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#anyways yeah I now have my special interests on either of my arms

oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

cowboy!eddie ask:

OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!

horny hours ahead.

Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.

You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.

this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.

18 + MINORS DNI

he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.

that's never the case now is it?

you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.

the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.

eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.

you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.

the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.

"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."

you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.

"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.

"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.

you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.

eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.

"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."

"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"

"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."

"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"

"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"

"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.

"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."

your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.

eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.

he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.

"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.

"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.

eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.

he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.

eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #cowboy!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson moodboard #cowboy!eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson au

1K notes · View notes

allysunny · 4 months

Note

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

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

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aurumacadicus · 1 month

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82 for a number

"Tony," Steve sighed, trudging after Tony as he stormed into their bedroom.

"I don't want to talk to you, traitor," Tony snapped, stomping over to the bed. He knelt down to grab out one of his suitcases, then stood again, throwing it onto the bed with jerky movements.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest with another sigh. When Tony ignored him, he leaned his shoulder against the doorway and watched as Tony stalked over to the dresser like a cat with wounded pride. "Would you feel better if I apologized?"

"No," Tony answered immediately. He opened a drawer seemingly at random and began pulling out handfuls of clothing. "It was my fault for thinking that you might care."

"Okay," Steve muttered to himself, standing up straight again. He moved into the room carefully as Tony walked over to stuff his handfuls into the suitcase, because Tony could simply turn and fling it all at him. Luckily, Tony seemed too consumed by his offense to notice. He pulled out the wads of clothes as Tony swiveled to go grab something else, turning to walk over to the dresser and put it back in the drawer.

"I just can't believe!" Tony exclaimed, grabbing shirts from hangers at random. He turned to stomp back over to the suitcase and fling them in. "Loki cursed me and you don't even care!"

"Of course I care," Steve sighed, walking back to the suitcase to take the shirts back out. He raised an eyebrow when he found most of them were his, then shrugged, turning to walk over to the closet. He considered hanging everything up again, then shrugged, shoving it on a shelf at random. "We all care, Tony."

"Not enough!" Tony barked, moving back toward the dresser. He opened a different drawer and grabbed just as blindly as he had before. "No one cares that I'm benched, that I have morning sickness, that I--"

"We all care, Tony," Steve repeated sternly.

"The male body was not meant for carrying a baby!" Tony exclaimed, flinging his handfuls into the suitcase. He let out a snarl when Steve came and grabbed the clothes back out. "I am not overreacting!"

Steve did not allow a sigh that time. "I didn't say you were," he answered carefully.

"I'm allowed to be upset!" Tony snapped. "Everything hurts and I'm scared and doctors keep poking me!"

Steve turned to face him, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms over his chest again. "I never said you weren't allowed to be upset, either. I know this sucks for you, Tony. I'm the one who rubs your aching feet and back. I'm the one who holds you when you're overwhelmed. And I'm the one who yells at the doctors when they get too interested in poking you. I don't like it when you're upset, sweetheart. What caused this? What can I do to help?"

Tony looked uncertain for a moment. "...Clint ate my last green jello," he finally said, and his face began to crumple. "And now he's going to feel bad. But I don't want him to feel bad. I just want my jello."

"Sweetheart," Steve sighed, rushing toward him to pull him into his arms as Tony began to sniffle. "It's okay. It's fine."

"I hate feeling like this," Tony whimpered into his chest. "It isn't fair."

Steve buried his face in Tony's hair and sighed again, feeling helpless. "Yeah, I know. It isn't fair. Loki was an asshole and you're the one having to suffer for it. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell Clint," Tony whispered.

"I won't," Steve promised, rubbing his hand up and down Tony's back. Once Tony's breath had settled, he leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow. "Where were you going to go, anyway?"

Tony blinked back at him for a moment, considering. Finally, he answered with a simple, "Away."

"Of course," Steve huffed, and while it was a struggle not to roll his eyes, he managed it. The last time he'd rolled his eyes while Tony had still felt vulnerable, Tony had sicced Happy on him in a fit of rage, and Steve had unfortunately learned that Happy carried a special Superhero Specific Taser and he was always one hundred percent on Tony's side. "Well. Let's get this suitcase put away, and JARVIS can order some more green jello, and--"

"And peanuts," Tony added.

"And peanuts," Steve agreed. "And I'll rub your feet until it arrives. Okay? I'm here to help you solve your problems."

"Kill Loki," Tony said. "It would solve a lot of problems."

Steve huffed, face going sour. "I've tried. Thor won't let me."

Tony jerked his head back to stare up at him, shocked. Finally, though, a slightly hysterical laugh tore out of his throat, and Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth before he could somehow find a way to be sad again.

#aurumacadicus answers #mkes #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

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dreamerwitches · 23 days

Text

Right! Off we go off we go! Andreana and Kako. Yeah I'm still torn on this. I just think the original doppel worked really well and this one just... ruined it..? I don't think they needed to change the doppel aspects and in doing so it made it look worse. The dual blades looks too busy and kinda dumb and why is her hand up there?? I get she's reckless so she might have cut it off but still... I'm unsure about the legs either. Her whole body is a mishmash of colours and her legs are suddenly all one colour? Dunno... I'd give her a bigger book skirt, highlight the bookmarks more (yes I know the legs are probably bookmarks but moreso as a skirt) and probably give her legs more like her arms.

Oh dear Maura... why did they choose the curtain one..? Maura and Nanaka. It's... it's boring, anyone with eyes can see it's boring. I just feel like the witch takes away from everything interesting about the original. My favourite part is how dark Nanaka's inclusion is and of course, that's absent here. And even the upside down curtain was at least a little interesting but now it's just curtains hanging the regular ol' way. I feel like this witch would be way way better animated instead of just sitting there curtain-ly. They should've chosen someone else with a better doppel...

Meiyui and Delanna. Now I know why she's in a crib, she's just straight up babyish and sleep themed. I think she's fine, nothing special. The crib is fun and creepy. I kinda wish the mouths were more creepy but I guess that's just her style :T

Heidesommer and Konomi... ehhhhh this is super boring... the doppel is more fun... witch is just a mound, it looks like a pile of junk. I don't have much to say about it... doppel is better

Cendrillon and Rena. Now. I think the full witch is beautiful. The colours are so pretty, the faces are horrifying and the bird detailing is lovely. But... is it the doppel..? N-Not for me... Like, I just feel the bird theming comes out of NOWHERE. Her theme is Cinderella, where did this come from?! (actually do birds peck out the eyes of the ugly stepsisters or something in the original? Maybe, that would be a bit better) And the three legs don't do it for me. I felt the one leg to highlight the missing glass slipper works well. And the hair pieces being on the side of her body doesn't sit right with me. Neither does the tail(?) piece, looks stuck on like they were like 'oh, fuck, we forgot the fan part!' BUT. It is a beautiful witch. Do I see this doppel coming from it if it was the other way around? No Also here I included Cendrillon's brief anime appearance and it lines up pretty well! I think in the anime one the body looks more lumpy, the beak isn't as big and its missing the wings.

Zola and Kaede. Meh, disappointed. Why is she less detailed than the doppel??? But I suppose we already kinda saw what she was gonna look like anyway, I should have prepared myself... From the anime, my favourite part was her body and it just feels kinda hard to see here, like, show me those RIBS! I wanna see them! And those big ol' arms! But they're so hidden by the background and her body mehh. Plus I think the face of the doppel is weird and creepy and that's just not there in the final... Also don't like how the horns(?) just completely differ from the doppels style. They kinda look like veins but I dunno if I like them.

Also special guest... my own full witch interpretation from (i think) last years witchtober. I prefer mine thank youuu. But if I redid the witch I'd give her the doppel face, I believe I was basing mine off the anime image at the time

Let's finish on a good one! Momoko and Elfriede! Another that's super pretty, I have few complaints. The head is horrifying and I love it and the dress is still super pretty. Only gripe is I prefer the black lace to the gold gems. My biggest gripe is the fat, bloated hand at the bottom. Why..? What was wrong with the doppel's ones? I think such a slim and elegant needed something better than a hand that looks like a balloon dog. If the fingers were longer I think it would have worked better. And the floating fingies look a little dumb but thats minor

#madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #witch #madoka magica witch #doppel #magia record #magia record spoilers #zola #elfriede #cendrillon #heidesommer #delanna #andreana #maura

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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

Text

a knock on the door - leon kennedy

leon kennedy x reader

warnings: enemies to lovers (again: kind of), more cliches, mentions of blood, mentions of guns/knives, injuries, language, one use of y/n

not edited • 2.7k words

the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you awake in your bed, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife under your pillow to protect you against possible intruders. waiting to see if you heard the door again, you quietly got out of bed at the sound of another knock. glancing at the time, it was nearing one in the morning; too late for anyone to be stopping in for a visit. carefully checking around corners before you moved down the hallway, you stared through the peep hole in the apartment door to see and unexpected but familiar face. you opened the door for the man and could now see that he was covered in blood, and you stared at him in shock.

“leon?” you asked in disbelief. “what the hell are you doing here?” leon kennedy was a stars special agent who you had the displeasure of bumping into on more than one mission. to put things simply - you were not often on the same side. leon had caused countless problems for you, always doing the right thing for the greater good; which often meant interfering with your missions, as you were more interested in what would benefit you. perhaps it’s was selfish of you, but this was the life you chose and there was no going back now.

“i-“ leon groaned as he fell back against the hallway wall, clutching his bleeding abdomen. “i didn’t know where else to go.”

“how did you find me?” you asked, pointing the knife at him. you didn’t think anyone knew where your apartment was, and that was the way you liked it.

“i was a cop, remember?” he winced again as he spoke, his hand red with blood. there was a cut on his cheek and his arms were bruised and bloody. it looked like he had been stabbed in the leg as well.

“right,” you sighed. the first time the two of you had met, leon had tried to apprehend you for stealing a precious but dangerous item; you had intended to sell it to a high paying buyer but in the end, you let him take it. it always seemed to work out that way - with leon getting the upper hand in the end. it screwed you out of a lot of money, and got you in a lot of trouble with past employers of yours. “what happened to you?”

“oh you know- just another day at the office- ah!” he groaned in pain again as he laughed, and fell forward slightly. your arms stopped him from crumpling to a heap on the floor, catching him before he hit the ground. “sorry-“ he mumbled, trying to stand up again, but failing.

“fuck- just come inside, before you bleed all over the hallway,” you let him use your shoulder for balance as you practically dragged him into your apartment, helping him through the living room until you laid him down on the couch.

“th-thank you,” he whimpered, his eyelids barely open as he relaxed into the soft pillow.

“yeah- you can thank me by not dying in my living room. are you gonna tell me what happened?” you asked, examining the injuries on his admittedly handsome face.

“later- do you know how to get a bullet out of someone first?” he asked, lifting his hand of his abdomen to show you that he had been shot.

“fuck, leon. i’m serious - if you die on me i will kill you,” you knew it didn’t make any sense, but you didn’t think the barely conscious man cared.

“i know. i’m sorry,” he whispered. “please, just - i need your help.”

“you know if i wouldn’t take the fall for it, it would be a lot easier for me to have you out of the picture,” you said, although you grabbed the first aid kit anyway, gently dabbing at a wound on his forehead.

“yeah well you don’t exactly make my job any easier, either,” leon replied, shifting slightly on the couch to try and find a more comfortable position. you took a pair of scissors from the kit and cut the dark fabric of his t-shirt, giving you more room to work around the bullet wound (and a nice view of his abs, not that you were looking.)

“this is gonna hurt,” you warned, before pouring antiseptic solution on the wound, causing leon to groan loudly. “i would say i’m sorry but i’m really not.” you teased, and he laughed before coughing loudly.

“i know.” he groaned as you continued to clean around the entry wound, before using a small pair of tongs to try and dig the bullet out. leon’s eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his teeth before his hand gripped onto your arm instinctively, his knuckles turning white as he held you tightly. “sorry,” he said as he let go, realizing that he had grabbed you.

“it’s fine - i know this hurts like a bitch. and just for the record: i’m not enjoying this as much as you might think i am.”

you finally got the bullet out, pouring more antiseptic liquid onto the now empty wound, stitching it closed carefully before applying a bandage and taping it to his skin. there was a thin layer of sweat that covered his body and his forehead, and he breathed heavily as he mumbled a ‘thank you’, before leaning his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes.

“you alright?” you asked, and he nodded slightly, which was a good enough answer for you. leon drifted off to sleep as you carefully wiped the blood off of his face and arms, inspecting him for anymore critical injuries. you sighed, staring at the man passed out on your couch, before throwing a blanket over him and switching off the light. too exhausted to make it back to your room, you sat in one of the armchairs in the living room, pulling another blanket over yourself and quickly falling asleep.

•••

when you woke up a few hours later, you winced as pain shot through your neck from your awkward sleeping location. opening your eyes and letting them adjust, you realized it was still dark out, and your click on the wall read 5am. you noticed leon was sitting up on the far end of the couch, his tattered shirt gone and his hair slightly messy. fuck he looked good you thought. wait- what? you had never thought anything like that before. sure, you could recognize that leon was an attractive man, but you were not attracted to him… right?

“good morning,” he said awkwardly. oh right - that’s why you were asleep in the living room.

“hey,” you said, rubbing your eyes and standing up, stretching your arms above your head. leon tried not to pay attention to the way your t-shirt lifted slightly, exposing a thin strip of your skin. he instead looked away, staring at the floor between his feet.

“i don’t know how to thank you-“ he began.

“so don’t,” you interrupted, walking through the living room and into the kitchen, starting the coffee maker. once it finished filling the stained coffee pot, you grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured the dark liquid into it. you sighed heavily, before grabbing a second mug from the cupboard and doing the same with it, before walking back out to the living room and handing one to leon.

“thanks,” he said, a surprised look on his face as he gratefully accepted the mug. you set yours down on the coffee table. you walked to your bedroom, rummaging through the dresser for an old t-shirt or sweater leon could borrow. finding a zip up sweater that must have belonged to an ex-boyfriend of yours, you walked back to the couch and tossed it at the blond. he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“if you say thanks again i’ll shoot you myself.”

“then we’d be back where we started,” he joked, wincing as he moved to slide his arms into the sleeves. you noticed that he left the zipper undone, and you tried not to stare at his toned chest. what was the matter with you? you had never looked at leon this way before - how could anything have changed in the last 4 hours?

