yeo-woon parallels Myung-ha by running to "find his fave." That moment in ep 8 counterbalances the one in ep 1.
Nothing is written in stone, and both of them set off to build their own happiness, against fate.
#love for love's sake#lfls#love supremacy zone#love for love's sake meta#the number of rambling sections i had to cut out#i'm feral :(#there's a part 2 and 3 coming too like i need help
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COD boys x Falcon!Reader
I was rewatching mcu stuff so guess what.
tags: situationship because I like my men emotionally inept, Redwing, gender neutral reader, Ghost x reader, Alejandro x reader, Soap x reader, Gaz x reader,
Ghost
the respect he has for your skills are unsaid, and more powerful for it
if the current mission requires aerial forces, he'll have less worry on his mind knowing you're up there too
although he does acknowledge the concerns of his men, he always says “Falcon is up there” as if that’s an answer (it is to him)
one time, you were making hardware changes on Redwing
Ghost arrived and sat down nearby, handing you tools and bits that you needed
you give him a critical, teasing glance, "How do you know which ones I need?"
"I learn." was all he said
"There's not exactly a lecture room at base to discuss my tech."
"I learn from watching you."
you stare at him for a second longer, toes curling inside your boots, and then accept the piece he handed you "Does that mean you are interested?"
at that, Ghost moved to leave "I came here for some peace and quiet, but if you insist..."
"Hey, come on Ghost. I'm just messing with you. Sit down."
he chuckled as he returned to his seat
you ignored the way your gut dropped thinking of your poor chances at something with him
you cleared your throat "Soap being annoying again?"
"What's new?" he sighed, exhausted and fond at the same time
Alejandro
he is responsible for your other title "Anghel de la Guardia"
at first, he wanted to have a turn at the wings
mainly to find new ways to put his life at risk smh Alejandro, meaning you tease him by constantly refusing
one time, your equipment was compromised and as Colonel, he had to make snap decisions to help you land as safely as possible
as soon as your harnesses from the flickering, sparking technology were removed, Alejandro practically ripped it away across the floor to check your safety
the nearly-childish awe he felt for it was reduced to nothing if it meant he would lose you
Rudy had the equipment moved, then urged everyone else to take inventory and leave the colonel to you
Alejandro joined you on the floor, one hand on the side of your neck, and another hand to your hip, demanding "are you okay?"
"I'm okay," you forced yourself to ignore how warm his touch felt through your suit. "Relax, Colonel. I survived."
"Barely!" he snarled through his teeth. He was trembling. "I thought we agreed not to be stupid without each other, ah?"
Alejandro didn't have you grounded, but also kept a closer eye when you returned to the air
"Careful. You're beginning to act like an overprotective lover."
"You need someone like that."
"Are you offering?"
"Are you going to say yes?"
any traction made on the unnamed thing between you and Alejandro was interrupted by the next mission, and it went to the back of your minds once again
Soap
everyone else, from Gaz to the medics to the other lads at base have mentioned how Soap doesn't shut up about the Falcon and their barrel rolls and close shaves and smooth banking...
he is in awe of your flight training and damn it he'll make everyone appreciate it
with you, he manages to keep things more or less professional, and never asks about your specialty unless it directly influenced the current objective of the team
he's always your first responder on comms and the last person to check on you after a successful mission
Johnny is so endearing to the point that you offered a test run with him, but he politely declines, teasing "you look prettier up there than I ever could"
during one mission, Soap talked his way into the bad end of several guns outdoors
he recognized you hovering behind their heads and began to boast "Your time is up. 141 is here."
naturally, his hostage takers looked left and right, deciding Soap was a delusional liar
"Look up."
You've gotten close enough to throw two good kicks, grabbing Soap by the arm as your wings reformed into a shield against the gunfire
"My hero." Soap grinned
"You're good at this damsel thing." you quip back. "Injuries? Guns?"
"No injuries. One handgun." the bullets began to grow less and less
"You'll survive." when they began to reload, your shield returned to its default form, and Soap rushed around you to start a counterattack
Gaz
considering Gaz's rather complicated relationship with helicopter crashes, things changed a bit when you were added to the team
You easily developed a habit of swooping in to save him that it reached a point where you coded a program specifically for Gaz's accidents he jokes that it's because he's your favorite
Gaz would say that he's become more careful with himself, but the rest of the team vehemently argue that he's gone more reckless than usual
The madman tossed himself over the tumbling, screeching body of the chopper and into the air before allowing you time to lock in on his location
tiny, reliable drones immobilized the propellers of the helicopter as you tackled Gaz
"You're an absolute jerk!" you laugh over the comms, your thrusters increasing in power to reach him faster. "Redwing, propellers!"
The usual, relieved "Falcon's got him" is heard over the comms
Gaz seems like the type to be genuinely interested in the details of a technology such as this, and has gone on for hours bouncing ideas back and forth with you
It was this interest and curiosity that positively influenced Gaz's perspective and affections for you
plus, he's the type to ask nicely to help in a test flight... and make those wings look good
#call of duty x reader#Ghost x reader#Alejandro Vargas x reader#call of duty ghost#cod ghost#call of duty alejandro#cod alejandro#alejandro vargas#simon riley#simon riley x reader#call of duty#modern warfare 2#soap mactavish#cod soap x reader#soap mctavish#johnny mactavish x reader#cod soap#mw2#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2
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