#if he prefers anything it's people who can kick his ass
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A reminder that Tim Drake does not have a "blonde type" like Dick Grayson has a "redhead type"
I swear to all that's canon, people look at Steph and Bernard and just assume Tim has a thing for blondes. Let's recap, shall we?
Ariana Dzerchenko
Sure doesn't look blonde to me! She's legit his first girlfriend, btw.
Darla Acquista
Hmmm, again, not very blonde.
Zoanne Wilkins
Quite frankly, I'm seeing a very different pattern develop here . . .
Tam Fox
Now I know y'all aren't sleeping on Tam, right?
Crossovers and Minor by way of comics standards romances (but not blonde):
Madison Payne (redhead) - in a relationship with one of the future versions of Tim
Lynx II (black hair)
Jubilee (black hair)
Barbara Gordon (redhead) - specific to the Batman: Arkham Knight video game
And now, your blondes:
Stephanie Brown
Greta Hayes (DEBATABLE! one sided on Greta's part, Tim did not reciprocate)
Cassie Sandsmark (also a bit of an arguable one)
Bernard Dowd
So tell me, does he have a preference for blondes? Does he really?
#tim drake#tim drake does not prefer blondes ok?#if he prefers anything it's people who can kick his ass
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I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.
Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.
Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.
Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.
Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.
Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.
Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.
Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.
Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.
Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.
Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.
#bg3#bg3 headcanons#bg3 party#do i need to tag all these idiots#lae'zel#karlach#shadowheart#astarion#gale#gale dekarios#wyll#wyll ravengard#halsin#jaheira#minsc and boo#minthara#does this count as#bg3 meta#lol#raphael doesn't drive he has a chauffeur#the chauffeur is haarlep who was paid by mephistopheles to drive his dumb shit kid around and pretend like he's not getting paid
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Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests but if you are can you do a Slytherin boy(preferably Mattheo, Theo, or Enzo but you can choose) x reader. So the reader was walking down the hall and they heard chanting and cheering so they went to check it out and they saw the Slytherin boy in a might. Their face was really bloody and already starting to bruise so the reader tries to break up the fight, but ends up accidentally getting hit. Before the Slytherin boy can do anything the reader punches the other person in the face and then drags the boy back to his dorm to clean him up. And the boy is just kinda awestruck by what he just witnessed, and he just admires the reader as she cleans and patches him up. Sorry that this turned out to be so long 😭 have a lovely day!
The Knockout Chronicles
Theodore Nott x Reader
Mattheo Riddle x Reader
Enzo Berkshire x Reader
warnings - cursing, blood, fighting
a.n. i am taking requests esp for the slytherins :)
sooo... I couldn't decide who to write this for so I just did all three I hope that's okay. also this is my first time writing for Mattheo and Enzo so please let me know if there's something off regarding their characters I tried to do as much research as possible.
i was so freaking excited to get a slytherin request that i literally wrote this all in one sitting so i apologize for any typos or anything. please feel free to send more slytherin requests!!
wc 1.9k (each piece is about 500-600 words)
nav slytherin boys
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You yanked exhaustedly at the tie, finally undoing the loop and pulling the damned thing off your neck. After a long day of O.W.L's all you wanted was to find your boyfriend and collapse into his arms. Whether it was your dorm or his made no difference to you so long as you didn't have to do anything more for the remainder of the evening.
As you walked the corridor in search of your now missing little snake, you heard the distinct hollering and shouting of what was likely a fight taking place. Typically, you'd be there either watching or taking bets, but today was different. There was a tired in you that settled into your bones.
The gentle glow of the setting sun lit up the castle walls with beautiful hues of pinks and oranges as you debated the merits of actually going to get involved in this affair when suddenly, you heard a student call out a familiar name.
THEODORE
"YEAH! Go on Theo, kick his ass!"
You closed your eyes, leaned your head back, and took deep breaths as you attempted to suppress the rage currently building within you.
All you wanted was a peaceful, quiet evening in Theo's arms.
Nonetheless, you quickly advanced toward the noise. Despite having heard students cheering and chanting for him, you were still rather surprised to see your boyfriend on top of some poor Ravenclaw boy, beating the absolute snot out of him.
Theo's fist came down punch after punch. Unlike the loud atmosphere of the students who'd gathered, Theo fought in complete silence. Still, though he seemed calm and controlled, you knew that you had to put an end to it.
It wasn't often that Theodore Nott got into fights. He didn't like to let his emotions get the better of him. In fact, emotion was something his father had tried to beat out of him at a rather early age. But when he did get into fights, Theo was ruthless. He could beat someone to death and never change expression. In fact, most people avoided conflict with Theo entirely due to the boys ability to deliver blow after blow for hours on end.
This Ravenclaw boy didn't seem to get the message. You approached the pair of them and placed a gentle hand on Theo's shoulder. His fist froze mid-swing.
"That's enough, Theodore."
Your appearance gave the Ravenclaw the momentary distraction he needed to wriggle out from underneath. The boy immediately lunged at Theo as soon as his feet touched the ground. However, in his reckless abandon, his elbow found it's way to your cheek and hit you on the side of the face with an audible thud, effectively whipping your head sideways.
The courtyard fell silent.
For the first time since their fight began, Theo's emotionless front cracked. He was seething with pure rage.
"Listen, man, I-- I didn't mean--"
Even those that weren't deterred by Theo's reputation and had decided to fight him anyways knew that there was only one person in this world that Theodore Nott cared for. You. And if anyone ever messed with you, Theo was more than happy to provide them with a brutal trip to the afterlife.
But the punch that broke the boy's jaw wasn't delivered by Theo.
You shook your hand out, not expecting your knuckles to pop in the way that they did when your fist met his face. The force of your punch had knocked the Ravenclaw to the floor. Two of his friends suddenly pushed through from the crowd and picked him up as quickly as possible before the three of them took off down the hall.
You didn't say anything as you grabbed the arm of Theodore's shirt. You plucked his robes off of the floor and stormed out of the courtyard, towards the Slytherin Common Room. Theo was silent the entire walk there. It wasn't until you were perched on his lap, cleaning the cuts on his face and hands that he spoke.
"Merlin, all this time you've been able to throw a punch like that?"
"Keep fucking playing with me Theodore, and you'll find out just how mean of a punch I can throw."
MATTHEO
"C'mon Riddle!"
"Goddamnit." You huffed out as you barged through the doors that led to the one-eyed witch courtyard. Mattheo, whom you were unfortunately in a relationship with, was rather engaged in a surprisingly brutal fight with Stewart Ackerley, a Gryffindor in your year.
His shirt and hands were covered in deep red splotches which you could only assume were Stewart's blood. Mattheo had probably the roughest upbringing of anyone you'd ever known. He'd always been hotheaded and he was always getting into fights. The number of entanglements he'd been in had died down considerably since the two of you began dating but it wasn't hard to get Mattheo riled up if you knew what button to push.
And Stewart Ackerley had damn near broken that button when Mattheo overheard him scheming with his disgusting friends about trying to get you into his bed.
Something that you noticed really early on into dating Mattheo is that he's not like other students. His troubled childhood and his unfortunate parentage meant that he had a darkness in him. He'd joked on more than one occasion that the real him was a monster that he kept chained up in the back of his mind.
Most importantly, when Mattheo fights, he lets the monster loose. He's complete, uncontrolled chaos as soon as that adrenaline hits his blood. It's like getting into a fistfight with a hurricane.
You carefully approached the pair of them, careful not to get too close.
"Mattheo stop it."
Mattheo's body flew around to face the source of whoever had been brave enough to scold him. It was likely this person would be the next target of his rage. That is, until his eyes met yours. He took a deep breath that did nothing to stop the way his body shook with rage.
Once you'd decided it was safe enough to draw near to him, you wiped away a bit of Ackerley's blood that had splattered onto his cheek.
It seemed, however, that the beating he'd received wasn't enough to deter the stupid Gryffindor. Moments later, he was blindly throwing his fists towards Mattheo. His vision was too impaired by blood and sweat to notice the figure standing next to him and in a moment of sheer ignorance, he'd mistakenly punched you in the face instead.
The taste of iron filled your mouth as blood started to pool. His blow had caused you to bite down on your tongue quite hard.
Mattheo instantly grabbed Ackerley by his collar but before he could punch the boy, he'd doubled over in pain from a swift kick that you'd delivered to his groin. While he was bent over, you swiftly pulled your knee up, satisfied with the crunch noise his nose made as it came in contact with your knee.
Ackerley let out a rather unbecoming shriek as he fell to the ground.
Mattheo stood off to the side with a proud look on his face. He smirked and flipped Ackerley off as you yanked him from the scene.
When you made it back to the Slytherin Common Room, Mattheo pulled you into a rather intense kiss. You pushed him onto the expensive leather couch and began dabbing at his busted knuckles with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol. Mattheo's other hand snaked around the back of your neck, pulling your head up so your eyes met his.
"As incredibly hot as that was Princess, do me a favor. Next time you're going to try and help me, don't."
"Get in there Berkshire!"
Confusion contorted your face as you approached the bell towers.
Why in the hell, would your sweet, loving Enzo be in a fight? Though you were convinced that it was really just some other slytherin who might've held a close resemblance to Enzo, you still allowed your feet to carry you towards the source of all the racket.