“are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“do you really care? or are you just asking because you think you should?”

“right,” you sighed, hating the fact that he could see right through you.

“let’s just say i got a little…over confident in my abilities, and it bit me in the ass.”

“you need to learn to be a little less arrogant,” you teased, only half sincere. leon gave you a look and sighed.

“and you need to learn to care about someone other than yourself,” he replied, no playfulness in his tone anymore, and your face dropped.

“so i guess me saving your life doesn’t count for anything then?” you snapped, gesturing to his injuries before storming into the kitchen.

“you’re the one who told me not to thank you,” you heard the sound of his coffee mug being placed on the table, and a groan as he pushed himself up off the couch and followed after you.

“why are you being such a jerk? why show up here in the first place if you hate me so much?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“i told you- ah-“ he winced as pain shot through his ribs, and he leaned against the doorframe for balance. “i had nowhere else to go. believe i wouldn’t have bothered you if i wasn’t bleeding out.”

“how did you find me so fast? if you were dying how did you have time to track me down?” you asked.

“i don’t know - it’s kind of a blur… getting here to be honest,” he furrowed his eyebrows, before looking up at you. it at least seemed like he was telling the truth. deciding not to push it any further, you went to walk out of the kitchen, but as you squeezed through the small doorframe (half of which was taken up by leon’s tall frame) he grabbed your wrist stopping you in your tracks.

“what are-“

“thank you. i mean it,” he looked into your eyes, and you felt yourself getting lost in his. what was the matter with you? why was being close to him suddenly making you so nervous?

“i said-“ you managed to stutter out but he cut you off.

“i know what you said. i’m saying thank you anyway. you’re right: things would probably be a lot easier for you if i was out of the picture.” you sighed in response.

“don’t flatter yourself.” you rolled your eyes, trying to walk away again, anything to stop looking into his gorgeous eyes. you thought you were loosing your mind. had you hit your head and forgotten about it? why were you suddenly finding him so attractive, why was he making your chest tighten and your heart beat faster?

he gently pulled you back towards him, and you found the space between you even smaller this time.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he started down at you through half lidded eyes. you looked up, the bright blue of his irises catching your attention yet again, and you couldn’t move as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. your eyes widened in shock; never in a million years would you have expected to be kissing leon s kennedy, the man who was the bane of your existence. the man who had caused you more problems than you could count, whether that was his intention or not. but the way his lips felt on yours, you couldn’t help but kiss back, and leon hummed softly as he felt you reciprocate.

you pulled away to breathe, in shock at what had just happened, and you stared up at the blond for an explanation. he looked almost as shocked as you did, only making you more confused.

“why… what was that for?” you managed to ask. leon breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly before he shook his head.

“i don’t- i don’t know,” he spoke softly. you stared up at him, your lips still parted slightly in shock.

“you’re supposed to hate me. i hate you.. that’s how this works,” you backed away from him, and he let you remove your wrist from his grip.

“who says it has to be that way? if you really hated me why did you answer the door?” he challenged.

“maybe because i didn’t want a dead body in my doorway, leon!” you whisper-yelled as not to alert your neighbours.

“is that really the only reason?” he asked, stepping closer, wincing as he walked closer, moving too fast for someone with his extensive injuries. he groaned in pain, his hand reaching for the bandage on his side. you stepped towards him, moving the hoodie he wore aside so you could see if he tore any of his stitches. there was a tiny amount of blood seeping through the gauze, and you swore under your breath.

“fuck, lay down,” you ordered, and he did without protest, only making a small grunt of pain as he sank back onto the couch. leon inhaled sharply as your hands touched the skin of his stomach, carefully peeling the bandage off to inspect the wound beneath.

“what’s the verdict, doc?” he asked, and you shot him a look, grabbing a new piece of gauze and tape from the first aid kit that was still out on the table.

“lucky for you, you didn’t rip any stiches, because i don’t feel like sewing you up again.” you smiled, patting his shoulder, maybe a little too hard. he coughed and winced, but thanked you for what felt like the thousandth time as you re-bandaged the wound. you grabbed him some painkillers and a glass of water from the kitchen, which he took happily before laying back against the pillow, his head tilted back exposing his neck. you watched as leon’s adam’s apple boned as he swallowed, before he looked towards you.

“you’re staring,” he teased, unable to hide the slight smile on his face.

“i think you’re delusional from blood loss,” you shot back, but couldn’t help but smile back slightly. you put the blanket back over his body. before you could walk away, his hand grabbed your gently.

“hey- i’m sorry, about earlier,” he admitted, his cheeks a very light shade of pink. “i shouldn’t have done that, and especially not without asking.” you sighed as you looked at him.

“it’s fine .. i guess it’s just… i’m not used to the idea of us not trying to kill eachother,” you admitted. “that’s not us.”

“… maybe it could be? maybe we could start over,” he trailed off. did you want that? you asked yourself. you decided you would figure it out once you got a proper sleep.

“get some rest, leon,” you sighed. “let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?” you tried to push away any newly stirred up feelings you could be developing for leon, thinking of all the times he had gotten in your way on missions and cost you a big payday - or almost gotten you killed. it was gonna take time for you the two of you to become anything other than two people from opposite sides, but you decided that maybe you were willing to try.

leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to lesions forehead, brushing his blond hair out of the way with your fingers. leon’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he exhaled, relaxing under your touch. his eyes didn’t open again, as he tried to go back to sleep like you ordered, and you walked back to your bedroom, crawling under the covers. you felt like you were dreaming; what the hell was going on? you shook your head. maybe this all was a dream, and you would wake up to find no one in your apartment, no blood in the hallway, no extra coffee mug on the table. leon would be gone, and things would be the same as they always were - the two of you strictly enemies, no complications. that would be so much easier, you decided, but even as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t get the way his lips had felt on yours off your mind.

#re4 leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #re4

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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

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This so random, but I love the way you write Joel talking with other people about Beautiful in New in Town.

For example when he’s talking to Tommy about how he’s in love with her but is worried it’s too soon to tell her. I’d love to see more of interactions like this! Him talking to Sarah about her, Tommy being annoyed about how obsessed he is. Him planning the engagement. He’s just so in love ahhhh

OMG Hi Bestie!

Joel is down so bad for her and I love it lol

I keep feeling like Joel is a deeply emotional person who tends toward attachment, he just is so traumatized in the OG timeline he can't let himself do it. So no-trauma Joel ends up being SO IN LOVE. Like he just adores his partner, thinks about her all the time, she is his area of special interest. I love it.

ANYWAY

I hope this is the vibe you wanted!

The Ask

Joel has a question for you. It just requires some planning first. Between the chapters First Thanksgiving and Second New Year in New in Town.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (both from New in Town)

Warnings: STRAIGHT FLUFF Y'ALL But in general, 18+ only content, minors DNI

Length: 1.2k

“Over here!” Sarah’s arm went up from the corner of the restaurant, waving Joel over from the entrance. Joel smiled and thanked the hostess before heading for his daughter, trying not to feel nervous.

He didn’t have a good reason to feel nervous. None of this should come as a surprise and he knew what his daughter was going to say. Probably going to say.

OK, so he was nervous.

“Hey old man!” Sarah got up, grinning before wrapping her arms around Joel’s neck. “Good to see you! I love that I only live a few minutes away now, we can just do things like meet up for lunch on a random Saturday…”

“Me too, Baby Girl,” he smiled, giving her a squeeze. He really did love it. This, he thought, was how it was supposed to be. Sarah, having her own life and own interests but close enough that he could be a part of it. “Settling in OK?”

“Yeah!” She nodded, sitting back down and sipping her cocktail. “I do really like the apartment, the gym is really nice and either my neighbors are really quiet or there’s actually decent soundproofing.”

“Well I looked into the construction for a reason, Kiddo,” Joel smiled. “Not gonna let my baby girl move into a shoddy apartment.”

Sarah laughed and shook her head as the server came over. Joel ordered a beer and the two of them ordered sandwiches even though Joel wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat any of it, the way his stomach was in knots.

“So,” Sarah asked conspiratorially. “Been a while since I saw just you. Everything OK?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “She’s got a hair appointment today…”

“You know to tell her she looks good when she gets home, right?” Sarah teased.

“She always looks good,” Joel smiled as the server put the beer in front of him. He took a long sip of beer, steeling himself before sitting back in his chair, watching his daughter across the table. “But I did want to see you without her here for a reason…”

“OK…” She frowned a little, sitting forward, leaning on her arms on the table. “What’s up, Dad?”

Joel looked at his daughter for a moment, marveling at her in a way. Sarah had always amazed him. From the day she was born it seemed like she did nothing but amaze him. But she had grown from an awe-inspiring girl to an incredible woman. She was still so young but had already accomplished so much, all while being uncommonly kind and thoughtful. Everything Joel had now he could only credit to Sarah.

It’s why this conversation was so intimidating for him. He couldn’t do this without her blessing.

“I was wondering,” he said slowly. “How you’d feel… if I proposed.”

Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she clamped both hands over it, an excited squeal slipping through. Joel laughed a little as Sarah stomped her feet excitedly before she smacked both her hands on the table. She took a deep breath and looked like she was fighting to not smile hugely as she looked at him.

“OK,” she said, excitement obvious in her voice. “OK, let’s talk about it.”

Joel laughed again, anxiety easing.

“Course, Baby Girl,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Is this really what you want?” She asked, tone more serious now. “Or is this just what you think you should do? Because I know you grew up going to church and crap but you don’t have to marry someone just because you’re living with them, you know?”

“I know,” he nodded, smiling a little. “That’s not part of it.”

“Good,” Sarah said. “That’s good. So… Why?”

“Because I love her,” Joel said, thinking about how to put how he felt about you into words. “She’s… Besides you, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Wake up every day wonderin’ how the hell I got so lucky that someone like her wants anything to do with me. She’s so kind, the kindest damn person I’ve ever met. She does this thing - it’s like she can read my damn mind - she just knows when I’m having a shit day and she knows exactly how to fix it, she just… she takes care of me. Don’t remember the last time someone did that. And she’s so smart, she’s so damn smart. I see how y’all are friends, you’re both the smartest damn people I’ve ever met… and she’s so funny. We watch those crappy movies and she…” Joel laughed and shook his head, remembering just a few nights earlier. “She says the funniest shit, I swear she’s funnier than the damn movie and she’s just… she’s the most fun I’ve ever had. Doin’ everything with her is better, everything is better when she’s there. I love her more than I thought it was possible to love anyone who wasn’t you and I wanna do everything with her. Everything, for the rest of my life.”

Joel was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of beer as he watched Sarah from across the table. She was looking back at him, her eyes glistening and his stomach knotted for a second. What if he’d said the wrong thing? As much as he wanted this, he couldn’t do it without Sarah…

“Oh Dad,” she said, her voice thick. She got up from her chair and came around the table, all but falling on him to hug him, kissing his cheek. He gave her a squeeze before she went back to her seat, drying her eyes on her wrists. “I’m so happy for you. I’m so happy for both of you. I wouldn’t think anyone would be good enough for either of you but, it turned out, you were just perfect for each other and I’m just so happy you found each other.”

He smiled back, the pinch of tears in his own eyes.

“Well, you knew it before we did,” he laughed a little. “Have you to thank for it, Baby Girl. All the best things I got in my life I have because of you.”

She laughed back.

“You’d have found each other eventually, with or without me,” she said. “You’re meant to be, I’m convinced. I couldn’t be happier that you want to propose, Dad. I couldn’t be happier for either of you.”

He smiled, looking at his daughter for a moment. She’d grown so much since she was the silly little girl sitting across from him, learning how to drink through a straw or struggling to sit still for more than two minutes at a time.

Her eyes went wide for a moment and she grabbed the table excitedly.

“Have you picked a ring yet?” She demanded. “Because I have some thoughts…”

Joel laughed, taking another drink.

“I haven’t picked the ring,” he said. “Wasn’t going to take that step until I had your blessing.”

“Well, you’ve got it!” She said. “Can I go shopping with you? I’m not saying I have great taste in jewelry but… I have great taste in jewelry.”

He smiled, thinking of getting to spend his life with her and with you, getting to be happy forever.

“Course you can, Baby Girl,” he said. “Course you can.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #new in town #joel miller x oc

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drifloonz · 1 month

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I also wanna see hcs of Steven with an autistic reader (dating hcs ig, I'm also a Strangled Red simp and I'm autistic)

remember me. im alive . Im here to heal the drought . i am too tired mentally to do the whole format shebang maybe ill dress it up when i wake up ( it is currently 6:21 am for me and im not tired yet )

Actually i dont think i do anything that extra or fancy with my formatting other than the title which i added right now. so . Enjoy

steven x autistic reader!

♡ he's autistic as well ... like that "I hate people" type'a autism. at least nowadays! i think he used to have trouble with volume and tone before the incident and just generally get easily overwhelmed... and either freeze or start to go on a walk to take his mind off of things. stuff like that.

♡ He's also insanely autistic about battle strategies and its his special interest of sorts . like... not that much, he did ( in my interpretation and what is kind of implied? ) sweep everything with miki because she's a special charizard who just kind of. Is stronger in all ways.

♡ BUT! i think i mean this in the more pokeani style of battles - he's crafty and very observant of his surroundings and how to "Cheat" battles with it. wink

♡ anyways yeah autistic reader . hi . You came for dating hcs right .

♡ he tends to just live in his house, lurking, stalking, barely moving out of bed to eat - so you might have to help him with that. ... buuuut, if you're similar, then you two will simply just sit in bed staring at the ceiling all day . napstablook core

♡ he hasn't had much stimulation outside of taking care of his basic needs and like. i'unno. being alive in general. so if you have an interest he isn't too aware of, he's always very happy to listen.

♡ he's an extremely good listener- he'll be nodding and mostly silent, but he may ask questions once he's more comfortable with you. he is actively trying to engage with your interests, although his own autism makes his tone a little stagnant- if he sounds uninterested, it's not intentional. his voice just comes off like that.

♡ he particularly likes games and music although the interests and energy for them have wavered a lot for him personally - so if your interests align with those sorts of things, he'll definitely be on board. you being into something in a genre he used to like definitely gives him enough energy to try again.

