#oh well. special treat for you guys lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Mobile US users spent an average of 115.8 minutes on Tumblr app monthly.

#oh well. special treat for you guys lol

ohbo-ohno · 4 months

Text

merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth.

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart.

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year.

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.”

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor.

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs.

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?”

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure.

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body.

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form.

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back.

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance.

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true.

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted.

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster.

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships.

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year.

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers.

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room.

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked.

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human.

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes.

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds.

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

#lumi im SORRY hand on the bible i could not tell you why this took me so long #it's pwp. it's pure smut. there is no justifiable reason for this taking a week #i literally have FOUR fucking docs of purge au's rn lmao like when i tell you i tried to write this SO MANY TIMES it was just not happening #ghoap x reader #bo writes #purge au #how do i tag this to get people to see it but not to get people complaining about dark fic to me #...i don't #oh well. special treat for you guys lol

438 notes · View notes

strawberrysweater · 3 months

Text

watching an ongoing let's play of v3 and they just finished all of kiibo's free times and what they decided to take away from the fifth one is "wooow haha kiibo's a bad person shuichi has terrible taste in friends!! he sees shuichi as beneath him wow he's doing a terrible job being a person he's rude and he sucks that's so funny LOL fuck this guy" i think perhaps i will just stop watching this series :') they had so much great insight about all the characters and the plot but of course not about my fave :') of course they overlook the line where he literally admits that way of thinking was wrong and he wants to start over.... yes he's not perfect of course that was a jerk move but he's trying that's the whole point of his character is that he's learning and wants to learn.... i thought it was rlly funny the roundabout way he admits he was wrong, and how shuichi doesn't even take it badly he just wanted to know why kiibo used to talk to him like that.... but now every time he shows up they're probably just gonna insult him or whatever :')

#kiibo: to think i would feel this gratitude toward you..... my earlier actions were bad i messed up #kiibo: see i thought i could admit my insecurities to someone beneath me that's what i thought when we first met #shuichi: oh that's why he talked to me like that at first #kiibo: i want to form a real friendship with you shuichi as equals #shuichi: ok me too i feel like we have a special bond #them: shake hands #these let's players: WOW SHUICHI HAS AWFUL TASTE IN FRIENDS THIS GUY SUCKS HAHA #i wanted to see them react to ch5 and ch6 but i am kinda completely soured on this series now #they understood gonta so well and treated him and his story w so much respect and understanding #why does everyone hate kiibo so much LOL maybe im just more attached to characers like him than i should be #but it feels like everyone either 1 ignores him completely #2 ignores him completely to infantilize him and call him a sweet innocent baby #3 looks for any opportunity to make him out to be like. irredeemably annoying and a bad person #or 4 says he has 'no personality'#hes just a fucking guyyyyyyyy

11 notes · View notes

yuyusuyu · 4 months

Text

the return of the princess treatment chronicles ?!

synopsis. mingi loves that you treat him like a princess, really, he does! hey, he means it! he really likes it! however... he's a tad bit sad that he's the only one getting flustered by such actions while you're basking in pride of your affect on him. which is why he must show you the power of the princess treatment himself! little does he know that you, his sweets, also have a very special list...

pairing. bf! song mingi x fem! reader

genres/au. fluff, romance, comedy, established relationship, non idol au, (implied) college au

warnings. couple stuff (kissing, hugging, etc.), cursing, teasing, mentions of alcohol (and alcohol consumption), a guy being weird 💀, yunho has. a weird goofy and all knowing moment (i will not elaborate on this).

rating. mature (alcohol consumption)

wc. 3.4k

part 1 here !

a/n. my last work of the year ! how exciting~~ i hope you all like the long awaited part two of the princess treatment chronicles !! not proofread... again... lol...

reblogs and comments are appreciated as it helps with not getting shadowbanned !

MINGI looks down at you, eyes narrowed as he tries to gauge your expression, while you happily hum. he wants to ask you if you feel uncomfortable, holding his hand while he has his arm thrown over your shoulder, instead he asks the opposite.

"be honest," he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips while your gaze flickers up to him, trying to see him through the worn edges of mingi’s hoodie, before going back to what's in front of you. "do you know about the list?"

"what list?" you ask, a brow raised at him. you push the door open to the bar and walk in after he does. "oh!" gasping, you grin at him, entwining your hands. "are you talking about the poems you have in your notes app?"

mingi gapes at you, ears turning bright red and his cheeks matching the color. "what? no!"

"oh," you blink at him. "well, that's the only thing i've read on your phone. which reminds me…" stopping before you reach your usual table, you wiggle your eyebrows at him, lips tugged to form a lopsided smile. "who are you writing those love poems about, hm? are they about me, loverboy?"

scrunching his nose, mingi leans down and bumps his forehead with your own, eyes darting over every feature on your face. you quiet down, the words you wanted to say getting caught in the back of your throat at the intensity of your boyfriend's gaze. with a low hum, a small smile breaks out on his lips. “and what if they are about you, hm?”

your eyes widen in a comedic manner, face feeling unbearably hot as you gently push him away. mingi laughs wholeheartedly at your flustered reaction, following after you as you hurriedly slide into the same booth as yunho's, who stares between you and mingi with an eyebrow cocked. mingi shrugs, taking a seat next to you and effectively sandwiching you between him and the other giant in your trio.

“what's got you looking like that?” yunho asks, blinking as his hand reaches out to grab a fry from the tray he ordered not too long ago.

“mingi,” you mumble, reaching out and grabbing a handful of fries, popping one into your mouth and chewing slowly. “by the way, he’s acting weird.”

“he’s always weird,” yunho replies, deadpanning. mingi leans over to whack the back of the blond’s head, emitting a whine from him.

“am not,” mingi huffs, eyes narrowed down at yunho. naturally, he throws his arm around you, his hand playing with material covering your shoulder. “by the way, did you tell her about the list?”

completely ignoring his question, yunho turns his attention towards you. “you know about the list?”

“what list?” you ask, exasperation laced in your voice. “the only list i know about is the one filled with love poems he dedicates to me.”

“you know about that, too?” yunho looks over at mingi. “dude, you are so bad at hiding stuff from yn.”

“what list are you guys talking about?” you look between both of your best friends, pouting.

“nothing!” mingi says, attempting to distract you from the conversation at hand by peppering your face with kisses.

it works.

when mingi pulls away and you stop giggling, you feel heart pick up its pace with the pretty smile mingi wears, eyes forming crescents as he looks at you. he presses one last kiss on your nose, nuzzling his head into your cheek before standing up, whispering about how he’ll go get you something to drink.

once mingi is gone, you abruptly twist around and pinch yunho’s arm, holding the skin in between your fingers while he whines. in the midst of yunho trying to swat your hand away, you lower your voice, “did you tell him about the list?”

with a successful smack to your hand, your best friend huffs and raises a brow, lips slightly pursed. “and why would i tell him about that?”

“it’s just,” your gaze flickers over to your boyfriend, watching him talk with the bartender, “i… you know…”

yunho hums, “it’s important. i know… i wouldn’t tell him about it, you know that.”

“yeah… yeah,” you nod, “you’re right.”

“what’s he right about this time, sweets?” mingi slides in next to you, handing you a beer bottle. his arm goes to rest around you again, his fingers mindlessly playing with your hair.

with a scoff, you reply. “that he’s weird.”

“i am not weird,” yunho throws you a dirty glare, emitting a shout of protest as he steals your beer. “and you can’t drink.”

while yunho sticks his tongue out at you, momentarily distracted, mingi reaches out and grabs the beer from him. “i’ll drink my girlfriend’s beer, thank you very much.”

you take the bottle from mingi and take a swig from it, mumbling how you’ll drink it yourself. yunho bites back the grin that wants to appear on his lips, noticing the flustered expression on your face while mingi simply laughs and tells you to give it to him if you don’t want to finish it.

oh, you are so smitten and mingi is so going to complete that list of yours.

HOW TO MAKE Y/N FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: BE HONEST (BECAUSE I HATE LYING PEOPLE! YOU CAN THANK MY EX BOYFRIEND FOR THIS! AND ME FOR ADVISING HER TO ADD THIS —JEONG YUNHO, HER BEST FRIEND)

yunho’s note at the end of your writing makes your lips curl upwards, a soft chuckle leaving them. with a finger running down the expanse of the worn out page of your old physics notebook, you close it and push it back into your bookshelf just as the door swings open. mingi walks into your room, shoulders sagging as his feet drag against the wooden floor. you huff through your nose, turning around and opening your arms to which he falls into them, groaning in relief as his form hunches over you to dig his nose into the crook of your neck.

“rough day?” you ask, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck before you flatten your palm and thread your fingers through his hair, surprised that his hair is damp. he probably came over as soon as he finished taking a shower and changed into his pjs. “don’t you feel uncomfortable?”

“yes and no,” he mumbles. “yes: rough day at work today. too busy. no: i don’t feel uncomfortable. you’re like, the most comfortable person ever. i like hugging you, you know? oh, and you’re also—”

“baby,” pushing him back by the shoulders, mingi pouts at you, making you giggle. “you’re rambling.”

“i like rambling,” he blurts out, “just with you, though. i don’t like doing that with others.” his fingers absentmindedly rub figures into your hip.

snorting in amusement, you bring him into a hug and feel him let out a content sigh. “you’re awfully honest today, mings. it’s a,” trailing off, you grin, eyes twinkling in mischief, “...stark contrast to your usual boy cries wolf self.”

mingi clicks his tongue tiredly, “yeah, well, i don’t have to be like that with you. i’m just plain ol’ song mingi with you. hey, can i stay the night? i like sleeping with you.”

you hum, rolling your eyes in a playful manner, trying to ignore the fuzziness of your mind. the male grumbles something incoherent, and he grabs your hand afterwards to pull you towards your bed, basically tugging you to fall into it with him. mingi lifts himself up slightly to pull down the duvet, making you do the same before he’s already pushing it back up, snaking his arms around you and pulling you closer to him with a grunt. “you need a new bed.”

“no i don’t,” you laugh.

“yes, you do. it’s too tiny for the both of us.”

he’s right—his feet always peek out from the end of the bed.

“you’re awfully honest today.”

“just because i can be myself with you,” he mumbles into your hair, his grip around your waist tightening. “it’s not tiring to talk with you. i don’t have to pretend to be someone else. like with my coworkers! so tiring...”

“is that so…”

you’re met with soft snores coming from your boyfriend and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

HOW TO MAKE Y/N FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: BE YOURSELF! (DON’T PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE YOU’RE NOT! THANK MY EX BOYFRIEND FOR THIS AND ME FOR TELLING HER TO ADD THIS —YUNHO)

mingi grabs your hand and brings them up to his lips, brushing them against the skin of the back and letting your entwined fingers fall back between the two of you, swinging it idly. “why are you nervous, sweets?”

“why wouldn’t i be nervous is the real question here,” you say, glancing up at mingi. with a small sigh, you continue, “i just want your family to like me, mingi.”

he grabs you by the shoulders, twisting you so that you stand in front of him and tugging you into a hug. as he rocks both of you from side-to-side, he laughs quietly, “don’t worry, yn. they’ll like you just as much as i do. my mom is going to love you right off the bat.”

“and how do you know that?” you question, tilting your head up.

mingi scratches his cheek in a sheepish manner, “i, um, talk about you to her a lot.”

the front door of his mom’s place opens, his mom smiling widely at the sight of you and her son staring at her with wide eyes. you can tell she wants to tease the both of you but resists the urge to do so, instead ushering you two inside, apologizing for having you guys stand outside in the cold for so long. and just like that, as soon as you take off your shoes and hand your coat over to mingi, you’re whisked away by his mom and sat next to his aunt where you end up laughing to the point of tears at the stories they tell you of mingi’s childhood.

“one time, i was sick and i don’t really like chicken soup, so mingi tried making me a vegetable soup and even made a dance called ‘the veggie get better soon’ dance.”

you laugh in disbelief, “auntie, you're joking right?”

mingi’s mom shakes her head, laughing along with you. “now why would i lie about that? oh, does he still have that habit of needing to sleep with something?”

“yes. i’m his victim.”

“oh sweetie… good luck.”

his mom and aunt start talking about something else that you should, in theory, pay attention to. however, your favorite person's laugh fills the air and effectively grabs your attention. mingi sits on the couch by the door, playing with his baby cousins while the older one tells him something you can’t quite hear. but you watch as mingi throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut and his smile trembling from how hard he’s laughing, his body shaking.

“oh,” his mom lets out a content sigh, smiling fondly.

you peer over at her. “he hasn’t changed one bit, i see.”

and you think you can agree with her—that mingi hasn't changed one bit since you met him. your heart aches and silently hopes that he never does change.

HOW TO MAKE Y/N FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: TREAT HER RIGHT! (I SWEAR IF I END UP DATING ANOTHER DICKWAD I WILL CRY! AND I WILL PERSONALLY CRY WITH HER! —YUNHO)

yunho talks about something that just happened to him, taking a sip from his red party cup and wincing at the pungent taste of horribly mixed alcohol. he mumbles something to his best pal, but it doesn't quite meet mingi’s ears. you see, he is a little occupied with keeping an eye an you, who had left his side earlier to greet some of your friends at the small party being held by one of his friends. when you were ready to go back to his side, some stinky guy decided to keep you from doing just that. he watches with a stoic expression as the guy continuously shimmies closer to you, a frown soon etched onto his lips when he notices the way your polite smile wavers and your eye twitches just the tiniest bit.

you’re annoyed. and rightfully so! he would be annoyed too if some person were to keep him from going back to you!

so he walks over, jaw tensing when he hears something he should never hear.

“why are you acting like such an ass? i’m just trying to ask you out—”

mingi silently grabs onto the back of the shorter male’s collar, pulling him back just enough for him to glower down at him. “apologize to her.” he’s surprised at how he, oddly, sounds calm when anger is bubbling in his chest right now.

the guy rolls his eyes. “why should i? and who the hell are you?”

“her boyfriend,” he barks out a chuckle, leaning down to be at eye level with him, “and i don’t like the way you just treated her. apologize to her while i’m asking nicely.”

the storm that rages inside him calms down, your touch lulling him back to you. mingi glances back at you, your skin hot against his. he lets go of the guy roughly, barely acknowledging the way he stumbles away as quickly as possible. with his hands cupping your cheeks gently, he tilts your head to the side, eyebrows pinched together in worry. “sweets, are you okay? are you feeling sick? you feel really warm—”

that’s because he’s doing quite the number on your heart right now and you’re not sure what to do with the growing feeling in your chest, the one that you’re so afraid of after the last fiasco that was your previous relationship.

this calls for a guidance meeting with yunho soon!

HOW TO MAKE Y/N FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: BE THERE FOR HER! (I WILL PROPOSE TO YOU ON THE SPOT! SHE REALLY WILL! —YUNHO)

“you’re in love with him,” yunho shrugs.

you gawk at how easily he said that. “i—well, i’m not sure if he feels the same way!”

your best friend gives you a pointed look. “are you blind or something?”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.

“only a fool wouldn’t be able to see how much mingi loves you… so i guess that makes you a fool, yn!”

your conversation from earlier replays itself in your mind. you can’t believe yunho just… said that to you and left afterwards to deal with your brain melting down all by yourself. now you lay in your bed, curled into yourself while you hear the clock in your living room tick and tick and tick away, the sound making time feel like it’s on a loop.

with a frustrated sigh, you screw your eyes shut and grab a pillow from behind you, moving it to the front so that you can hug it while you contemplate the meaning of your existence and the heavy weight of yunho’s words in your mind. but then you hear your front door open and close, followed by some shuffling.

“dear robber,” you shout, “i’m a poor, poor student that just graduated. i’m literally so broke right now, so i suggest you make yourself a meal in my kitchen before heading out.” the door to your room creaks open; you squint an eye open, seeing mingi lean against the doorframe. “aren’t you supposed to be on your way to work?”

“yunho told me you were feeling down, so i got someone to cover my shift under the excuse that i have a stupid fever.” he hums, pushing himself towards you. kneeling down in front of you, mingi brushes some of your hair away from your face.

curse yunho for opening his big mouth.

you make a mental note to yourself that you will be having a talk with that man before shaking your head, merely stretching your arms out and making grabby hands at your boyfriend. he chuckles, shedding his glasses off and putting them on your nightstand, sliding in beside you as you scoot over to make more space for him. you let out a content sigh, resting your head on his chest where you can easily hear the steady beating of his heart. you melt in his arms, your worries washed away as soon as he wraps an arm around your waist.

it’s silent for a minute.

or maybe less than that.

“you need a bigger bed. it’s too small for the two of us.”

snorting, you hit his back softly. “no i don’t.”

“...but you do.”

you laugh this time, and mingi triumphantly smiles because he knows that whatever had you down in the dumps is now gone from your mind, the sign of your shoulders relaxed is a tell tale sign that he’s doing a pretty good job at making you feel at ease right now.

HOW TO MAKE Y/N FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: SAY THE L WORD TO HER FIRST (BECAUSE I WILL NEVER AGAIN SAY IT FIRST! YOU CAN THANK MY EX FOR THAT! FUCK THAT GUY, NO ONE LIKES HIM! —YUNHO)

celebrating the day that is gift giving, christmas, on the twentieth with yunho and mingi became a tradition as soon as you three started college. it is a tradition that, a year after graduation, won’t ever change. so you’re sitting on the ground in front of the small tree in yunho’s apartment, a couple of presents littering the ground around it which makes for a pretty funny sight, if you do say so yourself. mingi sits to your left, giggling as he tries grabbing the presents that are tagged as his while yunho gets up with the goal of making hot chocolate for you guys to drink before the clock strikes twelve.

only because his goal is to get you two alone in hopes that mingi says he loves you first… but you don’t have to know that and neither does mingi!

you slap mingi’s hands away as he tries tearing the wrapping paper from one of the smaller gifts in his pile. he whines and pouts, rubbing his hand. “i can’t believe you just hurt me.”

“that’s on you,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him.

it happens out of the blue: mingi leans over and shoves the hood of one of his stolen hoodies over your head. you yelp in surprise and try swatting his hand away while he laughs, only for him to let out a noise, something between a yelp and a high pitched squeal, as he somehow ends up toppling over you. groaning, you manage to remove his hand from the hoodie and pull it back, narrowing your eyes up at mingi. he ignores the look on your face, his hand slowly finding itself touching your nose, your cheek and then your mouth, his thumb running over the expanse of your bottom lip softly. you watch him intently, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“you’re really pretty,” he mumbles, replacing his thumb in favor of brushing his lips against yours in a brief kiss. instead of pulling away, he says something else—something that has you tearing up. “you’re pretty inside, too. you have the most beautiful soul ever… one of the reasons why i love you so much. more than you’ll ever know, i think.”

the corners of his lips tug upwards to a form a pretty grin while he wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. “why are you crying, yn?”

“because i love you and i thought…” you clear your throat, “i thought that you didn’t feel the same way…”

“and i told her that she was a fool,” yunho pipes up, placing the two cups of hot chocolate on the table. “but i told you that mingi loves you and you didn’t want to listen to me.”

scoffing, you take off the antler headband from mingi’s head and throw at it yunho. he raises an unamused brow as it flies past his head and hits the wall. “...really?” he looks into the distance. “hey, author! i think it’s my turn to have—”

“what the hell is he going on about?” mingi whispers to you. you both sit up and watch your crazy best friend talk to the air in front of him, waving his arms every once in a while like a madman.

with a grimace, you reply. “i don’t know… do you want to knock him out and see if that does anything to him?”

“...yeah, i think i’ll do that.”

perma taglist. @asjkdk @kodzukein @hrt4jeno @jeonride @lissiesykes @satsuri3su @atinytownclown @sanhwaism @ad0rechuu

480 notes · View notes

allysunny · 2 months

Note

heyyy hope ur well <3 i looooove ur writing so much it’s amazing! i had a request for bruce if that’s ok 24 & 2 + a book i was reading gave me an idea lol so could the reader be in an unhealthy abusive toxic relationship and falls for bruce who treats her soooo well and loves her soooo much unlike who she is currently with (she could have a reason why she can’t leave her partner maybe she’s so scared) and bruce is there for her always protecting her looking out for her worrying about her spoiling her he he genuinely is in love with her and you can add all ur magic to it and all ur awesome ideas. anyway if it’s not something u think fit ur writing or u don’t have enough time don’t worry it’s totally ok :))))) <3 <3 have a great day xx

For the Better

“You light up even the darkest of days” + “Please don’t leave me” + Kiss on the lips x Bale!Bruce Wayne

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 22.1k words

Warnings: Abusive & toxic relationship, domestic violence, gaslighting, lying, manipulation, I'm talking really, really unhealthy relationship, angst, bruises and some blood, fluff, angst with happy ending, kissing, I literally don't know how else to tag this, but please read the warnings because this is a very fucked up relationship.

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the last entry for my 200 Followers Event. I want to thank everyone who participated and all those who showed their support. That means the world to me.

Now, oh my god. This is my magnum opus, I believe. It took me a whole week to write this. This fic is the apple of my eye, my baby, my sin, my soul, I would die for this. I think it's my best work so far. I have worked my ass off for this, I really have, and I have no words to convey just how special and dear this fic is to me.

I would also like to apologise if there are any inconsistencies - I started writing it last Monday and finished it Saturday, so it's been nearly a week and I might've forgotten small details as the days went on. I tried to proofread it!

I really hope you guys will enjoy it and cherish it as much as I did. <3

To Bruce, you were the most gorgeous woman in the entire world.

Your eyes could rival even the brightest star in the sky, the sun did not hold a candle to how radiant your smile was, and no flower could compare to your beautiful. You were simply gorgeous, inside, and out.

Unfortunately, you weren’t his.

Bruce had met you during a charity event. Some wealthy couple was raising funds for the Gotham Police Department (even though Bruce did not believe half of them deserved such charity), and he had of course been invited. The couple in question could not care less about philanthropy – they were merely trying to appear that way. That’s Gotham, for you.

You’d been waitressing during the event, carrying trays of hors-d'œuvre and champagne, smiling politely at guests and trying to do your job the best you could. You’d walked by him twice, and although you weren’t really paying attention to the guests (you were far more preoccupied with not tripping and making a scene), he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was so mesmerised, that he found himself searching for you whenever he wasn’t talking to anyone else. Sometimes when you returned to the kitchen, he saw you talking to your coworkers, smiling, and giggling about.

After a few hours of being bored to death by patrons with faux smiles and untrue compliments, he was ready to call it a night and return to the loneliness of his mansion – and that’s when you caught his attention.

Or rather, everyone’s attention.

You’d bumped into someone’s shoulder (it was actually someone’s shoulder who had bumped into you) and spilled the tray of appetisers on top of an old man who wasn’t pleased with the situation. The man, who he recognised as Charles Carnegie – a crooked businessman famous for his dabbles with illegal gambling and corruption – yelled at you, insulting you with every name in the book. The man was just about to raise his hand, no doubt to strike you across your face, when Bruce intervened, rushing between the two of you and gripping the man’s arm.

Charles looked up in confusion and his turbulent eyes widened in recognition.

“Mr. Wayne!” he exclaimed, voice dripping with anger, “Let go of me this instant. Did you not see what happen? This foolish girl was not paying attention and spilled her tray all over me. I do not know how such incompetent staff can be hired. Someone ought to teach this insubordinate brat a lesson!”

Bruce’s hold on the man’s arm only tightened. How dare he speak to you like that? You were standing behind him, head hung low and muttering a string of apologies that were barely audible.

“Mr. Carnegie, if anyone here deserves to be taught a lesson, it is you.” He said, eyes narrowing. “Your inebriation and inability to watch where you’re going is not this woman’s fault. If you cannot behave at a public function, perhaps you shouldn’t think of attending. This server is not at fault, and you will apologize to her.”

The older man scoffed and tried stepping away from Bruce’s grip but failing.

“How dare you! Mr. Wayne, this – this – this harlot bumped into me! My suit is ruined, and she has insulted my dignity. Let go of me this instant, Mr. Wayne, or else – “

“Or else what?” Bruce asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, audible only to the man standing in front of him. “We are currently surrounded by the police our hosts were so kind to fundraise for. The entire Gotham Police Department is here, and while I know that most of them are corrupt scum like you, I am also familiar with the ones who would be more than overjoyed to throw you into jail for illegal gambling, embezzlement of funds and propositioning. I can ruin you with nothing short of three sentences, and you can bet that should you not apologize to the young woman standing behind me, I will.”