It came as quite a shock when you'd approached and saw your dark haired Slytherin on top of some poor student. You recognized the boy from the halls but you'd never actually met him. And here your sweet Enzo was, very thoroughly pummeling him to your surprise.
Not that you thought Enzo couldn't fight. In fact, you knew that Enzo had quite a bit of experience in that realm after the training his father had given him. What was shocking was that Enzo was fighting at all.
Despite his cousin Draco's attempts to goad him into fights on numerous different occasions, Enzo really did despise fighting. He was always a little bit afraid that if he allowed himself to lose control like he'd seen Mattheo do so often, he'd accidentally kill the bloke. No, it wasn't fair to engage in fights with people so much less trained than he.
So to see him now, face set in a hard and angry stare while he obliterated the boy below him was startling.
Though the student on the ground was just about destroyed, Enzo didn't have a scratch on him. He had a little blood that had splattered onto his coat and you suspected his knuckles had split, but aside from that, he was untouched.
You knew that if you didn't put an end to this, Enzo was going to regret it.
"Enzo." Your voice rang out softly into the air but he didn't hear you as he continued to beat his opponent. "Lorenzo, lay off of him."
This time, Enzo registered the sound of your dulcet tones. He stood from his place on top of the boy. You'd expected him to walk over to you and laugh it off, but instead he delivered a brutal kick to the boy's ribs, still angry beyond reason.
You marched up to the two of them, frustrated. "I said, stop."
Enzo turned to stare at you with a blank look in his eyes. It was like he'd completely died inside.
Whoever the little shit was that he'd just beat the life out of saw a unique opportunity (to die). You let out an involuntary yelp as he kicked your legs out from under you. Thankfully, you landed on your bum on the soft grass, but his actions did nothing to help Enzo's rage.
Before your boyfriend could get the chance to kill the kid, you'd jumped to your feet and stepped directly on his hand, applying probably more pressure than necessary. You secretly enjoyed the hoarse scream he let out. You only wanted to wound him enough to send a message, not enough to send him to the hospital wing, or worse, crying to the teachers like a little bitch.
After a thinly veiled threat, you took Enzo's bloody hand in yours and jerked him back towards the castle. Thankfully, most of the students were either on their way to dinner to already there so the halls were fairly empty.
"What was that?"
You growled out the moment the door to the Common Room shut behind you.
"Look I'm sorry, Y/n. But I'm not just going to stand by and let Cormac McClaggen of all people insult you."
Your eyes softened and you reached to the first aid kit kept in one of the large oak cabinets near the fireplace. You spoke gently to Enzo as you cleaned and bandaged his hands.
"Thank you, but I don't need you to protect me Enzo."
"Yeah, clearly."
4.18.2024
-- taglist -- (this is my theo taglist but to join any taglist for any specific boy just comment on any of my posts specifying which taglist you'd like to join)
@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget
#slytherin boys#slytherin#theodore nott#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#slytherin boys x reader#enzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire#enzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire x reader#theo nott x you#theodore nott x you#lorenzo berkshire x you#enzo berkshire x you#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#theo nott imagine#theodore nott imagine#enzo berkshire imagine#lorenzo berkshire imagine#requests open
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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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Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like
r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes
cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation
Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.
This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)
You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.
Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.
Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)
He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.
A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.
You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.
Your phone chimes again.
Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️
You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).
#what an apt contact name for him 🤐#modern!coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus smut#coryo snow#coryo snow x you#coryo snow x reader#⚰️.deaddove#coryo snow smut#coryo x you#coryo x reader#coryo smut#tbosas#tbosas x you#tbosas x reader#the hunger games#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x reader#coriolanus snow fic#coriolanus snow fanfiction#yandere smut#dark fic#tom blyth#college au#male yandere smut#tw toxic behavior
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Everybody Talks (Best Friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader)
Summary: You've worked hard to keep your crush on your best friend a secret, since he doesn't feel the same way. But when the Hellfire Club members open their big mouths, it threatens everything you've tried to hold together.
Warnings: some angst, fluff, mentions of financial insecurity
WC: 1.5k
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“Pizza’s here!” you call out, carrying a stack of pies into the Wheeler house. “I got one pepperoni, one mushroom, and one plain for all the boring people,” you tease, looking directly at Eddie as you say it.
“I prefer classic,” he retorts, taking the boxes from your hands and setting them on the table. The rest of the guys start to crowd around him, paper plates in hand, practically drooling at just the sight of food. “Hey, hey,” he chastises, pushing them out of the way, “ladies first.” He offers you a plate and you take a slice, quickly moving aside before you’re trampled by the herd of hungry teenage boys.
“So,” Gareth says to Eddie between bites, “your last Hellfire campaign is over and done with. How’s it feel?”
“You wish,” Eddie scoffs, plopping down next to you on the sofa. “Just because I’m graduating doesn’t mean I’m done kicking your asses in D&D.” He chugs his plastic cup filled with Mountain Dew and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “Anyone else want a refill?” he asks, shaking his empty cup before looking over at you. “Oh, shit; you don’t have anything to drink. Diet Coke, right?” Before you can protest that you can get it yourself, he’s up and pouring you a glass.
“Thanks,” you smile, taking a sip. The bubbles fizz on your tongue as you lean back, careful not to get too close to Eddie. Not that you don’t want to; the mere thought of him draping his tattooed arm around your shoulders makes you giddy.
Just a few more months, you think to yourself, and I’ll be off at college, meeting new people, and I won’t have to worry about my embarrassing crush on my best friend.
“You guys ready for prom tomorrow?” Mike asks, interrupting your pity party.
Jeff nods. “Just gotta pick up a corsage for Barb, and she’s getting me a, um, a…”
“Boutonniere?” you fill in helpfully, and he snaps his fingers and replies, “yeah, that thing.”
“What about you?” Lucas pipes up, turning to Eddie. “You ever decide who to ask?”
“Oh, he decided,” Jeff laughs, earning a scowl from his friend. “Too bad she decided to go with Jason Carver.”
Dustin throws his hands up in exasperation. “Dude, you’re still hung up on Chrissy Cunningham?” He rolls his eyes. “I told you; she’s sweet, but she’s not your type. You need someone who’s as nerdy as you are.” His eyes scan the room. “You know, like Y/N.”
You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation, not at Dustin calling you a nerd; you know he means that with utmost affection. It’s not even the idea of Eddie asking you out that has you nervous; it’s the prospect of him laughing at the thought. You’ve done a great job hiding your puppy love a secret from him, and you’d like to keep it that way.
“Ha!” Gareth barks out. “She wishes!”
No. No no no.
Tears spring to your eyes, and you can’t think of a decent excuse to leave before you’re dashing through the door, letting the screen slam behind you. There’s no lie in what Gareth said; you do wish Eddie had asked you to prom. Every time that the subject of the dance came up, you’d waited with baited breath to see if he’d say something to you. But he’d always ignore it, eager to move on to the next topic. And now you knew why: he wanted to take Chrissy, but she was in love with someone else. How ironic.
You’re almost at your car when you hear the squeak of the front door opening. “Sweetheart, wait!” Eddie shouts, probably a bit too loud for the short distance between you two. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you tell him softly as he jogs over to where you’re leaning against the passenger side door. “‘S not your fault.”
“Kinda is,” he shrugs, bringing you to the front steps and motioning for you to sit next to him. “I mean, I was the one who went to a freshman for romantic advice. That’s the last time I do that; I don’t care how nauseatingly cute he and his singing girlfriend are.” He gives a small chuckle, but neither of you meet the other’s gaze.
Hold on. Freshman? Singing girlfriend? “Eddie, what are you talking about?”
Eddie stops gnawing on his lower lip long enough to answer you. “I’m talking about you being embarrassed by Henderson’s painfully obvious last-ditch effort to get me to man up and finally ask you out.” His brows furrow when he sees your similarly confused expression. “That’s not…what are you upset about?”
“Um, Gareth blabbing to everyone that I wanted you to ask me to prom?” You finally allow yourself to look at him, noticing the dejected look on his face.
“I couldn’t do that,” he mutters, resting his palm sideways over his mouth and shifting his body away from yours. His words come out all muffled, but you can still make out what they are.
“I wouldn’t have said no to you,” you reassure him, mustering up all of your courage to place your hand on his bouncing knee. He relaxes almost immediately, but he still seems sad. “Eds, what’s wrong?”
His eyes are misty when he turns back to you. “I couldn’t ask you to prom because…because I couldn’t afford it,” he confesses, twisting his skull ring around his finger anxiously. “The tickets, a tux, those fancy wrist things…best I could do is steal some flowers from Mrs. Wheeler’s garden.” He hums out a sad laugh. “‘M sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to take you, but I knew I’d just be letting you down.”
“But Jeff said you were going to ask Chrissy,” you point out.
Eddie shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong; Chrissy’s nice and everything, but I just said that so he’d get off my back. Because if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t shut up until I made a move.” He sighs. “His dad’s a lawyer, and his mom runs her own business. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to worry about having enough food in the house, let alone all the extra shit like prom.”