♡ this eventually does end up with him having more energy to engage with things that used to give him joy in a similar way . mostly playing games... like, a pokemon stadium or battle revolution game if those existed in-universe? because he can't exactly uh. Battle for real anymore without hurting those around him. of course, he always has charizard on his teams front and center. it's not Her. but, it'll suffice as long as he distracts himself.

♡ truly, it's just like this. introduce things to him and he'll be eager to try or listen or talk to you about them.

♡ if you get overwhelmed anywhere, he is quick to move you out of the area and also maybe take away the overwhelming Element. if it's a person, well. he'll just basically glare at them. a silent 'Fuck Off'

♡ also he will personally appreciate it if you get him more clothes. having just a few sets is fine for his depression, but the more he realizes it, the fabric feels awful sometimes. mainly, his trainer outfit he usually goes outside with - it's very worn and torn and the material was always a little cheap... if you get him a replacement, he'll be all the happier for it.

♡ he'd also give the old one to you if you cared about that sort of thing, but he'd be tentative because. well. it's worn and torn...?

♡ unless you fix it up and sew it somehow. that'd be nice. Im getting offtrack

♡ if you draw, write, or do creative things - he's always happy to see them. he likes to simply wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he looks at what you're doing now and again... it's, calming? like, really calming. to be honest, he could do that forever and ever.

♡ until you two get hungry of course. but, until then.

♡ he does also of course engage and ask about things like your OCs ( if you have them ), worlds, writing, dynamics, headcanons - anything, everything.

♡ generally things like this are what he's happiest with . watching something with you or watching you do something as he lays back and relaxes. seeing you enjoy the things you like makes him feel a lot better even though its something so simple .

♡ ... S!3v3n is also similar, he's just much more quiet- basically nonverbal - about how he goes about it. those red eyes will always be watching intently though .

_____

sorry if these were barebones i didnt rlly know what to Go off of but yeah . he is autistic too !!!! the Tismry

#wispy writes #steven strangled red #steven strangled red x reader #strangled red x reader

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blueseachelle · 1 year

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Hi I was wondering if you could write a scanlan x fem reader smut where the reader is either a human or a half orc, I don’t have anything specific in mind. Vox machina smut is rare and I can’t find anything for scanlan 😭

Hello! Of course I can do this one! I have a half orc imagine in the works so, I’m gonna do a female human reader for you! Tbh, the reason I started writing stuff again was for the same reason as you stated. Time to fuel the Fandom! One post at a time! Of course as always, if this is not up to your standard, let me know! I can always retype! Happy Reading!

Critical Role Vox Machina

Sweet Melodies

Scanlan X Fem! Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Scanlan, a player and a Bard. Looking for love yet scared to be held down.

He doesn’t know why he has this problem. He has always had this fear of just giving all his love and affection into someone and them to just discard it like nothing and leave. He thinks it will always be this way. Well, maybe he hasn’t met the right person to change his thought process.

Y/n is a monk. She dedicated herself to be holy and never medal with the affairs of the darkness. No matter what it was. She had her stray moments that she is not proud of but, she forgave herself and her ancestors have as well. She is not associated with a God of any sort. Not yet anyway. She hasn’t found the right one she wants to dedicate her life to.

She wears a sapphire and gold amulet to represent her family. She is a fighter. She’s not all that much peaceful. She has righteous judgment and will crush her enemies. She uses a specially crafted short sword that was pasted down in her family for generations. She also has an enchanted gold arm brace that turns into a gold staff on command to get her out of tight situations. She travels around the world trying to find her place. She helps people when needed and she brings judgement upon the unjust.

How her and Scanlan met was interesting.

Scanlan and the crew were doing a small bounty to get some coin in there pocket for there new (New to them) Keep. Well, the thieves camp they came to clear had the thieves that they were looking for… plus, a lot of company. Scanlan thought it was a criminal convention with how many there were. He soon got surrounded as did the rest of the group individually. He was about to strum to use Mage Hand to get out of there but, one of his strings broke,

“Oh Damn it. Why now of all times!?!”

Right before one of the attackers struck, a SHING was heard. Scanlan watched as a girl launched herself out of the tree that was behind him, land in front of him, and deflect the attack coming towards him. She wore blue robes that crossed her body from hip to shoulder. She had wraps around her chest and knuckles. From this angle, that’s all Scanlan could see. She kicked the attacker away with such a force that he was knocked back into the crowd behind him and he knocked over a few of the guys he flew into. Scanlan’s eyes were wide,

“Oh Damn.”

The mysterious girl sheathed her sword and quickly turned to the gnome bard. She held out her hand,

“Let’s help your friends now. I’ll be by your side.”

The bard blushed slightly. She was gorgeous. She had beautiful raven hair tied in a ponytail with a stripe of silver hair pulled forward to blow in the wind. Her stunning blue eyes made contact with his amber ones. He hesitantly took her hand,

“Y-Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The girl took the gold band off of her arm and tossed into the air, instantly turning it into a staff. Soon enough, they were launched into the air.. The staff was back to the band on her arm. Scanlan kept his eyes screwed shut until his feet gently made contact with the ground. He opened his eyes to see the rest of his group. Pike was the first to say something,

“Scanlan! Where did you go? You just upped and disappeared!”

Scanlan finally removed his hand from yours as he ran towards his group,

“Well, I got surrounded and my string broke but, this girl saved me.”

The said girl was already taken off into battle. She had her short sword drawn and was helping. She weaved amongst the group like she had been fighting with them her whole life. She knew where she was needed and when.

After that all the thieves were defeated, the group finally caught there breath. Scanlan looked up and saw his savior making her way out of the village. He quickly tossed his lute aside and ran to catch up with her.

“Wait! Hey!”

He called out as he ran towards her. She stopped in her tracks and looked at him over her shoulder. When he finally caught up, he put his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath,

“B-before you g-go. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

He finally got his breathing under control and stood up,

“I want to know the name of my savior please.”

This made the girl tilt her head and put her hand into her short pocket. Her eyes held such purity and kindness.

“My name is Y/n. I am one with the wind and the bringer of justice. If you need me, Call to it.”

With that, she tossed an opal carving to the gnome bard. Little did he know that the carving was of her family crest, if he was going to ask around about her, that would give him the answers he seeks. He stumbled to catch the the carving but caught it. The carving was a ring with a beautiful flower in the middle. As he struggled slightly, a breeze swept over the land. He looked up to see that she was gone. Gone with the breeze.

He stood there for a second with the words ringing in his head. He slowly turned back to the group and made his way back to them.

*TIME SKIP A COUPLE MONTHS*

Scanlan could not get the girl out of his head. Every time he went to make moves on anyone, his heart would hurt. He thought about her every second of every day. Every time he would think of anyone else, his heart would ache. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He kept her carving in his pocket at all times.

The day after that encounter with her, he asked around with the carving until he found a monk that knew what the carving was. He told Scanlan that the carving was the crest of the Sato family. The last of them pasted away long ago. There has been many rumors of a helping girl that carry’s the crest. The monk told him that the only girl born in the Sato family was a girl named Y/n, which the monk thought that‘s who the girl was. Scanlan confirmed it. The monk told him as much as he could remember of the family. Scanlan absorbed all of it. He at least knew a lot more about this girl but, the more he knew, the more he would think about her and the more his heart would ache.

He sat up in the night and just think about Y/n. His room was eerily silent. His ears picked up on the whistling of the wind. Wait… wind. Hold on.

He quickly sat up and put on his robe. He will get to the bottom of this right now. He will stop these all nighters and the heat aches.

Scanlan made his way to the Keep’s garden and stood in the middle of it. He held the carving and looked at it before speaking to the wind,

“Hey. I don’t think this is what you meant but… Oh screw it. Y/n, I need you.”

The carving softly glowed blue before the glow disappeared. He looked up to see the cause of his inner turmoil. Y/n stood on the wall of the Keep. She dropped down and walked to the nearby pond and took a seat, crossed legged.

Scanlan stared in shock. His heart pounded in his ears. His breath caught in his throat. He slowly walked to the sitting figure. Y/n eyes watched him carefully. He sat next to her, facing her. He locked eyes with her. The pure, kind eyes looked into his troubled ones.

Y/n knew what was wrong. She reads auras. She can feel the turmoil and confusion in his. She closed her eyes to ask her ancestors what to do. She slowly opened her eyes after being told. To cleanse his spirit would be more than a ritual, it would be a self sacrifice.

She locked eyes with him again and reached her hand out and caressed his cheek,

“I know what your troubles are. I sought out guidance on how to help you. You seek love but, is scared to take the leap of faith.”

She leaned closer to inspecting his face before continuing,

“As someone of faith, I know the consequences of wrong leaps but, sometimes, we have to just do it and hope it goes the best. My ancestors tell me to leap but, only if you are.”

The gnome’s brain short circuited. She knew everything. She understands him.

‘Am I ready to leap? Love one person for the rest of my life? It’s what I want…. Yes. I want to leap.’

After a couple seconds of thinking, Scanlan leaned forward to meet his lips with her’s. Finally, Scanlan found relief in his spirit. He knew that she was his ground. He refuses to be though out it for any longer. The kiss got progressively more needy. Scanlan snaked his tongue it her mouth. She let out a small moan. Her hands reached out and wrapped around him and found there way into his hair.

Y/n couldn’t believe that her ancestors were approving this. They know he is the one so, this is going to help him be put unto the right track. The one he has longed for. She was his savior, his salvation, her ground. He will let her know that she is all those and more.

Scanlan pulled her into his lap. He groped at her body. He knew this is the one. He will change for her. She is what he desired. He knew that she would be loyal and never just disappear. She will always be there for him.

The breeze woke them from there lust induced haze. He shivered.

“Maybe we should take this to my room.”

He lead her by her hand into the Keep and to his room. When he got to his room, he opened the door. After leading her to his plum silk sheets, he shut the door. He soon joined her on the bed. Of course, taking control.

The kissing resumed and soon, clothes were tossed across the room. Y/n lied under he kissed down her body, worshiping every inch of her. She absorbed every single kiss, suck, and nibble. He left hickeys across her body. Not one place didn’t have a bruise forming.

Y/n was a moaning mess as he made his way down.

“My Love, before we continue, how long has it been for you?”

Y/n swallowed thickly,

“It’s been about 8 years, My Beloved.”

Scanlan smirked,

“I promise I will be as gentle as I can but, with as beautiful as you are and ALL mine, I don’t know how gentle I can be for long.”

Y/n nodded,

“Scanlan, I am prepared. I’m stronger than I look and flexible.”

He kissed her thigh as he sat between her legs as he stared up at her,

“I know but, overstimulation is the slayer of the strongest people.”

With that he kissed her open clint, her heat was covered with her slick, she was more than ready for the real deal but, he wants to play with his beloved. He was to drive her insane. He wanted her to cum as may times as she could. She has been deprived for so long. He will make her reliant on his touch and his cock for pleasure. She is now his. He is now her’s. He wants the first time to be the best time of both over there lives.

As his lips kissed her heat, she let out a moan. Her hands reached down to grip his hair. He kept on. He started to prod your entrance with his tongue.

Soon enough, he added one of his hands that were holding onto your quivering thighs. He inserted a figure in to the tight wetness. He could feel you clinch on his finger.

Y/n arched her back and moaned. He started to move the finger back and forth with his hungry mouth. He was hungry for you. He wanted you to cum in his mouth. You taste like heaven to him already. He wants more, so much more.

Y/n’s thighs quivered more and more. Her hands gripped his hair as more stimulation was added. When he added a second finger, she felt a long sought feeling build in her abdomen.

Scanlan started to scissor the two digits, slowly stretching the tight hole. He sucked harder as he felt her start to arch and quiver more. He removed his other hand from your thigh and moved it to play with your swollen bud. That’s when you lost it. Hands gripped harder, thighs squeezed together, and a cry left her lips,

“My Beloved! Scanlan!”

He quickly removed his fingers and lightly sucked on your womanhood until all the juices were cleaned up by his mouth. While catching her breath, Y/n looked down to see Scanlan sucking on his fingers, cleaning them off. She saw her wetness drip down his hand as he lapped it up like a thirsty animal.

He smirked up at her,

"If you think that was all, Babe, you are greatly mistaken."

With that, he crawled forward, taking off his boxers in the process. She blushed at the slight glimpse she saw of his manhood before Scanlan blocked her sight with a kiss.

He kissed her with such passion and love that her hands reached up and found his way into his hair. The kiss seemed to last forever until Y/n felt his tip prod at her entrance.

The kiss ended. Scanlan breathed heavily has he looked down at her with such lust and love,

"Let's make some Sweet Melodies together."

She nodded vigorously.

When he entered her, all his work paid off. He was able to slide right in. No discomfort crossed her face, only pleasure filled moans and sighs.

Scanlan thrusted his hips at a set rhythm. He groaned along with her symphony of moans. The slapping sound of skin on skin was heard along with it.

His hands traveled around her body as hers did the same. He caressed her body while whispering sweet nothings to her has they made love.

Soon enough, Y/n felt that knot in her stomach form for the second time tonight. Her back arched once again. Scanlan immediately wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her start to tighten around his cock. He started to move his hips faster.

He actually felt like he was gonna come with her. This would be the fasted time he came in his life but, he was happy it was with his Love. Maybe that was a sign that she was the one.

Soon enough, Y/n reached down and grabbed his shoulders. She gripped onto him as she chanted 'I'm cumming' over and over again. Scanlan responded after a couple seconds with 'Me too, My Love. Me too.'

They then came together. He never usually empties himself in this partners but, this time, he did without hesitation. Y/n felt his cum fill her up. She knew why he did. He felt safe and secure with her. He knew that whatever happens, will happen and he will be there every step of the way and so will she.

After they both came down from their highs, Scanlan grabbed a nearby washcloth that he had in his drawer. He pulled out and cleaned himself off before cleaning Y/n off. He tossed the rag into the darkness and crawled up to cuddle his beautiful girlfriend.

She turned towards him and he turned to her. They interlocked on hand as they gazed into each other's eyes. He squeezed his hand a little tighter,

"I love you so much. Thank you for wanting to be mine."

She gave him a smile and squeezed back,

"I love you so much too. Thank you for overcoming your fears and deciding to stay with me."

"We can thank your ancestors for that."

They then shared a sweet kiss before cuddling under the sheets, sleeping until late in the morning.