The colour drained from Charles’s face, and he stuttered, trying to come up with a decent response. It was no secret that the Carnegies were a powerful family. But the Waynes were almost royalty, and everyone in Gotham would rather swallow their whole fist than get into their bad graces. Especially Bruce Wayne’s. Surely, a man who showed up to every social function with not only a new car but a gorgeous new woman on his arm, wasn’t afraid to pull a few strings to get what he wanted – even if that meant ruining someone’s life.

“I – I – Mr. Wayne, how dare you – “

“Apologize to the young lady, or I will personally make sure all your belongings are gone by the time this godforsaken party is over. You’ll be sleeping on the floor before you can threaten me or anyone else again.”

Charles stuttered a few more times, before gulping and nodding. Bruce released his arm, and the man was quick to hold his wrist, twisting it a few times. Who would’ve known the Wayne orphan had such a death grip?

He looked up and Bruce moved out of his way to partially reveal you, yet still close enough to protect you should Charles decide to hurt you further.

“I – I am…” he stumbled over his words, shaking his head. “My apologies, Miss. My behaviour was… It was unacceptable. I am sorry for my lack of attention, and for bumping into you. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies.” The words sounded scared – not necessarily genuine but scared – and they almost made Bruce smirk.

“It’s alright,” you muttered, eyes still fixated on the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose at how meek you sounded and looked around himself. The situation had turned rather awkward – people were staring in his direction and murmuring to themselves. So, he did the only thing plausible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, why are we standing here, when the caviar has just been served?” he exclaimed loudly, plastering on his most charming Bruce Wayne smile, which had the guests immediately react, answering with soft chuckles of their own. “Our lovely police force should be honoured the right way – but that doesn’t mean they should get all the good food for themselves!”

The crowd that had formed around you three quickly dissipated, and so did Bruce’s smile when he finally got a good look at you. You were down on your knees, picking up your tray and trying to pick up some of the appetisers to clean up your mess a bit.

“Hey,” he chided softly to get your attention. “Hey, please, look at me.”

When you didn’t, he kneeled down next to you.

That’s when he saw you. Truly saw you.

Your face was puffy, eyes red and wet with tears that you’d tried your best to wipe away. You looked nervous and miserable, and all Bruce wanted to do was bring you close and make you feel better.

“Sir, I – he was right,” you mumbled, shaking your head, trying your best to clean up the floor with nothing but your bare hands and the napkin you carried on your arm. “I bumped into him. You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble.”

“I saw him,” Bruce replied softly. “He bumped into you. And even if he hadn’t, it did not mean he had the right to hit you. I was not going to let him do it.”

You nodded and sighed, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your arm.

“I caused you all that trouble. I’m really sorry. Shit, I feel terrible. I ruined that man’s suit and made such a mess… Nathan would mock me to hell and back if he saw me like this…” this caused the dam to break, and you wept loudly. Bruce did not really know what to do. What did one do whenever a woman was crying? He’d had a few one-night-stands in which the women cried once they realised he wanted nothing more to do with them, but they usually left by themselves, claiming he was a “heartless jerk”, and that was the rest of it.

He took the napkin from your hands and offered you a reassuring smile.

“If it makes you feel better that man deserved it. Charles Carnegie is a well-known corrupt and needed a reality check. If I could, I would’ve probably done that on purpose.”

This earned a soft chuckle from you, and you stood up, Bruce following right after.

“I’m going to call someone to take care of this.” You said, to which Bruce nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

“There’s really no need for that, it’s okay – “

“Nonsense. That old jerk might try to follow you and threaten you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You nodded, and quickly made your way towards the kitchen, where you asked for someone’s help. They were quick to reply, and within a few minutes, the whole place was spotless, and no one could tell anything had happened if they looked at the floor.

As soon as it was done, you turned to Bruce and offered him a small smile.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Wayne. What you did back there was very kind. I don’t even know how I could ever repay you.”

Bruce lifted a hand and shook his head.

“There’s no need to repay me. I’m just happy I could help.”

You nodded sheepishly, and extended your hand, telling him your name.

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

Bruce shook it and his hold may have lingered on yours for a tad longer than what would have been acceptable, before tasting your name on his lips.

“It’s a lovely name. I’m Bruce. Wayne.”

“Yes – I gathered. Everyone knows you,” you chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish they didn’t.” He confided.

“I’m not sure that’s for the best. Being invisible has its downsides, I’m afraid.”

You gave him his number, and the two began to talk rather quickly, even going as far as deciding to gather for ice-cream about two weeks after your initial meeting. He texted you, saying he knew of a fantastic ice-cream parlour next to his company’s building, and invited you. You’d agreed almost instantly, replying with a bunch of emojis – and that’s how you found yourself next to Bruce Wayne, eating ice-cream. You’d gotten a lemon flavoured scoop, while Bruce went for mint.

“I was surprised you wanted to meet up!” You said, beaming up at him once you had paid for your sweet treat. Or rather, after Bruce had paid for it. He insisted, telling you he couldn’t possibly let a lady pay. You made him promise he’d let you pay next time, to which he replied, “We’ll see”.

“Really?” He replied. “Why is that?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne. Don’t you have like, I don’t know, a bazillion cars to drive, and a bunch of models to date, and lots of money to spend? Why’d you invite me to ice-cream?”

“I’m spending my money on ice-cream,” he gave you a cheeky smirk.

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled and ate a spoonful of the treat in your hand.

“To be honest, my day was going terribly. I needed some fresh air, and you seemed like good company.” He was being as honest as he could. His day at Wayne Enterprises was going terribly, with a bunch of investors trying to go behind his back and steal some of his money. It had been a hassle, but thankfully all had been taken care of. He needed something to distract him from the stress.

“Oh, tell me about it,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “The restaurant today was hellish. It was as if Satan had spawned a hundred different little devil women to make my day worse.” You told him about all the “Karens” that had bothered you, insisting you’d gotten their order wrong, when they were simply too drunk to function (even though it was around midday), complaining about how weird their food tasted, or even going as far as telling you they did not like the decoration. It made your blood boil, but a girl needed to pay her bills, so you sucked it up.

Bruce chuckled at your descriptions of the acts you’d like to perform to those women – none of them very family friendly – and found it rather cute when you decided to deal with your frustrations by scooping a large spoonful of your lemon flavoured ice-cream. You moaned in delight once the soft food melted on your tongue and smiled.

“Nathan would just freak out if he tried these,” you said, “He’s a sucker for good ice-cream.”

Bruce’s brow quirked quizzically. Nathan? The name sounded oddly familiar coming from your lips, but he couldn’t quite tell why. You seemed to notice his expression because you were quick to continue.

“My boyfriend. I’ve mentioned him before, remember? I think I mentioned at the party too.” You hummed and ate another spoonful of ice-cream, groaning once again. “This is good. Really good. Wow.”

“Ah. Yes, your boyfriend.” Bruce nodded. He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. Sure, he’d only known you for two weeks, and you had told him about Nathan early on (he simply decided to ignore that) but he’d be lying if he said the thought of more than just a friendship hadn’t crossed his mind. It was only natural, and he considered himself to be an efficient man, who went for what he wanted – well, almost. Batman had made that a tad impossible, but Bruce was still figuring it out.

“Mhm!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Nathan and I have been dating for a few years. We’re actually close to four!” You quickly told him how you and Nathan had met, something you surprisingly had not done before. You’d been accompanying a friend of yours to the ER after someone had spilled a pan of burning hot oil on top of her. The Emergency Room Doctor, Nathan Smith, had taken care of her very quickly, but it was on you he had his eyes during the entire appointment. After the both of you had thanked him, and your friend had a bandaged arm, he’d stopped you in your tracks and politely asked if you would give him your number. You couldn’t lie to yourself – he was handsome, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and a kind smile, and you swore he could’ve been a model if he wanted to. So, you had said yes.

“And the rest was history,” you finished. “We’ve been together ever since.”

Bruce hummed and busied himself with taking another spoonful of mint ice cream to his lips. “I see,” he hummed. “Well, I hope everything goes well with your relationship. He sounds nice.”

“He really is. I love him.” There were stars in your eyes, and while part of Bruce scowled, unhappy with this man he had never met before, another wanted to smile, because you did seem like a lovely girl, and he did want to see you happy.

After that day, you and Bruce became close friends.

He got to know you. You worked a job at a two Michelin star restaurant, waiting tables. That’s how you’d heard of the charity gala gig – word spread around that a rich couple was looking to hire some servers, and you’d applied in the hopes of making a few extra bucks.

He learned that you were a very resilient person, not at all like the way you’d appeared that day at the gala. You’d told him you were simply having a terrible day, with a few costumers yelling in your face during your regular shift. Charles Carnegie doing the same thing at night was the straw that broke the camel’s back and seemed to break you.

He got to know all your hobbies, and the things you liked to do for fun. Learned all your favourite books, the movies you liked to watch when you were down, the snacks you liked to munch on whenever your day went sour. He learned what made you tick, and the things that inspired you. You told him about your family – the relatives you loved, those you were close with, and the ones that simply did not deserve to be in your life anymore.

Every time you disclosed some piece of information about your life, Bruce drank it all up. He wanted to know you, all of you. He listened whenever you complained to him about work, whenever you texted him with any sort of happy news, or when you called him late at night because you felt lonely. It had been so long since Bruce had someone to call his friend, and he loved every bit of it. He knew he wasn’t the first person you came to whenever you wanted to talk. Part of him wished he was your first choice, but he saw the look in your eyes whenever you mentioned Nathan.

And speaking of, he even got to meet said Nathan.

A few weeks after your second meeting, the one where you’d gone out for ice-cream, Bruce decided to surprise you by having a meal at the restaurant you worked at. He asked for a table, and specifically asked for you as his server. The owner was clearly surprised; not only did he not expect Bruce Wayne of all people to have dinner at his restaurant, but he also wasn't expecting him to ask for a specific server. Especially one that seemed as insignificant as you. Bruce assured him it was vital that he had you as his server, and the man quickly relented, happy to tend to the billionaire’s every need.

“Hi, welcome to La Lune d'Argent. My name is – “ Before you could continue, you looked up and a grin spread across your face. “Bruce! What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner. What does it look like?” He replied with a smile.

“You could've told me you were coming! I’d have gotten you the best table.”

“This one is just fine, I promise. And letting you know in advance would sort of ruin the purpose of a surprise, don't you think?”

“You wanted to surprise me?” Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you shook your head, trying to get rid of it. Not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were also at your workplace and needed to remain professional. “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

Bruce smiled once again, before opening the menu in front of him and eyeing it.

“What do you recommend?” He asked.

“Well, the Seared Scallops with Truffle Risotto are our specialty. The Lobster Thermidor is also really good, and so are the Stuffed Shrimp with Crabmeat. But if you’re not in the mood for fish, then I recommend the Chateaubriand and the Filet Mignon. The Tournedos Rossini is a costumer favourite, but I’ve tried it and don’t think it’s all that.”

Bruce nodded, before going over the wine section.

“And the wine?”

“It depends. If you pick any of the fish dishes, then you should go with the Chardonnay or the Prosecco. If you go for the meat, then you should most likely enjoy a glass of Cabernet or Merlot. There’s plenty more, but I’m I wouldn’t be of any help with those. I’m terrible when it comes to wine.” You recited, the words spilling naturally from your lips – you’d done this a thousand times.

“That’s okay. Well then, how about I have the Foie Gras Terrine and the Truffle Risotto Croquettes as appetisers, and for the main dish, I’d like the Chateaubriand if possible. I’d also like a side of salad. As for the wine, I trust the owner’s good judgment. Cabernet it is.” He waited until you were done writing everything down and handed you the menu.

“Anything else?” You asked, taking it, and tucking it under your arm.

“Is your company too much to ask for?” He offered you a smile.

“Some of us have to actually work, Mr. Wayne,” you joked and stuck your tongue out playfully, “I’ll have your appetisers here in a minute.”

Dinner went well. The food was stellar (there was after all a reason the restaurant had two Michelin stars), the wine lived up to the expectations, and your company – or rather, the small moments you managed to spare him – warmed his heart. You offered him small quips about your work, told him about the usual costumers that sat on their usual tables and had their usual meals, gossiped about those you didn't like. It felt nice, to have a good time at work. You didn't completely hate your job, no, and some days were definitely fun thanks to your coworkers or any sort of shenanigans that happened during your shifts, but it could get boring and lonely and upsetting. Bruce being there was a nice change, and a welcome one.

“When does your shift end?” He asked, after he’d eaten a nice slice of cheesecake for dessert.

“In about half an hour, I believe. I have an early night today.”

“I’ll wait for you then.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, Bruce – “

“Nonsense. Do you have a ride home?”

“I’ll just take the train.”

“I'll give you a ride then.”

“Bruce, that’s seriously not necessary – “

You were interrupted by the voice of your boss, calling out your name in an accusatory tone. “Do I pay you to sit around and talk to costumers?”

You sighed and nodded towards Bruce.

“Thank you. A ride home would be nice.”

He waited until you were done, paid for his meal and left you a nice tip, and then waited outside. You took a few minutes, but soon enough you were walking towards him, wrapped around in a comfortable looking jacket.

“You ready to go?” you asked before a voice called out.

“Babe?”

You turned around, and your eyes widened before softening at the sight before them. “Nate!” You smiled, making your way to him, and hugging him tightly. Nate hugged you back just as tight, but his eyes did not leave the tall man that had been by your side.

“Who is this?” He asked, discontent clear in his voice.

“Oh!” You turned to face Bruce, arm linked with Nathan’s. “This is Bruce! I told you about him, remember? He’s my friend.”

“You did tell me about your friend. You did not mention your friend was the Bruce Wayne.”

“Well, that’s because he’s not the Bruce Wayne to me. He’s just Bruce.” You smiled, and Nathan didn't seem too pleased once Bruce extended his hand.

“Bruce Wayne.” He spoke. Nathan shook his hand, steel-like eyes taking the taller man in, his expensive clothes and pulled-together appearance.

“Nathan Smith. So, you’re my girl’s friend, is that right?” He asked, pulling you closer by the waist. It wasn't hard to miss the jealous look in his face, and Bruce decided to ease the guy’s mind a bit, not wanting to get into any trouble. And not wanting to get you into any trouble.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny because she’s barely said a word about you.” Nathan replied, offering Bruce a tight-lipped smile, and turning to you. “I came here to surprise you. Heard you were getting an early night, wanted to give you a lift home. Maybe we can make up for lost time? I miss you.” It did not take an idiot to see what the hell he was getting at, and it made your duck your head slightly, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. I loved the surprise.” You faced Bruce once again and offered him an apologetic smile. “Nate will take me home, if that’s fine by you.”

“Fine by him? What's this got to do with him?” Your boyfriend asked, chuckling dryly, and giving you a not so amused look.

“Bruce had offered to take me home. It was kind of him, so I said yes.”

“Yes, yes, very kind.” Nathan turned to Bruce too. “As you can see, your help is no longer needed. I’ll be taking my girlfriend home now.” He said the words with a sneer, happy to claim you as his.

“Yes, well. Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Oh, I do.”

You looked awkwardly in between both men and cleared your throat moving away from your boyfriend to envelop Bruce in a hug.

“Thank you for the surprise. It was really nice. And thanks for the offer too. The ride back home one. I’ll see you some other day?”

“Absolutely,” He replied and turned to leave.

As he walked away, he could hear Nathan’s voice and how accusatory it sounded.

“Surprise? What was that all about? Why was that guy visiting you at work?”

“He’s a friend, Nate. He just wanted to stop by.”

“Oh yeah? And what business does he have just stopping by? He’s not your boyfriend. I am.”

“He’s just a friend, Nate. I promise. Let's just go home, please? I miss you.”

Bruce was inside his car before he could properly make out whatever Nathan had replied to you, but he could tell it was nothing good.

The next time Bruce saw you, you were sitting by yourself at a coffee shop, having an iced drink and reading a book. He thought about approaching you but decided against it. You looked peaceful, and he didn't want to upset you should you not want to see him after the whole ordeal with your boyfriend went down.

But he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice call his name, and your hand beckoning him to come closer.

“Hey! I had no idea you came to this place. Wanna sit next to me?” You asked, moving your bag out of the chair in front of you, making space for him,

“Sometimes, on my lunch break. I take it today is your day off?”

“Mhm! Got today all to myself. I was supposed to spend it with Nathan, but we kind of fought so I decided to get some fresh air myself. You know, just to clear my head.” You said the words “kind of fought” as if they meant nothing, as if fighting with your boyfriend was a daily occurrence. He didn't like that.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” Bruce sat down in front of you, placing his own coffee on the table.

“Nah, not really. That’s just who Nate is. He gets upset sometimes, and I have to put some space in between us. No big deal. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Well, like I mentioned, this was supposed to be my lunch break, but I took the afternoon off. Alfred – my butler – is supposed to come pick me up later. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ marriage. I want to visit their graves.”

Your eyes softened and you placed a hand on top of his. Your palm felt warm on top of his, and Bruce immediately turned his hand so he could slot his fingers in between yours.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said. After all, what more could you? Everyone knew Bruce Wayne’s story, but you did not want to seem presumptuous and assume you knew all about him. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Me too,” Bruce replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion, the way it usually was whenever he mentioned his parents. He didn't speak about them to many people, but let his facade slip completely for those he did trust enough.

“Is it okay if I come with?” You asked, and immediately regretted it. Why would you ask such a thing? Why would he even allow you to attend such a private thing with him? It was dumb, really. Before you could take your words back though, he replied, eyebrow quirked.

“Really?”

You shrugged sheepishly.

“Sure. It sounds tough, and I don’t want you to suffer all by yourself. You tend to do that.”

It was true. Bruce often hid his feelings, his emotions, shielding them from everyone. It hadn’t been that long since you two had started talking – maybe one or two months – but you could already tell he was very selective with the people he trusted. And how could he not be? You wanted to be someone he could trust, though. Wanted to be someone he could rely on, help him shoulder all his burdens.

Bruce thought it over for a bit. It would be nice to have some company. Visiting his parents’ grave was a very personal and intimate thing, yes, but he considered you a friend, and he’d be lying if he said he didn't want your company. He was sure both his father and his mother would've liked you, would've enjoyed your sense of humour and appreciated his kindness. So why not?

“I would appreciate that,” he said, and you smiled. “Won't it be a problem with Nathan?”

“Don't worry about him. He’s not the boss of me, and I'm not doing anything wrong.”

That’s how you found yourself, standing in front of the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne, the beautiful Wayne Manor just ahead.

“I’m sure they loved each other very much,” you said, eyes not leaving the carved stones in front of you.

“They did.” Bruce agreed with a nod. “My father would bring my mother flowers nearly every day. She used to joke about having her own private flower shop thanks to him. He never stopped though. He’d bring her different flowers according to her mood. That’s just how he was. Always looking out for her. He could tell whenever she was sad, or happy, or worried.”

“What an amazing husband,” you smiled, picturing the late Thomas Wayne reading his wife and choosing flowers accordingly.

“And my mother was just as amazing as him. She could tell when he had had a bad day at the hospital. I never could – she used to tell me she could sense it in the first few steps he took whenever he arrived home. Whenever he felt down, she’d help Alfred make his favourite meal. He didn't have to ask, she simply did it out of the goodness of her heart, and all her love for him.”

“It must've been incredible to be surrounded by such love. You were very lucky, Bruce. And I'm sure your parents loved you just as much as they loved each other, if not even more.”

You smiled up at him and he offered you a small smile in return. You were right. He had been lucky to have experienced such love and affection at a young age. It made him realise the kind of relationship he wanted to be with and taught him the kind of partner he should be.

He was just about to speak when your phone started chiming.

“Sorry – forgot to mute it,” you mumbled, turning the sound off. It didn't do anything to quiet it down though, since it just kept vibrating in your pocket. You huffed and turned it on, brows furrowing in confusion, and then relaxing.

“It’s Nate,” you said, not looking up from the screen, “He’s apologising for our fight. Says he was in a very bad emotional state. Poor thing… He’s very self-conscious, you know. Keeps telling me he’s too lucky to have me, that I could have anyone in the world, but I settled for him. He always thinks he’s not good enough for me, that I'll leave him for someone else” You chuckled dryly, before continuing, “He couldn't be farther from the truth, though. I’m the lucky one.” You looked up and Bruce and pointed to the phone in your hand. “I should probably go. Nate wants to apologise in person, and I should probably talk to him.”

Bruce nodded and pointed to the limo standing near the street.

“Alfred will take you home.”

“Thanks.” You smiled up and him and moved forward to hug him. Bruce softened immediately. You slotted perfectly against him, and he felt like a piece of a puzzle that had just found its matching half. Unfortunately, you pulled away, taking all the warmth with you.

“I’ll see you some other time,” you said, walking away.

Once you were out of his view, he turned to his parents.

Perhaps someday he’d be able to love you like they loved each other.

Bruce was working when he received a text from you. It had been a few days since you’d visited his parents’ grave with him, and you hadn't spoken face-to-face since. You’d been texting non-stop though, telling each other about your day, sending pictures of your respective meals, or just sharing funny anecdotes or pictures you saw online that reminded you of each other. Bruce clicked on the notification with your name.

Look at this!

[1 file attached]

Clicking on the picture, he could see your radiant face, partially hidden by a huge bouquet of roses. They did nothing to steal the shine from you though, and Bruce cringed at how they paled in comparison to your beauty. He was quick to shoot back a reply,

They look pretty. Secret admirer?

You were even quicker to reply.

They’re from Nate, as an apology! Isn't he the sweetest? He’s been spoiling me rotten. I don't think I deserve it.

Bruce’s stomach twisted at the mention of your boyfriend. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed.

You deserve that, and much more.

You replied with a smiley face, and that was the end of your conversation for the day.

It was hard to get back to work after that, his thoughts plagued with you. Your nice smile, your kind words, the way you fit perfectly against the shape of his body and how tightly you’d hugged him back on the Manor grounds. He knew it was wrong to want you - you were dating someone else, and it’s not like you knew each other for a long time, but he couldn't help it.

Bruce took a deep breath, and gulped down an entire glass of water, before chastising himself and focusing on whatever task he had left to complete.

It didn't work, and Lucius found him staring at the screen of his phone for a good five minutes, before deciding his boss probably deserved a break from his somewhat incessant teasing.

After that, you met up with Bruce a few more times.

You’d meet up sometimes for lunch or a late afternoon snack, and you’d even had breakfast together once. You chalk it up to friendly outings, and so does Bruce (although he’s sadder than you to admit that). Unfortunately, these meetings were not filled with chatter about your lives, motivations, and dreams for the future. Instead, you worried your pretty little head off thinking about Nathan, who didn’t text you for hours, seemingly pushing away from you, only to give you mixed signals the next day and apologising for his behaviour. Bruce could see how draining it was, could see how you always glanced at your phone whenever the two of you were together, and how you seemed to walk on eggshells whenever Nathan called you.

Things would get harder for the two of you at night – Bruce was out patrolling the city as Batman, something he had not and would never tell you – and you sometimes you got lonely. Bruce simply told you he was busy, and you in good faith, believed him. After all, he was a busy man, running a busy company, leading a busy life. You were lucky enough he managed to spend some time with you during the week.

Bruce had become your closest friend. You loved hanging out with him. It was like he got you. He was a great listener, always providing you with great insight whenever you asked for it, or simply being a shoulder to cry on if you wanted to. He would give you solid advice, support you on (nearly) every decision and all of your hobbies, encouraging you to seek out new experiences and the things you’ve always wanted to do but were never brave enough to.

One day, the two of you were meeting up for coffee. You had your legs tucked under yourself, grabbing a warm mug with both of your hands. You loved this café; loved the ambient, the fluffy pillows and couches, the vast choice of drinks. It was your own special little corner, and you were happy to bring Bruce along.

You two were in a middle of a conversation about your favourite books, before your phone buzzed. You decided to ignore it, but it just buzzed again. And again. And again. A bunch of texts messages started coming through, and as you picked up your phone, it started ringing.

“It’s Nate,” you mumbled, accepting the call, and mouthing a small “sorry” to Bruce, who nodded.

“Hey honey,” you said. Bruce could make out your boyfriend’s voice from the other side of the line, and he could tell he wasn’t pleased.

“Where the hell are you!?” he heard Nathan say, and you involuntarily flinched in your seat, frowning.

“I’m at a café. I told you this, didn’t I?” you asked.

“Yeah, well, Ricky just texted me saying he saw you sitting with some other guy. What the fuck is going on?”

“Another guy?” you mumbled, “Nate, I’m with Bruce. We’re out for coffee, that’s all.”

Bruce heard Nathan scoff, and his fists curled on his lap. He was just glad you couldn’t see it.