You’re quiet for a beat, letting everything sink in. You knew Eddie lived in Forest Hills Trailer Park, and you knew money was often tight. Wayne worked hard to keep a roof over their heads, but the plant didn’t pay nearly enough. There were many occasions where you’d spotted Eddie eyeing something in the grocery store and instinctively thrown it in your cart for him, but for some reason, it hadn’t even occurred to you that finances was the reason he’d avoided talking about the prom.
“I wish you’d told me,” you finally say. “I would’ve understood.”
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie rubs his nose against his hand, another nervous tic of his. “That was never the problem. You’re the most understanding fuckin’ person I know. You just…I dunno. You deserve the whole ‘prom’ experience, not whatever half-ass version I could offer you.”
At that, you can’t help but giggle. “Eddie,” you begin, “do you really think I wanted to go to prom so I could wear a fancy dress and uncomfortable shoes in a stuffy gym? I just wanted to dance with you, and then spend the night on your couch watching stupid movies and eating junk food and talking shit about everyone who was there.” You look deep into his chocolate brown eyes, nearly losing yourself in their beauty. “I just wanted to be with you.”
Eddie stares at you, gaze traveling down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
“If you don’t, I’ll kiss you.”
Your mouths crash together clumsily, but you’re too happy to care. You soak in every part of it: Eddie’s stubble rubbing against your chin, the way he tastes like stale cigarettes and marinara sauce, his curls brushing your cheeks. He only breaks the kiss to take a breath, and then he’s back, more purposeful in his movements the second time around. He brings his hand to your jawline, caressing it gingerly with his thumb as he parts your lips with his.
“Can’t believe I just did that,” he muses, smiling at you shyly. “Been wanting to kiss you for too goddamn long.” He leans in, frowning when you place your hand on his chest to stop him. “What?”
“You gotta take me on a date before you kiss me again,” you inform him, lacing your fingers through his. “When are you free?”
“Uh, right now? We can grab ice cream at Scoops. Lemme just get my keys.” He stands up quickly to head back towards the house.
“Wait, Eddie,” you call out to him, “what about the guys? And pizza night?”
“Who cares? I have a date with the most beautiful girl in Hawkins.”
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#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things
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Getting really tired of all the Aang hate/criticism (honestly I can't even call it criticism because it's just that stupid) that I've been seeing on my dash lately. Mainly by people who for some reason, don't think that Aang is an airbending prodigy/master because we are only "told and not shown that he is one". Like....guys. The literal airbending tattoos on his body prove that he is a master:
The only way for an airbender to get his or her tattoos is by becoming a master, as was stated in the show. Not to mention that Aang was also the youngest airbender to have received his. Also, saying that we don't see him practicing his airbending is so dumb. Seriously, why would they show us that, when he literally did that 100 years prior to the show starting, hence the tattoos? Throughout the show we see Aang doing amazing things with his airbending that proves he is indeed a prodigy. Denying this just proves that you didn't watch the show at all, but rather you saw a version that you made up in your head.
And if you really want to go there with the whole "we aren't really shown how or why Aang got his prodigy status" you wanna know who else fits that bill? Toph and Azula. With Toph, we're given the flashback of her learning from the badger moles when she was lost in the cave.
But outside of this moment? Nothing. We aren't shown her training to hone her skills or anything like that. When we meet Toph in book 2, we are told that she is an earthbending prodigy and the perfect person to teach Aang earthbending. The only reasons we are given for this is that she "waits and listens for the right moment to strike", something that Bumi told Aang was key to mastering earthbending, and because she's blind but can still earthbend and kick ass like it's nobody's business. Same thing with Azula. When we first meet her, we see her bending lightning.
This is quite obviously a powerful technique. But are we given a reason as to when and how she learned and eventually mastered it? No. Azula's firebending is blue, and as we know, she is the only firebender who's fire is this color.
We aren't given an explanation as to why this is in the show, however. Nobody in universe really comments on it, Zuko and Iroh don't bring it up either. Which, considering the fact that in her childhood, her firebending was the same color as every other firebender's, you'd think that would be a conversation at some point.
And yet it isn't. In fact, the only explanation for this, as far as I know? Comes from the art book. Mike and Bryan wanted Azula's firebending to look different from Zuko's in their final fight, which is why they decided to make her firebending blue. Much like with Toph, we aren't shown Azula training throughout the years to perfect her bending, or throughout the present timeline. So this whole stupid argument against Aang does not hold up at all. Stop hating on his character just because you prefer a different ship to the canon pairings, I'm begging you.
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HELLO, can I request Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks dating or married to an elderly fem reader (late 40s or early 60s) hc's? Basically, the reader is genuinely so sweet and protective and rocking like she is in her early 20s. Despite her kind nature, the reader is also surprisingly strong-willed. And is also insecure about being too old and tries to convince them to move on and find someone else who is the same age as them. (also she ate a devil fruit that gave her teleportation powers and is a teacher and teaches fencing to young children).
Headcanons: The One Piece Old Men with an Older Fem! S/O
A/N: I fr had no ideas for this so I'm really sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted sdfghjkl
Word Count:698
Warnings: nada, all fluff here
Buggy:
• K so, the first time Buggy meets you is when he happens upon your fencing class during an exploration of your island.
• When you see him approach, you instantly teleport in front you students to try and protect them from whatever he may do.
• Once he realizes that you're also a Devil Fruit user, he's almost instantly enamored with you.
• Initially, it's just because he sees you being useful to him in some way but as he gets to know you more, he grows to genuinely love and respect you.
• After getting together, Buggy revels in the affection you show to him and his crew. He can't recall the last time anyone saw them all as actual people, let alone get to know them like you do.
• He also respects the fact that you don't hesitate to call him out on his bullshit or straight up kick his ass when he needs it.
• And while he might give you crap about teaching sometimes, he still gives you the all the regard you deserve for doing a rather tough job like that.
• When you get insecure about being older, he makes sure to remind you that he is also kind of an "old geezer" and that he'll still love you when you're both as old as the sea itself.
Shanks:
• You met Shanks when he and his crew pulled into port where you were staying, them needing to restock supplies and rest for a while before going off on another adventure.
• He meets you in a small bar where he sees you chatting and laughing merrily with some of the staff as you sip on a fruity drink of some kind.
• With an intrigued smile, he struts over and introduces himself with all the usual charm.
• As you two idly chat for about 15 minutes, you stop mid-sentence when the girl you mentor hurriedly runs into the bar asking for help with something quick.
• You excuse yourself with an apologetic smile before suddenly vanishing from sight, surprising Shanks as he confusedly looks around the room for you.
• A minute or two later, you pop back to your original position and continue on the conversation like nothing happened.
• Impressed at the discovery of your powers, he begins to ask all sorts of questions about it, which eventually leads to a friendship and later, a relationship!
• He loves being with you! Seeing how kind and helpful you are with most anyone you come in contact with is so refreshing for him to see in a world where other people seem to not care about anything but themselves.
• Shanks also admires the friendship you have with the girl you mentor, it reminds him of his relationship with Luffy.
• And when it comes to your age, he couldn't care less! As long as you're a truly good person, he'll love you with all his heart no matter how you perceive yourself.
Mihawk:
• You meet Dracule when he arrives to an island near yours while on a bounty search for the Marines.
• Having been hired alongside him due to your powers and skills with a saber, he is a little hesitant to be around you due to him preferring to work alone.
• But once the job is done and he's spent more time with you, he actually finds himself enjoying your company a lot!
• He likes how headstrong you are and how you aren't afraid to let someone know exactly how you feel.
• And that combined with the fact that you teach a very useful fighting style to the next generation, he's sold on the idea of the two of you being something more than friends rather soon.
• Mihawk also adores just how sweet you can be with those you care about. Whether that's with your students or with him, he's absolutely smitten when you're being your typical, cuddly self.
• There are for sure times when you convince yourself that your age is a problem and that he'd be better off with someone more youthful.
• When you have those doubts, he's right there to assure you that he doesn't mind at all. He's glad to be around you because you're you, older than him or not.
#one piece#one piece live action#one piece imagine#buggy x reader#buggy the clown x reader#shanks x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#mihawk x reader#headcanon
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I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: v.
“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”
tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn
pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader
summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.
index | previous chapter | next chapter
"Sister School Exchange?"
"Yeah, it's this thing we do each year with the other of Jujutsu Tech in Kyoto," you lean back against Chinatsu's bed as your non-sorcerer friends look at your curiously.
It's a peaceful Sunday like any other.
Tooru is slouched awkwardly but comfortably at Chinatsu's desk playing Zelda, meanwhile Chinatsu has claimed her bed as her own while she braids her hair. Hard as these days are to come by now that you live in a school remote in some mountains on the countryside-esque outskirts of Tokyo, you relish when you have them. It's a touch of comfort and familiarity. "It's like a sports thing. Loser goes to the winner's school the following year. Last year we won so those suckers are coming to Tokyo."
"Who went where last year?" Chinatsu continues braiding her bright brown hair.
"We went to Kyoto," you expertly leave out the fact you didn't actually get to go. Nor the fact that you wouldn't be participating once again. Your friends don't need to know all that. Stupid special grade technicalities, you want to complain. There's no point, however, with the company you've surrounded yourself with. You're still more than a bit miffed at your inability to attend last year's Exchange.