Scanlan's dreams were not troubling to him now that the one with him is now his. His past dreams that he used to have with faceless women now all had his Love's faces. He knew this was it and he would fight to never have it taken away.

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed this! I do take requests, as most of you know! See you in the next one!

#the legend of vox machina #scanlan shorthalt #tlovm scanlan #scanlan x reader #scanlan smut #tlovm smut #tlovm x reader #SMUT #requested

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k8aclysm · 6 months

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I'm mad about Jynx again (The Pokémon)

Okay so most people who have even been residually exposed to the Pokémon franchise are familiar with Jynx, the Psychic/Ice type Pokémon introduced in the first generation. Either for the controversies early on, or just because it's a good example of a strange looking design. Due to the reasons I just stated, and/or due to the fact that it's an ice type - a type typically seldom seen until very late game in most entries - I'm willing to bet most of you have never bothered to use one, either. To be fair to it, It's no as awful as it looks! It's got paper-thin physical defense, but decent speed and pretty good special attack that pair perfectly with it's typing! It's an interesting pick if you're looking for a run with mons you've never used before... But this isn't a post about convincing you to use Jynx, I'm here to rant about an aspect of it's design that has driven me completely fucking nuts for the past decade or more.

Looking at the sprites for Jynx in the first three generations, everything looks as you'd expect. Exactly how it looks in the anime, as well as in the manga and other spinoff media.

The problem begins to show itself when we reach the sprites from generation 4.

You see that? You see those strange.... tendrils coming off the dress? Just below the arms? If you wanted to argue in good faith, you could say that this is simply a sprite that poorly communicates depth in the skirt... But then we arrive at generation 5 - where the sprites now have animations and more inherent depth. Generation 5 is where many believe gamefreak had mastered the spriting game and are considered the final sendoff for the sprite style in the franchise.

It's those GOD DAMN TENDRILS. This time, it's very clear that they're not just miscommunicated depth on the skirt and are now actual, un-questionably, tendrils of some sort that jut out of the skirt or create some sort of odd "spike". This sprite is what I consider to be the beginning of what I like to call the "Jynx miscommunication", where -someone, somewhere down the production line - completely misunderstood the sprite and somehow managed to canonize one of the most bizarre design choices I've ever seen. Yeah, I said "Canonize", and I'm not joking. Because it actually happened. Every appearance of Jynx in the 3d games have featured this interpretation of Jynx's dress. ALL OF THEM. Here's an example; pictured below is the model rip from generation 6 and 7; the 3DS games.

Somehow it's become even MORE spikey; as if it's body underneath the skirt has MASSIVE spikes jutting out on each side; the dress isn't draped over it like something implied to be cloth-like in behavior should; it almost reminds me of what the barbs on Corsola look like.

Anyway, my point is mostly made now, but just to drive it home once more... To really just illustrate how deeply ingrained this design "choice" is... I need to explain that every Pokemon in existence was given brand new artwork for the Pokemon transfer service - Pokemon Home. In pretty much every medium outside of the games, Jynx was never depicted to have these weird spikes, so surely they'd refer to previous artwork of Jynx when making the illustration for it in pokemon home, right...? RIGHT...?

WRONG. Jynx officially has the spikes in it's most recent artwork, it's models, AND it's Gen 4 remake menu "sprite". The most infuriating part about this for me, though is that the Sword/Shield menu sprite Doesn't include the spikes at all. Like holy shit it's model in sword and shield even HAVE the spikes like all the others do! RAAAAAHGHGHGnfjnv....

This situation is just so uniquely fascinating to me because Pokemon is a franchise that - at least contemporarily - is known for it's extremely particular design guidelines and squeaky clean, on-model consistency when it comes to the Pokémon designs. I refuse to believe this was ever an intended design choice for Jynx and that gamefreak just don't think anyone gives enough of a fuck about Jynx to ever notice this. Hell, maybe they didn't notice it themselves. Why this happened is likely never going to be brought to light, but at the very least, Jynx isn't in gen 9 so I don't have to look at it at all! ... for now...

Anyway, I hope this post has enlightened you and made you privy to something that makes an already unpopular Pokémon even more unpopular. I'm usually never one to make elaborate posts like this but this piece of bizarre trivia pisses me off so much I just HAD to make a post about it. Send all of your complaints to gamefreak, thanks.

#pokemon #jynx #my posts

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cutelittleriot · 4 months

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Return to origin holiday special part 1 of 2

It was the holiday season for the trolls of pop village and trollstopia. Poppy and Branch just got done giving out everyone's secret gift swap person. The two trolls were in great spirits, they had shows the other tribe leaders their new forms and were accepted as they were. The leaders had heard about the origin fruit but due to it mostly being a pop and rock troll thing they didn't think it was rea and was just a legend but now they had living proof.

The only one who hasn't seen them yet was the very one who gave them the fruit she was busy when the other leaders met up but she is arriving in the village for the gift swap so she will soon see what her 'gift' did.

The two were getting ready to leave to go get started on each other's gifts when the troll in question shows up. "Yo Poppy! What's uuhhhh" She pauses as she takes in the two transformed trolls appearances. "What in the name of rock happened to you two?" She says pointing at them.

"Your little fruit that you gifted us did this to us" Branch says crossing his arms. "Yeah turns out it was a super rare exotic fruit thought to be a myth with how rare it is" Poppy explains with a awkward grin.

Barb couldn't believe her ears, her gift did this?! She was just expecting them to either like it or hate it and tell her their opinion on how it tastes she didn't expect this! "Oh" She simply replies.

"Its ok we don't blame you! You had no idea this would happen,we knew you didn't have any negative intentions so don't go beating yourself up over it" Poppy quickly explains to the rock queen not mentioning how Branch first thought that Barb sent over a poisonous fruit.

"Still hurt though" Branch grumbles to himself but Barb heard it. It hurt when they transformed?! Wow normally she doesn't really care too much for others she was learning though but these two are one of the very few exceptions of those people who she did care about and the fact that her gift hurt them hurts her.

She could have written that something interesting would happen to the troll that ate it maybe that would have discouraged them into not eating it so soon. She should have asked her dad more information on that fruit before she sent it off and gave them the information on it, why did she do that?! She was so stupid!

"Oh well I'm sorry for that really I didn't mean to" She says awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck,apologizing was also something she did rarely but she means it when she says sorry. "Don't worry it's water under the bridge" Poppy waves her worries off but that does little to ease the regret she felt. "If there is anything I can do to make up to you both just say the word, heck if there was any fruit left I would join you two so you wouldn't be alone" She says grinning and Poppy tries to return it but her tail twitches almost anxiously at that statement.

"Anyways you two look sick especially with those fangs of yours!" She says getting a closer look at the two. "Yeah Val really liked our claws too she says that she could do some sick riffs and guitar shreds if she had some" Poppy says showing Barb her claws.

Taking her paw Barb feels over the claws and she could tell they were sharp,they could do damage if Poppy ever needed to defend herself. Luckily she doesn't manage to scratch herself on accident and let's go.

"Well time to go get started on my gift see ya later Barb!" Poppy says before running off on all fours,that's also new its not something she does all the time but still. She usually does it when either she is very excited or when she is anxious about something and needs to get away, and something was telling Branch it was the second one. Just what had Poppy so anxious? Was it something Barb said?

He looks back at her and he could tell that she caught onto the anxious behavior as well they both looked at each other both curious and concerned as to what was going on with her. "Well I'm gonna get to work on my gift" Branch says feeling very awkward as he walks away. "Yeah same later dude" Barb says walking off.

Both of them had one thing on their minds

What was going on with Poppy?

**timeskip to after the holiday special cause litterally nothing changes so there is no point in writing all that**

It was the next day after the holiday party,everyone was cleaning up the after party mess most of the leaders went back home except for Barb but she was getting ready to leave when Poppy ran up to her alongside Branch who was very curious as to why his girfriend wanted him to come along. Apparently Poppy had something to tell Barb and wanted him there.

"Wait Barb don't leave yet!" She yells as she makes it just in time she must have been running for a while of the panting was any indicator. "Whats up ya need something?" She asks curious as to what the pop queen wants.

"So uhm I have been thinking about this and there's something I have been meaning to tell you and Branch" She tells them twiddling her fingers. Both of them lookat her confused yet curious. "So you both know about that fruit? Well Branch knows I ate more of the fruit but the truth is that I didn't eat the entire half of the fruit there's still more left" She confesses to the two.

Barb is confused while Branch is gaping at her "What?! Poppy are you telling me there is still more of that fruit?!" Branch exclaims both surpirsed and shocked that his girlfriend kept this from him.

"Well yeah I already ate some so I just ate some more I'm order to trigger it. I cut it up into big slices and just ate one and that was enough for it to trigger" She explains tail quivering a bit. "Also I thought that other trolls might want to be like us so I have some just in case they ever do" She tells him.

"Poppy how many slices are left?" Branch asks. "A few" She replies. "Wait why are you just telling us this now?" Barb asks confused. "Well what you said reminded me of the slices I still have and well.....you said you would join us if you could and well....you can if you really want to you don't have to if you don't want to. Don't feel like we are pressuring you or anything" Poppy quickly says looking at Barb.

She is shocked, a chance to be like them? A way to make up for this? Well sign her up she is going to join them in on this,they should have to be alone in this and she feels like this is a good way of saying sorry.

"Of course I want to! Sign me up!" She says excited. "Barb this isn't a game,once you make this choice and eat it there's no going back there no cure" Poppy tells her surprisingly serious for once.

"I know that I still want to do this" She says crossing her arms. "Barb you don't get it. We went though agony through that transformation. It hurt we bled, we lost our teeth, we had claws rip out of our skin painfully, we litterally had the bones in our legs break and rearrange themselves in order for them to be like this. All the while we were screaming in pain. We have never screamed like that before in our lives. We will never get those images out of our heads they will stick with us forever. Do you still want to do this?" Branch tells her grabbing her hy the shoulders with his paws. She needed to know just exactly she was signing up for.

" Barb we have only seen what it does to pop trolls we don't know what kind of transformation will happen to a rock troll like you,again do you still want to do this? You can back out and say no now and nobody will blame you for doing so" Poppy tells her.

Those two went through such horrific stuff becuase of her? Oh heck no she is now even more determined than before to make it up to them and join them.

"Heck yeah I'm sure I haven't been more sure of anything bring it on! I'm not backing down from this!" She exclaims with a grin. And the two transformed trolls look at each other before nodding. "Alright it's your choice Barb" Poppy says as she reaches into her hair and pulls out a container. "Don't say we didn't warn you though" Branch says crossing his arms. "Wait you already had it with you?" Branch looks at her surpirsed. "Yep I know Barb she wasn't going to back down from this but I still wanted to be sure" She tells him with a smile.

Poppy opens the container and there it was, a slice of the very fruit that caused the duo so much pain. Barb takes the slice and holds it in her hands,this very fruit is going to change her body forever. She takes a good long look at herself. "What you getting cold feet now?" Branch asks with a smirk. "No! I'm just getting one last look at myself before I eat this" Barb explains before she takes a big bite of the fruit.

It tasted very good to her not overly sweet like she was expecting it had a bit of saltiness to help dampen the sweetness overall it was pretty good. She quickly finishes off the slice and licks her lips in satisfaction. "That was pretty good had better but it wasn't bad" She tells the two. After a minute she looks at herself confused. "Uhm what's going on aren't I supposed to be transforming or something?" She asks confused.

"Oh no not today it's a transformation that takes a full week to complete" Branch explains with a smirk. "Oh.....thought it was instant or something along those lines" She says a bit emberassed. "Well if you ate the whole fruit then the entire transformation would happen overnight instead of in stages like with what happened to us" Poppy explains to which Barb nodded.

"Here I want you to have this and if you can,could you takes any notes if you see any differences in your transformation compared to ours? I want to see if its different for rock trolls." Branch tells her as he hands her a spare notebook he write just in case something happened to the original.

She takes it with a nod "Fine I guess but done be surpirsed if I froget some stuff and my handwriting isn't the greatest" She tells him to which he shrugs his isn't the greatest either as his brain works faster than his hands can keep up with. "How about you send us a letter every few days to let us know how your doing and such with the while transformation thing going on?" Poppy suggests wo which Barb nods with a smile. "Alright we can use Debbie she wouldn't mind" she says grinning.

"Welp time for me to head back home wonder how Dad and Riff are gonna react to this? Bet they are gonna freak! I can't wait to see their faces! Later!" Barb says as she waves them off and gets onto the angler bus and heads off back home.

The two look at the angler buss that is quickly getting farther and farther away "Let's hope she will be alright" Poppy says concerned for her friend. "Don't worry that notebook explains I great detail on what to do for each stage even if it might be different for rock trolls it's still good to have around" Branch tells her with a paw on her shoulder.

The two transformed trolls get back to cleaning up the party mess hoping everything will be alright for their rock friend.

Hope you guys enjoyed this sorry if it was weak or if I got Barbs personality wrong i really tried

This will be a two parter btw and just a heads up

I'm not going into such details with Barbs transformation like I did with branch and Poppy. I'm sorry for those who want me to but there is only so much I can do and not make it sound so repetitive I hope you guys can understand that.

#trolls #trolls 2 #branch #trolls 3 #poppy #broppy #return to origin #queen barb #barb

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andguesswhat · 6 months

Text

Well, who is going to read this anyway, right?

Yet the background:

After Tim was in Paris at Fashion Week, I was in Berlin and I saw a young actor on stage there, twice, Tim's age, same height, same jawline ;) A great actor, full of energy and joy. Mmh.

I thought an encounter would be interesting. I had some trouble writing it, though, because the real Tim got in my way more than once and I didn't feel like dealing with him. But Jonas was batting his eyelashes in my head and said "pretty please" so I tried and tried until I finally found my Timmy again and now I finally finished it on the day I know for sure that I will leave fandom for good.

So that’s it then. My farewell. My legacy…

For @gatoenlaciudad

The Nature of the Night

Jonas pulls the wool cap over his head and is about to walk through the stage door when Mascha, the assistant director in charge of the evening, appears and stops him.

"Timotheé Chalamet wants to see you."

"What?" Jonas asks puzzled.

Mascha makes a motion with her arms as if she can't explain it either.

"I don't know but it really seems to be him. Checked it. Here," she pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks the screen and holds it under his nose. Jonas sees the image gallery with pictures of Timotheé Chalamet, they are rather private photos, respectively not images from his movies or from the red carpet. On these photos the actor is often wearing a cap and loose clothes.