“Ah, of course. Fucking Bruce. It’s always him, isn’t it?”

This seemed to get you riled up.

“I asked you if you wanted to come with me, and you told me no. You said you had better things to do and hated this place,” you shook your head, brows furrowing in anger. “So, I invited a friend. I’m allowed to have other friends, you know.”

“Yeah, sure. And it had to be a guy? You had to invite a guy out for coffee? Just the two of you?”

You curled into yourself and away from Bruce, lowering your voice.

“Nate, if you cancel on me, I’m going to invite other people. It’s just Bruce.”

“That guy’s trying to get into your fucking pants, and you know it, and you keep encouraging him. How does that make me feel, huh? Knowing you’re out there with some other douche who wants to jump your bones?” Bruce wanted nothing more than to seek out the asshole you were dating and beating him to a pulp. How he even dared to speak to you like that was beyond him, but he decided to say nothing. At least not yet.

“Nate, I don’t like it when you talk to me like this. He’s just a friend, I told you, you have no reason to be jealous – “

“Yeah sure. Don’t bother coming home.”

And he hung up.

Bruce eyed you, the way your pretty eyes welled up with tears and how you quickly wiped them away, throwing your phone and belongings to the purse sitting next to you.

“I – I’m sorry, Bruce, I – I need to go. I have to sort this out with him.” You mumbled, standing up. Bruce, however, was quicker, and stood in front of you, blocking your path.

He furrowed his brows and spoke in a low voice as not to startle you.

“He shouldn’t talk to you like this.”

“He’s right. I know he is – I know he’s got low-self-esteem issues, he’s just worried is all. He’s afraid to lose me, I know he is.” You said these words like a mantra, and Bruce wondered just how long you’d been repeating them to yourself. It made his heart ache. He reached out to wipe your tears, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry for cutting our meeting short, Bruce,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you later.”

And you were out of his sight.

“Hang out?” Bruce asked, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he shaved.

“Yeah!” he could hear your excited voice on the other side, and it made him smile. “It’ll be just me and Nate and some more friends. I know how you are with strangers, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I thought it’d be nice if you were out of your house for once. You spend all those nights working, you’ve gotta learn to have fun!”

It was partially true. He did spend all these nights working. Just not a very conventional job. In fact, he’d been spending the last few weeks looking into Nathan Smith. His past, his present, and making assumptions on his future. He had all eyes on this douche.

“Bruce? Are you there?” you called, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of other people – “

“I’ll be there.” He said curtly, blade gliding against his smooth skin. “Just text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Really?” you let out a squeal of excitement and Bruce nearly cut himself with the sound. He realised then just how much he wanted you to be like that all the time. Happy. Excited.

“Really.”

“Okay – okay! I’ll let you know where and when! I can’t wait to see you again! I have to go now though, my shift’s about to start. See you soon, yes?” You hung up and Bruce chuckled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see you either. He wasn’t, although, very eager to see Nathan. But for your sake, he’d be on his best behaviour.

You met a few days after the phone call, at a local bar.

It was bustling with people and energy. Loud music was being played on speakers, the whole place smelled of cheap beer, and the people’s noise was deafening. Still, he overlooked all of that just for the sheer pleasure of hanging out with you.

“Bruce!” You called out, getting up from your spot near the counter and hurrying to meet him halfway. You hugged him tightly and he once again felt like you were meant to be in his arms forever. When you pulled away, he smiled. “You made it!” You were wearing an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of shorts decorated with small lace at the bottom. But Bruce couldn’t care less about what you were wearing – you always looked radiant.

“Of course I did.”

“Here, come meet my friends!”

You dragged him to a small group of people and introduced him to everyone. He was expecting more and was glad to find it was only you plus 4 others. Nathan was still on his way, you told him.

All of you kept light conversation for a while. Bruce did not really try to keep up with your friends’ conversations. One of them kept rubbing herself all up against him, giggling and obviously trying to get herself into his good graces. She was clearly only interested in his money, and Bruce had to excuse himself a few times just to get away.

After a few minutes, your head turned and you smiled, standing up to greet someone.

Nate.

“Hey honey!” You smiled, lifting your head to kiss him on the lips. Nathan quickly scanned the table, and once his eyes fell on Bruce, he scowled, one hand coming down to grip your waist, and the other to give you a light squeeze on your ass cheek (which made Bruce cringe and want to punch this jerk to next Sunday).

“Hello. Didn’t know we’d be having so much company,” the doctor sneered, eyes lingering on the Wayne billionaire.

“Well, if you don’t like me meeting up with friends on my own, I thought we could all meet up. Isn’t it a nice solution?” you smiled, but Nate didn’t seem to care about it. How dare he, Bruce thought. If you were his, he would never overlook your smile. Never. But she’s not yours, a tiny voice whispered inside his head.

Nate then turned to you, eyeing you up and down. His eyes lingered on your exposed collarbone and shoulders, and on the shorts that adorned your pretty legs. He sneered.

“And what the fuck is this?” he asked with a scoff.

“Hm?”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Oh! These are new!” you spun in your place, showing off your outfit. “Do you like them? I thought the lace details were super cute – “

“So you’re wearing this out?” Nate crossed his arms, visibly upset. “Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a bit too revealing?”

It wasn’t, really. The top, even if it was off-the-shoulder, did not expose your cleavage too shockingly. The shorts weren’t too short either, covering just the right amount of skin. And even if the clothes were too short (which they weren’t), Bruce thought Nathan should just mind his fucking business.

“You think so?” your smile was quickly replaced by a pout, and you looked down at your clothes self-consciously.

“Yes, I fucking think so. I don’t understand why you feel the need to dress like that, show that much skin. People might get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea? Nate, they’re just clothes. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

The atmosphere had become tense. Your friends were all giving each other knowing looks but kept to themselves. Bruce didn’t have the heart to simply stand there and watch though. He put an arm in between you and Nathan and spoke calmly.

“Look, I think she should be allowed to wear whatever she wants. It’s not like she’s naked – “

“Stay the hell out of this, rich guy. I couldn’t care less what you think, this is not your relationship, and she is my girlfriend.”

Bruce looked at you, but you seemed to be avoiding his gaze, eyes fixated on Nathan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were that revealing when I tried them on. I just liked how they looked on me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucking embarrassed to be seen with you when you dress like that. Dressed like a common whore.”

That was enough for Bruce. He stepped forward, ready to send his fist flying across this jerk’s face, but your smaller hand wrapped itself around his arm.

“Bruce, please,” you pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay. He’s right. I am showing too much skin. I should dress more modestly.”

“He’s being a jerk,” Bruce muttered, eyes urging you to let him go. “I’m not letting him speak to you like that.”

“Please.” You sounded so meek, so small. It tugged at Bruce’s heartstrings, and he immediately lowered his arm. He’d do anything for you, really.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, that’s better.” Nathan scoffed, before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you close. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you were out of the bar.

“I’m telling you, Alfred, that guy is the worst. I don’t understand how she’s still with him, he treats her like shit,” Bruce muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in his bedroom.

“Master Wayne, although I admire your compassion, I cannot help but wonder if you are sticking your nose in someone else’s business.” Alfred replied. He’d been watching Bruce walk holes into the floor, and although he wanted to help, the older man knew there was really nothing he could do.

“I know. I know I am but – she deserves better. She does, she deserves someone who’ll treat her right, who won’t talk to her that way, who will respect her and adore her – “

“Someone like you, I presume.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Bruce sighed and sat on his bed, defeated.

“Master Wayne, have you considered telling this girl the feelings you’re harbouring for her?” Alfred asked, moving closer to the bed.

“I can’t. She loves him Alfred, she… she loves him.” He muttered again.

The butler gave Bruce a sympathetic smile, before walking away.

You loved Nathan. You didn’t love him.

So why did it all feel so terribly wrong?

You walked inside Wayne Manor for the first time a few weeks later.

It was raining – pouring, even – and you’d desperately knocked on its big doors. Alfred opened them for you, and recognised you instantly, having stolen glances at Bruce’s phone whenever he looked at pictures of you.

“Hi – Hi, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” you quickly introduced yourself, tears running down your face. “Is – is Bruce here?”

Alfred gently guided you to the living room, where he told you to wait. You stood there awkwardly, picking at your fingers, and looking around, taking in the beauty of Bruce’s family home.

When Alfred returned, he brought with him a few towels, and Bruce Wayne himself. The latter was just about to leave for patrol, but upon hearing from Alfred that you were standing on his doorway, drenched from head to toe and crying, he decided to ditch his nightly duties.

“Hey,” he said, hurrying towards you. It was all it took – you collapsed in his arms, tears running down your face. Bruce held you tightly and you cried, burrowing your face in his chest. Alfred simply placed the towels on top of one of the couches, and took his leave, silently going upstairs to get a robe for you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Once you managed to stop crying, you looked up at him and sniffled, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry – you’re all wet because of me now,” you told him.

Bruce shook his head and moved to hand you a towel.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sighed and used the towel to dry your hair, wrapping the other one around your shoulders.

“It… it was Nathan.”

Bruce looked at you, eyes narrowing.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing! I mean – we just fought, that’s all. But it was a really nasty fight.” You said and burst into tears again. “He – he kept saying all I did was walk around and cheat on him! He said I didn’t truly love him, that I was selfish and only thought of myself. It – it’s not true! I love him Bruce, I really do!” You buried your face on your hands, and Bruce moved to sit by your side.

Bruce held you tightly in his arms, hand stroking your back and your head. You melted in his hold, breath evening out and tears eventually subsiding.

"I just... I don't know what to do, Bruce..." You mumbled against his chest. "I really do love him, but he said all of those mean things..."

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line as he navigated the best way to go about this conversation.

"Nathan..." He mumbled, hands running through your hair. "Does he speak to you like this a lot?"

You sniffled, stilling in his arms.

"We fight... Lately we've been fighting a lot, but... I know he loves me... He doesn't mean it. He's been under so much stress, things at the hospital are getting chaotic and I've been stressing him out..."

Bruce shook his head, his hold unconsciously tightening around you. So he took his stress out on you? Jerk.

"That's not okay. He can't speak to you like this, he doesn't have the right to." Bruce pulled away to look you in the eyes and you sniffled as his big hands wiped your tears.

"He doesn't mean any harm, you know... He's under a lot of pressure from his superiors..."

He sighed once again, and then watched from the corner of his eyes as Alfred carried in his hand a tray of warm drinks and a fluffy robe.

"Look," he said, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "How about you change into something more comfortable, and we'll talk about it over a drink?"

You smiled and nodded, getting up and thanking Alfred, grabbing the robe so you could go change.

Once you came back, you told Bruce you did not want to talk about such sad topics any further, and simply wanted to distract yourself. Bruce was happy to oblige.

You settled in the couch side by side with a blanket covering your laps. He let you pick a movie, and you sat side by side, poking fun at whatever it was that was playing on the TV, sipping on warm beverages, and talking.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know how to make a cup of tea?” You asked, leaning back to look at Bruce with a serious expression.

“Look, I was a failure and I decided it was better not to learn instead of having Alfred annoy me about it. He’s very serious about his tea. You should hear him yell at me.”

You chuckled and involuntarily placed your legs over Bruce’s lap under the blankets. He was quick to lay his hands on top of them, drawing patterns absentmindedly.

“You’re impossible,” you chuckled.

“Oh, so you’re all high and mighty and capable of cooking anything and everything?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Even if I wasn't very good, I'm sure I'd be able to cook more than you. I had to, you know. Living on my own and all,” you shrugged, “Some people don’t have butlers doing everything for them.”

Bruce hummed. You were right. It was one of the things he admired the most about you. How unafraid you were to tell him exactly what you think, and how resilient you were, how strong-willed and stubborn. Bruce was sure he’d never met a woman as strong as you in his entire life.

“Alright, pay up.” You extended your hand.

Now you were sitting a few inches apart, a Monopoly board on the couch in front of you.

“You’re cheating,” he huffed, counting his bills.

“No, you’re simply not very good. Aren't you like, supposed to be a god at this or something? This is your whole life.” You popped a popcorn inside your mouth and smiled.

“Usually, lives aren't dictated by the throw of a dice,” he said, handing you two bills. “You're ruining me here. I’m gonna go bankrupt.”

“Then learn how to play better.” You shrugged and rolled your dice again, moving your piece accordingly. Bruce smiled. He could get used to this, spending time with you, cuddled up in his couch. That's where you were meant to be, next to him, in his arms, in his blankets. You were meant to be in his home, brightening up the place with something as small as a smile, in his life, brightening his whole existence with just a tilt of your head. It was at this moment that Bruce realised that his feelings for you ran way deeper than just a simple friendship. After all, friends didn't wish to spend eternity together. Friends didn't want to lick the popcorn salt off each other’s lips, friends didn't want to hold each other close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear.

As the night went on, so did the activities. When you were done with board games, you switched to card games (getting your ass kicked by Bruce, who was far too good at Poker for your own liking). You changed movies about three times, simply not satisfied with the choices you’d picked earlier – not that Bruce minded. You’d made a game out of changing movies every time the characters gave you second hand embarrassment and had plenty of fun yelling at the protagonists who slipped and stuttered and acted like bozos.

“Oh, come on,” you cringed, body twitching involuntarily. “Why is she singing Fight Song on top of a table? Do directors think this is how people behave?”

“You stood on top of my couch and yelled. I think that’s close to what’s happening on the TV,” The man next to you eyed you with amusement as you scoffed and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“That’s different, I won Monopoly,” you said nonchalantly, “Everyone knows you’re entitled to do whatever you want once you win Monopoly.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it in his direction, but you should've known better, because Bruce simply picked it mid-air and raised it in front of his head, to hit you back. However, at the sudden movement, your eyes widened, and you quickly flinched away from him, panic spreading all over your face.

Bruce let go of the pillow, heart breaking at the sight before him. What the fuck had just happened? Did you flinch away from him?

“I – “ You seemed to notice his worry and were quick to shake your head, laughing weakly. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, torn between reaching out and staying in place. He didn't want to scare you even more than he already had.

“Yes! Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I wasn't expecting you to do that. Was just trying to get away from the pillow.”

“You scrambled away from me.”

“Well, yes, you were going to hit me with a pillow, weren't you, Bruce?”

“I would never hurt you. You know that,” he whispered, and you looked away, still trying to pretend everything was fine.

“Well, I didn't want a pillow on my face. Alright? It’s nothing, I promise.”

He wasn't convinced in the least, and Bruce knew what it usually meant. His mind went back to Nathan, to the way he had treated you at the bar, to his behaviour towards you whenever you and Bruce were out for ice-cream or coffee. The gears were turning in his head, and you took notice of that, moving forward and holding his hands.

“Hey,” you smiled, although it didn't reach your eyes, “It’s fine. I promise. Everything is okay.”

He didn't believe it. Didn't buy it. But he had to earn your trust if he wanted to do something about it, and scaring you away wasn't an option.

He attempted to smile back, and nodded, muttering a small “Alright.”

You settled back next to him, and he could feel the way your body had tensed up as soon as your arms had brushed together. He needed to calm you down. So, he spoke.

About his life, about his childhood. He told you about all the times his father would let him tag along whenever he went to work at the hospital, how fascinated he was with his occupation. Saving lives. How great was that. He told you how much his father’s work had inspired him. He explained to you the intricate games he’d play in his gardens, pretending to be a detective who was investigating every sort of crimes. He wanted to save lives, just like his father did.

“You do, you know,” you mumbled, looking up from under his chin to get a good look at his beautiful face. “Even if you’re not a doctor, you still save lives. You make people’s lives better. All your philanthropy and charity are helping Gotham. You’re not doing this in vain.”

He smiled. If only you knew how much his charity and philanthropy extended.

You replied with stories of your own. The things you liked to do while growing up, the games you’d make up in your room, thinking of faraway lands with castles and elves and fantasies. You’d be a police officer one day, and a pirate the next. You told him about your childhood home, your high school, your college major. You showed him pictures of your roommates and the fun activities you did together.

It was an exchange. You’d tell him about yourself, and he would open up to you in return. The TV was still on, and both of you were looking at it, but none was paying attention. Your conversation was much more important.

Bruce told you about his childhood, how lonely he would feel sometimes. He told you sometimes he would isolate himself, the grief of having lost his parents far too much to bear. It made your heart ache and you found yourself leaning closer, wishing to take all of his pain away.

"You don't have to suffer all on your own now, though," you said, looking up to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "I'm here now. You can count on me to help you with whatever. You can trust me, Bruce." Your hand was suddenly on his cheek, palm hot and caring, and Bruce instantly leaned into it, sure that this was where he was meant to be – in your arms, staring into your eyes, baring his soul open. The air crackled in between you – it was as if the world had shifted and finally landed in place. It felt right. Everything felt right, and your eyes briefly drifted towards his lips.

He was just about to say something when a few loud knocks could be heard on the door. Your head whipped around in panic, the sound clearly startling you (something Bruce kept in mind).

"Alfred, could you please get that?" He asked, arm wrapping itself around you in an unconsciously protective move. You relaxed in his hold just as quickly as you’d stiffened, and his heart leaped. Did you feel safe with him?

The door slid open, revealing behind it a massive bouquet of red roses. The roses moved and Bruce quickly spotted the figure who was holding them.

"Nate?" You whispered, untangling yourself from Bruce's hold and taking tentative steps towards the door. Shit.

"Babe – hey," Nathan replied, sighing with relief once he spotted you. "I'm so sorry, I – I'm such an idiot. I'm the worst."

You eyed him sceptically, something like doubt shining in your eyes.

"I shouldn't have said any of those things. The hospital has been so busy, my bosses have been giving me shit every day, and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry, will you please forgive me?"

You hugged your arms, shielding yourself. You looked back at Bruce, who was watching the situation, lips a thin line and eyes cloudy.

"I didn't like the way you spoke to me... You really hurt, Nate, did you mean all of those things?"

"No! No – fuck no, I didn't. I was an idiot. I am an idiot. Please, let me make it up to you. I don't deserve you, but if you forgive me, I'll spend the rest of my days trying to prove to you I am worthy of your love. I'm so sorry. I'll be better. I promise. Babe, you make me better."

Bruce wasn't fazed by this speech. He didn't buy a single word of what Nathan had just told you, and once again, he would not keep it to himself. This man was manipulating you, preying on your emotions and your love for him, probably even going as far as laying his hands on you, and you deserved better.

"Perhaps you should've thought of those things before you treated her like shit." He said coldly, standing up and walking towards you. You turned away from him, which had Bruce's heart clench. Why were you turning from him?

But he didn't need to give it much more thought – you were already falling for Nathan's narrative.

"You – " Nathan's grip tightened. Bruce saw the way it tightened and saw your eyes land on his fist as well. This caused him to loosen it, and give a small, dry chuckle. "Bruce. Thank you so much for taking care of her. Truly. I'm so thankful you took care of my girl when she wasn't feeling well."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, babe, really. He's your friend, and I'm willing to get along with your friends. I'd do anything for you, you know it. Don't you?" He stuck out his hands, presenting to you the bouquet of roses in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. It was only now that Bruce (and apparently, you as well) realised that both items, as well as the person who was carrying them, were dripping wet.

"You came all the way out here in the rain to apologise?" You asked, stepping out towards the man standing outside the door.

"Yes. Of course. I would do this and more for you, baby. You know that, don't you? I'll do anything for you. You drive me nuts, that's it. That's all! It's only because I love you so much that I act like this. Please give me another chance. I won't waste it. I know you deserve better than me, you could literally get any guy out there, but fuck... Please, just let me prove to you that you make me a better man." He looked desperate, panicked, blue eyes widening with fear.

It was useless. You were completely entranced by the manipulative bullshit this guy was spewing.

“Do you promise not to yell at me again?” You asked, taking another step towards him, fingers softly touching the rose petals.

“Yes. I do. I’ll never do it again – I promise babe. I’ll be better. I am better whenever I am with you. I know I overreacted, but it’s only because I love you. You make me crazy – I am crazy, for you.”

You looked up at him, something unsure in your eyes. You glanced back at Bruce, who furrowed his eyebrows and softly shook his head “no”. It wasn't a command or an order, simply some advice. This jerk didn't deserve you. You turned back to look at Nathan and took the roses he was holding from him.

“These are really pretty,” you mumbled, inhaling their scent.

“Not as pretty as you. So, what do you say? Will you forgive me? Please? Just give me another chance.”

You seemed to ponder it, quietly analysing the roses before you. Then, a bigger smile spread across your face, and you nodded, moving towards Nathan to wrap your arms around his neck. He sighed in relief and hugged you back, burrowing his face in your hair. When his gaze caught Bruce’s, his eyes hardened. If looks could kill, Bruce would be dead and gone. Perhaps it’s a good thing he wasn't scared of this jerk.

You let go of your boyfriend and turned to Bruce, holding the bouquet tightly in your hands.

“Thank you for your kindness, Bruce.”

“Are you sure about this – “

“But this is my relationship. We’re friends, aren’t we? I need you to trust me here, okay? It’s fine. Nathan’s apologised. Everything is okay now,” you smiled, and Bruce swore he could see something breaking behind your eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve you, he yelled and – “

“Look, I said I was sorry, alright, rich boy?” Nate interrupted, spitting the words. “Mind your own business. This is my relationship, alright? I appreciate that you were here for my girl, but your help is no longer needed.”

Then, he turned, taking you away with him.

The last thing Bruce saw before Nathan’s car was out of you, was you leaning over the console to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

He didn't like this one bit. And he was not going to rest until he was sure you were away from this guy.

He didn't see you for a while after that.

At least not directly.

During his patrols, he would stop by your apartment and watch for any signs of either you or him. But either you were extremely shy, or Nathan was very careful about not letting anyone peek into their lives, and usually closed the blinds. Bruce was sure it was the latter. He could no longer peek inside – Lucius had destroyed the system that had allowed him to spy on every citizen in Gotham, after all – and was stuck texting you and trying to pry information from you.

The only thing you told him was that everything was fine. Nathan was a gentleman, taking you out for dinner and showering you in gifts, telling you he loved you. According to you, things couldn't be better.

Your texting patterns would be sporadic. Some days, he’d spend all day chatting with you, sending pictures and things that had reminded him of you, making plans to meet up and grab a bite. Others, you’d ignore him all day, giving him one-worded replies once or twice.

“Alfred, I just don’t know what to do,” he confessed once. “I’m pretty sure the bastard might be hitting her or something. The way she acts, the way he acts? Yelling at her, fighting, and then showering her with gifts and affection? It doesn't sit right with me.”

“Have you thought about reporting it to the police, sir?”

“I don’t have enough evidence,” he grumbled. “She flinched once, and they fight. That doesn't necessarily mean he’s abusive towards her. Besides, what if anyone investigates it, does not notice anything wrong, and he gets angrier? What if he takes it out on her?” Bruce placed his hands on his face and laid his arms on his knees. It was a tricky situation. If he wasn't abusive but was still a scumbag, he doubted you’d ever leave him. If he did hurt you in any physical way, he might be risking your own safety in case he reported anything.

Suddenly, his phone chimed, and he was pulled from his thoughts as your ringtone played. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

You were breathing heavily but did not say anything. Bruce was starting to worry.

“Hello? Is everything okay?”

“Yes – yes, it is,” you quickly said, and your voice held a foreign emotion to it, something Bruce couldn't quite place. “I’m sorry, I know it’s short notice, but do you want to grab something to eat? I was supposed to meet a friend, but she cancelled on me.”

Bruce looked up towards Alfred, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yes, sure. Of course, I'll meet you. Did you have any place in mind?”

“There’s this sandwich place near Gotham Mall, perhaps we could go there? I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while, but… Well, it’s just never been a right time. I’ll text you the address if you want to.” Something was up with your voice. You didn't usually sound so unconfident, at least not with him.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll meet you there in 20. That okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you, Bruce.” There was a small tilt to your voice that Bruce paired up with a smile, and then you hung up.

20? He’d be there in 10.

Bruce was already sitting down by a window, wearing a casual dark blue polo when you walked in. It was impossible to miss him – you found him the most handsome man in the world, with his beautifully carved jawline and his kind eyes.

What were you even saying? You have a boyfriend. Control yourself. If he knew you were even having these thoughts…

Instinctively, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you.

Once Bruce spotted you, he stood up to meet you halfway. You hugged him briefly, tensing under his touch, which he simply chalked up to awkwardness after that night. Had you felt the same he had? Was that why you were acting so strange?

“Thank you for meeting me,” you sighed, sitting down. “My friend cancelled last minute; I didn’t know who else to call. I hope you don’t feel like a last resort or anything – you were actually the first person I thought about.”