"Is it an open event where anyone can go?" At your sympathetic grimace, Tooru scowls. "Damn rich people," he swears, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. His blue-black bangs are pulled back by a hairclip, fully displaying his newfound grumpiness. The idea of sports always kicks Tooru's competitive spirit into overdrive being a member of Tsubame High's rock climbing club. He tried getting you to join your middle school's team once. As it turns out, your grip strength was ass. And it still is if I'm being honest with myself. "Well kick their asses and send those losers back to Kyoto in shambles," Tooru demands as he returns to the visuals of Majora's Mask.
Oh if only. Well, you're certain that victory will be spelled out for your school once again if Gojou and Suguru have anything to say about it. You just know you won't actually play any role in it.
"I'll be sure to let you guys know how it goes."
ー
It's a toss up for you on which days you prefer at Jujutsu Tech. Some days it's Monday, Wednesday, Friday and other times you really appreciate a good Tuesday, Thursday Saturday schedule. It depends on how tired your are... and how much procrastinating you've done on your assignments.
After watching X-Men back in '01, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that Jujutsu Tech had regular classes but you still remember your surprise during your first week of first year. Apparently, you actually need to at least know the essential basics society deemed important. As such, Jujutsu Tech operated on a block schedule where certain days detailed which day you'd be learning standard course work or anything related to jujutsu.
Monday, Wednesday and Friday were dedicated to normalcy with classes like Math, Japanese, English and Japanese History. Those were handled by the assistants who actually had teaching licenses. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were all jujutsu-based. History of Jujutsu, Application of Cursed Techniques and Exorcism and Physical Education. (Physical Education being a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday class was the most surprising for you. But once you found out PE included sparring and mock battles against curses, you understood the picture.) These classes were handled by the sorcerers that did the heavier curse-exorcising work in this field with four teachers assigned a specific grade of students to handle.
With Nanami Kento and Haibara Yuu joining as first years, Fujioka still had her hands full with preparing the first years for the rest of their jujutsu careers.
Being in charge of the second years, Yaga didn't have much to do in terms of teaching late last year after Okita died. So the muscle head seemed pretty excited to go from 0 students to 4.
Yamada's graduated but with Utahime and Mei Mei being the new fourth years, Koizumi still has work to do.
The only teacher doing nothing now until next year rolled around at the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech is Matsuno. If none of you are dead by the time third year rolls around, she'll have 4 students bothering her then.
This particular Saturday, classes have been halved for the day. Thanks again, irregular scheduling. And thanks again, Kyoto Tech. It's not the first day of it, that won't be until Monday. Still, today is the day the Kyoto Tech students are arriving and that is important enough that you don't need a full day of schooling.
You recall the names of the people of interest Utahime mentioned during spring break and try imagining faces to the names while Gojou loudly groans at Shoko's newest terrible attempt at explaining how reversed curse technique works. It doesn't help that it looks like smoke is exiting Haibara's brain in his own confusion.
"I think Shoko's right, Gojou," you grin widely at the snow-haired boy's head swivel in your direction. Even with the sunglasses, you can tell he's irritated. "You just don't have the common sense for it."
"Oh like you're able to understand her gibberish," Gojou's tongue clicks.
You're absolutely not. "Hyoo hyoi, right, Shoko?"
"Hyoo hyoi!" Shoko chirps back deviously. "[First] is getting it."
"See?" You gesture at the girl. A crumpled, empty soda can gets tossed your way and your hands fly out immediately to create a peach-colored shield of energy. "Sore loser!"
"Walking copyright infringement," you hate how that comment actually gets a choked laugh of you while you tell him your technique is called Rejection based on the Phoenix Wright franchise. So what if your abilities are reminiscent of a certain manga character with burnt orange hair and a pair of blue flower pins, Gojou should leave you be. You don't control the way in which jujutsu techniques are passed out.
"Why do I have to be stuck with the generation of teachers that don't know how to do reversed curse technique," he grumbles. "Why does the one person I know who can do it have the explanation abilities of a 5 year old? Who the hell did I piss off in a past life for this?"
Shoko tries to pull out a cigarette but it's snatched out of her hands by Suguru in equal parts concern and his own frustration at her less-than-stellar explanations. "I'm sure the list is long so thanks for spreading your bad luck to me too, Satoru," Gojou sticks out his tongue and brandishes his middle finger brazenly, Suguru flips him the bird right back. Yours and Haibara's giggles fill the air while Nanami, arguably the most sane of the six of you, sighs in annoyance.
It really is unfortunate for everyone that Shoko's pure instincts surrounding her abilities can't be translated into comprehensible words.
You learned the year prior in Application of Cursed Techniques and Exorcism I that it was really only relatively recently the jujutsu schools were established and passing down general knowledge outside of family became a thing. Unfortunately, the time in which these schools were created, information on reversed cursed technique was unable to be secured. So until Shoko is able to explain in full how she does it ー or the rest of you are able to start using it on your own ー Jujutsu Tech won't be receiving any updates to the cursed technique application curriculum.
"Nanami," Gojou points at the blond who already looks like he regrets even stepping one foot out of his dorm today. "Learn how to use RCT and explain it to me like a good underclassman!"
"I'd prefer to have a responsible upperclassman who learns on his own and teaches me instead," came the instant rebuttal from the practical sorcerer-in-training.
"Where's the fun in tradition?"
One last sigh of amusement later, you look at your hands thoughtfully. Rejection. A tiny shield stands tall in front your palm. But if we're talking about missing a few puzzle pieces, I'm assed out too. You sigh as Rejection dissipates. Why can't you have six little faerie creatures to help you create a variety of shields too? When it comes to you second years, it's easy explaining the roles you have based on ability alone.
You're the tank, Shoko's the healer and Getou and Gojou are both different flavors of DPS. That's not necessarily a problem, you know. Even the basics of cursed energy usage can exorcise a curse, but when it comes down to it ー you are your partner are both supports and having a bit of an offensive kick would come in handy at some point in the future.
So you decided at the beginning of second year that if you already were teetering the line of coincidentally ripping off Inoue Orihime's technique, why not go for the full thing and try mimicking the rest too? Your first assignment, creating a shield that sends back the damage and finally start stepping in the direction of acquiring an offensive move set.
It's just been a bit of a work-in-progress developing the technique in secret mostly because you have no idea what you're doing beyond the general principle of what you want to do. Dissonance and Disconnect will be your masterpieces ー whenever you manage to them figure out.
There's a tap on your shoulder, "[First]," Shoko taps you once again. "Help me carry back drinks from the vending machine?"
"Yeah, I got you," you'll figure out your masterpieces later then.
Together the two of you made your way to the nearest vending machine to the training grounds. It's not terribly far but it isn't particularly close either. You grumbled over this fact more than enough during your first year. You understand the lack of students means a lack of vending machines, but it would still be nice if this particular vending machine was close enough you didn't have to walk twenty minutes to get to it. "Do you think we could move it ourselves, actually?"
"Do you really feel like carrying that thing down a flight of stairs?"
"Never mind," you groan.
It's part way through your quest to quench everyone else's thirst when you see him. A boy donned in navy blue and gray traditional clothes and dirty blond hair with dark tips. He's certainly no student of Tokyo Tech, you perk up in realization. The boy is cute, you think. "You're one of the Kyoto students, right?" You wave politely as he glances at you. "We can help you if you're lost."
Amber eyes look you up and down before the boy turns to Shoko alone, "When I heard you were enrolling I was surprised, Ieiri," you can't stop your head from tilting, wide eyes blinking in surprise. "Considering all you're good for is healing your peers, you'd think your family wouldn't invest in your education. Especially considering
"Hey," you glare, sticking a friend out in front of your friend. "The only ones who gets to mess with one of us, is us." It's a privilege, not a right. "And all things considered, since Shoko's able to do shit you clearly can't, you shouldn't be running your mouth."
Amber eyes point your way again as the boy actually addresses you, "you must be the foreigner, your accent is very apparent." You have an accent, what of it? You learned Japanese from the ground and you were proud of the progress. No one can take away from you, least of all this guy. "If anyone shouldn't be speaking here, it's the one from a country so backwater you had to come to a foreign land to learn anything about sorcery."
"Naoya," Shoko finally speaks, mouth pulled into a frown. So this is the face you can put with the name Zenin Naoya. "How horrible to see you too. If you're looking to talk to Gojou and Getou, they're in that direction." The brunette thumbs behind herself in the direction you both came from. "Otherwise, you're a long ways off from the rooms the Kyoto students are supposed to be staying in."
You aren't sure what the boy has to be smirking about and you wonder how much trouble you'd get in if you tried punching him. "I know where I'm heading," the first year states, crossing his arms. "I wanted to see the Six Eyes of the Gojou Clan myself. But it'll be something to see the other special-grade as well."
"Yeah well get a good look at the dudes who are going to kick your-"
"Naoya," a deep voice interjects growing tensions. For once, something akin to a scowl dons Naoya's face as his expression shifts to annoyance. "You said you wouldn't antagonize the Tokyo students if I let you off on your own."
"That wasn't antagonizing, that was small talk," his upperclassman's face tells you he doesn't believe that one bit.