"Looks exactly like him, talks like him, says his name is Timmy and would like to meet you. He sits in the canteen."

Jonas is still a bit confused when he aborts his intention to go out of the stage door and goes after Mascha in the direction of the canteen. A Hollywood actor had been in the audience? And he wants to meet him?

In the meantime, Mascha babbles on that she had already heard that Hollywood actors are always smaller in real life than they appear on the big screen, or no, in this case not smaller, but somehow thinner, inconspicuous, normal, unspectacular. Although he had been really nice, and also pretty pretty. So maybe he was special after all. She smiles at him.

Jonas doesn't even get a chance to think about what he should make of all this, because he's suddenly already standing in the cafeteria and walking towards the table where the figure in baggy clothes, leather jacket and a cap is sitting. The young man looks up and yes, it is definitely Timotheé Chalamet, smiling at him. Reaching out his hand.

"Hi Jonas," he pronounces the name in English, "thanks for stopping by. I'm Tim."

Jonas takes the other man’s hand and says rather automatically than consciously, “Hi.”

The Hollywood actor turns to Mascha and his smile is getting almost conspiratorial. "And thank you very much for helping me with this." Mascha blushes.

Well, he is definitely nice, Jonas thinks. Friendly. But he seems kind of jaded, tired, stressed. Especially his smile. Like he is sad or something.

While Mascha leaves, Chalamet motions Jonas to sit down, so he sits down opposite him. And while he wonders what he should actually say, Chalamet… Timothée… Tim… the Hollywood actor takes over.

"Sorry to bother you. I saw the play, and I really, really loved it. I was here yesterday too, watched the Kafka piece. Loved that also. Very funny. And your performance was awesome."

"Thanks." Jonas says in some kind of delirium because this still feels kind of unreal. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask something? For example, what someone like Timothée Chalamet is actually doing here? Yeah why not. "How come that you... ?" Yes, what actually? "...that you came here?" Well that sounded somehow stupid, but it shows his whole confusion.

"I was just in Paris…,” the actor begins to explain. “I met someone who told me that they have surtitles in the theater here in Berlin and I got curious. Wanted to see something new. So I decided to come here. I don't know if you know, Hollywood actors are on strike right now... So I have time... And I'm really glad I came here. It was very inspiring."

A notion that this here is real sinks in and Jonas has to smile. A bit proudly. Kind of shyly. Probably quite stupidly, too, but it's not every day that a Hollywood actor compliments him.

He knows Chalamet, has seen a few films with him. Call me by your name... Dune... Beautiful Boy... And he was in this Wes Anderson movie, too, wasn’t he? When Jonas thinks about it, he's seen quite a few movies with him.

Sure, he's interested in what other actors his age do and he thinks Timothée is a good one. He always liked his vulnerability.

"That is very nice of you to say, thanks," he says humbly and Timothée smiles back at him.

"You want a drink, too?" Timothée lifts the beer bottle that's in front of him.

Jonas nods, turns to Karim, the bar keeper behind the counter, and gestures for him to bring him a beer.

And then a conversation begins. It's quick. Faster than he would have thought. Timothée asks him a lot, about the play, about him as an actor, but also a few private things. Jonas talks and tells, getting more and more comfortable with the situation with every minute passing by.

Timothée all the while is looking at him attentively.

Still sad, though, Jonas can't help thinking, he looks really sad to him, the sadness giving him a somehow distant and absent aura.

Tired, Jonas reassures himself, he is probably just tired.

Although Timothée keeps asking him questions, it's not a questioning session. And although Jonas realizes that Timothée is very cautious when he speaks about himself, probably because he can’t talk about personal stuff, it's a very pleasant conversation.

Soon `Timothée´ changes in Jonas’ mind to `Tim´.

"Have you been here before?" Jonas asks him. “In Berlin?”

"Yeah, twice, actually. At the film festival. The Berlinale."

"Oh! When have you been there? I've been there twice, too. I mean, I’ve been here with two films I was in."

"Wow, really? Cool!” Tim looks at him appreciatively for a second before he continues. “I was there in 2017, with Call Me by Your Name.” He smiles and adds with a soft voice. “I have very fond memories of that trip."

"Ah okay, then we missed each other by a year.” Jonas realizes. “I was there the first time in 2018. What about the second time?"

"That was 2015. But man, this feels like it's from another lifetime."

Tim pulls out his phone and googles himself plus 'Berlinale 2015'. "Man, look at that!"

Again, Jonas has a cell phone under his nose, this time he sees a really young-looking Timothée Chalamet, a boy, who he would not immediately associate with the man in front of him. He smirks.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I look 10!" Almost a little embarrassed, Tim puts the phone away again. "Youth! When was the second time you were there?"

"In 2019 with 'the Golden Glove'."

This time Jonas pulls out his phone, googles 'Der goldene Handschuh' and shows Tim a picture of him with the heavy makeup that turned him into the serial killer Honka.

"That's you? Wow. What's the movie about? How did you get this role?” And before Jonas can answer, Tim adds with a smirk and a drawl, “Did they choose the prettiest guy to make him the ugliest?"

For a second Jonas just looks at Tim. If you say something like that, you have to be able to endure to wait a second for the answer.

Tim’s smile becomes even more coquette, he blinks.

Then Jonas answers, ignoring the last question and their conversation goes on. And on.

They talk about movies, theater, and everything that goes with it. It flows, in each other, around each other. It’s fun.

To a certain extent Jonas has the feeling that tiredness or sadness are falling off Tim. His remarks become more and more extravagant, his enthusiasm bigger and bigger, the "Noooo!"s and the "Yeeeesss!"s longer and longer, the "Man!"s and "Exactly!"s more and more emphasized.

"That's what I'm always saying!" And Jonas is the last one who can't keep up, even if one volume quieter.

They don't even notice that everybody else has already left until Karim comes up to them. "I'm really sorry to interrupt but we're closing now."

Again, for a second, Jonas just looks at Tim, because he can't even gauge what this means for them now, for their situation.

"Can we go somewhere else?" Tim asks. And Jonas starts breathing again, even if he did not know that he had held his breath.

"Maybe somewhere not that crowded?” Tim continues. “Somewhere where no one recognizes me?"

And then he adds what Jonas has been thinking all along "I just don't want this to end."

If it weren't kind of weird, Jonas would have thought Tim sounded almost pleading. Even weirder, that he just almost had the feeling that Tim wants something from him.

Probably the alcohol making his mind go wild. Also: just so typical for actors, always all in with the possibilities. But Jonas enjoys the encounter way too much to let it end.

"Yeah, sure," says Jonas, even though he really doesn't know where to go with him. Berlin is always crowded.

He then doesn't know why he says that, probably he can also blame that on the alcohol or simply because that had been his plan for tonight before Mascha stopped him and put him in this situation with this man here, or maybe just as a test, but he says, "We could also go to my flat. Nobody to recognize you there … but a fly on the wall or something. I mean, if you don't mind."

"No, no, I'd love to. Honestly, that's the safest for me. And I’d love to meet your flies."

A smirk.

So much for that.

Tim pays, apparently tipping neatly, as wide-eyed as Markus looks and they head out the door, immediately zipping up their jackets. Berlin is cold.

"Can we walk?"

"Yeah sure, it's not that far. I just have to unlock my bike over there," Jonas points to his bike on the lamppost and walks towards it.

"Okay, I just need to sort something out," Tim says, walking towards a black car parked across the street. Jonas sees out of the corner of his eye that he opens the door and speaks to the person in the car.

Tim's whole body suddenly tenses, his voice sounds angry and becomes loud.

Jonas can't understand everything, but there are a lot of annoyed No's in it. "No, I'm not going to do that!" At some point Tim takes some papers reluctantly, tucks them annoyed between his jacket and hoodie, slams the car door shut and comes back toward Jonas, who is waiting for him with his bike at the lamppost.

Tim's face is incensed.

"Sorry..."

That's all he says.

And Jonas doesn't ask either.

They start walking, Jonas pushing his bike.

When Jonas suddenly notices that the car is slowly following them.

A strange feeling. Like from a bad movie or something.

Tim looks behind, makes a frustrated sound and then starts to talk anyway.

"You know, it's just so annoying! I can’t do anything! Not a fucking thing! … My assistant is now driving after us because he wants your address...I'm on a work trip, so everything has to be under control” Tim wiggles his hands overly dramatic, “at all times!” He sighs. “I'm sorry. It's just incredibly embarrassing."

"I can give you the address, no problem," Jonas says unconcerned.

"But I don't want to give it to him."

Jonas nods. He understands. It's a matter of principle.

He feels sorry for Tim. Sure who doesn’t know the stories about how badly Hollywood actors are really treated. But then you see the movies, beautiful and laughing stars on red carpets and read about all the luxury mansions.

If it's that bad, they should just stop, make smaller films, less limelight. Right?

But what would he do when pretending is gradual, when there's always a little bit more what you're doing that you wouldn't do if you weren't in Hollywood, and you don’t realize it because everybody around you just does the same?

Too often he's read some lurid headline or been told about actors on self-destructive downward paths from whom he didn't expect it.

He envies no one in Hollywood. But if he were asked to be in a Hollywood movie, he wouldn't say no either, would he?

He thinks about whether he should suggest the idea he has on his mind right now and decides without further ado, yes, he should. He gets on his bike and says, "Come on, get on the back, we shake them off."

Tim's eyes get big, and before the grin on his face has fully unfolded, he's already jumped on the back of Jonas' bike, holding onto his hips, and Jonas pedals off. A sharp turn to the right, then into the park. Narrow paths, trees and bushes to the right and left. They can't follow them there.

Tim behind him whoops with joy. It sounds contagious. Jonas grins contentedly to himself, his heart beating, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

He loves situations like that.

“I would have loved to see their faces, man,” Tim laughs behind him.

In front of his apartment they get off the bike and Jonas brings it into the backyard.

He lives in an old apartment building with high ceilings and creaking floors on the 3rd floor. He loves his apartment and is also quite proud of it.

The fact that he can now show his apartment to Tim, Timothée Chalamet, seems a bit surreal to him.

But reality quickly catches up with him: Beautiful apartment or not, he had forgotten how many things were lying around and how untidy it was.

"Sorry," he mumbles embarrassed and gathers a few clothes to quickly throw them onto the bed.

"No worries," Tim laughs, "you don't have to clean up for me. I always leave my stuff lying around too, much to the chagrin of... others."

It was just a little pause but there definitely had been something Tim hadn't been allowed to say. A drop of sadness. For a second there is this life again that he is crammed into.

"Another beer? Or would you prefer something else?" Jonas asks and ignores the melancholy, even though the contrast fascinates him.

"What else have you got? I have to admit, although the German beer tastes more interesting than the American, I'm not that much of a beer guy."

Jonas thinks about the visit from his best friend from school last weekend.

"Gin? I have some Gin and sweet soda left."

Tim nods. "Perfect, I'll take that."

While Jonas goes to the fridge and prepares the drinks, Tim takes a look around the apartment.

Everything in his apartment merges into one another. Large rooms with large passageways. Lots of painted walls, lots of posters, lots of books, lots of photos, lots of nice things to look at, as Jonas thinks.

"A nice apartment that you have."

"Thanks."

Jonas sees Tim's gaze fall on the colorful fetish boots with extra high heels and platform soles lying next to the bathroom. Just like the ones Jonas wore in a scene on stage tonight.

"Did you have to practice?" Tim asks, amused.

"Yes, I asked our costume designer for an extra pair. We haven't performed the play for quite some time, I didn't know if I could still do it."

Tim laughs. "You could. You rocked it!"

Jonas grins and holds the drink out to Tim.

They sit down at the kitchen table and Tim takes out the paper that was stuck between his leather jacket and hoodie, puts it on the table, then takes off his leather jacket and lays it over the paper. He does not address it.

Jonas can guess what it is, though. Probably some kind of contract that he can't say what's happening tonight. Or what is going to happen.

"Man, this place is really nice,” Tim repeats. “Very cozy."

"Thank you."

They toast.

"Have you always lived in Berlin?"

And with that, their conversation continues.

Jonas enjoys it immensely.

At some point, Tim talks about his current impressions of Berlin. He apparently just rode the subway for a while yesterday. "It's a bit like riding the subway in New York. You see so many different people. All their styles. It's amazing. It's really inspiring. Especially the attitude with which some people wear their deliberate ugliness. There was one guy who shaved off his hair here and here," Tim points to his head, "then wore it long here and here, and wore it long here, then he wore huge glasses, a mustache, an absolutely ugly jacket, everything was ugly, nothing fitted together, so that in the end everything fitted together. Yet he knew he was the coolest of them all. And he was right!"

Jonas smiles and looks at Tim's perfect curls and his perfect appearance. "So, do you want a hairstyle like that now?"

"No, but I would like to know where one gets the idea to walk around like that in the first place! If you spend too long in L.A., you forget."

Jonas nods. The rich and the beautiful. Where optimized beauty and pleasantness are the most important commodities. That has always bored him.

Tim is beautiful, too, but what makes him interesting is the longing he radiates. This longing for whatever. And the infectious, liberating laugh that Jonas has just heard from him on the bike.

Jonas looks at their empty glasses.

"Another one?"

"Yes, I’d love to," and after a moment's hesitation, Tim adds, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have anything to smoke?"

Again, Jonas thinks about his friend's visit. Because yes, he has. Ben had brought some weed and there's still some left. "Wait, I'll get it. By the way, you can sit on the sofa if you want. It's more comfortable."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, goes to the sofa and sits down on it. "Oh man, it's so cozy, I don't know if I'll ever get up here again."

"That's the whole point," says Jonas with a grin, rummages the tin of weed off the packed shelf, puts it in his pocket, fills up the two glasses and joins Tim on the sofa.

His sofa corner is very cozy, a huge soft sofa, with huge soft cushions, a huge cuddly flokati rug, surrounded by books, books and more books, lots of records and his guitars. Jonas thinks it's a great place to curl up in, especially during the cold season.

He gives Tim his drink, puts his on the side table and while Tim talks, he starts rolling the joint.

It's nice to notice that Tim is now talking more about himself and seems more and more relaxed. Jonas can well imagine that he's probably enjoying getting out of his rut and forgetting the rest of his life for a moment. Maybe not the rest, but his life as a Hollywood star with all its stressful obligations. Simply escaping, breaking free.