Bruce nodded. A waitress came over and asked you both if you would like to see the menu. You looked over at the options and a small smile was pulled from your lips. Once Bruce had picked a Caprese sandwich, you asked for a Pesto Chicken one, and a lemonade. The waitress smiled at you both (well, she smiled at Bruce), grabbed your menus (making it a show of bending over to show off her cleavage) and walked away.

Bruce, however, didn’t seem to notice, seeing as his eyes were on you.

“Is everything okay?”

You looked away, before meeting his gaze. And you smiled. It was gentle, and soft, and fake. Bruce knew, because he plastered on the same smile whenever he had to attend galas full of people whose only interest were his last name and his bank account.

“Yeah! I’m just tired, I think. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Bruce’s gaze landed on your figure. You were leaning on your right arm, staring absentmindedly at the counter. You were wearing a pretty denim jacket, and a simple purple shirt underneath, as well as a pair of jeans. It wasn’t a very flashy outfit, and yet he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Aren’t you going to take that off?” he asked, nodding towards the jacket you were wearing.

“Hm?” You turned to him and blinked repeatedly. “Oh – no. No need, I’m kind of chilly. How have you been?”

Rather good at deflecting attention, you were. He decided to play along for the time being.

“I’ve been good. Work has been hectic, but what else could you expect when you’re running a company,” he sighed. “I’ve been worried about you, though. You’ve been ignoring me for a few days – are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Work has been hectic as well. The restaurant is going through a few renovations, and we know have more tables to wait. It’s been a hard adjustment, but I’m doing my best.”

“I’m sure you are,” he smiled.

After that, conversation flowed easily, as it usually did between you two. Your sandwiches arrived and you tried each other’s comparing tastes and flavours, trying to prove to each other that your choice was superior. You told him about your new patrons at your job, an old couple who left you extremely big tips and called you “darling” every time you walked by. In return, he told you about this big investor who was interested in a fundraising project to combat poverty in Gotham.

It was as nice as always, and when the bill came, he reached for it without batting an eye.

“Hey – Mr, let me. You can’t just pay for everything.” You chided, reaching out to grab the bill from his hands.

“No, that’s out of the question,” he replied, as casually as asking about the weather. “You don’t have to pay for anything when you’re with me.”

“Bruce,” you whined half-jokingly, still trying to fetch the piece of paper from him. He lifted it over his head, and you huffed, leaning back once again. “You can’t pay for everything every time we’re out.”

“Why not?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I’m allowed to spoil you. Aren’t I?”

The word spoil had you turn your head, heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I don’t deserve to be spoiled.”

“Sure you do. If anyone deserves to be spoiled, it’s you.”

You looked into his eyes for a few moments, unable to form any words. Every time you were with him, you felt your heart warm. You felt like everything was right. It was easy to talk with Bruce. To Bruce. You felt like you could tell him just about anything.

Not anything.

“How about we go for a walk?” Bruce asked. You nodded and moved to get up.

But as you did so, the left sleeve of your jacket got stuck on your table. You pulled away, causing your whole arm to be exposed to him, a large bruise running along it. Your eyes widened and you panicked, forcefully pulling your jacket from the chair, and wrapping it around yourself again.

You heard Bruce call out your name, but you were far too focused on picking up your things and running out of the establishment, Bruce right behind you.

“Hey! Hey! Come black, please! Don’t go!” He wanted to scream, to yell, to reach out to you and hold you tight, but he knew doing any of those things could scare you off. He could lose you forever, and he was not going to let his anger at Nathan cloud his judgement.

You didn’t want to run, though. You crossed the street and stopped right in front of a park bench, tears streaming down your face. Once Bruce caught up with you, he maintained his distance, but remained close enough should you want to come closer. He called your name. Softly. As if it was some sort of prayer, a mantra. It felt nice coming from his lips. He sounded kind. Unlike…

“Who did that to you?” he asked, exasperation in his voice. There was no point dancing around the subject.

“No one. I tripped, and I fell, and I – “

“Please, don’t give me that crap.” His words were harsh, but his voice was soft, and everything was so confusing, all you could do was sit down on the bench in front of you and cry.

“I fell, Bruce. I’m so clumsy, I fell during one of my shifts at the restaurant and that’s all, I promise you.”

Bruce sat down next to you. A few inches, but still, next to you. His mind was running hot with anger. That bastard had done it, he’d actually touched you and hurt you, and Bruce was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never saw the light of the sun again. You raised your head and looked at Bruce. You thought he’d be looking at you with disgust, but there was none in his gaze. Only kindness, only softness.

“It was an accident…” you mumbled, and he had to move closer in order to make out the words you were saying. “It was my fault. I provoked him…”

There it was.

Not his fault. You’d provoked him.

Bruce did his best to school his features. He needed to be calm, he needed to look collected and cool. If he acted out and showed just how angry he was, he might scare you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want you to associate him to Nathan, to the monster who’d hurt you.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“It, it was my fault…” you sobbed. “He came home from work, and he was so tired… He’d had a really rough day, and all he wanted was to come home to a nice warm dinner, but, but… I was so tired, Bruce, I was so tired, so I didn’t cook – not even for myself! And when he came home, he started shouting and telling me I wasn’t good for anything, that he couldn’t even count on me to make him dinner.” You hid your face in your hands and sobbed louder. “So – so I told him to cook his own dinner, and I know I shouldn’t, because he was so tired! And – and he got mad, and… He... he...”

“Can I come any closer?” you furrowed your brows. Why was Bruce asking that? Why was he being so sweet with you? Especially after you’d just told him you were a terrible girlfriend, being as selfish as to not cook for your boyfriend after a tiring day. But the only thing in his eyes was gentleness. And he was being so sweet with you. Did you even deserve such a treatment?

You nodded your head yes, and he slowly moved closer, hand picking up yours.

“You need to report him to the police.”

Your eyes widened, and you began to shake your head while he spoke.

“He hurt you. This is domestic violence, it’s abuse. You need to report him – “

“No. No, no, no – “

“He can’t keep hurting you like this. All the yelling, all the fights, he’s taking advantage of you, and you don’t deserve any of that. Honey, he’s hurting you – “~

“No, no, no, no, no, no – “

“He’s abusing you.”

“He’s not – he loves me, it was an accident – “

“It wasn’t an accident; he’s hurt you before – “

“He hasn’t!” you exclaimed, shaking your head, “He has not hurt me!”

“Not physically, maybe, but he treats you like shit, which also counts as abuse. Listen to me, please,” he moved closer and slowly lifted his hands to cup your face. He did it slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust, react, move away from him, do anything to show your discomfort. You did not, so he held your face in a way that showed just how afraid he was that you would break.

“You deserve better. This scumbag is hurting you. Let me help you.”

You looked into his eyes, and the whole thing felt foreign to you. Being held so gently, being talked to so calmly, being regarded as something close to precious, to dear. Wasn’t this how relationships were supposed to go? Wasn’t Nathan supposed to be just like this?

“I love him…” you whispered, attempting to look away. Bruce did not let you. He kept his gaze focused on you. “I can’t leave him Bruce, I… He was so sorry… You should’ve seen him; he was so broken… He regretted it so much.”

"He looked broken because he's trying to fool you." Bruce let go of your face and held your hands in his, hoping to convey everything he meant just by this touch. "I can't stand and watch as he hurts you like this. Please let me do something. Let me help. I'll get him fired. I'll get him arrested. This can't go on; he can't keep hurting you – "

"I love him!" You sobbed, shaking your head. "I do, and he loves me, and he did not mean it! It was an accident! You can't do anything; you can't take him from me! Please, if you care about me in any way, don't do anything. We'll sort it out. I promise you it won't happen again, honest."

Bruce was torn. Torn between storming out of there and beating that asshole boyfriend of yours into a pulp and staying there comforting you. He wanted to do both so badly. He couldn't just stand aside and do nothing, but he also did not want to lose you forever. He could still do it, of course. Hurt Nathan, the same way he'd hurt you. But then he was most definitely sure he'd lose you forever. And would that be worth it? It would. He'd lose you, but you'd be safe. And wasn't that what mattered the most in the end?

"Please, Bruce... Trust me..." You whispered, looking deep into his eyes, trying to find some sort of sign in there that would show you he was still on your side, by your side. Your friends were against you, so was your family. Nathan was right. They were all terrible, they hated you and did not want you to be happy.

With all those people gone, you needed to know you still had Bruce. That despite everyone leaving, he was still yours.

He's not yours though, a little voice said inside your head. You tried to drown it. Who Bruce belongs to is none of your business. And it’s not like he even belongs to someone, he is his own person. Not some property to be handed around carelessly.

You’d never handle him carelessly though. You’d love him. And he’d love you, the way you’re meant to be loved. No. This was wrong. You were not supposed to have these thoughts. You had Nathan. And you loved him.

Did you, though? What had Nathan done for you as of late? Hit you and berate you and fight you and yell at you. Was that even how relationships went?

Sure. That's how passionate relationships went. And you knew Nathan was passionate about you. That’s why he got angry so often, because your love drove him nuts. Loving you drove him nuts. He adored you so much, you made him lose rationality. And wasn't that romantic?

Bruises aren't romantic. Taking care of someone is romantic. Holding them while they cry. Cheering them up with ice-cream and Monopoly, and surprising them at work. What a wonderful boyfriend Bruce would be.

No. Stop it. Those thoughts are wrong.

You looked at Bruce, standing in front of you, regarding you with so much care and worry. How you wished you could just melt in his arms forever. Sometimes you liked to relive how nice it felt to rest in his hold. How natural. You wished you could hug him again and never let go.

It was frightening, really, the way your feelings for Bruce were growing. He’d been just a friend at first, someone you could trust, someone you could spend time with and have fun. But now, he was so much more than that, and you feared the lines between friendship, and something more had begun to blur.

“I’d treat you so much better,” he suddenly blurted, drawing circles on your hand with his thumbs. “You deserve better than him. Please let me do better. Let me show you how you deserve to be loved.”

Tears found their ways to your eyes, and you shook your head, slowly.

You couldn't. No, you couldn't, possibly.

“I’m sorry…” you started, trying to choke back a sob.

“Please. You deserve to be treated with respect. With kindness, with love. Nathan isn't doing any of these things, he’s disrespecting you by laying his hands on you and hurting you all the time.” His face was mere inches away from yours now. Why was he so close? You could smell his cologne, see every speck of light in his eyes, listen to the breath he let out as his lips parted.

It wouldn't hurt to get closer. His lips must taste nice.

It would be wrong. So wrong.

You like him, don't you? And he treats you nice and likes you so much.

You love Nathan. You’d been with him for years now and loved him. He was good for you. He loved you, he provided for you. He paid most of the rent every month and 1bought most of the groceries. Your salary as a waitress could not compare to his, the one of a prestigious doctor. You couldn't leave him. It would ruin you.

Bruce has way more money than him. He would help you get back on your feet.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, getting away from him. This was wrong. Extremely wrong. You were dating Nathan. And that was the end of it.

“I'm sorry, Bruce,” you said, sounding more confident than you felt. “I'm in love with Nathan. Please trust me on this. I know what I'm doing.”

“I can’t just stand by and watch as he hurts you.” Bruce's voice held something to it you couldn't quite place. It felt like sorrow, like grief. You hated it. It made your stomach churn.

“He won’t hurt me anymore! He loves me!”

“Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you're trying to?”

The question took you by surprise.

“I…” you stuttered, shaking your hand. “I… I believe it.”

Did you?

“If you care about me Bruce, please let me be. My relationship is none of your concern.”

“What? Please – “

“Please mind your business, Bruce.” You mumbled, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and sighing. “Thank you for the sandwich. I’ll see you around.”

You spun on your heel and walked away, leaving behind a very broken-hearted Bruce Wayne.

You were constantly on Bruce’s mind. You plagued his thoughts 24/7 – your face, your eyes, your smile, your laugh. Again and again, from the moment he woke up, to the second he closed his eyes and fell asleep. You haunted his dreams too. Cried, lovely face covered in black and purple bruises, blood dripping down your mouth. These nightmares usually ended with a blood-curdling scream from you, and Bruce waking up in cold sweats.

It wasn't pleasant. Not at all.

And the worst part was, he had no idea what to do.

“If I report him, he might hurt her even further.”

“Yes, but that was when you had no evidence. You’ve told me she told you he hit her, things are different now, she confessed he was acting abusive towards her.” Alfred said, preparing a cup of tea. Bruce had foregone coffee for a while. Ever since you made it so difficult for him to sleep, Alfred had been trying different methods of getting his boss to sleep.

“Maybe I should have a little run-in with him. Or rather, the Batman should.” Bruce muttered, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“And what good would that make, Master Wayne?”

“I’d tell him to stay away from her. Shake him up a bit. Beat him up. Teach him a lesson.”

“I thought this wasn't about revenge,” the old butler settled a cup of tea in front of Bruce and sat next to him with a sigh. “Master Wayne, may I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Gotham has just begun to see Batman as a symbol of hope. You don't want to scare its people by beating up a doctor. Granted, he’s a despicable man who dares hit his partner, but a doctor, nonetheless. It would be foolish to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build so far.”

“Then what am I supposed to do, Alfred? How am I supposed to save her if I'm not Batman?”

“That is curious, because I don’t remember hearing the Miss say she liked spending time with the Batman. She did not cling to his arms and cried and told him her darkest secrets. She did not invite him for lunches and afternoon snacks and walks because she liked his company.” He mused. “She did all of that with Bruce Wayne. Perhaps you don't need a mask this time, Master Wayne. Perhaps, this time, being you is enough.”

Bruce thought the words over in his head. Alfred was right – something that happened abnormally often. You had never needed him as Batman. Just Bruce was enough.

“There’s also the fact that your family has left you a rather comfortable fortune, and more prestige that you could ever ask for. I’m sure Bruce Wayne would suffice.”

Bruce chuckled humourlessly, sipping from his cup of tea.

“She won’t open up to me, though. I mean, she will. She told me he was hurting her, that he’d pushed her. But she refused to let me help and said that I couldn't tell a soul. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

Alfred hummed.

“Perhaps you should invite her over again. Tell her you would like to talk. Or, you know, go to the police like a regular person and end the nightmare she is undoubtedly living.”

“I’ve done some research, Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Dr. Nathan Smith is well liked in his community. Volunteers, donates to charity, the whole ordeal. If she tells the police, it was an accident and she fell, they’re likely to believe her. We need something more concrete.”

Alfred hummed once more. He could see where Bruce was coming from. On one hand, it was endearing. He’d never cared so much about someone and was clearly smitten by you. On the other, he was afraid the man would make a move far too late.

“And your plan, Master Wayne, is?”

Bruce dropped his head on the kitchen table. The white marble felt cold against his skin, and he relished in the comfort it provided.

“I don’t know, Alfred. I don’t know.”

“I thought I told you to stop hanging out with her?”

Bruce would recognise that voice anywhere.

As soon as it reached his ears, his fists clenched involuntarily. It seemed to him it was second nature to be angry around that piece of shit.

“Nate, she’s my oldest friend… I miss her terribly; it’s been ages since we've hung out.”

You were walking a few steps ahead of him, arm linked with Nathan’s. Well, rather, Nathan was gripping your arm, and you were simply being pulled along. Harshly.

“Ah, I see. So you’d rather hang out with her than me.” Nathan scoffed and shook his head, and you turned to face him. Bruce could see the heartbreak in your eyes.

“No! That’s not true!”

“She hates me. She doesn’t think we’re good together and wants to break us apart. And you want to hang out with her. Just tell me you want to break up and leave me the fuck alone!”

Nathan shoved you away from him, before shaking his head and walking faster down the road. Your teared up and ran after him. “Nate!” you yelled. “Nate! Please!” Once you reached him, you held onto his hands tightly, trying to get him to stop. He did not. “Please, Nate, I’m sorry! I won’t bring her up again, I promise!”

Nathan kept walking, not even sparing you a glance.

“I promise Nate, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, please, forgive me!”

No one seemed to give two damns about the two of you. After all, people were selfish and did not care enough about the world around them. Only Bruce’s gaze was on you.

Nathan finally stopped, and sighed, looking at the floor.

“If you want to be her friend, and don’t love me anymore, I get it. That’s okay. You can move out, get your stuff – “

“No! No, I don’t want to be her friend, Nate, I don’t,” you pleaded, holding both his hands and shaking your head vigorously. Bruce felt like a creep, staring at you like that, staring into your private life like that, but what else could he do? “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I promise. I love you. Okay?” You placed yourself on the tip of your toes to reach his face and kissed his lips gently. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please, I love you, please forgive me…”

Bruce swore he could see the glint of victory in Nathan’s eyes, and it made his insides churn.

“You promise?”

“I do! I promise! I love you so much, Nate, I won’t talk about her ever again. I love you and only you. You’re the love of my life!” You reached up to kiss him again, and Nathan responded, albeit unexcitedly. It was enough for you though, and you linked your hand with his. “I love you, Nate. So much. You’re the only person I need.”

The blonde man hummed, and you pulled him along. You tried your best to keep him close to you, but he wasn’t responding. That’s when Bruce decided he needed to intervene.

It was only when Bruce said your name a second time, louder, that you turned around, eyes widening with surprise.

“Bruce!” He could tell you weren’t expecting to see him here. He could also tell you were scared. Not of him, of course, but of the man at your side, by the way your whole body tensed, and your eyes drifted from him to Bruce.

“Ah. Bruce.” Nathan spit, looking at him with a fake expression of politeness. Bruce could tell his smile wasn’t real and noticed how his hold tightened on you. “What a coincidence. Have you perhaps been following us?” He laughed dryly. It was a poor attempt at a joke, and an even poorer attempt of figuring out if you’d listened to his whole conversation with you.

“Ah, no. I was just on my way home.”

“What were you up to?” you asked, voice relaxed as it often was when you were around him.

“Well, I'm celebrating the establishment of a new children's school in my family's name. It's a very important cause, and I’m throwing a party later this week. Alfred and I were shopping together.” Bruce replied.

“You? Shopping?” There was a happy tilt to your voice. Bruce only wished you would always sound like that.

“Well, I wasn’t alone. Baby steps.” He chuckled.

“And who is this Alfred?” Nathan interjected. “Some servant of yours?”

Bruce frowned. He did not like the way your boyfriend referred to the man who was the closest thing he had to a family. Still, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anger.

“Alfred is my butler. He has been with my family for many years, and I consider him part of it. He is not a servant, and it shocks me that someone surely so well-read as you would refer to someone with such a degrading term.” Bruce raised his eyebrow, and he could swear he saw Nathan shrink a bit. It made you smile. It made Bruce feel good.

“My apologies, Bruce.” Nathan responded, offering a tight-lipped smile. He did not like losing, and that’s all he felt himself doing when he was around Bruce Wayne. Losing his temper, losing his control, losing his upper hand. It was something he detested greatly. He needed to get away from there. And quick.

“Honey, we need to go. Don’t want to steal too much of Bruce’s time, do we?”

“It’s not a problem, really,” Bruce retorted, ignoring your boyfriend, and turning to you instead. That’s when he noticed what you were wearing. Another jacket – a big one, oversized, a turtleneck and a pair of jeans. Gone were your shorts and flowy tops, you were now covered from head to toe. Why? To conceal what, exactly? And now that he got a good look at your face, was the hell was going on with your lip? It seemed split. “There’s nothing else in my list. Say, do you have any plans for next Friday? I would love if you two stopped by. It’s for a good cause, and perhaps you’ll have fun?”

He had to get you there. He had to get you alone with him, safe, away from Nathan.

“A party? At Wayne Manor?” Nathan asked.

“Yes. Will you be there?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, hope in your eyes.

Nathan noticed your excitement and blew air through his nose – the closest you’d get to a chuckle.

“Of course. We would love to go.”

“Really?” You beamed. That was not the answer you were expecting from him. Nathan hated Bruce – you knew this. Did this mean he was trying? Trying to befriend your friends? For your sake?

“Of course.” Nathan bent down to kiss your forehead, earning a genuine smile from you. “If you’d like to.”

“I would!”

It was small, the notion of a happy relationship, the notion that you were happy. But Bruce saw right through it. None of it was real. He was just playing a part.

“We should get going. It was nice seeing you, Bruce.”

“Oh – okay!” you yelped when Nathan turned you around and pulled you along with him. “It was nice seeing you, Bruce! I’ll see you Friday!”

And just like that, you were gone.

But Bruce wasn’t one to give up. Something felt off. Something smelled fishy. Nathan had been too kind, too nice, too allowing. Was it all a façade? He knew Nathan would never allow you to go to a party, especially one hosted by him. Something was definitely up. His feet moved, and before he could realise it, he was following the two figures in front of him to a dark alley. He heard voices and walked deeper.

That’s how he found you, pressed up against the wall, Nathan’s hand cruelly pressed against the hollow of your throat.

“Why the fuck are you still talking to him?” Nathan grumbled, tightening the hold he had on your throat. His knuckles turned white. “Huh!? You say you love me and then go around and fuck that rich motherfucker? Is that it, yeah?”

“N-No!” you sobbed, struggling to breath. Tears streamed down your face, hands clutching his. “Nate, please. You’re hurting me.” Your words were interrupted by coughs, and just before your vision could go completely black, you saw Nathan get dragged around and thrown on the floor. As soon as your vision (and your air) returned, you saw Bruce do to Nathan what he’d done to you.

“How dare you lay your disgusting hands on her,” he bellowed, and you somehow recognised that voice. It felt familiar. Bruce turned to you, and shook his head, arm still against Nathan’s neck. “Are you okay?” You nodded silently, wiping your tears, and taking a few steps back.

Bruce was surprised no one else had interrupted the two of you, but then again, this was Gotham. It didn’t matter if Batman was ridding crime for good, people would still look the other way, far too accustomed to violence to even bother.

“Are you seriously going to let him do this?” Nathan scowled, fighting against Bruce’s iron grip – it was no use. Somehow, this rich dumb playboy was stronger than he looked.

“I… I…” You looked in between the two men, still wiping your tears away. Part of you wanted Bruce to teach him a lesson. The other wanted him to let go of your boyfriend.

“Fuck – do something! Are you going to let this brute hurt me like this!?”

“Keep your filthy mouth shut,” Bruce whispered, before turning to face you completely. “What do you want me to do?”

This surprised you. You had a choice? You could decide?

“If you want to, I’ll beat him to a pulp myself. We’ll take him to the police. I’ll protect you. I promise I will. I can take care of you. You will never have to look him in the eye again.” Bruce’s eyes were filled with longing, and you found yourself walking towards him.

Wouldn’t that be nice? Nathan could go to jail. He’d leave you alone forever. No more fighting, no more hitting you, no more hurting you. You’d be free.

“Tell him to let go!” Now, Nathan’s face was turning a nasty shade of purple, and his lovely blue eyes were wide with fear. “Tell him! Are you going to let him do this to me? I love you!”

Bruce said your name softly. “Don’t listen to him. He’s done nothing but lie to you over and over again. You can end this nightmare right now.”

“Please! I’ll be better! I promise” Nathan coughed, the lack of air getting to him. “I was just jealous! You know me, I – I get like this! I thought you were going to leave me for him! I can’t compete with Bruce Wayne.”

“Shut up.” Bruce shook his head. “All you’ve been doing is hurting her. Abusing her. Do you seriously think I’m letting you go unscathed?”

It was scary, to be honest, seeing Bruce like this. You’d never seen him this angry, and he somehow reminded you of Nathan. Granted, the anger wasn’t directed towards you, but it still made you feel uneasy and unsafe, and all you wanted him was to go back to the sweet and kind Bruce who stole spoonfulls of your ice-cream and cheated at Monopoly when you weren’t looking.

“Bruce?” you whispered, frozen in place.

“Yeah?”

“Let go.”

“What?”

“Please let go.”

He looked at you and noticed the fear in your eyes. Something inside him broke and he wanted to punish himself for making you feel like that. Were you afraid of him? His hold on Nathan’s neck loosened, and the latter took this as an opportunity to get away and walk towards you. Nathan embraced you tightly, burrowing his face in your hair and crying loudly.

“I’m so sorry… I hate myself for the way I’ve been treating you… You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness… I’m just a mess who seems to ruin everything… Please forgive me for being so possessive, I just – I just never feel like I’m worthy of you.” Nathan’s lies spilled from his lips, and the very same lips found their way to yours, kissing you softly as he held your face in his hands.

You seemed unresponsive, though, eyes fixed on Bruce. Was this how he always behaved? Had you simply not seen it before? Would he act this way towards you?