He's tall, albeit not as tall as Gojou or Suguru, with black hair with a dyed streak of green in his bangs."Sorry about our first year," the Kyoto senior bows with an exasperated sigh. You don't envy what he has to deal with. If Naoya had been included in the batch of first years Tokyo Tech received, you're sure you would have transferred schools. Or maybe you would have stayed out of spite. "I'll deal with him."
"Please see that you do," your cheek muscles ache from how forcefully you are smiling. What the actual hell is wrong with that guy? You side-eye your partner as the Kyoto first year skulks off, likely ignoring the scolding his upperclassman is giving him. "Why doesn't he have a hate club?"
"Believe it or not, that's not even as bad as he gets. That was actually Naoya at his best," Shoko has to be joking. This is another one of her dry humor jokes. Unfortunately, there's not even a wink of playfulness in her eyes. If that's this guy's best, I don't want to see what his worst is. "The rest of us were in a secret Hope Naoya Gets Homeschooled Alliance. Sadly all our efforts have clearly been for naught."
"Yeah, you guys really should have tried harder," you aren't sure there is any word in any language that could best describe him besides 'worst' and 'brat. And you know what? He isn't even that cute! The culmination of terrible traits in asshole shoujosei love interests created a terrible creature. I'll never say Gojou's a waste of a pretty face ever again.
Even at Gojou's absolute worse, he's never held a candle to the display of disrespect you bore witness to. "I really need us to win this year. I am so serious if we lose to that pompous asshole, I'll quit being a sorcerer because I refuse to accept defeat from him. Matter of fact," you cross your arms obstinately. "I know we're winning this year and I can't wait to see his walk of shame out of Tokyo. It isn't enough for him to lose, he has to be utterly humiliated."
"I hope he fights Getou," your rant certainly appeals to the brunette who nods in agreement. "It would have been better if Getou was a girl," despite the disappointment that is your reality, Shoko's eyes dance with mischief. "But either way, he'll hate losing to someone who comes from a non-sorcerer family the most." At your look, Shoko blinks in realization. "Right, you wouldn't know. The Zenin's have a saying that basically boils down to the only sorcerer's worth their salt are from the Zenin family, but a non-sorcerer is basically less than human."
Every time you learn something new about the Amazing Sexists, the less you like what you hear. "Geez that family sounds like a real piece of work," you stick out your tongue in annoyance. "I want him to fight Gojou," you nod to yourself in satisfaction. "Their families hate each other, right? So if he loses to him I just know his parents will be pissed. 'How dare you lose to the son of the Gojou family! You're no son of ours! Leave this house!' or something like that."
Shoko's bob dances as she shakes her head, "doubt it. When you're that strong, winning is guaranteed. They'd be disappointed but not surprised, if anything."
"Why 'cause Gojou's a special-grade?" You purse your lips in your prodding. "Because if that's what we're going off of Suguru's got the win in the bag too. Or is it the Gojou comes from sorcerer family thing?"
"Partly the latter," Shoko admits. "But I told you before already. Gojou's pretty much a legend to sorcerers," yes, it is hard to forget when everyone talked about it. "They'd expect a loss if Naoya had to fight him. Maybe if he had the Ten Shadows they'd think he had a fighting chance, but I doubt he does because it would be talked about all over if he inherited it."
Has Gojou always been so... Your mind struggles for the right word. It dawns on you then that Naoya had referred to him as the Six Eyes instead of Gojou's family or given name. Objectified? It's an unpleasant feeling to admit to yourself that he is. Even slightly more so as you try to recall if you've done so yourself and how much you may if you did. You're sure you have. You must have. What else were the bulk of your rants with Utahime were about if Gojou ever organically came up in conversation?
"He's still just some guy," you wonder if your words are more meant to self-soothe than a solid argument. "He thinks eating pancakes is substantial for dinner. I don't know how he's never had a cavity."
"A guy who'll be in the future Jujutsu Tech textbooks and we won't even be footnotes," Shoko sighs at her joke of self-deprecation. "But yeah, it's too bad they won't have anything in there about how he eats his weight in junk food." She pulls out a piece of paper where she has everyone else's desired drinks scrawled on. "Anyway, let's finish getting the drinks."
ー
This isn't the first time you've come out to the training grounds past curfew, but you would have head in by now.
Perhaps it's your irritation at Naoya that has you practicing longer than usual. Or perhaps it's your own inability to advance your technique and the frustration beginning to boil over. It's likely a mixture of both. It's well-past dinner and the sun has set for the evening, your only light source being a lantern you took out of the storage shed.
If there's another thing this school needs, it is stadium lights for the training grounds.
"Uwah," You look behind you, noticing the approaching footsteps and you spot a familiar head of messy white hair. "I would have thought you were sneaking off somewhere more exciting."
"How'd you know I was sneaking out?"
"Was up playing Momotetsu a few times and I saw your cursed energy moving around," Gojou shrugs. It truly is hard to hide anything from those eyes. You wondered in the past if his ocular abilities were passive or something that needed to be activated. When you saw his eyes glowing in the past, you came to the conclusion it's a mixture of both depending on what he needed to see. His sunglasses are on but in your dark surroundings, you don't see any signs of azure glow. Seeing cursed energy must be one of the passives. "Finally got curious to see where you heading off the past couple weeks. Didn't expect it to be here."
"Well now you know," you rest a hand on your hip. "Go back to playing Momotetsu."
Gojou dropped a hand above his hidden eyes as if blocking out the sun, "Nah, I'm looking for Orihime's faeries now, they're out here somewhere," haha very funny, Gojou hasn't said that one before. Ever. His grin widens as he takes in the unamused roll of your eyes. "What are you doing back out here? I could hear your big feet clunking around even with my walkman on."
"If you must know," you ignore his last jab petulantly as he comes closer. "I'm trying to evolve how Rejection works by ripping off Orihime's moves. Sadly these faeries aren't worth shit, they're stingy and only work for her." That earns a snicker from your new audience and that manages to make you perk up. "Jokes aside though, I'm pretty sure I can make Rejection be a return-to-sender and even get it to cut things in half if I try hard enough. So I've been trying it out."
"Must suck not having a users manual," Gojou whistles.
You huff in agreement, kicking a nearby pebble. "Who are you telling?" That's the trial-and-error of coming from non-sorcerer families. Everything you learn about your cursed technique is through figuring it out on your own. Weird glowing orb thing? It's was just Suguru doing as dumb kids do when he decided to swallow it and see what would happen. You didn't even start using Rejection until you were 10, well past the usual date of ability manifestation, all because of an accident. "But if I look at it from a different angle, this just means there's no pre-existing guide to tell me Rejection can't do this or that. I test out those limits myself and be the one who makes the guide."
And if you ever had kids, they'd be the beneficiaries. If you ever lived long enough to get to the point you'd start considering them. You shake head, physically tossing the thoughts out of your brain. "Anyways, like I said, I'm going all in on the copyright infringement. What Kubo doesn't know won't hurt him," you chuckle to yourself. "So I'm starting out with trying to get Rejection to return attack energy back at specific triggers."
Gojou looks between you and the noticeably empty space in front of you. You can already tell what your classmate is thinking ー must be pretty difficult when there's literally nothing to shoot anything at what you put up. "... and you're doing that how?"
You puff your cheeks sheepishly, glancing pointedly in a different direction, "Casper's been a great assistant to me lately."
"So all you've been doing is wasting cursed energy and hoping something happens?"
"On the bright side, I've gotten really good at putting my technique up with various poses over the past couple weeks," you offer weakly with a cough. So far you've mastered the Jotaro Kujo point, the Okuyasu The Hand swipe and the Kakyoin Emerald Splash.
That comment gets you a light swat to the back of your head and you move to elbow him back, but you only meet the infinity between you both. "Just get to posing out your shields and I'll blast cursed energy at it," Gojou flicks his fingers back in a shooing motion as he walks a couple meters away from you. Before you can even attempt to dissuade him, he's already in position. "Tell Casper to take a hike for a while. You don't pay him enough to do overtime."
"You'll help me?" You've never trained personally with Gojou. Likely because neither of you felt the need. You didn't like him and you likely weren't someone worth training with from his perspective. You'd sooner expect Hell to freeze over. It must have frozen over then.
"I don't know how you're planning on making a shield that shoots back attacks without actually having something shot at it," he shrugs in the dim light of the lantern. "And I'm already out here."
"You know what," you rest your hands on your hips. "Dinner's on me tonight, what do you want? This is gonna work up an appetite for me and you eat like a horse anyway."
"Seriously?"
"Just don't say pancakes. Or waffles," you rack your brain for different loopholes. "Actually, I'm putting in stipulations ー there needs to be a protein and a vegetable, bare minimum. I'm making sure you eat actual food tonight." You're pretty sure there's salmon leftover from the other night from when Nanami cooked. And I could sauté the spinach so he doesn't complain much. "Salmon, sauteed spinach and something else. I don't want this to take forever so I guess I'll just go with rice since it's already late." Rice it'll be then. "This is your reward for helping me!"
There's a decent-sized blast of energy that hurls in your direction. "Um, excuse me, I thought I was supposed to pick what we eat?"
"Rejection!" True to your word, you point as if you're the JoJo of Stardust Crusaders. There's no energy that shoots back in Gojou's direction, but you'll figure out a pattern before the night is over. Maybe I should try something where Rejection can pocket that energy and then it gets shot back? "I changed my mind," you snort. "You're eating what I make and you'll like it. I don't need you dying of a sugar coma before the Exchange Event properly begins."