"I was so impressed yesterday, by your colleague," says Tim. "The way he squeezed through the rows naked. With his figure, with his..., I mean, he really didn't have the biggest one, right!?"

In yesterday's production, Jonas' tall, corpulent colleague wears only a tie and shoes for quite some time and squeezes his way through the packed rows to the amusement of the audience.

Jonas lights the joint, takes a drag and hands it to Tim. "Does that mean you wouldn't have dared it if you were him?"

"I would, yes , but I mean... When you look at yourself, for example, I mean, then it’s no problem to say, of course, I can do it, you know, ...well endowed like you are," Tim continues, laughing impishly and taking a drag on the joint.

Yes, Jonas is also naked for quite some time in this production and yes, this time too, Jonas can't really tell how serious Tim's come-on is, so he decides to be a bit bold.

"And that means you would have only dared to do it because you're well endowed yourself?" He puts on a playful arrogant face, "Just like me."

"What? No, well... yes. I mean… Man! How the hell did we get here?" Tim laughs out loud, but is then back in full explanation mode to make a point. "I mean, that's what it's all about, isn’t it? It's all about overcoming. It's great when you get the chance to try it out. As an actor."

Jonas nods and takes the joint that Tim holds out to him again. "Yes, definitely, it's great when you have to overcome yourself because it’s your fucking job, yeah."

"And I just would think that your colleague needs more overcoming than someone like you. Well, anyway, I don't think I've ever seen so much nudity on stage for so long."

Jonas laughs, takes a drag on the joint and hands it back to Tim. "Welcome to German theater."

"Really? I need to come here more often," jokes Tim before he gets serious again. "It was really well used though. The contrast. Him presenting his nudity so confidently and forcing it on everyone and your nudity, on the other hand, being so vulnerable. That was great."

Another compliment. "Thank you."

Tim takes another drag. "Today, on the other hand..." He looks at Jonas with a challenging grin, "Today, on the other hand, you looked quite sexy."

Okay, Tim is definitely flirting now, no mistake in that. Jonas also notices how much Tim's voice has changed. Whereas at the beginning it was a bit put on, very keen to sound serious and grown-up, now it's suddenly very soft...

It almost seems as if Tim forms words differently now. As if each word first glides gently over Tim's tongue and is then brushed velvety by his lips.

It is definitely too early for the weed to hit, so this is real.

And although Jonas is aware that Tim probably knows what he's doing, he thinks it’s not artificial at all, it's completely genuine and pure. Purely erotic.

"When you ripped that one costume off your body on stage today," Tim says, again very softly, and now it seems as if the words are also being touched by Tim's front teeth, "I thought how much I would like to lick that belly."

Jonas gnaws on his lower lip and just looks at Tim. He is completely fascinated and finds the moment so beautiful that he doesn't want to interrupt.

"Sorry, for saying that," Tim says even more gently, his eyelids fluttering down apologetically.

"No, no," Jonas quickly puts in, "I didn't mean... I wasn't..." And then finally says the most important thing, "I don't mind you saying that. I was just… "

"Okay, good." Tim chuckles softly with relief, his eyes are back on Jonas. "Because sometimes I say things I shouldn't say. I definitely don't want you to... But I feel really comfortable here with you. And I had the feeling... I don't know..."

Lips, teeth, tongue. Jonas wonders if you can somehow absorb these words that come out of Tim's mouth and taste them.

Tim puts the extinguished joint in the ashtray on the sofa table and moistens his lips with his tongue.

Bites his lower lip with his teeth and then asks:

"Can I kiss you?"

"Ja klar," Jonas slips out in German, full of approval.

Tim's lips curl into a grin and he leans towards Jonas, his lips already very close to his. "That's a yes, right?"

Jonas can taste the words, they taste sweet and smell of weed. He grins back. "Yes."

And then they kiss. Gently.

When Tim buries his hands in his hair, he himself buries his hands in Tim's curls.

It feels good, very nice.

An exchange of tenderness.

How can you not find that beautiful?

Jonas has never really fallen in love with a man.

But he likes to make out with one or sleep with him.

Was there actually a term for this? Probably. But he doesn't want to specify it anyway, he doesn't really want to rule out the possibility that he might fall in love with a man after all some day.

But mostly he likes kissing men because it's not so emotionally charged for him. It feels more equal. Of course, it always depends on the woman or the man and you can't generalize, but often he's much more relaxed when he's making out with men. Because then he never feels like he has to deliver. It's all about the feeling, the need for closeness and tenderness, the kissing.

Their hands run over each other's bodies and, as is the case when you make out for some time, desire slowly sets in. He notices it on himself, he can see it in Tim's eyes when he looks at him, his lips moist and half-open.

Jonas is ready. He will take everything he can get from Tim and when Tim whispers in his ear. "I wanna fuck you,” Jonas closes his eyes for a second and lets the pleasurable shiver that these words trigger flow through his body.

"But only if you want to. We don't have to do this," Tim adds quietly as he kisses Jonas' neck, pressing his hard cock against Jonas' hips, his hands feeling his body.

It's been a while since Jonas has slept with a man in this way. But he likes the feeling of being taken and actually has it far too rarely.

"I just need to go to the bathroom," he says shyly between all the snogging.

"Yeah, sure..." Tim slowly lets go of him, his eyes clouded with desire.

A little embarrassed, Jonas heaves himself up from the sofa, but Tim stops him by the wrist. He looks at him before hesitantly saying: "There's someone. But I'm not cheating. I just want you to know that. So if you don't want to go on, that's totally fine, okay?"

Jonas nods, responds a quiet “Okay...” and goes into the bathroom.

It doesn't change anything for him. This is a special night that will never happen like this again. He knows he won't regret anything.

When he returns, Tim is flipping through a book that he has taken down from the shelf.

It's ‘Jagannath’ by Karin Tidbeck.

Tim looks up to him. "Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, it's really cool. Completely weird stories but beautiful, a man falling in love with a zeppelin for example, fantastic and realistic at the same time... You'd like it."

“I have to remember that.” Tim puts the book aside, grabs Jonah's arm and pulls him onto the sofa so that he buries him underneath him. "But now I wanna fuck you. "

Jonas' cock twitches in response.

"What's that in German?"

"Ich will dich ficken."

"Isch will disch feeken?"

"Ja, fick mich."

They laugh, pull their hoodies over their heads so that their hair is sticking out in all directions and intertwine with each other.

Jonas can't believe who he has in front of him. It's not about the famous actor, it's about the young man, he didn’t know a few hours ago, who came to him and almost sought refuge with him. A small miracle of lucky coincidences that led them here.

On a night like this, he wants to take everything he can get...

And then Tim murmurs into his ear:

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Jonas. So hard that you will still feel me tomorrow on stage..."

Jonas gasps involuntary.

God, where did that come from? But he can't say he minds.

They continue kissing, grabbing each other between their legs.

Tim's cock is anything but small, but it doesn't scare Jonas, the anticipation of it only makes him hornier. And Tim's determined but sweet, caring nature removes any doubts that he might have.

Jonas lets himself go. He is amazed at how Tim suddenly appears. So confident. He takes responsibility, and that's extremely sexy to see.

Tim pushes Jonas' T-shirt up.

"Now I can finally lick your belly. It's so lick-worthy" he breathes and then does just that. Licks Jonas' lower belly and Jonas tries to get his breathing under control. It's torture, the way Tim lets his tongue glide slowly over his skin and grins at him with amusement.

At some point Jonas can't take it any longer, tugs at Tim's shirt and finally they tear the rest of their clothes off. Jonas' gaze falls on the chain around Tim's neck. It's not a normal necklace. He wouldn't know the difference from an imitation, but he knows Tim wouldn't wear one. The stones are real. And Jonas never thought he would be so impressed by it.

They are both naked now, except for Tim's expensive necklace, and Jonas lets Tim spoil him, lets him take him, lets him after some extremely sensual and erotic adjustment fuck him.

It feels good. Tim is on top of him, ramming his cock into Jonas, while jerking him off with his hand. It's hot. Jonas is breathing heavily, biting his lips, he closes his eyes and stretches his head back in pleasure.

They are both in a frenzy, changing positions, seeking ecstasy, seeking climax. And Tim guides him, more than he had expected.

"Don't come yet," Tim finally gasps breathlessly and then he thrusts into him from behind a few times, moaning deeply and loudly, and comes.

Stagnation for a second while Jonas' cock wants to explode, a feeling of loss when Tim pulls out of him but before he can mourn it, Tim's hands are all over his body.

"I make this good for you, too, baby, I promise. Lay on your back."

Jonas has to laugh breathlessly. As if that wasn't already good. "This was already awesome you know," he gasps and lies down on his back.

Besides, no one has ever called him baby before.

Tim just grins, leans over his cock and takes it unceremoniously in his mouth.

God.

He looks at him so devotedly that Jonas bites his lips with a moan.

Fuck, this is hot. He breathes heavily, his belly rises and falls, it doesn't take long, wet and hot tongue, sweet lips giving pressure, Tim’s gaze so fucking devoted, then suddenly two fingers up his ass, finding his sensitive spot, rubbing it... He closes his eyes and finally comes - "Fuck!" - in Tim's mouth.

Hissing. Just hissing.

In his ears, in his body, in his brain.

Dazed, Jonas sees Tim sit up and wipe his mouth.

Slowly the buzz subsides, the world around him becomes reality again.

Tim drops onto the sofa next to him, buries his nose under Jonas' shoulder and cuddles up to him, grinning almost shyly.

"Was it good for you?"

What a question! "Yeah..." Deepest, most exhausted conviction.

Tim smiles contentedly.

When Jonah's breathing has gradually calmed down again, he turns to him.

Looks at the famous face. Looks at it closely. Sees the small scar on his cheek.

Yes, of course, this was desire and sex. But in front of him is someone who has sought unprejudiced closeness above all. The kind you just need sometimes. And Jonas gladly gave it to him.

The hurdle of taking it and giving it is smaller among them actors. Due to their profession they are used to quick closeness and the possible quick distance afterwards.

That's why Jonas isn't fooling himself about this night.

Lost in thought, he runs his fingers over Tim's jawline.

"Have you noticed that our jawlines look very similar?"

Tim laughs. "Yes, I have! We should take photos and put them on top of each other to see if they fit or something."

"And do you also sometimes think that it’s weird that in some photos you look completely normal and then sometimes you look like you've swallowed … I don’t know… a Christmas gift?"

Tim chuckles even harder, "Yes. A good friend of mine sometimes teases me about it, asking if I ate an anchor before the photo shoot or things like that."

Jonas nods approvingly. It fits.

"They once even retouched my bones in a photo for a magazine," Tim continues. "Man, I was mad!"

Tim reaches for his sweatpants, pulls his cell phone out and lies back down next to Jonas. He googles himself again and shows Jonas the relevant photos.

"Wow, that looks strange. Why did they do that?"

Tim shrugs his shoulders. "Don't ask me!"

He turns on the camera. "So, let’s take a photo of our jawlines.”

Jonas and he appear on the display. With their jawlines. “I think it also has a lot to do with the angle and the light."

They both start turning their heads, jutting their chins forward and doing whatever else they can think of, laughing, looking serious, looking silly while Tim is taking photos.

Afterwards they are checking the results. There are terrible photos, there are terribly silly photos, there are beautiful photos.

For a second, Jonas would like to have them himself, but he knows he doesn't even have to ask for them.

“I'll show them to a friend later. I know he'll love them," Tim says softly while they keep watching.

Jonas wonders if this is the same friend with the anchor comment when suddenly a call comes in. Tim makes a short sound "shoot!", hastily pushes the button and turns away from Jonas.

Jonas didn't want to lurk, but he was looking at the display anyway, so he saw that there was no name on the display, just a nail emoji and an exclamation mark, and the photo wasn't recognizable to Jonas either.

"Hey, just wanted to check how you're doing," Jonas hears a man's dark, soft voice coming from the other side of the phone before Tim quickly turns down the volume.

"Hey, I'm good. I'm good." Tim's voice is very soft and very familiar, Jonas can even hear that he is grinning happily, "I'll call you later, okay? I'm in the middle of something."

Jonas can't hear the other voice properly now, but it sounds like the man is saying something teasing like "Oh, in the middle of something? Okay, then do everything I would do."

Tim chuckles softly. "You know, actually I was just talking about you. I've got some photos I'll send you later." Jonas is completely fascinated that Tim's voice sounds so different now. So incredibly familiar, so at home.

"Oooh, can't waihhht!" The man's voice, on the other hand, is lovingly teasing and clearly too loud for Jonas not to hear it.

"No, not photos like that," protests Tim, again laughing. "You'll see."

The other man says something else, quieter now, so that Jonas doesn’t understand it and Tim softly responses, "Yeah, later."

A small, subtle smile plays around Tim's lips for a second as he hangs up and turns back to Jonas.

"The friend I was talking about..."

Jonas nods. The friend...

Tim lies down next to him again. They both look up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Jonas has never had an open relationship, doesn't know if he could have one, but he can imagine that sometimes it's almost necessary to keep a relationship healthy when there are certain obstacles like distance or time or whatever. To give this space is the real love story of it, he thinks.

Still, Jonas is interested in something.

"When did you decide you wanted to sleep with me?"

Tim thinks for a second.

"I don’t know… I got interested in you when I saw you in Kafka, I thought you were sexy when you ripped off your clothes tonight in that play, I wanted to kiss you, when I asked you if I could kiss you, I wanted to fuck you when I asked you if I could fuck you. Did it feel to you, like I planned it?"

"No, no. But you never know what kind of good actor you have in front of you."

Tim laughs out loud. "I'm such a bad actor in real life. If you only knew…” he says, sounding quite miserable. “In any case, I don't fly from city to city and snack on pretty actors, if that's what you mean."

Jonas smiles. "No, that's not what I meant."

He thinks to himself that he wanted to sleep with Tim when he dropped all his covers, figuratively speaking. This peeling off of the famous actor to reveal his inner self is what Jonas got stuck on.

Tim turns himself to Jonas and looks at Jonas seriously and gently. "I didn't plan this today, but I can't say I didn't take every opportunity that came my way. Something pulled me in your direction. It was fun, it was liberating, it was beautiful."

Jonas nods. "Yeah, I loved it, too."