“I’m sorry…” his voice somehow got through to you. “I just… I couldn’t just stand by and watch as he hurt you…”

It was true, you gathered. He’d said it before. He’d always put himself between you and Nathan whenever you two fought. He’d never allowed Nathan to mistreat you in front of him, always protecting you – or trying to – no matter what.

Still, it had been horrifying to see those eyes who regarded you with such kindness, look at someone else with nothing but rage. To hear that lovely voice that always cheered you up sound so hateful. It wasn’t your Bruce. It simply wasn’t.

Your arms wrapped themselves around Nathan’s torso, almost as if mechanically. You had to do it. It’s what you did. Nathan yelled and fought and hurt. And then he’d apologize and take you back. It made you feel sick and nauseous and empty inside. But you knew no one else you love you like he did. No one would love you as passionately as Nathan did. And you didn’t want to be all alone.

“Let’s go home, okay, baby?” he asked, one hand caressing your cheek, the other rubbing circles on your hip affectionately. “We can cuddle and watch a movie. Anything you like. How does that sound?”

“Don’t,” Bruce pleaded, eyebrows furrowing. Were you seriously still going home with him? After all that had happened?

You did not break eye contact. You knew you shouldn’t go back home with Nate. At least a part of you did. A part of you knew this was wrong. Knew that you deserved better, knew that Nate was abusive and did not deserve you. But that part had long been defeated, and all that was left were small voices in your head that yelled “No one else is going to love you like this” repeatedly.

And you always let them win.

“Let’s go,” you mumbled.

Nathan wrapped his arm around your waist, kissed your forehead, and Bruce watched as you two left the alley.

You did not text him anymore.

And on Friday, none of you appeared at the Manor for the party.

It was close to 2 in the morning when Bruce was stirred awake by the sounds of knocking on his front door.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from exploring a few new gadgets and functions Lucius had implemented on his suit. Patrol had been rough on him, the new holographic projection system taking a while to get used to, but well worth it in the end. It would spare him a handful of bruises and stress.

Alfred had retired for the night long ago, so it was just Bruce, a copy of a book you’d mentioned in passing once and he decided to read, and a fire cackling in the fireplace.

He got up, groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made his way towards the door. Far too tired to be careful (really, who the hell would be knocking at his door at 2 in the morning? And it’s not like he could blink the sleep away in a matter of seconds. He had enough training for that) Bruce opened the door, coming face to face with a hunched figure.

“This better be good for you to be knocking on my god damned door at 2 in the morning –“

That’s when the figure in front of him shifted. It was no longer a mere figure. It was you.

You were hunched over, looking down, head covering your whole face, and Bruce could make out faint sobbing. He called your name once, twice, three times, softly. All you could do was shake your head. hands tightly clutched in front of you.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Bruce stepped aside so you could walk in. He would not touch you without your permission, without not knowing what had happened. You stepped inside, shaking all over. The clothes on your body were comprised of a flimsy pyjama set, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of pants. Your feet were bare save for the fluffy bunny slippers on them. You looked cold – had you left in a hurry?

“Hey, can we sit on the couch?” Bruce asked, fluffing up some pillows. You nodded and followed him, sitting down, head still hung low. Would you even look at him?

“Do you want something to drink?” He kneeled next to you but did not try to look into your eyes. He wanted to be on the same level as you, make you feel safe, but also give you the space and freedom to move away from him should you want that. He’d never want to smother you. You nodded your head softly, and Bruce was quick to move to the kitchen. He knew your favourite by heart, and within a few minutes, had it prepared and on top of the coffee table in front of you. “There it is,” he mumbled, sitting back again. He'd wait for you to take the first step.

And when you did, all the air left his lungs.

You looked up, hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, silent tears streaming down your face. Most of the lights were off, the fire being the only thing illuminating your features. Your delicate lips, your nose, your beautiful eyes, and the black and purple bruise surrounding one of them. The look Bruce gave you, whatever it was, just made you sob uncontrollably once again. He didn’t know if whether to touch you, come closer or back off, but you answered that question yourself when you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing loudly.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly. Bruce reciprocated the hug, spreading his legs so you could move comfortably in between them. He adjusted you in his lap and kissed your forehead, just holding you tightly.

“No, none of that,” he shushed you, rocking both your bodies back and forth. “You don’t have to apologize. Never.”

“It wasn’t my fault… it wasn’t Bruce, you have to believe me…”

“I do. I believe you. It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to know what the hell that jerk had done to you. But he knew he couldn’t – you might close yourself off even more and refuse to talk if he pressed further.

So, he made sure you were comfortable. Bruce picked you up and moved to the couch, covering both of your bodies with a blanket, and pulling you closer. You took the hint immediately, snuggling up as close as possible to him, face pressed against his neck. You were hiding from him, but it felt nice to be in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Bruce turned on the TV and allowed you to pick a channel (“Mhm” for yes and “Hm-hm” for no) until you were watching some silly rom-com that got you chuckling occasionally. Bruce was stroking your arms gently, bending down to press kisses against your forehead whenever he felt you might need them. He wasn’t paying any attention to the movie in front of him, instead coming up with a plan to throw that idiot in jail.

After you’d finished your drink, you gathered the courage to shift in his lap and completely face him. The bruise covering your eye was on full display, and Bruce could now make out the dried blood on your lip.

“He… he hurt me, Bruce…” you mumbled, reaching for his hand. Bruce squeezed yours tightly, a silent reminder that he was there and listening, and that you weren’t alone. “I’m so scared… He pushed me and kept hitting me, and I was begging him to stop but he wouldn’t… I didn’t know what else to do, so I just waited for him to fall asleep and ran… I had to – I had to wait. He wanted to sleep next to me. He kept apologizing and promising he’d be better, so I told him it was okay, and I went to bed with him…” Bruce wiped away your tears, nodding along. Outside, he was the picture of compassion and sympathy. Inside, a fire was burning, and he had to control every bone in his body not to get into his car and drive to your (hopefully ex by now) boyfriend’s house.

“You’re so brave,” he muttered, running his hand through your hair to soothe you. “I can’t believe how hard that must’ve been. But you’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I thought he could change,” you started to sob, shaking your head. “He – he said he would. He said that he loved me a lot and he’d only hit me because he was jealous and afraid I would leave him. All because I told him I regretted not going to your party that Friday… I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

“No apologies needed. You’re not the one to blame here, okay? It’s him, and him alone.” His hands reached up to wipe your tears, and you flinched, the pressure of his fingers on your bruise sending painful memories through your head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Let’s take care of this, shall we?”

And he did.

Bruce took you to the master bathroom and sat you on top of the counter while he fetched his first-aid kit and a few ointments and creams. Your hands never left him as he worked – on his shirt, on his shoulders, on his hands. He cleaned the bruise with some water and pressed an ice pack against it to reduce the swelling. He told you a few anecdotes that had happened at Wayne Enterprises – angry costumers who tried to scam him, spilled coffees, and other amusing situations – to keep you grounded. His voice was like a lifeline to you.

After the swelling was taken care of, he softly applied ointment around your eye, being careful as to not put too much pressure on the pads of his fingers. He smeared some of it on the tip of your nose, earning a smile from you, before moving on to your lip and taking care of it too. Once all was done, he took a step back.

“Don’t look at me like that…” you mumbled, looking away.

“How?”

“Like that. Like I’m pitiable.”

“Hm.” Bruce tilted his head, pretending to think your statement over, “No. Not pitiable – that’s not who I’m looking at.”

You met his gaze again.

“I’m looking at the bravest woman I have probably ever known.” He crouched in front of you to stay at your eye level. Your hands did not leave his. “I’m looking at a remarkable woman, one with a big heart and a courageous spirit. You’ve endured all of this, and you’re still standing.”

“I’m a coward, Bruce,” you shook your head. “I let him to this to me. I let him break me. He’s right – who would ever love me after him? Who will ever love me like him? Maybe this was a mistake – I shouldn’t have left me. He’s the only one who will love me as I am.”

Bruce was quick to refute you.

“He’s wrong. I hope you know just how wrong he is. Nathan has spent all this time hurting you, lying to you.”

“He hasn’t – I’m broken, I’m damaged goods – who will ever want me?”

“You’re not damaged goods. You hear me? You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re so kind and brave. What you endured is beyond me, and I know I will never understand it, but please believe me when I say that you’re not broken. You’re not damaged. And Nathan is not right. He’s lied to you.”

You looked at him and searched his eyes for any sign of falsehood, of deceit. All you found was kindness. And a warmer emotion you couldn’t pinpoint yet but wanted to figure out.

“You light up even the darkest of days,” Bruce mumbled, moving closer to you. His hand moved to cup your face and you instinctively pressed against it. You’d never felt safer than whenever you were in Bruce’s arms. “And I will do everything in my power to protect you. To keep you safe. The truth is…” He looked at the floor for a few seconds, before meeting your eyes again. “I love you.” You sucked in a breath. “I have, for a while. And I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, nor what you need to hear. And I’m not saying this to force you to be with me, especially after I took care of you. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t expect compensation. I don’t. I’m just saying this because – because I want you to know Nathan is wrong. You’re not damaged goods. And I love you. So much. Ever since I met you, my life has been happier, brighter. For years I’ve had a hole inside of me. Something empty, something that would eat me up from the inside. But then you came along. And you filled that void. And Nathan is so, so wrong, because how could someone not love you? How could someone not love you? How could he try and make you believe you’re not worthy of love, when that’s all you deserve?”

Tears were now streaming down both of your faces. Bruce had never been this vulnerable before, and to his surprise, it didn’t hurt nor scare him. It felt right, to trust you like this, to open up.

“You don’t need to say it back. Please don’t feel forced to say it back. I just wanted you to know that you’re worthy of love, and that I’ll be here to help you. Always. Even if all you feel towards me is friendship. I’ll protect you forever, I promise. He will never touch you again. No one will.”

When you did not reply, Bruce’s stomach fell. Had he screwed up? Had this been a terrible occasion to let you know of his feelings? It wasn’t ideal, no, but he had to tell you. Fuck. He had screwed up, didn’t he? And now he would lose you forever –

You interrupted his thoughts, hands on his jaw, pulling him closer. You blinked slowly – once, twice.

“I love you too,” you whispered, afraid that should you say it any louder, the fantasy might break. “I think I have for a while too. But I was so scared, Bruce… I have nothing to offer – I work a shitty job, and Nathan was paying for everything. My bills, my groceries, my clothes. I was so afraid of leaving. And then whenever I was with you, all I felt… Was happiness.” You chuckled through the tears. “You made me feel so happy, Bruce. And so safe. I always feel safe with you. But I was so scared… I’m so sorry…”

“No – shh. You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” Bruce shook his head, turning to place a kiss on your palm. “You’re so brave. Have I said this already? You’re so brave. I’m so sorry for everything you had to endure. I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything earlier. Shit, I’m an idiot. I should’ve reported him to the police as soon as I realised he was hurting you, but I was too scared he’d turn their heads and you’d get the short end of the stick.”

You smiled, something warm blooming in your chest. Bruce really did care for you, didn’t he?

“My plan was to report him, but I didn’t know if you’d lie to the police in order to cover everything up. I was afraid you would, and he would hurt you further. I’m sorry.”

You repeated his words back to him.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You always stood up for me whenever Nathan was around. You never let him talk to me the way he did whenever you were there. I just wish I hadn’t been so blind… I wish I’d trusted you the first time you told me he was no good… It’s just – we’d been together for so long, and I was so afraid to leave him. Nathan was all I knew. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be unloved.”

“You’re not.” Bruce shook his head again. “Not unloved. I love you. You’re worthy of love, and happiness, and kindness, and good things.”

You nodded at him, a single tear running down your cheek. This one, however, was a tear of happiness. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and Bruce whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

You chuckled.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Is this funny?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re always asking for my permission. If you can touch me, if you can hold me.”

“I would never do anything you were uncomfortable with. Anything you didn’t want.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Please kiss me,” you mumbled, and no other words were needed, as Bruce closed the space between the two of you and kissed you on the lips.

It was the softest kiss you’d ever had in your entire life. There was no roughness, no edge, no anger, or rage – all the things Nathan kissed you with. Bruce, however, kissed you with love. His lips moved in tandem with yours, brushing and caressing and telling a story of tenderness and warmth. It felt nice. It felt perfect. It felt like you had been made to kiss him. You pulled him up by his shirt, and he did so, placing his hands on either side of the marble to trap you. Your legs spread instinctively to accommodate him, and his hands brushed against your cheeks and hair, fingers shyly exploring, afraid to break the moment he’d been waiting for for so long. It was only a shame it had to be in these circumstances.

When breathing became more important than kissing, you pulled away and Bruce pulled you against his chest. You breathed him in, the smell of cologne and bodywash and something so inherently Bruce calming you down almost instantly.

“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered, gripping his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you alive right now. And maybe it was. You needed him.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “And I’ll fix this. We will fix this.”

“What if he comes after me? He’s a very respected doctor, Bruce, I – I don’t want him to hurt you or anything.”

This caused Bruce to chuckle and pull you back to look at your face. Even with a terrible bruise covering your features, you were the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Your courage and kindness only added to that charm. What a lucky guy he was.

“I don’t usually brag about my status, but I happen to be Bruce Wayne. I’ll take care of him. I promise. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

You smiled. Bruce loved your smile.

“Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked, caressing the side of your cheek that wasn’t bruised. “I can sleep in one of the guest rooms. My bed is quite comfortable, you can stay there. Unless you want to stay somewhere else? I won’t force you to stay here.”

You shook your head.

“Here is fine. Although…”

“Yes? I’ll do anything.”

A blush crept up on your features.

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t.”

Bruce nodded.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Please.”

Bruce gave you a soft look, a quiet question, asking for your permission. You answered it by lifting your arms and allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, and you sighed at how comfortable it was. He smiled. You looked content as you adjusted, getting under the covers.

“Are you going to join me or just stare at me like that?”

“I’m just happy you’re here. Safe, with me,” he said. “I’m sorry the circumstances were… not the best.”

“I’m here now, though, aren’t I? And so are you.”

“I am. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bruce moved and laid down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. “Can I?” he asked. You nodded, and he wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to his chest. Your bodies fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle that had come together at last. You entwined your legs with his and rested your head on his chest while his arms snaked around you, protecting you even in your sleep. The beat of his heart soothed you and lulled you to slumber in an instant.

Before you lost conscience, you felt Bruce’s lips move against your head, and made out a soft “I love you”.

It was the best you’d ever slept.

It was hard adjusting to live after that, but Bruce was there for you every step of the way.

You finally filed a report against Nathan. It was tough, and you cried and doubted yourself when you gave your statement, but with Bruce by your side, you felt like you could do it. He reminded you of how brave you really were, and how much you could accomplish – with him or without him. But you liked his company anyway.

Thanks to Bruce’s resources, an investigation was conducted. You’d kept records of nearly every time the two of you fought in your diary, and even photographed every bruise he’d given you. He did not know of this, of course. You did it whenever he was asleep, a small voice in your head telling you it’d be useful to bring him down.

Apparently that little voice had been right, and your pictures were essential for the investigation.

Your friends testified in your favour, and you had cried when they’d hugged you after, congratulating you on your bravery, and lamenting what you’d gone through. You’d missed them so much.

All seemed like it was going in the right direction.

Your old apartment had been cleared, and although you’d gotten a place of your own (Bruce told you he did not want you to feel like you had to move in with him simply because he was helping you out and you two were in the beginning of a relationship), you found yourself spending more time at Bruce’s manor than your own house, and you quickly sold it in order to move in with him.

Everything was going perfectly.

You felt happy – more than ever – going about your daily job, meeting with friends for coffee and lunch and walks on the park without being berated or yelled at. Bruce supported you on every endeavour you went on, encouraging you to spend time with your friends and go out with them, instead of keeping you home all to himself like Nathan did.

In fact, Bruce was the perfect boyfriend. He’d bring you breakfast in bed sometimes, offer you rides to your job, bring you flowers when he could tell you’d had a hard day, and even when he had to cancel date nights or other plans you two had made because of some last minute emergency at Wayne Enterprises, he made it up to you later, with lots of love and reassurance, perhaps a bouquet of flowers and a ticket to whatever event you’d been interested in.

Bruce reminded you of what love felt like. True love. He never raised his voice at you, opting to voice out his concerns in a calming manner. He never made you feel like you weren’t worthy of him – quite the contrary. Every single day, he thanked you for choosing him, letting you know just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Alfred liked you too – very much. He adopted you as his family rather quickly, teaching you how to make your favourite drinks (even better than you used to do them), and spending time with you whenever Bruce wasn’t home, and you felt particularly lonely. He liked having you around. In his opinion, “Master Wayne was in need of a woman’s touch in his house and his life”. You couldn’t agree more and loved him immensely.

There was only one time you crossed paths with Nathan after you’d left him that night.

The Gotham Police had gathered enough information and evidence to build a case against him, and you’d been called to testify. You weren’t sure you wanted to do it – you were still scared of whatever he could do to you.

That day, Bruce sat you down on his lap, kissed your forehead and promised Nathan wouldn’t even be able to touch you, and that he and your friends would be there.

It was all the reassurance you needed, and although you choked back a sob once or twice once your gaze met his, your testimony was clear and strong, and it was enough for the trial to be wrapped up in around two days (and perhaps Bruce had pulled a few strings to get it over it so quickly, but you didn’t need to know that, now did you?)

As he was being handcuffed, Nathan turned to you, face twisted in agony.

“Babe – “ he yelled, doing his best to free himself from the police officers’ grips. “I’m so sorry – tell them this is just a misunderstanding! Tell them! I love you so much, fuck, don’t let them do this to me!”

When it was obvious you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You slut! You stupid bitch! I bet you’re fucking him, aren’t you? You’re fucking the rich bastard, aren’t you? I knew it! You’re a slut – you’re disgusting! No one will ever love you as I loved you, you’re a slut now, and you’ll be a slut fore – “

Bruce’s fist collided with Nathan’s face, promptly shutting him the fuck up. He adjusted his cuffs and his blazer and offered you a doe-eyed look.

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Officers, I’ll be sure to guarantee you all a very nice Christmas bonus if you keep this little incident in between us.”

The excited nods from the officers around him were enough of an answer for him to walk away unscathed. That, and your giggles.

“Couldn’t stand hearing him go on and on about you like that,” he’d muttered to you lately as you cuddled up together on the couch and watched a movie.

That was the last you saw and heard of Nathan. You’d heard Bruce tell Alfred that he was going to be locked up for eternity one day, and while it was suspicious (surely it wouldn’t warrant him a life sentence, would it?), the thought of Bruce using his influence to put your abusive ex-boyfriend behind bars forever made you smile.

Right now, you were sitting on top of a plaid picnic blanket in the gardens of Wayne Manor. On your right hand was a book, on your left hand the chocolate brown curls of your boyfriend, whose head was resting on top of your lap.

You had never felt so at peace with yourself.

Your physical scars had faded, bruises had healed, leaving your soft skin as it once was, but you were sure the emotional ones would remain. Luckily, you had the best boyfriend in the world to aid you in every step of the way.

His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, eyes closed. This was one of his favourite things to do – lay on your lap after a hard week and relax under the sun. It was one of your favourites as well. You got to spend time with the person you loved the most and remind yourself that even though your life was so dark once, it could get better. It was getting better.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

“Not so bad?”

“Fine. You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“Hmm. That’s a lot of responsibility.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’ll manage.”

Bruce chuckled and lifted his head up ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes with a smile. How needy. Bending down, you met him halfway, kissing him tenderly. His tongue swept over your lower lip, and you sighed contentedly before he pulled away and closed his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Bruce. So much.”

Yes.

Everything was going to be better.

A/N: And that's it! Oh my god what a rollercoaster hahaha! I hope you guys enjoyed this! I understand all abusive relationships are different - a lot of this came from my own experience.

I also hope the ending, the little epilogue wasn't too rushed! I wanted it to be a nice conclusion, not dwelling too much on the past, but rather focusing on the hope of the future.

Alright, this is all! I think I'll take a break from Bruce fics for a while, hahaha. Once again, I really do hope you all enjoyed this.

Have a wonderful day ahead! <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 #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

275 notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 7 months

Text

Moon Boys Celebrate Your Birthday HC's

Based on this ask by @soulsforsales: How do you think the moon boys would treat you on your birthday???

Oh my goodness 🎂🎈🎉 Ok.

*angst warning, but mostly fluff

MARC

Birthdays are hard for Marc. So, so hard. They were when he felt most alone, forgotten and unseen.

It’s when he missed Randall so much he felt physically sick.

It’s when his mom refused to acknowledge her living son.

It’s when his dad made a feasible effort but ended up defending his abuser anyway.

So they’re difficult for Marc. But it’s your birthday. It’s you. And you would never.

Marc is going to overcompensate.

He had half-assed Home birthdays with no friends and a homemade cake. Those can be great if done well, but you’re worth more.

He’s going to make a reservation at an impressive restaurant the night before your birthday. It will be unique, intimate, romantic. Candlelight, soft music, delicious food and drinks.

You will have his undivided attention and be his only priority.

The fact that you are in the world is something he cherishes.

Intense eye contact will melt you into a puddle. He’ll keep reaching across the table for your hand.

He’ll pull out your chair and guide you along with his hand on the small of your back. Everyone will know you are his and this is a special day for you.

You barely make it out of the restaurant, just a touch blissfully tipsy, when his lips crash into yours

JAKE

^idk why I keep seeing this Drive guy as Jake lol

Jake will be celebrating, probably on the weekend closest to your birthday, maybe the night after.

There will be singing, in more than one language.

There will probably be dancing even if it’s just a quick couple of Salsa steps around the kitchen.

He cooks for you, making a huge mess. But it's yummy.

He wants you to smile and laugh. He wants to make you feel as amazing as you always make him feel.

He tried to decorate your cake, but it's hilariously bizarre. The two of you try to fix it and get into a frosting war.

It gets on the tip of your nose and cheek. Jake swipes it away and submits his thumb to your lips for cleaning.

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across the pad of his thumb before sucking it into your mouth.

Then you get the rest of your birthday present. For the rest of the night.

STEVEN

Steven doesn’t quite remember a lot of birthdays - not childhood ones anyway.

Memories are either absent, confusing, or completely a false shadow of what really happened to them.

He has to sort out his feelings about birthdays.

But again, this isn’t his birthday, it’s yours.

He’s waiting for you when you wake up. “Happy birthday, love.” He wants you to know right away that he’s remembered.

He gazes into your eyes and traces your lips with his fingertips.

"Steven," you whisper as he brushes his lips over yours.

You're late to work because of him.

He's done little things for you: your lunch is prepared, your favorite tea or coffee is in your favorite mug.

Your favorite sweater is clean and warmed in the dryer. He wraps you up in it before you leave.

When you get to work, there are flowers delivered, with a card. He is a classic romantic after all.

When you arrive home, he is positively giddy. He’s planned a scavenger hunt for you. It’s full of mischief and riddles.

You follow the clues, watching Steven's gorgeous brown eyes sparkle with excitement as his soft voice lovingly encourages you from clue to clue.

You finally get to the end and discover your present. Steven's taking you away on a trip.

Of course Marc and Jake will show up too.