"Oh come on, it's a treat for helping you out, shouldn't I call the shots here?" The pouting begins much to your lack of surprise. "What sort of reward dinner is this? If this is how you treat them, I can see why the faeries didn't want to help you out!"
"Do you want a free dinner?" When there's no slick comment shot your way, you consider this a victory. "Beat Zenin Naoya's ass to kingdom come and maybe I'll consider making something you want without any sort of fine print. Do we got ourselves a deal?"
There's a smile in Gojou's voice. A smug smile, but it is in his tone nonetheless while he speaks, "I'd do that even if there wasn't a free meal on the line, you know."
index | previous chapter | next chapter
Extra
And we're back to our usually scheduled programming. I update once per week for four weeks, two week hiatus, then back to consistent updates. At least, that's what I decided on other platforms to give myself a break here and there.
Admittedly the Orihime copyright infringement joke is one of the few jokes I've been waiting to make. Glad this moment is finally here.
You also finally get to meet your buddies from middle school, Tooru and Chinatsu. There's another buddy too but he's a special case who won't be showing up for some chapters. I honestly have an entire mini TV series worth of shenanigans concerning this friend group but y'all will just have the tip of the iceberg. Hopefully when that gets touched on in a future chapter, you guys will find it as amusing as I do. Like I made it a point to mention, the Reader really wants to hold onto what she can of her non-sorcerer life. She's "*Miles Morales voice* I can do both" about it
Anyways, you and Gojou are bonding some more and it doesn't relate to food. This is growth. Reblogs and Likes appreciated.
#look she's writing#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto x reader#getou x reader#geto suguru x reader#getou suguru x reader#i cherish you halcyon days
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Something reawakened my Alien Stage obsession! Have some modern AU headcanons/brainrot™ :D
(The alien keepers are just their parents or something)
General rambles
Till is a god in the kitchen. Mizi can only bake b/c she has set instructions, but can tweak the recipe if she needs to. Sua can't cook/doesn't know how to. Ivan burned something and isn't allowed in it again. LUKA IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN OH MY GOD DON'T LET HIM COOK THEY HAD TO CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT LAST TIME. Hyuna can't cook for shit w/o proper instructions. Her ass cannot improvise in the kitchen.
Sus and Ivan are siblings (twins if you will) and absolutely terrible to each other (like normal siblings). They could be sitting together and suddenly Sua kicks him off the couch and puts her feet up. Or Ivan throw something at the back of her head unprompted. They are literally the most chill people in the group, until they're in each other's arms length. Then, they might as well be wild cats fighting over a piece of fish
Mizi and Till are childhood friends and talk shit together
Till knows how to apply makeup (both on himself and others) b/c Mizi would test out things on him.
Almost everyone is a cat person. Except for Sua, who is neutral, and Mizi, who likes dogs more.
Mizisua rambles
Neither of them are the warm hands to the other's cold hands. They sleep with a lot of blankets and a heater on
Mizi doesn't know how to braid hair. Sua barely knows how to braid hair. They were so used to their parents/servants doing their hair for them that they don't know how to do anything fancy. But Sua did learn how to braid hair for Mizi.
Sua was/is a rich kid. And she's SUPER irresponsible with money when it comes to Mizi. "You want this dress? Sure. Don't look at the price tag, you liked it so you're getting it."
They're both clingy if the other has to leave for an extended period of time.
Mizi likes climbing up places and napping. And Sua got really good at hide and seek.
They don't have separate wardrobes b/c both of them stole each other's clothes so often they lost track what was originally theirs or the other's.
Ivantill rambles
Till is cold constantly. Ivan is a walking heater. My point is they hold hands and cuddle.
Ivan definitely turls a piece of his hair, while kicking his feet and giggling when he's calling Till. At this point Till is unfazed by it
Ivan calls Till "my star" "my universe" or any other space related petname. (l accidentally predicted that in an old post oops) Till refuses to call him any pet name b/c he'd die of embarrassment
They also steal each other's clothes, but they can tell who's is who's b/c they both have very distinct styles
Till fumbled the bag with Mizi so bad he accidentally fell into lvan's arms and I think that's a funny concept
Have we ever considered that Till might be just as cringe with lvan as he is with Mizi once he starts catching feelings. Like it's possible. Till can just be cringe with the people he likes. Probably not as bad with lvan, but even a fraction would make me happy.
Hyuluka rambles
Luka is shockingly needy and clingy. He would prefer to get dragged through the mud than let go of Hyuna. Hyuna finds it endearing and worrying
There's a lot of heels and dresses in their home. None of them are Hyuna's
Luka is the type that NEEDS TO LOOK GOOD AT THE HOSPITAL! What if the doctors thinks he's not hot enough 🥺 Hyuna has to drag him to the hospital b/c he's fixing his eyeliner. And no you can't just put a little bit of blush on, your bone is stabbing through your calf
Hyuna's love language is acts of service and food sharing. Luka's is being a little shit and physical touch
#mizisua#Ivantill#hyuka#hyuluka#alien stage#ivan alien stage#till alien stage#luka alien stage#hyuna alien stage#mizi alien stage#sua alien stage#headcanons anf rambles
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I need Azriel to have a confessional moment with Gwyn, similar to Rhys with Feyre in the cabin. Doesn’t need to lead to a chapter 55 moment (I actually prefer if it doesn’t lead to anything physical so it doesn’t distract from the tenderness of the confession, and the last thing Az needs is getting physical too soon with his mate, boy needs the inner work to happen first), but more than anything he needs someone he will trust on that level, where he’s unfiltered and uncensored. He’s not even like that with his friends of centuries, he shuts down even with his closest people.
I need it so I can hug my box of tissues with snot running down my chin and vision blurred by tears while reading it.
I need Gwyn to take his face into her hands, stare at his face until he meets her eyes, and say “you’re enough. You’re good. You are exactly what you ought to be and exactly who I want, and I’ll always remind you in case you forget. I’ll also kick your ass in the process” with a wide grin at the last.
Amid tears. Azriel grasps her hands still on his face and smiles. “It would be my pleasure to have my ass kicked by you everyday. Just be here everyday.”
OK BYE 😭
#wandering mind#my maas wishlist#pro gwynriel#gwynriel supremacy#gwynriel headcanon#gwyn berdara#gwyn the valkyrie#pro gwyn#gwyneth berdara#gwyn x azriel#gwynriel#just thinking#sjm give us peace#give Gwyn and Azriel their hea#shadowsinger x valkyrie#the shadowsinger and the valkyrie#shadowsinger and his Valkyrie#azriel bonus chapter#5 minute thoughts
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Can you do a Gitae Kim vs kwak Jichang who will wins reader heart headcanon?
Who will win readers heart?
May contain some suggestive ideas
Gitae
Okay I can understand that he is hot and "oh please ruin my life," but I don't know much about him. He is very cold-blooded and won't hesitate to take another person's life for his own satisfaction.
He gives off the same vibes as Eugene💀.
Hear me out: You cannot tell me Gitae is bad in bed- is swear this man is aggressive and will use you- some people may be into that. I mean, I wouldn't mind being tossed around (by goo)
I have a sense that even though he may be boy trash(positive), he is very loyal and protective. Insane but in a positive way. He will kill for you, he will die for you, he will stay by your side no matter what.
Would come home after a long fight with flowers and a box of cigarettes talking about "Short-cake, I got ya my favorite beer (emphasis on HIS favorite) but you wouldn't mind it. He does seem like the type to rub your back afterwards.
Would drive you around in his little junk car he spent a fortune trying to fix while blasting music. He seems like a careless driver, but anything for the trill ya know! He would drive at night on the highway, blasting music as he slams his foot on the gas pedal. One hand will be on your thigh while the other on the steering wheel.
He is very carefree about things. It doesn't matter if you dress like a slut or go out in lingerie because this man can FIGHT. If any man looks your way, he will just throw some sort of weapon at him. There is no need for him to go over there and kick his ass when anything around him can be used as a weapon.
THIS MAN WILL SPOIL YOU! Doesn't matter if he doesn't have money, he will find and spoil you. Though, he wont put in much effort into spoiling you. He will just be like "take my card babe," while he goes to kiss Charles' ass.
This dude? WOULD RUN AWAY WITH YOU!! All you gotta do is say so and this man will sweep you off your feet and start walking out the door. He wouldn't mind living in a cabin, as long as you cook. Will hunt a bear with his bare hands.
Jichang
They say the guys with a J name will mess your life up, WRONG!!! (unless yall break up). this FINE MAN will treat you right. Yall already KNOW that this man is classy. Will treat you right. Very Loyal.
I lowkey feel like this dude has attachment issues. He can only focus on one thing (person) at a time. So you gotta make sure his eyes aren't on anyone else's.
Though, he would love spoiling you. He would put more thought into it, buying your favorite things. He would rent out a venue just because you said you wanted to dance, buying you an expensive dress that you saw on Pinterest, a display of food on the table as he stands there in his suit. "Princess, this is all for you."