“You know, for me it’s complicated to have that,” Tim reflects and lays down again to look at the ceiling. “I don’t want to complain but sometimes everything is so difficult when I go outside… outside of my bubble, you know. Like I’m an interfering body, a disruptive factor. So I stay in my bubble… But people change, friendships change… So sometimes you don’t see things, you don’t realize things, I mean, these are my people, right?”

Tim is now completely in his head, talking more to himself than to Jonas. “You trust them, you’ve trusted them for years! But there are moments you feel that you just adjusted, you adjust your respect, your love for them... All those connections float like ice floes in the sea after a ship has passed through, still together but tilted. They actually no longer fit together, but they are still attached. And you can't change that just because you think things should be different... These ice floes are connected … and there are so many… and you’re frozen to them... So you adjust."

Jonas doesn't really understand what Tim is saying but he feels a big confusion. He feels sorry for him.

Tim turns to Jonas, his gaze deep as the ocean.

"You know, I envied you there on stage so much. Having so much fun. Looking so carefree."

The sentence echoes a little in the room before Jonas manages to reply, he even needs to clear his throat a little.

"Envy is a good reason to change something, isn't it?"

Tim just laughs bitterly.

Jonas feels bad, he shouldn’t have said that. "Sorry... that was probably very naive, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about my simple, boring life... and how often a feeling like that has always been a reason for change. For me. But I can imagine - "

"No, I'm sorry... It's good that you say that, it's important,” Tim says softly and kisses Jonas on the lips, before he stands up, "I shouldn’t be so cynical. Can I use your bathroom? I need to pee."

"Sure."

Jonas looks after Tim as he goes to the bathroom, once again lost in thought.

He is glad that his own world, his surroundings, are still so small and clear. Although it is getting more difficult for him, too. Making more and more films, he has already realized himself that he has to bend himself on other levels.

Jonas hears the flush, hears the water tap running.

When Tim comes out of the bathroom, his gaze falls again on the high heel shoes with the platform sole.

"Can I try them on?"

Jonas rests his head on his hand and looks over at Tim with amusement and curiosity. "Sure, if they fit." He is relieved that Tim hasn't fallen back into sadness because of what they said.

Tim puts the shoes on and stands up. Completely naked, the silver chain with the gemstones around his neck and the high heel boots on his feet. He spreads his arms out with a grin.

"Same height, same jawline... Apparently we also have the same shoe size!"

Jonas smiles. Tim doesn't look like he can `rock´ the stage in them, but his confident posture shows that it's not the first time he has tried shoes like that, Jonas guesses.

In any case, he looks stunning. Jonas has to think of his queer colleague. When he himself wore these shoes for the first time and thought he looked silly, his colleague said: "It's not about how you look in them, it's about the fact that you're wearing them.”

And this is so right, as hot as Tim looks in them, it's just makes it so insanely sexier that he's wearing them.

Tim seems to have a similar idea in his head. "Wearing shoes like that does something to you, doesn't it?" he says and walks over to Jonas. The first steps are a little wobbly, making Tim smile, then he walks on with more grace than Jonas would have thought, and finally seductive as fuck.

Right in front of him in front of the sofa, Tim stops and looks down at him.

"Suck my cock.”

Jonas grins. This is hot as hell.

"What is that in German?"

"Lutsch meinen Schwanz."

"Okay, lootsh my shwounz."

Jonas loves everything about this situation.

That they are playing, that they are having fun, that they trust each other, that Tim sees this as a safe space to do all this and explore it.

Jonas slides down to the edge of the sofa so that he has Tim's cock right in front of him and takes it in his mouth. He hasn't done that for a long time either, especially not with such a big one, but it feels sexy doing it, as it stiffens in his mouth.

Tim’s hands bury themselves in his hair as Jonas licks and sucks, and Jonas thinks it can't get any hotter when Tim suddenly pulls him violently by the hair so that Tim's cock pops out of his mouth, forcing him to look up at Tim, mouth open, gasping for air, lips wet with saliva.

Tim bites his lower lip as if being surprised by himself and smirks at Jonas sugary sweet and innocently as a puppy.

"Sorry, it was just too tempting to do that." Words again brushing against tongue, teeth and lips.

“Don’t be sorry for that one,” Jonas pants.

Tim lets go of him then, lies down on the floor, on the soft flokati carpet, props up on his elbows, his high heels rammed into the floor so that his legs are bent, half open, and purrs invitingly, "Come on. Go on."

And Jonas is happy to oblige. He slides off the sofa, runs his hands over Tim's bare thighs, kisses the inside of these thighs and licks over Tim's shaft before he takes him in his mouth again.

Tim purrs like a kitten, one hand again in Jonas’ hair.

"A shame, I already came," he coos dreamily and adds dryly. "Or that I'm too old now.”

Jonas ignores the remark, tries instead to take Tim's cock deep down his throat, causing Tim to gasp out loud, even though he himself has to let go of the cock afterwards to take a breath.

Tim smirks at him. “Well, in any way it’s not you, Joni baby, you suck like an angel.”

Jonas rolls his eyes but has to smile anyway. He bends over Tim, strokes Tim's chest with his hair, lets it glide over his skin, finally moves to Tim's lips and kisses him.

Lazy deep kissing, while their cocks are pressing against each other.

"Who says you always have to come to have fun?" he asks, wraps his hand around both cocks and jerks them leisurely.

"Where you're right, you're right." Tim licks his lips, his breathing getting audible.

Jonas has to smile. He hadn't had such relaxed, sexy and sweet making out in a long time.

“Turn around,” Jonas whispers softly.

Tim does as told and as soon as his dick tips the rug, he involuntary grinds it into it, followed by a deep moan.

Jonas has to laugh out loud, he knows this feeling. “As soon as you feel it, you can’t resist, right?”

“No, you can’t,” Tim moans wholeheartedly, “and God, I need a rug like that, too.”

Jonas laughs even harder. It looks sexy like hell though, the way Tim rubs his naked body against the carpet on his knees with the high heels on and his dick getting buried in the soft rug.

But Jonas actually wanted to do something else. So he begins to kiss Tim’s shoulder blades while letting his hands glide over Tim’s body.

He makes his way further and further down, kissing, licking, touching... until he reaches Tim's ass. He straddles the ass a little so that he can first lick underneath it, bite it lightly, before he finally devotes himself to Tim’s entrance. Very very lightly, very very gently, he licks Tim's hole, hears Tim gasp, sees his hole contracting, feels his body whole contracting, feels how much Tim is enjoying it. He positions his cock against the hole and presses very very lightly against it. No further. No more.

Bends over Tim, and alluding to the fact that Tim told him earlier that he would still feel him on stage tomorrow, Jonas whispers in his ear: "And you'll still be thinking about me tomorrow night wondering how it would have been if I had fucked you for good." And with that he withdraws his dick and lies down next to Tim on the carpet grinning.

A protracted moan, Tim's fingers desperately clawing into the carpet, he clenches his body for any contact, but there isn’t any.

"If I'd known what a nasty bitch you are…" he growls.

But Jonas knows that Tim enjoys it. Enduring the teasing sensation. Writhing his misguided body, mourning the false expectation.

Jonas cuddles up to him, holds him, so that they lie entwined on the carpet and he loves how Tim’s body still twitches every now and then because it didn’t get what it wanted.

"Oh you filthy torturer, thou may rot in hell!" Tim laughingly exclaims eventually and Jonas has to laugh with him. "That's actually what I was going to suggest to you when you came out of the bathroom,” he says. “To give me a stage performance."

"Okay…" Tim says, apparently glad for the distraction and gently pushes Jonas away to get up, sighing after all. "Oh man, I can't remember the last time I had such a craving for a butt plug... Anyway..."

He pulls a chair from the kitchen table, sits on it at an angle, legs crossed, naked with boots, looking vulnerable, trying to find an attitude, trying to feel proud and strong, until his posture collapses again and he begins to recite Biff's monologue in ‘Death of a Salesman’.

“Now hear this, Willy, this is me. You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was jailed. I stole myself out of every good job since high school. And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is! It’s goddamn time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I’m through with it! Willy! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw – the sky.“

Jonas has goose bumps all over his body and almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

„I saw the things that I love in the world. The work and the food and the time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting from the minute I say I know who I am! Why can’t I say that, Willy? Pop! I’m a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, Willy, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash-can like all the rest of them! I’m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn’t raise it! A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning? I’m not bringing home any prizes any more, and you’re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home! Pop, I’m nothing! I’m nothing, Pop.“

The pain, the grief. The vulnerability. The grace nonetheless. The attempt to maintain dignity.

„Can’t you understand that? There’s no spite in it any more. I’m just what I am, that’s all. Will you let me go? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?“

Jonas never wants to see another Biff again.

It is absolutely touching.

He is unable to say anything, he can just let it resonate.

"Some texts you don't forget, do you?" says Tim a little absently.

Jonas still can’t say anything. So instead he takes his guitar off the stand, leans his head against the edge of the sofa and starts to play and sing a quiet version of a song he sang today on stage…

„Outside the window, they are singing, inside the doorway, there’s me…“

At some point, Tim gets up, comes over to him, sits down on the floor next to him and leans his head on Jonas' shoulder.

The air is tinged with melancholy, but Jonas hopes that not being alone makes it only half as heavy.

When Jonas finishes, for a moment there is only silence.

"That was nice”, says Tim quietly.

"Thanks."

"Can I have a go, too?"

“Sure.” Jonas pushes the guitar over to Tim.

Tim starts to play and finally sings softly along.

It sounds a bit like Bob Dylan, even though Jonas doesn't know much about it.

Like this they go on and on, they sing, they play and they quote lyrics, talk about roles and special moments... everything. One thing leads to another and inspires the next. Soon they are laughing again, soon they are joking around again, just quieter and softer than before.

At some point they move over to the bed, lie next to each other, on top of each other, the high heels off in front of the bed.

They keep talking gently until they eventually both fall asleep.

The next morning, Jonas wakes up.

Tim is standing next to the bed, still naked, looking at his cell phone.

"I didn't mean to wake you, sorry. I have to contact my assistant or else he’ll have a heart attack."

Suddenly there's that wall around him again.

"What's your address?" Coolness.

"Maria-Hedwig-von-Wachenheim-Allee" says Jonas, although it's not true. He was just looking for a long and complicated street name.

It serves its purpose, though, Tim laughs out loud. "What?"

Jonas stands up and holds out his hand. "I can type it in for you."

When he gives Tim the cell phone back, Tim raises his eyebrows. "But that's not the address you just said."

Jonas shakes his head, "No."

The cell phone vibrates and Tim answers it.

"Yes, I was just about to send you the address." He sounds already annoyed and stressed again.

"No. No," his voice is stubborn, and once more his whole body stiffens. "No, I won't do that... No, he doesn't have to sign it... No... I'll wait outside... Yeah."

He hangs up.

"I can sign the papers. I don't mind," Jonas says quietly.

Tim answers all the louder for it, he rages. "But I do! I don't want that. I want a different feeling, you know. I don't want to be safe for once. I want to be able to trust someone. To be allowed to. I mean, what's going to happen?"

Jonas bites his lower lip. He feels sorry for Tim.

Then he says, playfully dry: "So you think I'd better not sell your sperm in my ass on eBay?"

For a second the anger disappears and Tim laughs out loud. Smiles warmly at him. Says after a second, "You remind me of this friend, you know, the one who called yesterday. He would have tried to calm me down, too... But I mean, really what's going to happen? What kind of rumors do you think there have been about me? Or photos that weren't real. Everything has already been said!"

Jonas thinks of Tim naked in high heels.

Tim must be thinking about that too, as he admits with a laugh: "Okay, not everything yet..." He sighs and points towards the bathroom. "Anyway, can I have a quick shower?"

"Yes, of course. Do you need any clothes?"

"Nah, I’ll be fine." He takes the T-shirt from the floor, smells it and makes a face. "Hopefully."

"Wait..." Jonas gets a pair of underpants and a T-shirt he can spare from his wardrobe and hands it to Tim. "Here."

"Thanks!" Tim smiles at him and goes to the bathroom but turns around again, looking serious. "I hope that ... I hope you don't feel ... I hope you don't feel that I've taken advantage of my position or something like that... "

Jonas smiles and shakes his head. "No."

When Tim has closed the door of the bathroom, Jonas pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt himself, goes to the kitchenette and makes himself a coffee.

What a night.

He loves those nights.

Totally unexpected and magical.

Even if it was only for that night, it was beautiful.

He hasn’t finished his coffee yet, when Tim comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

Jonas holds up his cup, "Do you want one too?"

"No thanks, I'd love to, but I have to go," says Tim apologetically.

To be honest, Jonas is quite happy that Tim is now back at a distance. Anything else would have been awkward and he's glad that Tim isn't even trying.

As Tim puts on his leather jacket, Jonas has an image in his head of how this night has been a slow peeling down to the core and Tim is now slowly putting on all his layers again.

He wonders if there is another way.

Maybe you can aim so high that you don't let yourself be taken in, but in the end you end up like everyone else.

"Okay...," Tim slips into his sneakers, ready to go.

"Wait." Jonas sprints to the bookshelf and picks up the book by Karin Tidbek that Tim scrolled through last night and hands it to him.

Tim smiles warmly, "Thank you. Thank you. I wish I could give you something too. I had a very nice evening, a very beautiful night. I'll carry it in here." Tim puts a hand over his heart.

Jonas is touched. He nods.

The distance is there, but the connection remains.

Tim opens the door and walks down the stairs. The floorboards creak their typical old building creak.

Tim laughs and looks up at Jonas again.

"Man, I love it, you can't even really sneak away in these houses."

A wave of the hand, one last "Bye!" and then he's gone.

Sure, the next days Jonas googles Tim, but every time he does, he soon stops again. It feels strange and what he sees often doesn't match up with the Tim he met.

Mascha seems to have used the evening Jonas spent with Tim to fall into a rabbit hole. She now knows all about fake PR relationships, queer actors in Hollywood and Tim and his likely partner.

But even that more or less goes in and out of Jonas' head. He doesn't want to think about if he likes what Tim is doing or not.

In the end, it has nothing to do with their night.

The night was bigger than both of them. And that's how he wants to remember it.

Shortly before Christmas, he receives a small package from America.

Christmas underpants, a cool ‘bauhaus’ T-shirt and a book he doesn't know yet.