The boys end up saying "Happy Birthweek" after a couple years of this. You’re worth a lot of celebrating.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Askbox

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight headcanons #moon boys #tw food #tw drinking

323 notes · View notes

coldresolve · 3 months

Text

are you a torture apologist, or are you just dumb

... said with all the due diligence this subject warrants, etc etc. i’ve written posts about this before, it’s fallen on deaf ears, people either aggressively ignore it, or they go out of their way to take me in bad faith, and when the latter doesn’t work, they fall back on ye olde reliable: tone policing. but we’ve had that conversation too, haven’t we? it’s my culturally determined value of blunt honesty versus your culturally determined value of politeness. i express my opinions in a way that’s admittedly harsh and hyperbolic, and in so doing, my intention is to treat you like someone who is mature enough to distinguish my point from its delivery, and emotionally well-adjusted enough to deal with whatever the fuck some rando on the internet has to say about what you wrote. i also do it because its more fun this way. are we still cool? ffs lol

the thing is, right, it’s fucking easy not to write torture apologia. very straight-forward and simple, in my humble little opinion. you learn what the usual arguments are, and then you try to avoid accidentally making them – a bit like how, when you learn that white supremacy is a thing, you typically then go on to try and not write some wildly racist shit. same principle.

and i genuinely don’t understand why people are so opposed to this, specifically. they don’t know they’re doing it, which is fine, but then when you try to let them know they’re doing it, on the off-chance they even acknowledge that you said anything, they’ll hit you with an “its just for entertainment,” or “it’s not that deep.” so you tell them they sure seem to spend an awful lot of time weaving torture apologia into their vapid, shallow entertainment. and they don’t like that, jesus. but what else are you supposed to say?

i figure i just havent bullied people hard enough about it, honestly. and by bullied i mean pointing out the mindless use of torture apologia as plot points in the slop everybody writes. i would happily tell all of this directly to the writers of 24’s jack bauer, but those guys aren’t here, so.

you probably won’t be surprised to learn that the majority of the myths surrounding torture are rooted in facistic, reactionary thinking. might makes right is big among people who endorse corporal punishment; the ends justify the means is in play when governments try to excuse the use of t-, ahem, enhanced interrogation tactics. allegedly.

and among a much, much longer laundry list of bullshit i’ve seen spewed – oh, not by shady governments, but by you:

torture as an interrogation method yields reliable information

some forms of torture are more sophisticated than others

torture makes people obedient

torture used as a punishment deters unwanted behavior in others

brainwashing is a thing that is possible (usually through torture)

it’s not torture unless it leaves a physical mark on the body

see to me, it’s fucking easy to rework that scene in your story where torture results in the perpetrator gaining trustworthy intel. fucking easy to reconsider that arc where a character gets rewired by torture into passive obedience. fucking easy, when writing a story, to not accidentally send the message that torture is a tool that works. but hey, allow me to really dig my teeth in.

you drumming up your torturer as “skilled” in the “art” of torture feeds real nicely into the myth that torture works as an interrogation method, here under the condition that you should at least do it properly. is that what you believe? or do just believe that there’s an extra special way to cause extreme physical or emotional destress in a person which, for vague unspecified reasons, superceeds all the other, more amateurish ways one could go about it? the former would make you an direct torture apologist – the latter, a fucking twat. ask yourself why “some torture methods are more sophisticated than others” is an idea that needs to be perpetuated. who benefits from that idea? who would feel really validated by that idea? which government on this green earth of ours, hypothetically speaking, could use this idea as a way to paint their own acts of torture as more cultured or civilized than, say, hypothetically speaking, the torture used by those other nations where the brown people live? allegedly.

alternatively, your little good boy slave fantasy seems to imply that being subjected to torture will make a person obedient. is that what you believe? is it true that might makes right? say, wouldn’t state-sanctioned corporal punishment be justified as a tool to make people obey the law, then? no? okay, hear me out then, cause this is really out there, but. could the idea that violence is a tool that makes people more compliant with the demands of their aggressors, possibly maybe perhaps, be something you only find it acceptable to greenlight as the result decades of war propaganda? naaaaah. fiction isn’t reality, and it means nothing, and victims of torture are weak and malleable and broken, and also what they say can’t be trusted cause they have no real fucking agency anyway. fuck me.

“but elias,” i hear you say, “how am i supposed to write an interesting story that features torture in a way that’s in accordance with scientific consensus on its effectiveness and/or consequences? realism and compelling storytelling are diametrically opposed to one another!”

here’s my take: you just straight up lack creativity. cope and seethe.

if you’re interested in writing about torture, read up on what it is, instead of assuming everything you’ve been told by military-sponsored action movies is true and valid. we’re talking about some pretty extreme facets of human behavior and psychology here, but ones that none the less exist in reality. the bare minimun is to not buy in to the myths and propaganda surrounding it. the next step is to write what it can look like in reality. the big boy galaxy brain move is to write torture in a way that challenges the status quo on how we culturally view torture, and how all these false myths affect victims and perpetrators alike. you just have to fucking think about it.

torture for information doesn’t work – but your perpetrator might be convinced that it does. so instead of going the easy route and proving them right – explore how they're wrong. show torture failing. show your perpetrator’s desperation as they gain nothing. they conceptualize their actions as the lesser of two evils, but whoops, there is no second evil. hows that for a change?

is there such a thing as “torture lite?” does it make any real difference whether it leaves a physical mark behind or not? where do we draw the line between interrogation and torture? is that question not interesting enough for you?

is complying with demands under threat of torture the same as genuine obedience? maybe your victim is forced to pretend in certain ways, through feelings of absolute powerlessness. their survival is pitted against the guilt that comes from following the demands of their perpetrator/s. the sense that they’re betraying themselves, the hatred they feel against their aggressor for making them obey, which is otherwise completely uncharacteristic of them. they’re never reduced to a blank slate, there’s always an internal conflict. what if they reach a point where they have nothing left to lose? real torture makes people more defiant. human beings are amazing at adapting to impossible situations. how is that not a wicked fucking cool thing to explore?

brainwashing isn’t real, but your victim’s loved ones believe that it might be. this means that their attempts to talk about their complex feelings toward the more humane sides of their torturer, or recount moments of a strenuous mutual understanding, are met with vehement denial from the people who are supposed to facilitate their recovery. “don’t talk about him like that, he hurt you.” and a desperation to get people to understand that it’s just not that simple. they’re not just saying it because they’ve been brainwashed – people just aren’t black and white, torturers included. the way they feel compelled by the pressure of their loved ones to just… keep quiet about that aspect of their trauma.

here's a fun fact: not only is torture absolutely useless at everything it sets out to do, but rates of PTSD are equally high among victims and perpetrators. the latter is something called participation-induced post-traumatic stress, or perpetrator trauma. you see it in murderers, too. nobody talks about that. and i get it, it’s a touchy subject, we wouldn’t want to portray torture as something human beings do. but, and here’s my counter-argument: maybe reality is just messy and complicated. and maybe exploring that messy complicated reality in fiction can serve as something interesting and worthwhile. emotionally cathartic. no?

if you read up on torture in psychological studies, regarding the psychology of both victims and perpetrators – and possibly also read some sociological studies about how governments have used a lot of the myths i’ve mentioned about torture to excuse their own actions (allegedly) – you start to get an idea for just how comprehensibly it fucks with people, and how effective that propaganda machine has been. real life torture is not rare. torture will continue to not be rare as long as people believe in the idea that it is useful. so maybe it’s a good idea to approach the subject with a little bit of thought beforehand, you know? we could approach fictional depictions of torture with the same amount due diligence we take with the topic of rape or child abuse, instead of, you know, literally affirming all the myths that justify its use and then brushing off criticism like mine in that aggressively uncritical fiction-isnt-reality,-depiction-isn’t-endorsement,-zero-further-introspection way.

or whatever. maybe im just a big meanie, i must be fun at parties, etc

#inspired by 10k notes on my last rb proving there are sane ppl on this site. im starting this discourse again okay idc #im happily dying on the hill of 'maybe don't gargle the balls of US war propaganda in your whump fic' tbh #other #torture #media literacy #media criticism

61 notes · View notes

lovebaela · 21 days

Text

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 1: A New Life

masterlist l next

(a/n) hello! I decided to restart my “Ice and Fire” fanfaction because I have so much more ideas for a better story :) even though it’s discontinued, if you would like to check it out here’s the masterlist! I hope you guys will enjoy this one 🤍 I’m working on the masterlist for this series right now!

Divider credit: @dingusfreakhxrrington @valeskafics

°❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･ CW: fem!oc, betrothal (forced marriage), topics of abuse and racism, angst, a lot of fluff, smut (I’ll try lol), and murder.꙳·❅°*˖ Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

Why must the gods be so cruel to me? What could I have possibly done to deserve this life? To be sold off like a slave by my own flesh and blood…I’ll never forgive Viserys. Without Dany, I am alone. Without love. I want to go home. But…where do I belong? The summer isles? No, that can’t be my true home, I never had the chance to live there. Do I belong anywhere?

Daughter of the mad king’s younger brother. Rhaella never knew her mother. She died after giving birth in the Summer Isles, killed by assassins under the command of the new king, Robert Baratheon. When he found out Rhaella’s mother was pregnant, he wanted both of them dead. Rhaella was smuggled out of the isles and sent to her cousins, the last Targaryens.

“I know you’re upset,” Lord Eddard Stark said, placing his hand on top of hers.“But please, believe me when I say this. I will never let anyone harm you. You are under my protection now.”

Rhaella gave him a weak smile back. Rhaella, the same name as the Mad King’s sister and wife. Daenerys gave her the name. Viserys despised the idea of his mother’s name given to the likes of a foreign girl. Even though she was still a Targaryen, he only considered her half and not pure. She took after her mother, with more summer isle features. Her skin wasn’t pale, instead, a light amber and tan that would get even darker in the sun. She had long silver curly hair, unlike her cousins who had straight silver blonde hair. The thing Rhaella hated the most was her eyes. Instead of being a pretty violet color, she had dark purple eyes that almost looked black.

Rhaella looked away from the carriage window to make eye contact with Lord Stark, “My Lord?” She asked, “Why did you accept my cousin’s offer to take me?”

“Well, you see,” he explained, “The rebellion caused great loss for everyone. So many people, loved ones, dead. Especially your family, unfortunately. I’ll never forgive him for his order of murder. When the king found out 3 Targaryens were still out in the world, he wanted you all dead. I wanted to prove to him that even though Areys was mad, that doesn’t mean you all don’t deserve to live. By taking you in and marrying one of my sons, we can show him that you are not our enemies. It took him a while to be fully convinced, but he agreed to let you live.”

”But, my eldest cousin,” Rhaella said. “He…he wants to take the seven kingdoms. I’m not sure how, but that is his plan.”

”I highly doubt he is a true threat,” Lord Stark said.

”you’re right,” she admitted. “He can be a big coward at times.”

That comment made him chuckle.

He has a nice smile, very warm and welcoming. Even though he did come off as cold before.

“Will I have to marry now?” Rhaella asked.

“Oh gods no!” He chuckled, “you are far too young, my son as well.”

“Will he like me?”

“I believe so, you have nothing to worry about. Bran is a good kid. He will treat you right.”

Once they made it through the gates, the carriage stopped. Lord Stark exited first so he could get the door for Rhaella. He gently held her hand as she took her steps down. Once Rhaella looked up from the steps, she saw the Stark family before her. Not letting go of her hand, Lord Stark approached his family to introduce their special guest.

“This is Rhaella Targaryen. As you all know, she will be with us now. Treat her as you would treat each other. If anyone disrespects her, let me know.”

They all nodded. A very handsome older boy approached her, “Hello, my lady, I am Robb,” he told her, “I hope you enjoy Winterfell and welcome!” Before walking away, he kissed her hand. That made Rhaella blush, “T-Thank you.” He had blue eyes and dark auburn hair. It was so dark you could barely tell if it was red. He had to have been the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.

An older girl walked up to her gracefully, “Hello,” she smiled, “my name is Sansa. I hope we can grow to be like sisters! Maybe even brush each other’s hair, make dresses together, and so much more!” Rhaella gave a slight smile back, “I would love that!” Then a girl, who looked not too older than her, approached saying, “My name is Arya! Don’t worry, we don’t have to do girly stuff together. There are other ways to have fun!”

Then, she met Rickon, the youngest in the family, and their mother Lady Stark. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed, “aren't you just a lovely thing? Such a beauty.” Rhaella blushed at the compliment, thanking her.

She must be lying to me. I mean, just look at me! The journey to Westeros was so long that hair became wild and poofy.

”You must be frightened,” Lady Stark said. “Trust me, I never favored the cold myself. I still don’t, but you grow to appreciate it.”

Rhaella couldn’t keep her eyes off Lady Catelyn Stark’s features. Like Robb and Sansa, she had long auburn hair and pretty blue eyes. Her gown was also blue, making her eyes stand out even more.

“Where is Bran?” Lord Stark asked his wife.

“I told that boy to stop climbing,” she explained. “Brandon!”

“Sorry mother!” A voice yelled from above, “I’m coming down!”

When Rhaella looked up, she examined him. He looked to be the same age as her. He had dark brown hair and eyes with freckles on his face. He approached her and bowed, “Welcome to Winterfell, I hope you will take a liking to it.” “Thank you,” she replied.

The atmosphere quickly grew awkward. The two children didn’t know what to say to each other.

Lady Stark took Rhaella’s hand, “You must be exhausted, here, come with me.” She guided Rhaella to her bed chamber and had the handmaidens start a bath. After the bath, she laid on her bed for a quick nap.

After waking up, the handmaidens helped her get into a gown for dinner. The dress was purple with roses embroidered across the neckline. Then, they helped her with her hair. They clearly did not know what they were doing. They aren’t used to doing curly hair like Rhaella’s, but they managed to make something of it. They brushed out her curls, putting them in a half-up-half-down style. The ponytail was braided and put into a bun. After the handmaidens left the room, she looked at herself in the mirror.

I don’t even look like myself anymore.

Tears began to fill her eyes, I just want to go home.

She bolted out of the room, not knowing where she was going. She ran outside the big castle but didn’t dare to leave outside the castle walls. She eventually found an area that stood out to her. The whole vibe was strange as if something or someone was watching her. It was nothing but an old forest with no snow. In the middle of it, was a pool and a tree. A tree she’d never seen before. The huge tree was white with red leaves and a face carved into it. She stared deeply into the tree’s eyes for a while.

Is it staring back at me?

She snapped out of it, shaking her head, and climbed up the tree to sit on a huge branch.

Without Daenerys, I am lost. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying in the tree for, but she didn’t care. Winterfell wasn’t her home.

“Rhaella?” She heard a voice ask.

When she looked up, she saw Bran with a concerned look on his face, “w-why are you crying?”

She wiped her tears. “Sorry, I just miss my sister…how did you know I’d be here?”

“I like to go to the godswood, and climb up this tree,” he said. “Whenever I like to be alone and think. I’m sorry you had to leave your sister.”

“Well, she isn’t my sister, not really,” she admitted, wiping her face. “We are actually cousins. We just call each other sisters.”

He sat next to her, “my family was worried about you. They thought you might have ran away.” He nervously chuckled. “I…I know that we are to be married one day. The idea of marriage scares me.”

She doesn’t respond, only looking down at her hands as she fidgets with them. “I have something for you,” Bran showed her a beautiful blue flower. “That was the reason I was climbing.” He told her. “I wanted to give you something as a gift. I was going to give it to you at the dinner table but here. If I hurt your feelings not being there to greet you, I’m so sorry.” Rhaella took the flower and sniffed it.

“It’s called the winter rose,” he continued. “A rare flower that can grow around the castle.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

”You know, just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean we have to be in love right now or anything,” he said. “Let’s just be friends!”

”Yeah I’d like that!” She said.

”And just so you know,” he whispered. “I liked your hair better before. Your curly hair is much better.”

She laughed, “You and me both.”

”You’re laughing!”

”So?”

”This is your first time laughing here,” he said. “You have a nice smile.”

”Thanks, Bran,” she said. “You know, my eldest cousin ,Viserys, told me and Dany that you guys were evil monsters. But, you guys aren’t monstrous at all!”

Before Bran could respond, they both hear a voice from down below calling for Bran. An older boy who looked the same age as Robb. He was very handsome with black curls and dark eyes. “I found her Jon!” Bran shouted.

”Well, what are you sitting around for? They are all waiting for you two!” The two of them climbed down from the tree and walked with Jon.

“Forgive me, my name is Jon Snow,” he told Rhaella. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

”I never heard of the last name ‘snow’ before,” she confessed.

Bran began to explain, ”That last name actually means he’s a…well—”

”Bastard.” Jon said. His voice was cold and somber.

”I don’t know what that means,” Rhaella said. “But Viserys called me that sometimes, I assumed as an insult.”

”It means that my father, Lord Stark, had me with another woman. I wanted to meet you when you arrived, but Lady Stark thought it would be disrespectful.”

Rhaella couldn’t help but feel awful for him. There was something about Jon Snow that made him stand out. As if they had a connection. She wondered if Jon felt it too.

“You said that Viserys called us evil,” Bran said. “Then why did he want to send you away to us?”

“He hates me,” she answered. “He saw you guys as an opportunity to get rid of me…”

Once they all made it to the dining hall, all eyes were on Rhaella and Bran. “Well, aren’t you just beautiful?” Catelyn smiled. “Please, have a seat.” Bran escorted her to her chair and went back to his. Before Jon could leave the Hall, Rhaella asked, “Can Jon eat with us please?”

”Ah, I see you met him while you were gone,” Lord Stark said, amused. “Would him eating with us please you?”

Rhaella looked over at Jon, whose eyes lightened up. She looked back at Lord Stark and gave a nod. He looked over at Lady Stark, “What do you say?”

She looked into Rhaella’s sparkling eyes and sighed, “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

Rhaella gave a big smile. Jon pulled a chair next to her whispering, “Thank you Rhaella.”

“I hope you like the dress,” Sansa said. “I made it myself! I wanted to test my embroidery skills and decided to make you one!”

“It’s beautiful,” Rhaella told her. “You should teach me!” Sansa nodded gleefully.

“You know, we all thought you ran off and escaped!” Arya laughed.

“I…I didn’t mean any trouble or offense, I apologize.” Rhaella announced, standing up from her chair and bowing her head. “It was rude of me.”

“No,” Lord Stark said. “You have every right to feel the way you do. Your life changed right before your eyes. But please, believe me when I say this, we are here for you.”

“Aye.” Robb agreed. “If you are having trouble with anyone or anything let us know.” She thanked the both of them for their kindness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like outside of Westeros?” Catelyn asked.

Rhaella told them everything. Even about the abuse Viserys had done to her. He always yelled at her for the littlest things. The worst thing he ever did was sneak into her bedchamber with a knife. He threatened to cut out her insides if she didn’t cooperate with his plan to send her to the North.

They all had concerned looks on their faces. The abuse never got to her until explaining it out loud. She really did have it rough.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Arya said. “You are with us now!”

“Safe and sound,” Sansa added.

Rhaella didn’t realize she was smiling.

”So, Rhaella…you said you were from the Summer Isles right?” Theon asked.

“Yes, why you ask?”

He smirked at Robb before asking, “I heard the women there are quite breathtakingly beautiful?” She could have sworn she heard him whisper “and have nice bodies.”

”Well, I’ve never actually stayed there, I had to flee because of the King,” she explained. “But from the books I’ve read and from what I heard from some servants in Pentos, yes, the women there are quite beautiful.”

”I also heard that they have a passion for love making,” he said. “Maybe I gotta visit there sometime-.”

”Theon!” Lady Stark snapped. “Don’t be disrespectful-.”

”Oh that’s okay!” Rhaella reassured her. “You’re right, Theon! They do have a passion for it. If I were to stay in the Isles, I would have been a prostitute myself!”

Sansa and Lady Stark almost choked on their food, as Robb, Theon, and Jon bursted out laughing at the table. She didn’t understand what was so funny, but she laughed along with them.

”What’s a prostitute?” Rickon asked, innocently. That made the boys start crying from laughter. Theon even fell out of his chair.

”Y-You’ll know when you’re older!” Lady Stark said.

”You’ll fit in with us just fine, child,” Lord Stark said. “Welcome to the family!”

°❀⋆Daenerys.ೃ࿔*:･

Daenerys never felt more lonely. She missed Rhaella, her real family. She’d never forgive her brother for what he did.

“Daenerys!” Viserys shouted.

He entered her bed chamber, “do not tell me you’re still upset about that savage.”

She felt rage enter her body as he said those words. “She is not a savage, she’s my sister,” she replied softly. “And I don’t understand why you sent her to our enemies.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “We both know that’s not true. She’s our cousin. Daughter of our uncle and whatever foreign whore he married. She’s not a pure Targaryen like us, Dany. And she never will be. I gave her away because we need allies, even if they are enemies. The Starks are a strong house, and I knew that Lord Stark would gladly take her in. The fool won’t even know of my plans to destroy him and his dear friend Robert.”

Daenerys always considered Rhaella her sister, even if it wasn’t true. They spent all of their time together, never leaving one’s side. It felt like it was yesterday, the day Rhaella arrived in Braavos as a baby. Viserys wanted nothing to do with her while Daenerys cherished her. She had no idea why Viserys was so upset about naming their cousin after their mother. It was only a name after all. She always thought it was much deeper than Rhaella being a “savage.” She never dared to ask him though.

“I have good news.” He announced. She examined his face, his grin looked devious. Truly it wasn’t good news. “I found you a husband,” he said. “His name is Khal Drogo, Magister Illyrio said. A Dothraki savage. When you two wed, I’ll have his army. We can finally go home, sweet sister.”

Home.

All she ever wanted was a home. A home with Rhaella, where they could finally be happy together. With her gone, Daenerys wasn’t sure if it would be home without her.

“And what about her?” She asked him.

“The savage?” He scoffed. “Those Starks have her now. I don’t care what they do to her. As long as we have our alliance with the North.”

Daenerys wanted to cry, but she stayed strong. I will meet her again, one day.

°❆⋆Bran ೃ࿔*:･

It had only been a couple of months, but for Bran, it felt like he had known Rhaella his whole life. Rhaella also grew close to his sisters but mostly Arya. The three of them were inseparable. Rhaella even taught them some of the Valyrian language. Some nights, the three of them would stay up and read history books about Targaryen history until they got caught by the Septa. For fun, they liked to go sledding and have snowball fights. The older Stark boys and Rickon joined them sometimes, but never Sansa. Ever since Rhaella arrived, Sansa and Arya fought less. It’s like wherever she went, she spread joy. That’s one of the traits Bran liked about her.

Now, everyone is preparing for the arrival of the King.

He overheard his father saying that the King was almost there. Bran felt sorry for Rhaella because she was so stressed out. “What will he do to me?” She asked. He always reassured her, “You are under our protection now, the King approved of you. Don’t worry about a thing.”

At that moment, it was time for Bran to practice his archery. He hasn’t been getting any better. He wanted to show his family he could hit the bull’s eye. First, only Robb was watching him. Then, came Jon and Rickon. Before he knew it, his parents came to watch as well.

“Keep practicing, Bran,” Lord Stark insisted. “Go on.”

Jon leaned in towards Bran, placing his hand on his shoulder, “Alright, father is watching.”

Jon looks over and sees Rhaella and Arya watching as well, “and her…” he whispered.

Bran took a deep gulp. He didn’t like to get teased about Rhaella. They only do it because we are to be married. We are just friends, good friends.

Bran nodded and started to aim his bow and arrow at his target.

“Relax your bow arm…” Robb commented.

Just before Bran could release the arrow, someone else’s hits the target and another shoots right through it.

All of the boys turned their heads to see Rhaella and Arya giggling. “Hey!” Bran yelled. The girls both curtseyed but quickly took off once they saw Bran chasing them. The kids kept on playing until their father took all of the boys to see an execution. Bran was finally old enough to see one.

“Are you scared?” Rhaella asked him as he was mounting his pony.

“I’m not sure.” He answered honestly.

But I can’t be afraid. My father told me I won’t be a boy forever. I’ll be a man-grown soon. I mustn’t be afraid. I need to be brave. Like Robb and Jon. Wolves are never afraid.