He would make a house a home- you cannot tell me this man doesn't know how to cook. All you need to do is give him a recipe and watch him cook. He will pick you up by the waist and place you on the counter. "Give me a min hon," he says before placing a peck on the lips, then goes back to cooking.
WILL HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU!!!! IDC IDC
Stares at you in awe all the time idc idc this man STARES at you.
He is the comforter, always comforting you. He will cuddle with you in his arms, play with your hair, feed you sweets, all while whispering cute little things in your ear. I fear this man loves romance a little too much.
WILL TRY TO GET INSPIRATION TO TREAT YOU RIGHT OFF TV SCENES. Hear me out. In a movie he will see some cringe kissing scene reenact it with you. Its more like, you both are on a date outside, walking by the beach, he would spin you around by grabbing onto your shoulder then kiss you. This cringe mf.
I got a lot of good things to say about this man idk hes just a lover.
I think it depends on the man you prefer. We are all delulu here. If you prefer a more insane and possessive (Gitae) or a more calm and classy man (Jichang).
#Wow prob the second ask ive ever gotten LMAO#please how dare you compare my perfect man jichang to that trash gitae#I dont hate gitae hes just- gives serial killer vibes#hot but nothing good about him ya know- at all#Same with gun and goo but we dont know much about gitae#lookism#lookism thoughts#gitae#kwak jichang#jichang thoughts#kim gitae
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Hello)
Playing with a high elf noble Tav right now and just thought...
Astarion and Tav with a Noble background headcanons?
Noble Tav is an interesting choice! I will stick to Noble Tav \ any race, but, if you want Noble High Elf Tav, let me know in the asks! There are a lot of things to write about Tav, who is an Elven royalty.
And I also found there is a sub type of Noble Background called Noble Knight. Basically a member of the nobility, who chose a life of adventures and helping the less fortunate, which I also can write, if you send me a request.
Astarion x Noble!Tav
Masterlist
Headcanons
You were born to luxury and power, being a member of an ancient house whose lineage can be traced back to the first centuries of the Dawn of Humanity.
Will you choose the life of power? Or would you prefer to thrive on your ancestor’s legacy by simply having fun?
Since childhood, you’ve learned a lot about the history, culture, and politics of Faeurn.
You are intelligent, well-behaved, and hungry for power.
That’s why your family chose you to be sent to Baldur’s Gate to establish connections with local lords.
Baldur’s Gate looks like a dumpster to you - too loud, too dirty, too vulgar.
You receive the message that your mother has gone, and you have to return home to rule your lands.
But you are kidnapped by Mindflayers.
There is a positive side to being spoilt-rich from birth.
It’s the desire to live.
Being confident in your skills and luck, you not only manage to escape the inevitable death, but also embrace your legacy as a powerful leader.
You are going to be in charge, kick everyone’s asses and no god will bestow their will upon you.
But there is also a lesson of injustice, unfamiliar to you.
Your vampire lover and his horrible past.
You don’t believe he was a bad person.
And even if he was, he didn’t deserve this cruelty.
Besides, you see through his lies. He tries to look like a nobleman to you, with his mannerisms and habits.
But you know they are as fake as theatre decorations.
If anything, Astarion looks like a former slave trying to blend with his former owners but remaining inferior to the people of power.
Using your skills for diplomacy, you make a lot of allies - and you also think that an army of 7000 spawns is a very good dowry
What if you need them in the future?
You win and accept the title of the Baldur’s Gate hero.
Once Astarion starts burning in the sunlight, he runs away from you and you are afraid he will never come back
He does. But he wants to say goodbyes.
“Darling, I appreciate everything you‘ve done for me. But your future is without me. You are an heir, a fucking nobility. What will your people think about me being a vampire? What will your family think? They will either kill me or kill us both. Live your life, I won’t forget you.”
Before you manage to object, he disappears in the shadows again and you return home brokenhearted.
You feel lonely in your palace and helpless with things you have to do.
Laws to introduce, alliances to make, and shit to deal with.
But one day you wake up, feeling that someone is in your room.
Before you snatch your dagger, a cold hand shuts your mouth.
Astarion sits on your bed, wearing a traveller hunter suit.
“I missed you, love” he whispers, pinning you to bed.
You yell at him. You curse. You are actually so loud you wake up the guardians but when they rush into the room they get an order to treat Astarion as your guest.
You are still angry and you need time.
Astarion has a proposition. “Let’s run away! There is a world to see together. I am free but there isn’t much worth from it if I can’t share it with anybody”
You refuse. You have duties and you won’t abandon them.
You ask him to stay. To rule with you as your “dark consort”.
Besides, it’s always better to have a vampire of your own than having to deal with a vampire you don’t know.
First of all, you forge Astarion a noble ancestry. Anyway, mostly all of the ancient elven families left for the Isle of Evermeet a century ago, and it’s always possible to pretend to be one of them.
Then, you make a good excuse for his nocturnal lifestyle.
A curse. As ancient as your own house. Can’t go into the sunlight, very believable.
But you also offer a reward to anyone who will be able to bring you either a Sunwalker Ring or the Cloak of Dragomir.
Astarion helps you deal with the most difficult legal mess left to you by your ancestors.
He knows about such things much more than your court.
Astarion is your consort, your advisor, your right hand. He rules from shadows, meanwhile you shine in the sunlight.
Astarion enjoys this life of luxury to the extreme.
The best fabric for his clothes, the softest bedlinen, adornments you could buy a village with.
He is also very good at managing the palace - especially the dungeons below it, which hold thousands of secrets.
And Astarion often calls himself “your trophy husband”.
Well, he is. As the Baldur’s Gate savior, you returned empty-handed.
A beautiful prince is the least you could claim!
--
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@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion romance#bg3#astarion bg3#astarion headcanon#baldurs gate 3#astarion headcanons#astarion x tav#tav x astarion#spacebarbarian headcanon#astarion x reader#baldurs gate astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion baldurs gate#astarion brainrot#astarion imagine
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Hiya! Can I request Law and/or Zoro x a male reader who constantly tries to work in couples/working together moves in fights as a his own kinda love language/flirting depending on if you think the relationship would need to be established first or not.
Like Reader and them are cornered mid-fight and Reader's just like, "Finally! I've been waitin to try out this new axe! Launch me, darlin! >:-)"
a/n: hi anon, I went with marimo since he's been on the brain lately <3
Zoro x M!Reader Battle Couple HCs
masc reader, transmasc Zoro
word count: 0.6k
Whether Zoro meets you out in the wild as a bounty hunter (reader having to team up with Luffy and Koby to help break Zoro out of the marine compound is a cute idea though) or when he's already a Strawhat, the beginnings are typically the same - you catch Zoro's eye briefly because of his prowess but it's not until you're forced to work in close proximity that Zoro really takes interest in the your skills and you as a person overall
Beginning to care for you as one of his own, knowing that the other can kick enough ass on their own but having each other's backs not because you don't trust his strength or vice versa but because you love and still look out for one another, each of you powerhouses in their own right still
Not that Zoro would ever associate himself with anyone intolerant nor hide himself to begin with, but I think the moment he walks around topless (op or no) and you give no significant reaction, is when Zoro tells himself you're safe to be around and starts being a tad more buddy-buddy; this usually means more tussling in the bath and impromptu "wrestling" matches on the lawn, no weapons of course, just horsing around
Franky outright bans "serious" sparring matches on the Sunny after everyone comes reunites after two years, he'd heard about how much Zoro and Sanji tore up the Merry in the past with their squabbles from Usopp and has no intention to have to seriously patch Sunny up every other day - so you're both relegated to only having serious tests of strength on land (not that smaller skirmishes aren't allowed, Franky just keeps a close eye on you two so that it doesn't turn into anything more heated)
Zoro automatically has a vested interest in all the cool, sharp new toys his boyfriend brings back to the ship, whether you have a staple one like Wado, Sandai Kitetsu, and now Enma are to him, or you prefer a revolving door of weapons with no particular favorites
He helps you clean and take care of any blades you might carry, maybe even leading to cuddles and something more after the heat of battle you filthy animals, and though he doesn't know anything about guns he's willing to learn about the upkeep for your sake - and if it's anything more technological like lasers, well at least Zoro can enjoy looking at the pretty lights and the destruction that follows
Zoro doesn't let anyone else handle his swords lightly, let alone Wado, that privilege is saved solely for other Strawhats that Zoro's absolutely sure he can trust them to protect what are ostensibly extensions of himself - so when he first puts them in your care, it's a BIG deal, along with the first time he fully shows his back to you, be it in the heat of passion or something more akin to casual, tender affection
Zoro's used to fighting in tandem with other people, the chaos of the Strawhats usually forces one to adapt like that, but if you met him before all that, the level of synchronizing you'd have with him would be unparalleled, both talented blades in your own rights alone but together? Together you're unstoppable
Zoro trusts you with his back and you allow him to see tender, wounded parts of yourself that few others even know about and he protects them like a righteous sentinel, as you are with the parts of him that he seeks to hide away in shame - his guilt, his inadequacy, his mourning, you both take on each other's pain and forge it into a power that shakes the Grand Line in your combined wake
#cebwrites#one piece#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro#op zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x male reader#zoro x y/n#zoro x you#transmasc zoro#male reader#op x reader#one piece x reader
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do you write for multiple characters at once? liek simple headcannons but w a few characters included? if not just ignore this but if you do what about ron, brett, and / or andre (feel free to pick who u wanna write for lol) with a Short™️ reader ? i really love what you've posted so far :P
I do! of course, and thank you!!
I’m including height headcanons for everyone too.
Brett Hand
- brett stands at around 6′2″ or 74 inches. he’s the second tallest of the three, but has always been a little intimidated by anyone taller than him. so he mentions it less than ron does.
- the type of man to buy you stools for your kitchen if he see’s you struggling to get anything. he won’t even mention it to you, but some days you randomly notice a lot of unannounced furniture. if he see’s something starting to wear or tear, he’ll just get you a new one. call him irresponsible with his money all you want, he just wants to make things easier for you.
- oh the hugs are supreme. whether he’s checking in on you at work or simply just gotten home, draping his arms across your waist and hugging you from behind, to his chest has to be one of his favorite things. you could practically use him as a pillow and he’d still just be happy to have you with him.
- would not hesitate to pick you up if needed. piggy back rides? he’s literally built for it, need to grab something high up? he’s right there without a second thought. he does tend to lay out his house a bit differently when the two of you start dating, if he knows you’ll be over he sets out any coffee supplies you could need on his counter so you don’t have to stress over it in the morning.
- he does worry though, he knows you can take care of yourself but, if someone hurt you, especially while he wasn’t there, he couldn’t live with himself. just a little more cautious about your safety, (will splurge on any self defense tool you could ask for) he will not hesitate to get weirdly protective the second someone so much as looks at you wrong.
- will occasionally call you short or shorty, but if he ever sensed it making you uncomfortable he’d stop. if he knows you well enough, he’s able to read you like a book. very hypervigilant.
Ron Staedtler
- ron is definitely the tallest of the three at a staggering 6′4″ or 76 inches. he’s also definitely the one that mentions it the most. he’s used to being the tallest person in the room, but he is such a tease.
- this man spends most of his time with you in his arms in some form or another. pda is already a strong-suit of his. leaning his head on your shoulder while you’re working? his fingers laced with his or his arm snaked around your shoulder? he loves it. can’t get enough of it.
- definitely holds stuff above your head, waits for you to reach up and kisses you when you do. that’s practically his favorite move, and he pulls it off quite well every-time. he’s a pain in the ass but he really does love you..
he does get over affectionate sometimes, so prepare to be occasionally smothered in pecks.
- will just grab stuff off shelves for you if needed, don’t think you won’t get a chuckle or two out of him as he does though. (if you get tired of his shenanigans and climb on the counter though he’ll cheer you on regardless)
- i’d say you get scary dog privileges but he’s more mildly concerning if anything. that being said if anyone ever tried to mess with you, they can prepare for an awful surprise when he stumbles upon it. he’s a nice guy but he knows how to kick some serious ass.
- very soft, will spoon the living hell out of you, (and doesn’t really have a preference between big spoon or little spoon) on one hand being coddled does feel pretty nice, and the other, he gets to wrap around you.. win win.
Andre Lee
- andre is our shortest member of the three, at 5′9″ or 69 inches, 😌 this only means that he isn’t used to people being much shorter than him in relationships, which means he’ll definitely notice it more.
- he finds he actually does like being the taller one, but he is not nearly as showoffish as ron. if he sees you struggling to reach something? he’ll grab it for you. it was originally how the two of you met, you were struggling to grab a coffee cup from the top shelf of one of the cognito kitchens, and he noticed. not wanting to be awkward he grabbed it and delivered it to your desk.. than realized he made it a bit more awkward.
- prepare for a lot of time spent with his head resting on yours, especially if he's tired. he falls asleep holding you a lot ( otherwise he tends to have trouble staying asleep) usually leaving you half awake and tangled in limbs. not that you really mind it.
- might crack a few more jokes about it if he’s high, but he usually has a higher standard for humor than that, (absolute lie, if you so much as say ball around him he’ll giggle like a mad man) bad habit. if anyone else ever jokes about it though prepare to be lectured, only he can make fun of his s/o
- would not hesitate to provide you platforms or heels if you were insecure (or dysphoric) about your height, but he thinks it’s just a part of you and won’t hesitate to remind you of that. prepare for him bragging over his perfect partner anytime you mention feeling insecure.
- he’s just stupid in love with you, your height will never change that. <3
#inside job#brett hand#brett hand inside job#brett hand x reader#inside job brett#brett inside job#ron staedtler#ron staedtler inside job#ron staedtler x reader#inside job ron#ron inside job#andre lee#andre lee inside job#inside job andre#andre inside job#andre lee x reader#inside job headcanon#inside job headcanons
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One more before I go to bed.
Alcohol tolerance headcanons (and how they act) (tiny suggestive warning for one of them)
Peppino: This one I see a lot, but he is definitely a lightweight. Doesn't drink much mostly because he doesn't like the taste. Only takes a few drinks for him to get wasted. He probably had a few drinks in before he was kicking Gus and The Noise in the cover for the OST. He becomes super fun when drunk. Dancing, singing, laughing; you'll see a side of Peppino you never knew existed.
Gustavo: A medium-weight. Doesn't drink often and doesn't drink too much at parties. He gets loose when he's drunk but not to the same degree as Peppino. Cracks a lot of jokes that make no sense. Gets lovey. Wants hugs, tells people how much he loves them and how beautiful they are. Once made Peppino cry after he told him how much he meant to him. The whole "you're my best friend" schpeel.
Mr. Stick: A medium-weight. Prefers wine. Turns into a person instead of a penny pinching seagull. Will open up and have decent conversations. He talks about fun times he had, be it in childhood or college. He'll actually talk your ear off. Talks about why he got into finances. Talks about money, that's inevitable. Not much of a party animal. Enjoys watching the others make themselves look stupid.
Pepperman: HEAVYWEIGHT. He can drink ANYONE under the table except John. Can drink all night and never be TOO drunk. Lets loose. That artsy fartsy narcissist persona disappears. He still talks about art, just not as much. Laughs a lot. Will listen to what you have to say instead of talking over you.
The Vigilante: Somewhere between lightweight and medium-weight. It only takes a few shots of whiskey for him to be off his ass drunk. Trips over his own boots. Laughs a lot, slurs his words. "Sspose to be... Thissws spose to be funn. Whys is, whys is nobody country line dancing? Ss not a party wifout line danssin." His drunk laugh probably sounds like Seth Rogan's.
The Noise: Medium-weight. Can handle most of his liquor. He usually gets giddy and silly. Wants to dance, joke around, probably might light something on fire. Would end up doing drunk karaoke just to be unusually good at it. Doesn't know his limits. Thinks he can handle more than he can, gets blackout drunk and pukes. He likes to run away and be a little shit. He also gets really affectionate when drunk. Wants hugs and kisses and snuggles. Sometimes even gets a little uh... TOO affectionate if you catch my drift. Likes to be dared to do dumb shit. "You guys think I could kick this gas pump hard enough so it'll explode? I'm gonna fuckin do it."
Noisette: Medium-weight. Likes mimosas... Likes mimosas A LOT. Bottomless brunch is her weakness. Gets super bubbly and giggly when drunk. Will laugh at anything. You could point at a pebble, and she'd bust out laughing. As much shit as she gives Noise for getting too drunk, she has also been in his shoes the same amount of times. They take turns on who gets to get drunk and who gets to be the babysitter. Knows her limits. Might suddenly start crying about anything. Would cry because she felt bad for laughing at that pebble earlier. "BUT WHAT IF IT MADE THE PEBBLE SAAAAD."
Fake Peppino: NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK. Took a sip of Pizzahead's wine once. Was an unstoppable force of energy. Got too silly. Many casualties and thousands of dollars worth of damage. All because of ONE sip. NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK.
Pizzaface: Simply doesn't drink. Watches everybody act like idiots. He's the one who pointed at the pebble. "Noisette, look at that pebble." (insert Noisette laughing hysterically)
Pizzahead: HEAVYWEIGHT. Had a drinking contest with Pepperman once; lost. Pouted and didn't talk to Pepperman for like a month. Can drink like 10 drinks before he's actually drunk. Can drink 10 more before he's DRUNK. Turns into even more of a party animal than he already is. Dancing, singing, screaming. When they're both drunk, he and The Noise are BEST FRIENDS. They go hand-in-hand to create the world's craziest party. Probably dances like a whore and gets yelled at for it. Then he dances normal.
Pillar John: Another HEAVYWEIGHT. Can drink more than Pepperman. It takes enough alcohol to kill a small elephant to get John drunk. He doesn't even drink often, he's just like that. Likes to dance and joke around. Usually wins at beer pong. Gets a lot like Gustavo and starts talking about how much he loves everyone except for Pizzahead.
Gerome: Doesn't drink. Sober bro, but still knows how to have a good time. Will stop John from drinking too much or doing something stupid while drunk. He keeps an eye on John, everyone else is on their own.
#pizza tower#the noise#noise#headcanon#pizzahead#shitpost#noisette#peppino#peppino spaghetti#pizza tower gerome#pizza tower gustavo#gustavo#gerome#pillar john#fake peppino#pepperman#the vigilante#mr. stick#pizzaface#suggestive
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