Also enclosed is a letter...

#charmie #after all kind of #although maybe not as you expect it #Armie Hammer #timothee chalamet #Jonas Dassler #Sorry Jonas probably your first time ;)#my legacy #my farewell #last one #timothée chalamet

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gachagon · 1 year

Note

Can you write fluffy and slightly angsty BachiSagi where Isagi misses Bachira while they're on separate stratums in NEL

Aw this was such a cute yet sad idea, and I just had to write it! BachiSagi angst really gnaws at my heart strings since I don't like seeing either of them sad lol. Here is what I cooked up for you though!

Words: 749

Pairing: BachiSagi

While staring at the rankings after a match, Isagi can't seem to get his mind off of the past, and his thoughts keep circling back to one person in particular. His eyes have been locked onto Bachira's name on the ranking board for quite some time...

“Wow, he’s really moving up huh?” Isagi was shaken from his reverie by Chigiri’s voice. He had been staring at the most recent ranking’s posted in the main hall of the Blue Lock facility, when Chigiri had decided to join him as well. Though, Isagi’s eye wasn’t trained on his own name, and neither was Chigiri’s.

“Yeah, Bachira’s amazing…” Isagi said wistfully. He glanced at Chigiri who laughed softly.

“And how do you know I was talking about Bachira, hm?” He asked Isagi with an amused smirk. Isagi looked away then, his embarrassment showing clearly on his face. Great, could you be any more obvious? He berated himself as he searched for an answer. “Forget it, I’m just teasing. You have been staring at the board pretty hard, though.” Chigiri said.

“Have I…?” Isagi asked as he continued to stare upwards at Bachira’s name. It was right next to his own now, they were evenly matched in terms of price as well. Isagi wondered how long it must have taken for them both to reach this point on the ranking’s board, and how impossible it had seemed so long ago to achieve anything close to it without the other right beside them. Actually…how long has it been…? He tried to remember the last time he and Bachira actually got to train together or even play in a match as opponents, but no matter what his memory came up short. The last memory he held of them being next to one another was when they both had lunch the day before they were assigned to different teams.

Bachira had been so excited then, he wouldn’t stop talking to Isagi about which team he was going to pick. Back then, Isagi was happy to just support him in his endeavors no matter what choice he made. He had even bitterly thought to himself that it was ridiculous to think Bachira would want to follow behind him. Or that it’d be pathetic for him to try and follow Bachira. He couldn’t bring himself to possibly say any of that, or make some desperate plea to try to be on the same team.

Because Bachira looked so happy. He couldn’t possibly take that away from him. So he kept his mouth shut, and when Bachira went off to BarchaSpain, Isagi said nothing still. Except to tell him it was a good choice.

“Training’s been kinda hellish hasn’t it? I feel like passing out every time it’s finally over…” Chigiri spoke from beside him, and Isagi gave a half hearted reply. “But you know…I heard from Anri that Bastard Munchen’s getting a special matchup. Some kind of game not associated with the whole NEL thing…like a promotion?”

Isagi craned his head in interest, yet he still had his eye trained on the ranking board.

“It’s supposed to be a big game between Noa and Lavinho. That’ll be a crazy match to see, certainly. Too bad I won’t be there to watch…” Isagi’s head swiveled in Chigiri’s direction who was nonchalantly checking his nails out.

“What did you say?” Isagi asked.

“Oh? Are you interested, Isagi? Those ranking’s seemed to have you really enamored, so-”

“Noa and Lavinho are going to…have a match soon?” Isagi’s heart leapt into his throat as Chigiri smirked.

“Did I not just say that? Anyways, good luck you’ll definitely need it. They’ve got some pretty good talent on that team.” Chigiri said with a smile. “Though, you knew that already. After all, you’ve been watching the ranking’s all day.”

Before Chigiri could turn to walk away, Isagi grabbed his arm. “W-wait! When is this matchup exactly…?”

Chigiri’s head tilted to the side, “Oh I don’t know, I think Anri said they were planning for it to be…this weekend?”

This weekend…in 3 days…I can see him in 3 days…

“Thank’s Chigiri!” He ran past him then.

“Hey, where are you off to now?” Chigiri called after him.

“To train!” Isagi answered. He wanted to be at his best for this. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up even for a moment. He also didn’t want to disappoint Bachira somehow, his blood thrummed with an excitement that usually came when he was going up against someone more talented than him on the field.

He was going to see Bachira in 3 days, and he was going to make sure he was the best he’d ever been for him.

3 days…it chorused through his mind as he headed for the training room.

#bachisagi #bllk angst #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #bachira x isagi #gachagonrequests

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pacifistcowboy · 7 months

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You've been posting about how you're experiencing your first crush and are kinda freaking out about it and I just want to say that how you're reacting is understandable and reasonable. This is your first crush, you're experiencing something new alot later than expected and from the sounds of it, it isn't exactly a small one either so it's alot of new experiences at once so it can be overwhelming. Once the initial surprise wears off then you can start working out your feelings better.

(you’re not required to read all this btw dndjejf)

thank you 🥹🥹🥹 hilariously, i’ve actually been in a romantic relationship before, so this technically shouldn’t be my first crush, but that relationship was when i was twelve and we met n started dating completely online over text, and when we met up in person my feelings for them went away and we never acted couple-y irl shxhshfhefh.

then there was the guy who joined my class in secondary school and became my friend, then i think he accidentally became my special interest which was really unpleasant ‘cus i became obsessed with an actual guy i knew personally. i told him how i felt n he didn’t reciprocate but he was okay with remaining friends which was great! it was weird tho ‘cus i never wanted to like kiss him or anything, i just wanted to be around him all the time and like, be his best friend but a more official title? idk. he went back to america but the last time he visited i got to confirm my feelings for him were completely gone, now i just find him to b a good friend :]

but now there’s this fucker. and everything’s different.

i think the thing is that when we first interacted i got the vibe that he might’ve liked me even before i liked him so it wasn’t just wishful thinking, so i guess i felt like this wasn’t one-sided so i kinda let my feelings run wild?? but idk now. the first time we interacted he told me he doesn’t like touching people, but for some reason i was an exception, and for a while i was the only person he seemed to touch via like handshaking, grabbin’ my shoulder, puttin’ an arm around me, and the weirdest part was that i like it!! i typically don’t like being touched by ppl i barely know, but from the first day we met i didn’t mind him touching me, it’s bizarre. ANYWAY he touches our other friends too now n i feel less special n also worry that i totally misread the vibes from the first day enejfjehfh.

oh yeah my point was he was so touchy with me before i even got the crush on him, so i’m way more open to the thought of typical romantic-y physical affection with this guy than i have ever been with anyone. like. i wanna cuddle and hold hands and hmaybekiss??????? i’ve never felt like that with someone. i wanted to be near the guy from secondary school but i never wanted to ki s s someone before.

and i want to be his boyfriend. like for sure. with the last guy i didn’t know what i wanted with him, but i want to be this guy’s boyfriend. i want him to be my boyfriend. it’s nuts.

luckily this crush is causing me way less anxiety than the last one did tho! i’m kinda just always excited to see him n honestly feel like i could potentially get brave enough to tell him how i feel, even if it’s just so he can reject me and i can nip this in the bud lol. i just had no idea i was capable of feeling this way towards someone, i was pretty sure i was aromantic for a while! thank u for the reassurance, it’s a wild ride that hopefully calms down soon :]

#welcome back to Seán Shares Far Too Much Online #is it okay for me to post this stuff?? like for him? is it general enough?? idk d’you know what i mean?#like am i sharing too much info about HIM or #sjfjejf idk man this is weird

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team7-headquarter · 6 months

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hey, love your blog!!! just wanted to ask who your top 5 favourite naruto characters are right now? 🤭🤭

Thank for the love!!!!!

Since saying my favs are Team 7 feels kinda like cheating, I'll name my next favorite 5 characters so far, since I'm rereading the manga so I'm kinda forming new opinios, okay?

Oh. The order of the names mean nothing, btw. I'll just mention them as it goes.

DAN KATO: I know no one really cares about him because he was just a backstory love interest to Tsunade. Yet, for me he's full of potential. His trademark jutsu is dangerous... He's a ghost guy! How cool is that!!! And he genuinely loved Tsunade, accompanied her in her grief, stood by her side, inspired her and prioritized her over Konoha, at the end of the day. I can't stop making aus for him in my head... It's getting troublesome...

HAKU YUKI: At this point it is obvious that my favs aside from Team 7 are the ones that died waaaaay too soon and we couldn't quite enjoy as much as I wish we could. For me, Haku is one of the most important characters in the whole manga. His ghost haunts Naruto and all his actions and decisions. The Land of the Waves arc is my favorite and Haku is one of my favorite antagonists too. You can say Zabuza and Haku are the blueprint of the whole "talk no jutsu the antagonist until they self-sacrifice", which is not a small thing to say. Anyway, I love Haku!!!!!

TSUNADE SENJU: they gave us a woman president who is an alcoholic, uses her skills to substitute the non-existent plastic surgery, it's the most accomplished doctor of the whole world, has the strength to make any man crumble with a single punch, is totally obsessed with betting even when she's a classic cringefail... Just tell me, HOW can I not be obsessed? She's a war veteran, she's an older daughter, she's a princess, they blew to pieces her little brother, her lover died as she tried to heal him with her arms deep in his open wound, she basically adopts people and supports her and trains them to be their best versions, she was cut in half, she has an awful short temper, never fell in love with anyone else because she was faithful to her one and only love. I can keep going.

INO YAMANAKA: in truth I'm a total sucker for girl rivalries and friendships, but I also get so mad because Ino is so misunderstood!!!!!! Ino is the one member of the Konoha 12 that stood up against bullying when she was still just a child. She lost her father in the middle of a war and took up the leadership without complaining. She lost her sensei and had to watch him die because her while she applied her medical ninjutsu. She has an amazing trademark jutsu that captured even Obito for a while, she is cunning and bold and she's just unapologetically in her femininity. She will try to seduce her target, so what? She wants and wants loudly, she dreams big, she loves with all her heart. Ino is my special girl <3

SHISUI UCHIHA: This one is super recent, I'll have to admit. Like with Dan, it's completely based on the potential of the character. He had such a powerful sharingan and such an interesting personality. The manga barely mentions him, so there's plenty of room to play around with his characterization and the "what ifs". I also like his design a lot, it is like a male version of Kurenai! Also, it was either him or Obito on this list, because I've been thinking about Obito a lot. But yeah, I guess the funny Uchihas have my preference lol.

It's a weird list. Hm. Hope that's good enough for an answer...

#shanaruto asks #asks #naruto

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d3m0l1t10n-lvrs · 1 year

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HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!! Have an inkdrop Literature oneshot, as a treat :)

AO3 version

Valentine's day. You never enjoyed the holiday, you always spent it alone with discount chocolates and a cheesy movie, and that was good enough for you. Why even have a holiday to show love for your special people, anyways? Shouldn't you be doing that every day? It was all a scheme by big companies to sell big teddy bears and cheap chocolate, anyway. But now, after getting into a relationship... It made you nervous. Very nervous.

You knew Sun and Moon never cared about gifts or anything like that, that they just wanted you. But they have done so much for you, and you wanted to make them feel special. Now, holding the flowers you had bought for them, you felt a bit dumb. Was this enough? You looked to the Sunflowers in your left hand, then the Daturas in your right, and sighed. No, it's fine. Right? Yeah. It's fine.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the "Employees only" door on the second floor of the shop. The two celestial animatronics had instructed you to come by after the shop closed, and you were excited to see what they had planned.

The door opened, and you were greeted by your favorite boys. Sun, wearing a pink dress with ribbons for sleeves, and Moon wearing a light blue sweater with white hearts all over it. You blushed slightly, seeing how they got all dressed up just for you.

"Good evening, starlight!" Moon smiled brightly.

"Hello, Sunshine!" Sun greeted.

"H-Hey! Happy Valentine's day! These are for you guys!" You held out the flowers, hands shaking slightly.

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you! My favorite!" Sun clapped his hands and took the sunflowers.

"How lovely! Thank you, starlight!" Moon took the Daturas, gently brushing his fingers against yours in the process.

"Come in!" They then said in unison, taking either of your hands and leading you through the door. Their little apartment was decorated with paper hearts, candles, and flowers. On the couch sat a big, pink stuffed bear, and the TV was set up with your favorite movie. Cupcakes with pink icing also sat on the coffee table. "Aw, guys! This is so sweet! Thank you! I'm sorry I couldn't have gotten you something bigger, I re-" you were cut off by Sun. "Sunshine, the amount of gifts you give us doesn't equal how much you love us!" He lead you to the couch.

"We just want you. Your company," Moon said

"Your time," Sun added.

"And your love" Moon whispered in your ear, then brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. Sun did the same with your other hand, lingering a bit longer than Moon.

You blushed furiously, letting out a small "O-Okay"

"You're adorable, you know that? Our burning star~" Sun teased, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rocking side to side, taking you with him. "Stoooop" you groaned playfully.

"Maybe, for a price" Sun smirked. You felt a flutter in your stomach. "What price, officer?"

Sun cupped your cheek gently, then leaned in. "A kiss" he whispered, waiting a second before pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes, putting your hand on his. The moment felt as if it lasted too short, when Sun pulled away, you felt a bit disappointed. "I think I can let you off the hook, for now!" He flashed a grin at you.

"Now, time to pay interest" Moon said, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for another kiss. You gasped, but melted into the kiss quickly. While Sun's kiss felt too short, Moon kept you there for a while, enjoying every second. When he did pull away, you were, to put it lightly, a mess. Moon had messed up your hair, and you were bright red. "My, my, Moonie! Don't let our poor star overheat!" Sun giggled.

"Aw, but they're just so cute like this" Moon purred, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. "But, you're right. Let's give our little Daydream a break, and start the movie."

Sun nodded and pressed the play button on the remote. He then leaned against you, sighing contently when you wrapped your arm around him.

Valentine's day may be your new favorite holiday, if it means you get to spend it like this every year.

#fnaf security breach #inkdrop literature au #inkdrop literature #fnaf superstar daycare #sundrop #daycare attendant sun #fnaf sun #moondrop #moon fnaf #fnaf moon #moon x reader #sun and moon x reader #moon x y/n #sun x reader #sun x y/n

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