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

38 notes · View notes

ganondoodle · 11 months

Text

this isnt as long as before but i just cannot stop thinking about this, why i dislike story and lore boils down to these main point

--the ending feels unsatisfying as hell even if i ignore everything i dont like about how the game treated zelda and ganondorf, the ending itself just feels, despite being presented as super epic an touching, incredibly empty to me and part of it is that it feels like an unearned return to status quo of course i didnt think zelda would stay a dragon and i actually wanted to help her, which is why i kept trying to hunt down impa since she said shes gonna search for a way for us to help zelda, bc i wanted to!! i was eager to help her!

i fully hoped and kinda expected that thered either be some kind of dragon dungeon (think, the water dragon from okami) tho that would be difficult since you can get items from her so i ended up thinking before going into the end thered be a mission with impa (or at least given to you from her) where she found answers in ancient scripts (that she told you she would look through) and that you need to find a special lil thing that will help zelda undragonfy, like some sort of ultra secret forbidden enigma stone able to reverse dragon transformations kinda deal (golden opportunity to make you go and talk to the yiga bc they might know or even own some ancient texts) that youd keep in your inventory until the very end and after you kill dragondorf (pretty mortal for becoming an immortal dragon huh) you take it out and use it, undragonfying zelda and ending in a similar epic falling and paralel to the beginning way

... and instead impa stays in the house and only has a few repeating dialog boxes and does nothing and you cant do anything bc in the end you just get randomly teleported (and stripped of your clothing AGAIN) into some weird ethereal plane somehow?? with the ghost of long ass dead sonia and apparently not as gone as i thought rauru (seriously i felt sad when he went poof at the end of the tutorial but i guess i shouldnt have) awkwardly blasting dragon zelda with some magic tm and its all reversed no problem (heck me for caring i guess) turns out helping her was killing an evil guy we never really knew and mineru just kinda says lol its bc time and light magic i guess lol as an explanation

like i really wanted to go and help zelda! i was motivated to do it and spent HOURS trying to find impa again but i wasnt allowed to do anything bc zelda gets saved by some deus ex machina bs in the end anyway, what a fool i was, of course killing the evil guy is the solution to everything >:( (and no i dont care if its meant as in uwu sonia and rauru wanted to help one last time uwu bc it doesnt change how unsatisfying it was to watch it all just kinda happen)

--point two is just how much totk feels like its trying to REPLACE botw instead of being a sequel, its not building on anything of it its ripping out the fundation and building its own thing in its place, like i was so excited to see what happened to the titans, and all the sheikah tech what they mabe had done in all that time now that theres a tech enthusiastic girl as the head of the monarchy, maybe even find out more about them and instead its just all ... gone with not explanation? theres isnt even a LAME explanation, its just gone?? you never find out what the ancient energy actually was, and why there were concentrations of it in the regions with the ancient furnace (well heck it didnt even have anything to do with ganondorf actualyl bc that would have been too interesting) bc that was so intrigueing?? like yeah where DID it come from and why is it there ?? and oh suddendly hey look theres an even MORE ancient and even MORE advanced civilization thats way COOLER and BETTER than the ancient sheikah now, they also built stuff everywhere and have been here ALL ALONG cant you see its everywhere!! and its the only thing everyone cares about all of the sudden, all evdidence of the ancient sheikah tech was scraped of the earth so there literally only being some guardian parts on top of the hateno lab feels like an oversight now bc everything lese was to thourohgly wiped of the map- for no reason even?? like im totalls fine with it being useless and not working anymore but .... why remove it like it was wiped from history?? and then they have the gall to mention the happenings of botw like, twice in the entire game but still just give you the most basic summary of it mentioned on a sidenote with again not even a hint what happened to all of it

wouldnt there have been the golden opportunity to use it to access the new parts and map points that changed?? like a shrine thats fallen into the underground, an access to caves and the underground in the broken and collapsed elevator tube of a sheikah srhine?? maybe even a broken interior of an old shrine, like the room you get put into with the puzzle and where the monk once were broken and half overgrown in the udnerground? some left over construction site where you can see oh thats how the ancient sheikah got all that tech underground, bc they all had access to it and built it there to then rise up when its needed? maybe even making use of the old sonau sites since they frequnetly built their srhines within those ruins?? that the ancient sheikah found em and put the ruins to use? to research it and built their own stuff from it? it wouldnt have to have any focus, literally just part of the enviroment even

really everything totk does is like -forget botw ever happend, look how much cooler and better i am, who cares about sheikah stuff sonau are the new cool guys that came out of nowhere but now apparently have been everywhere all along actually-

i LOVE botw and with it feeling much more like its attempting to replace botw instead of building its story and world further every reference to botw i found felt like a slap in the face instead, oh look where the shrine of life used to be isnt even a hint left of sheikah tech somehow, and also right under it is the lake of healing filled with sonau structure bc ACTUALLY they were here FIRST bc they are so cool omg you guys

dare i say it feel a little like they wanted to make an entirely different version of botw basically, but wanted to reuse the map and models so they just said yeah uhhhh its totally a sequel yeah yeha that makes sense, its not erasing botw and doing essentiall the same thing again but bigger cooler and better (tm) its just uuh a ...sequel ye.

#ganondoodles talks #totk spoilers #totk #sorry i got longer again #also what was calamtiy ganon then #if it was ganondorf trying to resurrect himself outside of the seal then ... wouldnt he ... mention it or something or anyoone no?#also dont like how all the teasers made it seem like there was soem great mystery as to how gan got down there-#.. actually how DID he get down there thats a pretty weird place to go to war too #-aynway and WHO did this to him omg he looks in pain maybe theres more to it alll omg #and then its just ... yeah cool guy tm sealed him #oh ... ok #why would you tease us with a good time then bring stale chips and an empty beer can you have brought with you three times before already #like i get we love to read more into stuff that isnt there #but they were oh so vageu with the teasers and stuff we got to see when its all just #the same schlok but even more tasteless than before

178 notes · View notes

cosmicstarlatte · 1 year

Text

Devil-Mart: Shopping (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

The brothers and you go grocery shopping. You can imagine what that's like.

»Characters: Demon Bros + very brief Dia and Barb

»Tags: Shitpost, Some Wholesomeness, Levi my boy, Dia is precious as usual, Bulleted Style

»Notes: Sorry I know I've mentioned this a few times but finally edited it to my liking. :'3 Alternatively I have another fic where they actually work at Devil-Mart if you haven't read that one lol.

Lucifer:

Grabs two carts, one being a race car type with two seats

"Levi! Belphie! Get in!"

OF COURSE HE STRAPS THEM IN

Puts a backpack leash on Asmo

"Beel, Mammon, get a cart each."

They're a big family so yeah they need a lot lol

"Satan, stay where I can see you!"

This man pulls out a CVS-receipt type of shopping list

You can practically hear western showdown music as he stares down another customer for the last bag of spicy newt chips

Hands Satan Asmo's leash

He wins the last bag of course

"SATAN! ASMO! Where did you go!?"

(Later)

"I have a coupon for this."

"Well the sale sign said-"

"Here's my rewards card."

"I have reusable bags, thank you."

Mammon:

Thinks grocery shopping is boring but only goes because of you

Is the reason the store started locking more stuff up behind glass cases

Has tried to bargain with workers and hopes it works one day

Confidently accepted Satan's bet (you tried to stop it)

He left his shopping cart with you

Next thing you know he gets on the intercom

"Lucifer! Daddy will find you! Don't cry! If anyone sees a black haired-"

Lucifer drop kicked him knocking him unconscious

[Security Liked This 👍 ]

Levi:

Happily gets in Lucifer's cart and continues gaming on his console

Is use to Lucifer strapping him in

Finds it oddly comforting

"Lucifer can we get the Ruri chan limited edition cereal!?"

"It's on the list."

"Lucifer! Don't forget we need more Hell Sodas!"

"It's on the list."

"Oh and my special Ruri shamp-"

"Leviathan."

[A few minutes later]

"...Hey Lucifer!"

"LEVIATHAN."

Satan:

Didn't want to come but Lucifer makes grocery shopping a family outing

Walks around reading a book

Bet Mammon he wouldn't get on the intercom and embarrass Lucifer

He knew he'd do it

He happily threw the grimm on his unconscious body

He took out the last jar of inferno bee honey from a families cart when they weren't looking

Occasionally crosses off Lucifer's snacks so he forgets them

Decided to ''save'' Asmo when he got the chance

Asmo:

Not the first time he's been on a leash

Just typed away on his D.D.D

Keeps trying to flirt with any cutie he sees

Lucifer yanks him away every time

However Lucifer does use him for discounts at the meat deli

Asmo doesn't mind he always treats it like a game to see what he can get 😏

Employees have fought for the chance to help him if he requires assistance

Was thankful when Satan saved him from Lucifer's watch

They went shopping at the cafe book store next door

Beel:

Loves grocery shopping, loves it

Always has to eat a giant meal before shopping otherwise he can't go

Food and family outing only the best duo!!!

Always feels guilty knowing the list is long because of him but he does his best to help Lucifer shop for the items

Pushed one cart with food and pulled the other with an unconscious Mammon inside

Is the reason the store stopped doing free samples

Belphie:

Immediately started snoozing when Lucifer strapped him into the cart

Doesn't care much for grocery shopping but doesn't fight it

Grannies always coo over him while he sleeps

"Oh what a cutie! The other one is kind of odd though..."

Lucifer always carries a sleeping Belphie back to the van while Beel packs the back of the van with you

Sure Beel could carry him but Lucifer insists its Beel's duty to help with grocery shopping as much as he can

Lucifer won't admit he has a soft spot for the youngest

Belphie won't admit he pretends to sleep so he can be carried by Lucifer

As you guys leave, you see Barbatos walking in, pushing Diavolo in his own race car cart who is happily "steering".

"We're going to the chips, Barbatos!"

"No, we are here for dinner ingredients my Lord."

"But I'm turning left!"

->[Dia & Barb art]

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Mexican Restaurant︱Waffle House︱ You ARE The Father

#you'd think Lucifer was shopping with little kids LMAO #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shitpost #obey me humor #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹#shitpostcifer

347 notes · View notes

eveledoze · 12 days

Note

Which tadc ship do you like more? Funnybunny or Showtime?

oh well long-post comes-

okay i did a little searching, since i often don't understand such ship names. if google doesn't lie to me, then the first one is Pomni/Jax, and the second is Pomni/Caine.

damn, I thought funnybunny was the name for Ragatha/Jax 💔💔

i don't ship Pomni/Jax but i find the pairing cute. i don't sense any special dynamic between them, Jax just makes fun of her the same way he makes fun of everyone else because he's a jerk (i say this lovingly). when i discovered that this pairing was the most popular in the fandom, i didn’t really understand why, since i wouldn’t say that there was anything particularly interesting going on between these two. I think the dynamics between Jax and Ragatha were more distinct, which I immediately noticed, they had tension and i really liked it x) but then, after thinking about it a little, i realized why Pomni/Jax is the most popular ship (I guess?? it's just my supposition) — people combined two of the most main characters, one of whom is a badass-tumblr-sexyman, and the second is an angsty ordinary person with whom people could identify themselves. anyway i just find it funny that so many people like this ship. i saved fanarts of these two a couple of times because i thought they were cute. to be honest, kitsch's (@ bunnyjesters/ nuzipilled) works probably influenced my opinion about this ship the most. arts with Pomni and Jax from kitsch is probably my favorite among all the other fanarts for this couple, i think that he well preserves their canon behavior and characters despite the fact that the pairing itself in the cartoon is non-canon, and their interactions in his art feel quite realistic for me! i love how kitsch draws them and how he uses gestures and body language to show their emotions, it's very, very cute. so yeah, i don't ship them, but i do find some of the fanart of them cute. i drew this a while ago, so have this if it will make you happy 🌸

now Kaine/Pomni...ahmmm, to be honest, i was even more surprised that this is probably the second most popular pairing in the fandom? :D apparently it really comes across often and haha, i don’t understand it... i’ve never been interested in the dynamics of student/teacher or employee/boss, in my understanding there can be no romance in their relationship, maximum platonic, family relationships, understanding each other. Kaine is very quirky and doesn't seem like he's interested in romance (i generally like Kaine/Moon, but i really think Kaine is just confused by Moon's behavior since he's not interested in her romantically x)). it's more like he treats all the guys in circus like friends, colleagues or something like that. so yeah, it's weird for me to see romantic stuff with Pomni/Caine, but like the first one, occasionally i might come across fanart with them that i think is cute. once I saw a mini-comic (don't remember the author) dedicated to that circus teaser, in the comic Caine suddenly appeared in Pomni's room. Pomni, out of fear, hits him sharply, after which he got upset and she began to apologize <з

if we talk about my fav ship, i love Ragatha/Jax! i don't remember this "name" for the pairing, but yes, that's them. dynamics like theirs are my favorite dynamic in couples, i just love it when characters can't stand each other lol. i love the tension between them and i'm afraid i paid too much attention to it while watching the pilot... oh my god, a moron, who pisses everyone off, with a good-natured girl, who wants to help everyone, but she has to deal with this asshole. i guess it's the "from hate to love" trope, right? i like that the first thing that manifests itself in such couples is negativity, they just piss each other off and cannot calm down. but after a while the annoying cools down and they begin to open up to each other. ofc i don't know Gooseworks’ plans, but you guys probably thought that Jax is actually not such a jerk as he shows himself to be, and in fact he is a deeper character, with his own traumas and trials? let's not turn this into a tragic sob story, but nevertheless, Gooseworks said "every tadc character has a reason why they behave the way they do" and i believe that we will be revealed that. it seems to me that to some extent Jax and Ragatha can complement each other. Like, you know, it’s like N helps Uzi cool down and be calm, and Uzi helps N to be confident and defend his positions. maybe Jax can show Ragata that her toxic positivity is not the best option and sometimes you need to be tough, and Ragatha can help him open up, share his problems and well...to be less jerk-like. and yes, of course i can't get it out of my head that Jax called her "dollface" while he gave the others rude nicknames haha

also i like Ragatha/Pomni, i probably don’t pay much attention to them, but they're good. there are cute interactions between them and it seems that Ragatha was better than the others in being able to approach her and become somewhat of a friend. Ragatha has this energy of a caring mother or something, so her desire to help Pomni get comfortable in the circus and direct her to positive thoughts is cute. at the same time, Pomni looks extremely confused, but Ragatha is the one she turns to because she seems the most adequate and friendly of the others. i liked to draw how they hug, but in i think that most likely Ragatha would not have allowed herself to hug someone without asking, at least she would have asked permission x) however, it seems to me that physical contact and kind words are Ragatha's way of support, so simply holding hands with her would calm Pomni down

also i like Pomni/Gangle and Gangle/Kinger and i don'tind other ships as well !!

#evele stuff #ask #ship ask #tadc #tadc ship #the amazing digital circus #ragatha x jax #jax x ragatha #pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #pomni x jax #pomni x caine

24 notes · View notes

sweetheartmotives · 2 months

Text

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓼!

Desc and possible Cw: None!

Let me know if I missed any

Micah, The yan Bartender: Just like other holidays, Micah was ecstatic for this one! Another holiday to celebrate all the time he's spent with his beloved?! Yessir! Count him in! Anyway, you guys start the day off with breakfast in bed [Micah made it for you] and then a quick cuddle sesh, and another cuddle sesh, and another cuddle seshhhh- until around 3:00 pm! Around that time, Micah runs off to the grocery store while you sleep to prepare a surprise dinner for you! He made something yummy, fancy, and somewhat homely dinner. You guys finish the lovely day off with gifts, kisses, and you guessed it, love making.

Overall, 10/10! Great yan to spend this lovely holiday with! :3

Jaakobah, Evil Yan Cupid: Oh yeah, this is a holiday Jaakobah digs. First of all, he is Cupid, therefore he knows all about romance and how to sugar you up! He, of course, plans a whole day of activities a week prior since he's the 'expert' on this holiday. Anyway, you get your favorite flowers in a neat little bundle with a package of chocolates matched with it, you go to a fair, and finally, you go to dinner.

Overall, 8/10. He's a shithead during all this btw. 'You're so desperate lol, you had to get wit cupid to get a valentine.' BE QUIET.

Harper, The yan Eagle Hybrid: Harper, as expected, didn't know what Valentine's Day was. You tried explaining it to him and all he took from it was he had to give you flowers and a gift to show his love. It didn't make sense to poor Harper, he already gifts you the finest flowers and fruits he can find in the forest, what else could you want?? After expressing his confusions to you, you explain that it's a day of love and gift giving is just one way of showing love! Harper nods along as you explained it, he finally gets it now, you want a baby! That's the ultimate gift! Oh goodie, off to the nest deep inside the cave you two go! [Dw, his cum has special properties to get EVERYONE pregnant. Don't matter what ur gender/sex is 😊]

Overall, 4/10. It was nice at the beginning but now your legs are sore.

Damian, The yan deep diver: Damian, as expected, was the one who suggested and explained Valentine's Day to you. He even brought you your special treats to jndugle in for the special occasion! He brought you pretty shells, rocks, Coral, etc from the deep depths and not deep depths for you to enjoy. He also tried, again, to kiss you. You bit him. Hard.

Overall, 3/10. The gifts were nice but the kiss attempt ruined everything.

Taiyō, the Yandere Cafe Host: Prepare to get spoiled! First, he comes to wherever you live with a big, big expensive bouquet of flowers matched with a pretty heart package of fancy chocolates. After that, he tells you all about your dinner plans for the evening and how he expects you to wear something nice. But now you might say, "But sweetheart, what if I don't have nice clothes?!" Well, don't worry your pretty head about any of that! Taiyō will happily whip out a fat wad of cash for you to buy something nice for your little Valentine's Day dinner 😊 You two lovebirds end the night off eating in a fancy restaurant under the jawdropping, most marvelous Moonlight around.

Overall, another 10/10! The spoiling never ends with him! 😭

Yumako, The yan magical girl: She was pumped! She planned a picnic, an hour of albuming photos together, going around town, and eating yummy Valentine's Day themed foods. You guys did all those things btw ^_^

Overall, 10/10. Was so cute!!

─────────────── ˚｡⋆୨💌୧⋆｡˚ ───────────────

Welcome to the end credits! This is where I will give information on my new or previous yans!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you all get whatever chocolates and other sweets you enjoy from that special someone! I hope you all enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! [Sending virtual chocolates to you all! ♡]

─────────────────────────────────────────

#happy valentine's day #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere blog #yandere scenarios #yandere scenario #fem!yan #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader #x gn y/n

33 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 7 days

Note

hiiii can you maybe do a 5 + 1 tommyinnit x reader where its like 5 times they act like couple and one time they make it official and get together?

(also can i be 🦢?)

yes oh my GAWDDD YESSS ; and yeah of course! welcome to the hotel 🦢 anon! enjoy your stay! ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! ; this isn't that great tbh but I'm proud (this took way too long to do)

TOMMYINNIT ; five, cinco, funf, cincq, 'elima

summary ; five scenarios that lead up to you and Tommy becoming a thing

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; yes I know it said 5+1, I did the five thing because I wanted it to be a repeating number lol. they all say five in different languages, english, spanish, german, french and hawaiian for anyone who didn't get it

word count ; 2k

masterlist

Five.

"I'm gonna cry, this show sucks," you speak, throwing your head back on the back of the couch.

"What is with this CGI..." The blonde mutters. "What's the budget on this show?"

You shrug. "Let me enjoy my show, Tommy"

"Wait, that Jeffery guy got out?"

"Yeah," you frown, watching as Athena runs across the screen and outside to look for the monster who was supposed to be on trial.

He pulls you into a hug as you both watch the show, being the first episode of season four. The city is collapsing, and a fangroup of a dangerous predator were sending glares to the victims.

You knew it was just a show. You couldn't help but feel bad because people did treat victims like that in real life, plus this show just made you emotional as all hell.

The blonde pulls you a little closer, having seen your eyes well up with tears.

"He's right there!"

"Athena run!"

"Oh fuck!"

"This show stresses me out too much, Y/n/n"

"How do you think I feel?"

Cinco.

"Liking sherbert ice cream is such a red flag"

"What? Says you! Strawberry just isn't that good"

You playfully scoff, holding your strawberry waffle cone in your hand as Tommy passes up a ten pound bill up to the lady in the food truck. He holds his plastic bowl of sherbert ice cream in his other hand, a spoon tied between his index and middle fingers, holding on for dear life so as not to be dropped onto the concrete below.

"Why do I ever take you to do fun things?"

"You love me," He grins, stuffing the change in his pocket before walking away with you. "I just hold a special place in your heart."

"Sure you do, pal," you reply with a smile, taking a bite out of your ice cream. "Where do you wanna sit? I can't eat and walk, not a multi-tasker."

He scans the area, landing his eyes on a bench across the little road. Thank God these fairgrounds had benches, unlike the ones near Tubbo. Eugh.

He leads you toward the bench, taking a bite from his multicolored sweet with the white plastic spoon. You sit down with him, enjoying the scenery of a million fair rides and colorful lights against the dark night sky. Screams of terror and amusement fill your ears as you watch one of the mini coasters go down the large drop again.

You feel a shiver run down your spine, the chilly wind freezing you up for a moment. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to eat ice cream with no sun around to keep you warm. The blonde notices, though, and nearly makes a joke to rip on you for not bringing a jacket. But, he doesn't.

He slips off his plaid jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. He took into consideration that you would've just gone back and forth if he tried handing it to you.

You look at him, an eyebrow raised in clear confusion.

"I saw you shivering." He chuckles, taking another bite out of his sorbet. "Just take it, I'm sweating in it anyways"

You quietly nod and lean into the jacket more, considering you didn't have free hands to put it on at the moment. You could feel his body heat from the jacket rub off on you, warming you up as it was a heater.

"You wanna go on the ferris wheel after this?" He asks, looking up at the big, circular wheel a couple hundred yards away. Lights glimmer and flicker across the sides, shining all colors of the rainbow. "The line doesn't look too bad at the moment"

You shrug, "Yeah, sure. I'll slip the guy a five to hold us at the top to scare you." You joke with a snicker.

"Y/n!"

Funf.

"I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" You deadpan to your blonde friend, arms crossed.

"Cause I'm going on a date" He answers, again.

"With someone who's an asshole," you clarify once again, "Dude, I'm serious. There's a million other people you could go out with. Just skip them before they actually hurt you"

"Physically or mentally?"

"Tommy! I'm serious"

He sighs, pulling at the tie around his neck. He sighs, nearly a groan. "Why did I agree to take them somewhere fancy?"

You roll your eyes and quickly rush to his aid, turning him to face you. You loop your fingers around the tie and begin properly tying it around his collared shirt for him. He quickly feels his face heat up, making sure to keep his chin up, eyes still down to watch you work. He notices you bite at the inside of your cheek a bit, showing that you were in deep concentration.

He didn't know whether or not you actually knew how to tie a tie, or if you did it to make him shut the hell up, but he appreciated it either way.

"There," you speak, pulling your hands away from his neck after adjusting the tie a bit so it wasn't asymmetrical. "Tie is tied, Simons"

He turns to the mirror, looking at himself again. He smiles lightly, his eyes softening as he looks back at you.

"Thanks"

"Go have fun on that date of yours"

"I'll try"

Cinq.

"Just hold my hand, you'll be okay"

"What are you talking about? I'm gonna die!"

"You'll live"

"Nuh uh!"

You sigh, dragging Tommy to the slingshot. You walk behind Tubbo and Freddie, who are a few feet ahead, as they hadn't heard any of Tommy's whining. Who knew the poor boy was so scared of heights.

"Please, I don't wanna get on it!"

"I need a partner, Simons"

He groans, catching up to your speed, your hand still wrapped around his wrist. You catch up to your friends, now walking through the empty line area.

"See? No one's here because they know they're gonna die!"

"No one's here because it's lunch time, Tommy"

"Damnit"

The overhead straps click as they lock around your bodies. Tommy's already white-knuckling the handles, clear desperation and fear in his eyes. You reach your left hand out to him, looking at him the best you can past the safety harness, which is practically against your face.

He quickly grabs onto your hand, squeezing it tightly.

"You'll be fine, it's fun!"

"I'm scared!"

Freddie and Tubbo laugh, reassuring the blonde that he'll live. Something in you is still a little surprised that Tubbo was actually excited about this.

The automated "keep your hands and feet inside the ride" speech plays while the platform sinks into the ground a bit, preparing to fling you into space. The blonde leans his head back, mentally preparing himself to scream his voice away. A split second after it ended, you were shot in the air, screams filling your ears, including your own.

"Y/n/n! Help! I hate this!" The blonde screams, squeezing onto your hand even tighter.

"Look at the view!" You yell back with a smile, taking in the view of the whole park from that height. You couldn't wait to see Tommy's face on the gopro footage later, his face was probably as red as cherries. "You're okay! Just don't throw up!"

"No, no, I don't wanna go down!" His voice echoes through the air, then his screams again as the ride plummets down.

Tubbo and Freddie laugh and scream, having the time of their life, which you share with them as the blonde in between you all is freaking out. However, on the next fling up, he seems calmer and now trusts that he's safe. His grip on your hand loosens a bit, and you smile as you can hear his screams of terror turn into screams of a happy thrill.

"Okay, this is cool!" He yells over the machine and screams of other passengers.

"You think so?" Tubbo yells, "Look, there's the others!" He points out in the distance, apparently seeing the group of your other friends across the park.

"Where are you even pointing?" Freddie questions, the end of his sentence turning into a yell as you plummet down again.

"Grow up, Freddie, you're fine!" Tommy yells jokingly, trying to keep air in his lungs.

"Shut up!"

'Elima.

"What the hell is this?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

"Lunch!" Tommy answers, looking back down at the whole picnic setup in his backyard. "You said you were hungry"

"I meant like, we could go get food." You clarify, "I was just gonna come pick you up, and we could go somewhere."

He shrugs, "It's food" He smiles and jumps onto the blanket, waiting for you.

You lightly smile at his dorky grin and sit down with him, throwing some Jolly Ranchers at him, which you had stuffed in your pockets.

You eat in peace, sitting in his backyard underneath a tree. You end up full while he's still munching on some fruit and decide to make a little flower crown out of the yellow flowers that were scattered around the yard. You get to work on tying them together, wanting to give it to Tommy and take a picture. You wanted to post said picture on Twitter and caption it "2020 vibes" but we'll see how far that got.

He watches you as you work, having seen you walk about the yard and gather a large bouquet of the little yellow weeds. He spits out another cherry pit onto the grass behind him, munching on the rest of the juicy fruit.

"What're you doing?" He asks

"Flower crown. I'm gonna put it on you. The 2020 era is revisiting," You answer, weaving another flower into the rope. "It's gonna be amazing, I'm gonna trend on Twitter after this"

"Oh God, no."

"Last time I asked what something was, it was lunch in your backyard, but I don't think this is the same" You speak, an eyebrow slightly raised as you look at the drenched Tommy on your doorstep.

He holds a bouquet of flowers, which are being watered by the rain dripping from his flattened hair. He's completely soaked by the thunderstorm outside, making you wonder if he really walked all the way to your house in the middle of a storm. You internally pray that he took a bus.

"Yeah, uh, it's not" He nervously smiles. "I wanted to ask you out on a date, maybe"

You blink, still a little confused and now bewildered. You look down the street, seeing Molly, your mutual friend, sitting in her car, watching.

"Is this a prank or?.." You ask, glancing back to the car, letting Tommy know that you're aware that Molly drove him here.

"No, no, no! I- This is genuine. Seriously. It's fine if not, I just, like, have had a crush on you for a while, and it's making me all confused, and I just want it to go away." The blonde answers, watching you take the flowers from his hands.

"Well, what if I don't want it to go away?" You softly ask, looking back up at him.

His desperate look for rejection had turned to one of happiness, near disbelief even.

"What?"

"You heard me"

He glances at your lips for a moment before quickly kissing you, hands on your cheeks, before scurrying away. He sprints back towards the car, where you can see Molly cheering through the front windshield.

Tommy looks back, face red as ever, "Meet me at the pier tomorrow at three!"

You smile and shout back. "Okay!"

You lean against the door, watching him jump into the passengers seat and happily smile with Molly. You're unable to figure out what they're talking about, but you use your context clues to figure it was probably you.

Tommy realizes you're watching him, eyes slightly widened, lips shut like you could hear him. You wave goodbye and retrieve to the warmth of your home inside.

"I'm going on a date with Y/n!"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinnit preferences #tommyinnit oneshot

38 notes · View notes

mabelstone · 7 months

Note

PLEASE DO REMER TAKING THE READERS V-CARD TY!!!

Super Best Friends

doug remer x reader

CW: mentions of masturbation, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, digital penetration, cunnilingus

note: sorry for going MIA again. only just got the motivation to write something. my first time was nothing special lol so i hope this sufficed! and i didn’t proof read but i think u all know that by now

You and Remer had been best friends since 7th grade. You’d watched him transform from an awkward looking, gangly teen to a frustratingly handsome, tall young adult. Frustrating because you know you shouldn’t think about him like that.

But how could you help it? He made you laugh until your ribs hurt and tears were streaming down your face. He was so kind and he understood you better than anyone. He knew your family like they were his own, and god, was he a treat to the eye.

Since you were little, you’d had innocent sleepovers, often times resulting in you shoving a pillow over his face because he just wouldn’t shut up and let you sleep. Secretly, you didn’t mind it at all.

You did notice a bit of a change as you both got older, maybe around 10th grade. The way your heart would race when you realised just how close you were. Your skin only separated by thin layers of clothing. Your mind would go wild just imagining his skin on yours, how you wish run his fingers up your thighs, how the goosebumps would form as conformation that it was really happening. You wanted so badly to see him between your thighs, wishing you’d wake up one morning with him ‘accidentally’ pressed up against you.

Then the sinking feeling would soon follow, knowing you were only friends. Not that he ever talked much to you about it, you knew he was screwing other girls all the time. Probably why he didn’t get urges around you.

Well, call it wishful thinking, but there were a few mornings you’d wake up to something pressing into your lower back. You’d pretend to be asleep still as you felt his weight lift from the mattress, where he’d be in the bathroom doing god knows what for 15 minutes. You had a rough idea what. The first time it happened, curiosity got the best of you. You assumed he was just using the toilet, but the small whimper you heard from the other side of the door told you otherwise. You climbed back into bed, half mortified, half really turned on. He came back shortly after, cheeks lightly flushed and a dazed smile on his face.

“Oh, you’re up! Wanna play GTA?”

He was staying over tonight - nothing out of the ordinary. You turned 18 about 6 months after him, and for some reason, your virginity was bothering you more than ever. Partially because you felt like the odd one out in your friend group, but also because you had greatest orgasm of your life last night thinking about Remer.

He was seeing some of his other friends beforehand, so it was quite late when he got to yours.

“Hey,” he stormed into your room, clearly frustrated about something. He plopped himself down on your bed and pulled you into a tight hug. Strange…

“Uh, hey… you good?” You asked, patting his back awkwardly.

“Yeah, fine,” he huffed, finally releasing you. “I’m gonna shower.” He turned away from you, walking into your ensuite, locking the door straight away.

You sat on your bed, more confused than ever. Clearly he wasn’t fine, but he probably wouldn’t tell you until he was over it. He was… different like that.

He came back to bed after, curls sopping wet, droplets of water falling onto his face and shoulders, only a towel around his waist. You quickly averted your attention back to the tv, swallowing hard as you silently begged your libido to settle down.

“Sorry I came in so pissed,” he laughed, seemingly cool now. “The guys just… well, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh, uh, what’d they do?” You still kept your eyes trained away, just faintly able to see him in the reflection of the tv.

He sighed, “honestly, it’s no big deal. Just don’t like it when they talk about my girl.”

You cocked your head to him at this; he only referred to you as his girl. It’d been a thing forever. You were a bit nervous for what was to follow, not even looking at the delicious v line poking through the towel.

He sighed again, knowing he wasn’t getting out of telling you. He ran a hand over his face before starting, “Just gross shit that I respect you too much to repeat. But how because you’re a virgin, you probably get wet so easily, and how you probably feel like… heaven. See? Just disgusting.”

He sounded embarrassed even repeating that to you, saying the word heaven in a hushed tone. Your cheeks flushing bright red and you paused for a moment. “So…?” You finally got out, waiting for his response.

“So what?”

“What’d you say?” You furrowed your brows, sitting up onto your knees now. His eyes briefly skimmed the night dress you had on, quickly averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Doesn’t matter. It just really pissed me off,” he deflected, reaching into his bag for some clothes.

Feeling bold, you spoke up quietly. “Did you agree?”

He froze in place, standing up with his back to you.

“Do… you ever think of me like that?” You continued, feeling slick starting to collect at your heat. Something about how risky this was really excited you.

He turned to face you now, looking equally as confused. “Am I supposed to? Do you think of me like that?” He retorted, waiting for you to laugh in his face and tell him you were joking.

“Uh,” you stammered, blushing a deeper shade of red now, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Oh, you do…” He chuckled deeply, “what do you think about?” He sat in front of you on the bed, loving the riskiness as much as you.

“Remer,” you tried to deflect, breath hitching in your throat when his fingers grazed the skin of your thigh, disappearing under the hemming of your dress.

“I’ve thought about you quite a few times,” he shrugged nonchalantly; perhaps an attempt for you to open up.

“I-I’m too embarrassed, Doug,” you whispered, still unable to look in his eyes.

His thumb started tracing circles into your thigh, his eyes locked on your pretty face. “Do you think about me touching you?”

You took a moment before nodding, now focusing on the ceiling.

“Where do I touch you?”

“Everywhere,” you mumbled, almost ashamed.

His hand trailed further up your thigh, fully hidden under your dress.

“Would you like me to touch you?” His eyes sparkled in excitement, praying to God you’d say yes.

You meekly nodded, biting your lip slightly as you looked to him. He grinned wide, tapping your hip for you to readjust and sit further up the bed. He planted himself in front of you, bending your legs and spreading them ever so slightly.

He slid his hands up the insides of your thighs, digging his fingers into the plush skin. The goosebumps formed just as you’d imagined many times.

“Do you finger yourself when you think of me?” His voice was calm but deep, and you couldn’t believe how cavalier he was being.

Again, you nodded, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips. He didn’t falter though, bringing his fingers to the front of your underwear.

“Wanna take ‘em off for me? Wanna touch you.”

You obliged, lifting yourself up on your heels to slide them down, Remer pulling them from your ankles. You got back in the same positioned, meekly opening your legs.

“So wet,” he groaned, running two fingers over your slick, then tracing gentle circles into your clit. You gasped softly, shocked that this was actually happening.

His middle prodded at your entrance slightly, looking up at you for permission. You nodded eagerly, eyes hooding at the unbelievable sight before you. His hair still wet, big shoulders, strong arms that he propped himself up on.

He slowly slipped his finger in, pupils blowing at how wet you were, how despite how tight you were, his finger slipped right in.

You let out a whimper of pleasure, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. He took this as his cue to move a bit quicker, sliding his finger in and out of your heat. He flipped his wrist up, keeping a finger inside of you while using his thumb to rub your clit. You let out a hum of approval, this feeling better than anything you’d done to yourself.

“Do you ever think about me using my tongue on you?” He asked sultrily, practically salivating at the thought of tasting you.

“Mhm,” you breathed, hoping that was his way of asking if he could.

He removed his fingers and inched closer to your heat, blowing lightly on your clit. The cold sensation caused you to squirm, hands suddenly clinging to his hair. You gently tugged in need, pulling him closer to it.

He placed a single kiss to your inner thigh before licking a long stripe up your clit.

“Doug,” you gasped, quickly cupping your hand over your mouth.

He used one hand to pull your palm from your face, placing a kiss to your clit before smiling, “no, I wanna hear you.”

He continued to lap at your sensitive clit, your legs closing over his head autonomously. You couldn’t believe how you were feeling, and then he inserted two fingers this time. You swore you were seeing stars; never have you ever felt such ecstasy in your lifetime.

You felt your peak coming embarrassingly fast, unable to formulate words as your eyes rolled back and you came undone in his mouth, walls spasming around his fingers. You rode out your high, your beautiful sounds of pleasure filling the room, Remer dry humping the mattress beneath him.

He pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath before smirking, “you tasted just as good as I imagined.”

“Have sex with me please,” you practically begged, pushing him down by his chest and straddling his waist. You had no idea where this sudden burst of desperation and confidence came from, but you knew you needed to feel him inside of you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off by smashing your lips together, grinding on his covered cock. He continued to kiss you, picking you up from under your ass to pull the towel off his body. That excitement grew once again when you felt his warm length bobbing against you, just as warm as his lips that enveloped your senses.

He pulled away, eyes hooded and dark, lips flushed and wet. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I want this so bad,” you breathed, pulling your dress off over your head, “please, I need to feel you.”

He pulled you in for a kiss again, lifting your hips lightly to collect the mixture of his saliva and your slick, rubbing it over his length.

He lined himself up with your hole, looking up at you with gentle eyes. “I don’t wanna hurt you, tell me to stop if I do, okay?”

You nodded, hands firmly on his shoulders, one of his on your waist, the other holding his length.

He slowly pushed the tip in, allowing you to slowly sink down onto him. The sting of the stretch took your breath away, your face slightly contorting in pain as you adjusted to the new sensation. Not only was this your first time, but he was thick and quite well endowed.

“Holy fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow. “You okay?” He looked back up with concerned eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, lip between your teeth as you slowly started to rock onto him. “I-I don’t know what to do,” you confessed sheepishly.

He nodded knowingly, gripping your hips gently as he began guiding you up and down his cock, softly thrusting his hips in time. Suddenly, all of the pain was replaced with pleasure and you swore you could feel your blood rushing through every vein and artery.

You started to bounce on him, feeling him hit that spot inside of you that you’d only manage to find on your own a few times. He quickened the pace, taking your soft moans and whimpers as your sign of approval.

“It feels so good,” you cried, resting your forehead on his now as you struggled to hold yourself up from pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, dipping his chin up to kiss you again.

“I think- I think I’m-“

“Cum for me, then,” he coaxed, making very articulate thrusts to hit that spot best he could. You came undone again, your walls tightening around his cock, his own orgasm not far. “That’s it, good girl.”

“Doug,” you moaned breathily in his ear, head now resting on his shoulder as his hands found their way to your ass. “Cum in me? Please?”

It sounded so innocent, he couldn’t help but finish right then and there, shooting hot ribbons inside of you, letting out his own (quite feminine) series of whimpers, your name being at the forefront of them.

You both laid there panting, neither of you bothering to move.

“Can we do that more?” You spoke up, head still resting on his shoulder.

“I’m wondering why we hadn’t done that already,” he laughed, just as fucked out as you.

“I think we just upgraded to super best friends.”

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #matt stone smut #doug remer #doug remer smut #doug remer x reader

60 notes · View notes

reareaotaku · 8 months

Note

AHHH OMGGGG i’m SO happy to see that you’re writing for yandere!SVU!! i would love to see sonny carisi too :) do you take requests for SVU? i can definitely think of some dark scenarios to request! thank you :)

Lol this request came in twice. I love Sonny so much <3 I'd take requests for SVU, I'm watching it rn as I'm writing this

He worries about you. He can't help it

I mean you're his partner after all. What kind of guy would he be if he didn't worry?

Especially in your line of work

He's the sweetest guy in the world to you

Practically worships the ground you walk on

You want something? All you gotta do is ask

His place is always open if you need somewhere to stay/go

He thinks it's nice to have someone near

He'll buy you breakfast

At first, he would take guesses on what you like. He'll start by bringing stuff that everyone likes, like doughnuts, bagels, waffles, etc. He'll take extra note when you say, "Oh, I don't really like those" or "Mmm... ____ would go really well with this." The other detectives/cops will tease/complain about how he only buys you food

He takes note of everything you like. Favorite foods, favorite restaurants. Times you like to eat, what you prefer to eat when in certain moods. It's obsessive

Then, after some time, he'll invite you to lunch. Say you've just got done arresting a guy or questioning witnesses, and he'll be like "Hey, do you want to get lunch? My treat"

It then progresses to dinner, but he always disguises it as him being friendly

He would never admit to liking you, because he doesn't want to risk either of your jobs, but it's so obvious to anyone with eyes

He's a jealous guy, but he's not like violent like some people

He's more passive aggressive. He'll make snarky comments about the person who was getting a little too flirty with you. You'll be taken aback by his remarks

Type of guy who wants children and marriage with you

He doesn't know how he's his life this long without knowing you

He'll use stupid pick-up lines on you, just to get a chuckle

They'll be super cheesy

He invites you to go to Special Events as his date

Wants to go dancing with you. Mostly to show you his dance moves

Total show off^

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #yandere x reader #svu #yandere svu x reader #yandere cop #yandere cop x reader #detective sonny carisi #detective sonny x reader

73 notes · View notes

sjhhemmings · 5 months

Note

I Love Love LOVE your blog it’s so Yuriy-licous !!! 😍❤️‍🔥😍❤️‍🔥😍❤️‍🔥 Tysm for the fabulous writing that you contribute to towards the Otis fandom !!

I have a request but I’m not quite sure how to explain so I hope you understood what I can’t even understand lol.

Otis x fem, She’s the new paramedic her and Otis have an instant chemistry she’s flattered by his crush on her until she realises that he had a crush on Sylvie Brett as well, Now she’s wondering whether she’s the rebound and if she’s as special as she originally thought she was… Idk if that makes sense at all !! Angst with fluffy ending pls.

“Do you want to buy me a drink? No.” Pt. 1

brian zvonecek x fem!reader

a/n: THANK YOU FOR UR REQUEST ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. i rlly hope i picked up what you were putting down because the second i read this request, i was like “immediately yes.” the way i just resonate with how y/n is planned to behave in this bc it’s how i as a person would behave in this situation is probably a red flag but oh well. i really loved this request and i appreciate your love so much, it makes my heart so happy 🥹🤎. Also I want to apologize for how long it’s taken me to fully write this the way it deserves to be written. I’ve been so busy this last week, but it’s here now so yay! (Part 2 will be out soon pls don’t hate me!)

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol, anything i missed.

it’s giving… yuriy-licious. i’m so using that term for the rest of my life.

“That should be all for today folks, get out there do your job and do it good…” Boden finished his morning briefing and as everyone was halfway out the door he stopped them, “Wait, before everyone leaves I just remembered we’re going to have a relief paramedic under Brett as we’re looking for a permanent replacement. He’ll be here…” Boden quickly looked down at his watch to double check the time, “in about an hour. Dawson can assist you until then.”

Sylvie met Boden with a quick frown as she was probably going to be stuck with Chout for the next 24 hours. She then erased the disappointment off her face and gave a small smile to Dawson who’d she be lucky to have working as her partner, even if it was for just an hour of their shift.

“I wonder how many paramedics we’re gonna have paired with Sylvie before Chief Hatcher realizes it’s probably her that’s the problem.” Cruz says in a teasing tone as everyone makes their way into the common room.

Sylvie just rolled her eyes in response lightly punching him in the arm causing a giant reaction from Cruz.

“See! Abuse! Abuse to co-worker right there!” He said walking off and laughing with Brett making Otis’ stomach twist. Despite her rejecting him, he still couldn’t help the feelings he has for her. Otis ended up making his way straight to the bunk room to sulk until the end of shift. Like he would every shift, for the rest of his career.

Exactly one hour later you showed up. Your hair was pulled back into a low braid and you sported the very sexy navy blue cargo pants and just a CFD paramedic quarter zip. Annoyed that you had to be there you took a breath to relax. It’s not their fault that Chout had called in sick last minute causing you to be the backup to the backup, so don’t take it out on them.

Walking into their common room you realized you had no clue where anything was.

“Does anyone know where Chief Boden’s office is?” You ask the group of people scattered throughout the room, and you’re met with silence.

You didn’t want to yell to get their attention like you would at the childish men at house 27. You were like their mother, you wouldn’t put up with any childish or immature bullshit and in return your guys would treat you like any other person. This is because the one time they tried to disrespect you after you called a guy out for being a slob, he tried to grab your ass to which he met your fist with his eye.

Taking a deep breath, you bite your upper lip as you think of which hallway to take. Finally deciding you turn to start walking in which you’re met with running into someone and dropping your stuff everywhere.

You didn’t even look up to see who you ran into before you went to bend down and grab your stuff, guessing whoever you bumped into did that same thing because you both went down at the same time smacking your foreheads off of one another.

“Shit ow.” you both say at the same time groaning in pain for a few seconds before either of you decide to actually get up.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay? I wasn’t watching where I was going and I just ran into you, are you okay? I’m so sorry-” He starts rambling as he hands you your now gathered stuff and you give a brief smile. The second you guys make eye contact it was like the movies. As if time itself had stopped. Unsure what to do because you’ve never felt this before, you scramble to get out of this situation.

“You’re good I wasn’t watching out either.” You say taking your stuff from his hands standing in the now awkward silence for a few seconds as you form a tight line with your lips.

“Your forehead. That was my fault, do you want an ice pack? Tylenol? I’m so sorry again,” He says starting to ramble again causing you to chuckle.

No guy that has ever bumped into you has ever been this worried about your wellbeing. No guy in general has ever been this worried about your wellbeing. As you’re looking up at the guy you ran into you noticed his dark curly hair, and mustache. You’ve always had a thing for mustaches.

“I promise I’m fine.” You say trying to reassure him.

“That’s good. You look new though, and a little lost, are you looking for someone? Something?” He asks causing you to chuckle once again. This guy is just on a roll for firsts. Is this a dream? A guy who is your exact type knows how to make a hell of a first impression that’s for sure.

“I was um, looking for Chief Boden’s office, would you by chance be able to show me where that is?” You ask knowing he would but just trying to be polite.

“Y-yes of course,” But before you guys could start walking a very pretty blonde ran up to you guys.

“Hey are you the relief medic?” She asks out of breath.

“I am,” you say a little confused.

“That’s great, I’m Sylvie, Sylvie Brett. I’ll be your partner today. Sorry I wasn’t here sooner I just got back from a call.”

“No that’s perfect, I was just a little lost. I’m Y/N by the way,” You say extending your hand so she can shake it.

“Well, i’ll um see you around?” mystery mustache guy says excusing himself from the conversation

“Yeah, see you, then?” You blurt out extremely awkwardly internally face palming immediately. Earning a knowing look from Sylvie.

“Ready for the tour? I think you’re really gonna like it here!” She says a little too cheery hoping later on she’ll drop the act and be normal.

“Yeah, thanks.” You respond also hoping she forgets whatever she just saw between you and mustache.

You and Sylvie make your way back into the common room after a few calls and spending half the day together. She was a really good partner, and friend. It definitely beats working with McAuley.

“So who’s this? We never got a proper introduction.” Mouch asked as he was flipping a page in his newspaper.

“Oh yeah, guys this is Y/N, Y/N this is house 51, and just to let everyone know Boden just told us that she’s going to be here for the next few shifts so make her feel at home.” Sylvie says threatening everyone and walking into the kitchen.

You smiled shyly at the group scattered through the room and you walk over to take a seat at the table but before you’re able to, the guy from earlier pulls out the chair for you to sit in.

“M’Lady” He says bowing making you slightly cringe but giggle at the same time because it was pretty cute.

“Thank you…” You start to respond but trail off as you realize you don’t know his name.

“Uh, Brian- or Otis. Yeah Otis I guess.” He says pushing you in and taking a seat next to you.

“So is Otis a nickname?” You ask curiously.

“Um yeah, I’m the elevator guy on truck so,”

“So you’re nicknamed after Elisha Otis? Wow that’s clever. I would’ve never guessed.” You say back intrigued shocking him because no one has ever guessed that before.

“You know a lot about elevators?” He asks still shocked.

“I know a bit, I had a little hyper fixation on it when I was like 12. Lame right?” You say chuckling but stop when you see he’s not laughing.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You ask wiping the corners of your mouth.

“No it’s just…I think i’m in love with you.” He blurts out making you blush.

“Over knowing a few elevator facts? You might want to look into raising the bar of your standards. I mean at least buy me a drink first.” You say nervously chuckling because as you think about it, you didn’t make a conscious decision to basically ask him to invite you out to a drink but you’re not opposed to it?

“Well that’s convenient since I co-own a bar.” He says nonchalantly making your jaw drop.

“So i’m going to need a list of things you can’t do.” You say sarcastically hoping he picked up on the joke.

“Very funny. There’s no such thing.”

Smiling at the friendly banter you guys have going on, you circle the conversation back to what you know most.

“So you don’t like your nickname?” You ask genuinely curious, because it was a clever nickname.

“Psh, no. My name is Brian Zvonecek, Otis has ruined me.”

“Well Brian Zvonecek, what do you want me to call you?” You ask a little more flirtatiously than you originally intended.

“W-well, actually um, I mean, I think uh,” Brian begins to stumble over his words before aggressively exhaling through his nose and gathering his thoughts,

“I think, I don’t care about what you say when you talk.” He tries to flirt back causing you to raise your eyebrows in amusement. What the hell did he just say?

“T-that came out wrong. I meant,” He tries to fix what he says blushing extremely causing you to start cackling.

“Okay Brian Zvonecek, I’ll just call you Brian. Does that work?” You ask after catching your breath.

Otis now sitting lower in his chair extremely embarrassed mutters an awkward, “perfect.” making you giggle again.

It makes your stomach do summer salts as you think of how flustered he gets around you. It’s shocking how much he seems to like you already, and you know you’ve only known him for a day but you’re starting to think he might have a small crush on you, and honestly? You wouldn’t be opposed to liking him back. He’s cute, he’s like a nervous puppy dog but you know once you guys get to know each other better he’s going to warm up to you.

Wanting to clear up some awkward silence you know Brian wouldn’t be able to fix, you turn to look at him who is already looking at you making you blush even more but you start talking anyway,

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna buy me that drink?”

“No”

“Oh”

“We can drink for free.”

At his words your body surges with excitement. So does he want to go out with you? Or is this just a pity thing? Things have never moved this fast with a guy that you’ve met that day. Is he the one? Would you guys get married? You feel so happy right now but you need to snap back to reality.

“Are you free after shift?” He asks a little more nervous than before making you literally want to stand up and kiss his luscious lips.

“I am.” You say back not knowing how discrete you’re being with your feelings.

“Well if you want, you could stop by Molly’s and see everyone.” Brian says making your heart drop. See everyone. Not just him.

“a-and me. Since I’ll be working.” He finally adds on bringing your heart right back up.

“I’ll be there.” You say already planning your outfit in your head.

#chicago fire #one chicago #otis chicago fire #brian otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek #brian zvonecek x reader #otis x reader

30 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs