#robert pattinson imagine

[waynewifey]

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

#batman x you #batman x reader #the batman #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson x you #angst imagine #light angst #angst #edward cullen #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #dc universe #dc rp #dc comics #dark romance #fanfic #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x reader

[pasukiyo]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. | cedric diggory.

cedric diggory x f!muggle-born!reader 2,927 words warnings; nothing but fluffy fluff

 her quill gripped tightly between her thumb and index finger, she gazed up at the sky through her bedroom window as it bruised into a dark purple, soon becoming so dark, it was a bluish-black. it had been a rather uneventful day— she’d mostly been in her room, only going downstairs a few times for food when she needed it. otherwise, she was sat at her desk, working on the homework her professors at hogwarts had given her for over the summer. she’d been working on one of the excessive amounts of essays professor snape, the school’s potions master, for a few hours at this point, her brain tired, her vision hazy with sleep. her eyelids drooped and her body ached and screamed, longing for her bed, but she knew even if she were to lay down, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep. 

 she loved her parents, and even loved their little house in the midst of london, and she never took life as a muggle for granted. after all, it was nice every once and awhile to take a step back from the wizarding world, and to see life through the non-magic folk’s eyes. but her heart ached, it yearned for her life back at hogwarts, for her professors, (although, professor snape probably didn’t fall under that list) for her friends, for cedric diggory. 

 she supposed her boyfriend was the main reason she found sleep so hard to come by now— it had been a whole week since he had last sent her an owl, and undeniably, she began to feel anxious, worried that perhaps something had happened. after all, his last letter had given her absolutely no indication that anything was wrong at all. he’d never gone this long without sending her an owl, so she couldn’t help but fear for the worst. her owl, persephone, had come back a few days ago from cedric’s, no letter attached to her claw, much to her dismay. 

 cedric certainly seemed to have gotten her letter, so why couldn’t he write her back?

 she glanced back down to her parchment, her half-finished essay gazing up at her, and she sighed, tossing her quill back into its ink bottle. she couldn’t possibly do her homework when her mind was this preoccupied— but what else could she do? 

 she leaned back in her desk chair, lolled her head back, and closed her eyes, her eyelids heavy with worry, stress, exhaustion, all of the above. she could hear the purring of her cat, winston, from close by, felt his soft fur rubbing against her legs as he slithered between them, headbutting her ankles as he begged for attention. she didn’t open her eyes, however, (much to winston’s dismay as he resorted to jumping onto the mattress of her bed, tilting up his chin before tucking it between his paws) at least, not until she heard it. 

 clunk. 

 at first, she thought that perhaps it was just a bug flying into her window, and didn’t think much of it, although the noise had startled her. she settled further back into her desk chair and once again closed her eyes, hoping for some peace and quiet to ease her mind—

 clunk. 

 she peeled a single eyelid open in question, her brow furrowed. this noise seemed louder than the other, and unless a rather large bug had flown into her window, the chances of it being just that seemed slim to none. she sat up in her chair and blinked, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the window, daring for the noise to sound again. 

 clunk. 

 she was wide awake now, and could see that what had hit her window was not a bug, nor a bird, or anything of the sort— it was a rock. who on earth would be throwing rocks at her window, let alone at this time of night? she rested her palms against the wooden surface of her desk and pushed herself to her feet, taking a peek outside her window and down at the ground below, just as another rock thudded against her window, right near her face, causing her to gasp and jump backwards. 

 her gaze sharpened and she rushed to her window this time, keem on catching whoever was responsible for interrupting her peace and quiet. she blinked at the silhouette down in her mother’s garden below, unsure if what she was seeing was actually truly there or not. had she drifted off to sleep after all? was she dreaming? she made sure by pinching her skin, and making sure to press into her flesh hard, enough to make her wince. 

 she blinked. the pain was there, so that had to mean..

 she shook her head and unlocked her window before pushing it up and open, leaning over the surface of her desk to peer down at the figure below. “cedric?” she half shouted, half whispered at the boy as he gazed up at her, his lips curved up into a brilliant smile as he waved. “what are you doing— how did you..?” she shook her head again, unsure what to think of this. 

 “why don’t you come on down here so i can tell you?” he chuckled, and she swore she could see the gleaming in his eyes, even from all the way up where she was. she leaned back into her room to gaze over at the clock on her bedside table, it was a quarter past ten at night. she cocked an eyebrow at this as she leaned back over her desk, over the sill of her window, “do you realize what time it is? my mum and dad will kill me if they catch me sneaking out!”

 cedric’s smile only widened, and he, too, cocked an eyebrow up at her. “since when did the time stop us?” he asked in a laugh, and she felt herself flush at memories of sneaking around after hours at hogwarts with cedric, even including the one time they’d been caught by none other than peeves himself, which evidently resulted in mr. filch catching up to them, resulting in their detention. even then, they continued to sneak around at night, not even peeves the poltergeist or raggedy old mr. filch and his second-in-command cat, mrs. norris could stop them. 

 she sucked her bottom lip and toyed with it between her teeth, and when cedric smiled again and beckoned for her to come down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. “let me go grab my coat,” she called down to him, causing him to pump his fist in triumph. she couldn’t suppress a small laugh at this as she leaned back into her bedroom, pulling her window down closed as she drew air back into her chest. her skin warmed at the idea of the boy down below her window— how he’d been able to come out here, alone for that matter, was beyond her. but she couldn’t deny how good it made her feel, to be able to see her boyfriend again. 

 winston watched as she marched over to her closet and grabbed the her coat she could get her hands on, quick to slip it on over her t-shirt, slipping her feet into her socks and sneakers. persephone, who had been sat on her perch, sleeping up until this point, fluttered her eyes open to investigate the source of the noise. she gave her owl an affectionate pat on the top of the head as she passed by, slowly peeling her bedroom door open and carefully shutting it closed behind her, so as to not disturb her parents, who were sleeping in their room only a few doors down the hallway.

  as silent as she could, she crept down the stairway and into the living room, treading carefully on the tips of her toes all the way to her front door, making sure to grab the house keys from the hook before she stepped outside, locking the door behind her. as soon as she had turned around and stuffed her keys into her coat pockets, arms slid around her middle from behind and with a squeal, she was lifted from the ground as cedric twirled her around, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “cedric!” she squeaked when he sat her back down, pushing his chest with her palm. 

 “what? are you not happy to see me?” he joked, his hands grasping onto her elbows as he drew her near, his hands reaching up to swipe loose strands of her hair away from her face, cupping her cheeks as finally, he took his first, good look at his girlfriend in weeks. it was easy to get lost in cedric’s eyes, a raging sea of blue circling around the pupils, and already, she found herself lost in the current. but she blinked, her palms resting on his chest, “of course i’m happy to see you but.. why didn’t you send an owl?” she asked, her voice sounding sulkier than she intended it to. “do you know how worried i was when persephone came back without a letter?”

 cedric pouted, “i couldn’t have possibly sent you a letter without spoiling this surprise,” he sulked, playing with the ends of her hair. “please don’t be mad at cedric, he was just trying to be a good boy,” he pleaded in a high-pitched tone, much resembling one of a house-elf. he jut his bottom lip out further in a pout, blinking rapidly, his eyes much like a puppy’s. 

 how could she not laugh?

 she pushed at his chest and smiled at the ground, rolling her eyes. “you’re an idiot, cedric diggory,” she giggled as he, too, erupted into a fit of laughter, drawing her into his chest with a hand to the back of her head. “yeah, yeah. i missed you,” he murmured into her ear as her own arms snaked around his waist, basking in his warmth the best she could. she didn’t want to let go of him, she wanted to stay right there, soaking up his warmth in his arms forever. “i missed you too, cedric,” she mumbled into his chest, pulling away just enough so that she could gaze up at him. he smiled back down at her, once again swiping strands of her hair back behind her ear with one hand, the other staying wrapped around her waist. 

 “you should send pictures more often,” he muttered, the way her skin seemed to grow warmer to the touch at his comment not going unnoticed. he rested his palm on her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath her eye. “i miss seeing your pretty face every day, you know.”

 again, she flushed— how was it that cedric had such a way with words? 

 “fine, i’ll keep it in mind,” she replied, her fingers ruffling through the golden brown locks atop his head. “what are you doing here anyway? is there a special occasion?” cedric faked offense, his jaw dropping as he brought a hand to his chest, brow furrowed. “as if i only come to see my girlfriend on special occasions!” he scoffed, grabbing her hand before dragging her along behind him as they set off on the sidewalk. “no, i’ve come to take you on a nighttime stroll! you know, like the ones we take at hogwarts, in case you’ve forgotten..” 

 it was her turn to furrow her eyebrows, “of course i haven’t forgotten,” she tittered, catching up with him to walk side by side, tucking herself further into his side, grasping his upper arm with her opposite hand. “you could’ve come during the day time you know. could’ve introduced you to my parents, and we would have been able to actually go and do things,” she trailed off, glancing around the streets of london, not a single light to be seen inside of any of the buildings. “everywhere’s closed, you know.”

 cedric only shrugged, “that’s alright with me. just wanted to see you.” she narrowed her eyes at him as they walked, “how did you even get out anyway? i thought your father had you constantly on surveillance?” she inquired and cedric chuckled, hands in his pockets. “i have my ways,” was the only answer he gave, and before she could question him further, he began rummaging through his pockets, holding out something wrapped in a napkin to her. “almost forgot, thought you’d like something from our world,” he tittered as she unraveled the napkin, practically melting at the sight of a pumpkin pasty. 

 “god, i haven’t had one since the train,” she hummed as she took a bite, butting her head against his shoulder while she chewed. “thank you,” she mumbled, muffled by her mouthful of pumpkin pasties. cedric chuckled and nestled in closer to her side, staring down the street ahead of them. 

 “you know, i haven’t really been in the muggle world much,” he mused as she finished up her treat, rolling up the napkin into a ball and stuffing it into the pocket of her coat to throw away later. she cocked an eyebrow up at him, “you haven’t been to london?” cedric shook his head in reply, “not alone anyways. dad’s always busy with ministry work, and he’d rather die before letting either me or mum out alone.” 

 she hummed as she, too, gazed out at the street ahead, lit up solely by the street lamps lining it. “well, it’s not much compared to our world, but it has its moments,” she mused, and his smile widened, his hand creeping its way into her pocket, his fingers lacing together with hers before pulling them out from her coat. she glanced down at their now conjoined hands at their sides, heat surging to her cheeks. she blinked away, and she could hear cedric softly laughing beside her, his hand squeezing hers as his other hand reached across both of their bodies to cradle the side of her head, resting his chin on top of it. 

 “you’re cute when you’re shy,” he murmured, and she swore she had never wanted to punch more than she did now. she suppressed the urge, alas, as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, the touch of his lips sending her stomach into a frenzy, as though she were being tickled from the inside by the flapping of butterfly wings. “you’re such a flirt,” she grumbled, nestling closer into him. he cocked an eyebrow again, “is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

 she rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand again, letting her head rest on his shoulder as they walked, her hand not in his wrapped comfortably around his elbow. for a moment, they walked in silence, simply ravishing each other’s presence.

 “you know, there is something i’d like to ask you though,” cedric’s voice broke the silence at last, and she glanced up at him, a furrow in her brow. “sounds serious,” she replied and he pursed his lips, pretending to be serious as he nodded. “you know i’m already your girlfriend, you don’t have to ask me again.”

 he laughed at this and shook his head, jutting his hip out to hit hers. “clever,” he tittered, suddenly turning and taking either of her hands, swinging them around playfully. “i just— you know, the quidditch world cup is coming up soon,” he began, and she tilted her head. “i didn’t know that actually..” she trailed off— it was another thing she disliked about returning to her muggle life during break, it was so easy to become out of touch with the wizarding world. “oh. well, now you do,” cedric shrugged, “and, as my father works in the ministry, he was able to score some tickets…”

 her eyes twinkled, and cedric blinked as he stared into them, his words trailing off, seemingly held under whatever trance she had put him in. he blinked again, his eyelids fluttering as his gaze cowered to the ground. “and well, he managed to get an extra ticket and, you know, i was wondering if maybe..” he trailed off again and glanced up at her. she smiled, waiting for him to continue. cedric cursed himself mentally— why must she be so pretty that he felt so shy around her all of a sudden? “..do you wanna come with us?”

 she couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore, and she flung her arms around his neck, drawing him in so that their lips could surge into one another. cedric was quick to regain his confidence as his arms slithered around her waist, pulling her in even closer to deepen their kiss. she giggled as she pulled away, hands on either side of his face. “by the way you asked, i thought you were trying to propose,” she chuckled and he, too, couldn’t help but laugh. “not yet,” he murmured, smirking at the way she flushed at the comment. 

 silence fell upon them for another couple of moments, no sound to disturb their peace, save for the beating of either of their hearts. eventually, she rolled onto the tips of her toes to press another sweet kiss to his lips, cupping his cheeks and poking the tip of his nose with her forefinger. “why don’t you stay the night?” she asked, and his irises sparkled. “you can sneak back through my window in the morning and i can introduce you to my parents, you know, the normal way.”

 cedric tilted his head, “the normal way?”

she rolled her eyes, “the muggle way.”

a/n; not sure if anyone still reads cedric fics but i’ve been daydreaming about this one for a long time now and finally decided to post it teehee

#cedric diggory #robert pattinson #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #harry potter #robert pattinson imagine

[spideyanakin]

Heather

Cedric Diggory x reader

Based on Heather by Conan Gray

Synopsis - ‘As she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, she’s got you mesmerized.’ Cedric is oblivious to your feelings, so you end up watching as he dates a girl that isn't you. Will the two of you get a happy ending?

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Cedric Diggory Masterlist 🌻

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater

It was a cold day - a third of December to be exact. It was late in the afternoon and quidditch practice had just ended. You were drenched in sweat, your bright red Gryffindor quidditch jersey barely shielding you from the cold now that your body was cooling down from the exercise.

You fished in your bag but loudly cursed when you realized you had forgotten to pack your sweater and jacket. Fred had asked you to do something for him right before practice, making you almost late and also making you forget half of the things you wanted to pack on one of the Burgundy common room chairs.

A shiver slipped passed your lips, eyes darting up to the gloomy pathway leading up back to the castle. A thin strip of paved stone slithering up through the grass, the polished stones shining as rain poured down its hill.

Great.

You swallowed, wondering how you were going to make it back to the castle without freezing to death. You watched as the one and only Harry Potter got out of the changing room--all cozily wrapped up in warm layers of clothes, a big Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck, and a knitted sweater poking from under his blue raincoat

You really wished that could be you right now.

Keep reading

That was until your savior's voice broke you out of your spiraling thoughts like he always did.

Your name, so perfectly coming out of his lips, making butterflies flutter deep in the pit of your stomach. You tried to calm them down, try to make your heart beat calm before lifting your gaze to his. Eyes clashing with his grey ones. Like always, you felt the shivers tumble down your spine.

"Let me guess," he had a slight smile to his tone, the corner of his lips fighting to not form a teasing smirk, "you forgot your sweater?" The corner of his lips couldn't hold out the smirk any longer as your face fell in defeat.

"I think so," your eyes went back to the small window by the door, the pouring rain was threatening to turn to snow later in the evening. You bit your lip at the thought of walking through this storm in an already drenched quidditch jersey.

"What am I going to do with you?" He smiled, a bright smile that made you weak in the knees.

"I don't know Ced," you shrugged, brushing of the way his eyes never left you.

"Here," he didn't think twice before handing you his. "I know it's not Gryffindor but I'm sure it will at least keep you warm until you get back inside," all your thoughts froze in place, and for a second it felt as though it was only you and him in the small space between the changing rooms.

He was towering over you, arm reached towards you and his yellow sweater balled up in his hand. "Plus, it's too small for me now," he added, "It would look better on you, anyways," you had to look away to compose yourself from his words, an anxious breath leaving your lips.

Only if he knew how much you liked him.

You stared at the ball of yellow before gazing up to him, trying to make a decision. You were about to speak, maybe even accept his offer but you had to watch as his gaze flickered from you to someone passing behind. You painfully watched as his eyes softened and almost sparkled under the light.

Your shoulders slumped, bracing yourself for the worst of impacts; you already knew what you were going to see if you followed his eye line.

It was already as if he had taken your heart out of your chest and ripped it apart before your eyes.

You felt your head turn by itself, your heart dropping to your stomach when your suspicions were true. She walked there, right behind you in all her glory, Heather.

She flashed a bright smile towards Cedric, blatantly ignoring you before walking out the door, and into the raining lands of Hogwarts.

You watched the door for a good few seconds, the silence feeling heavy in your chest.

Heather was a Hufflepuff chaser, always first in class and always having something bright and positive to say.

What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky

Of course, she had to be prettier than you. Long brown hair braided for Quidditch, and crystal blue eyes that seemed to glisten in the sun. You would have sworn on your life she was part Veela if you hadn't already been familiar with her parents.

She's got you mesmerized, while I die

"No it's alright, I'll be fine," you muttered, "but thanks, I appreciate it." You brought him back to reality. His grey eyes leveled back to you as you pushed his hand back towards him. "I'll freeze my way back to Hogwarts," you half-joked, standing up before he could even argue.

So, you walked back up to the castle, heart broken into a thousand pieces and shoulders shaking from the cold.

Every day you had to be reminded that he loved someone else.

It all started last June, right before the summer holiday. Professor Trelawny paired them up in divination and ever since he only had eyes for her.

She seemed so perfect; a good sense of humor like you, mixed with the brains and the looks. She was even on the quidditch team, again like you...

But he only saw you as a friend. His childhood best friend who was placed in a different house than him. His childhood best friend who got into way too much trouble with the Weasley twins. His childhood best friend who was doomed to watch him love someone else from the other corner of the room.

But your misery couldn't end there. Because you knew Cedric and you knew that even if he was a Hufflepuff, bravery was his most prominent trait. You knew that it wouldn't be long until he asked her out: he had already been debating the idea since September.

And every single second of it felt like a knife to your heart.

And, by the next week of December, you had to watch as they walked into the great hall--hand in hand.

Watch as she stands with you, holding your hand

Of course, she would have said yes. It was Cedric Diggory--the heart throb. Everyone liked him, everyone dreamed of him. He was kind, and brave and everything someone could ask for in a relationship. All of his golden traits mixed into one beautiful being.

Somehow you thought that being his childhood friend would have made you higher up the list. That he would notice your lingering eyes and the way you reacted when he was close.

But you like her better, wish I were Heather

She was wearing his Hufflepuff sweater, the one he had offered you a week earlier. Now you sort of wished you had accepted it, not even that--that he would have given you the sweater as a token of his love, not as only helping a friend.

You gave her your sweater

Of course, Cedric spotted you by the Weasley twins, and of course, he wanted to introduce you.

Oblivious to how he painfully twisted the knife inside the wound, he sat in front of you by George, and Heather gracefully took a seat at his side, delicately hooking her arm around his torso.

put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

The lunch went on, and with every second you felt another piece of yourself crumble away. So much that by the end your mind had fully gone blank. Desperately trying to tune out the way he was holding her, stealing glances with her and everything you wished could happen with you.

She's got you mesmerized while I die

The worst part is that it was so painfully obvious to everyone else. Fred and George played eye tennis, reading each other's minds in an attempt to find ways to help you.

Fred who sat by your side ended up placing a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you. It somehow made you feel better, but you knew nothing could fix the Cedric-shaped hole in your heart apart from the man himself.

And after a painful half an hour, you decided you had enough, instead of holding in the pain, and pretending like everything was alright, you finally excused yourself, pretending you had finished your lunch early and mumbling something about extra homework to be done before class.

Your feet flew up to a little hidden corner of Hogwarts that to your knowledge only you and Cedric knew. It had become your hiding place, but he never seemed to come anymore. It was just you in this lonely corner of the world these past few months.

So you let the tears fall. Hot drops stained your cheeks and this time you couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't a random joke from the twins that could fix it. It wasn't his smile or something he would say that could cheer you up. It wasn't anything he could give you, because his heart was already taken. His heart had been partly given to someone else and in your lonely corner of the world, you wished you could have a piece. You wished that Heather hadn't taken all the pieces for herself.

Maybe it was selfish. But also how could you hate her? She had always been kind to you and even today she hadn't shown an ounce of jealousy towards your friendship.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel

No one was to blame.

You had to live with your misery.

December turned into April and the pain in your chest had become nothing but a numb feeling.

The tears were frequent though. And it would always be the red-haired twins that would try to glue the pieces of your heart back with jokes. Bring the pieces back with soft laughter and dumb pranks, but it was never enough.

You hated the way this made you drift away from him.

His presence seemed to get further as she stole him piece by piece. She made him drift away from you like a deadly river that was so beautiful you wouldn't guess that stepping in it would drag you miles away, making you drown in the process.

Was that what she was doing? Making him drown in her presence as the tied of her river dragged him further and further from you?

"Hey Y/n/n," George broke your thoughts, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

"S- sorry-" you blinked again, your eyes falling to the work on your lap.

"I asked you what you knew about Disneyland," he pointed to the paper; Muggle studies.

"I've been there once," you replied, your tone slightly off as the thoughts of Cedric tried to grab your train of thoughts again.

"And?" George paused and watched you swallow as you blankly stared at a spot on the carpet. "Y/n/n," he sighed and shuffled closer to you--placing a hand on your shoulder to catch your attention again. "Cedric's a dumb dumb," he whispered. "He's dumb to have chosen her instead of you, and dumb to have abandoned you after they started dating."

You took a long breath in and out, looking back down to the homework on your lap.

George looked at the clock and clicked his tongue "Let's go to quidditch practice, it will cheer you up," he grinned and stood up, making you follow him.

Rain was pouring down the freshly cut lawn of the quidditch pitch, reminding you a bit of that December evening.

You leaned a bit against George as you walked, your eyes drifting to the opposite side of the pitch, wondering the house you were playing against today.

Of course, practice had to be against Hufflepuff...

To your surprise, Heather wasn't glued to Cedric as they walked out--and both of their gazes seemed to be lost elsewhere.

Did they fight?

Something in the back of your mind was asking. Cedric looked pretty mad, and it didn't take long for you to get confirmation when you watched him guide his team. Although he wasn't being mean, his tone was harsher and his patience short--making every yellow-wearing player feel uneasy.

From the other side of the pitch, Heather was pointing a deadly glance at you. The rain was already bringing you shivers, but her stare was even worst and it made you wonder what in the world happened.

You hadn't done anything. Hell, you hadn't even talked to Cedric in weeks.

You hadn't even noticed George had left your side and paired up with his twin again, excitedly whispering to each other.

"What's going on?" You questioned, their grins only expanding as they caught your eyes.

"I've got something to tell you," he sang along his words, bouncing on his feet.

"What's up?" You smiled with them, their grins contagious and spreading faster than any other disease.

"There's a rumor."

"A very interesting rumor," George chimed.

"Cedric and Heather had a fight."

"A fight?" They got your attention. "About what?"

"2 rumors: That she cheated on him with Jamie Lammerson,"

"they've been awfully close lately," George added.

"Second rumor is that she did it because he's been acting more distant lately," Fred continued.

"That's he's been acting distracted," George finished.

"Distracted? By what?"

The twins looked at each other like they knew the biggest part of the puzzle which you were apparently clueless off.

"You!"

"Me?" You shook your head. "Impossible," you laughed, a bittersweet laugh that felt sour on your tongue.

"Not as impossible as you think," they said in unison before making their way further the quidditch pitch, leaving you stranded with your own thoughts.

~

This time you hadn't made the mistake of forgetting your sweater, and Cedric noticed.

He noticed?

"I'm glad you brought your sweater today," he smirked. A smirk you hadn't been on the receiving side of in weeks.

What the heck was he doing talking to you? Shouldn't he be with Heather, laughing about a dumb joke she made?

You blinked, "y-yeah."

Him, on the other hand, he had completely forgotten his. He was soaked with rain, wet hair that fell to his forehead making water drops drip onto his shoulders.

"But you forgot yours," you noticed.

"I did," he scrunched up his face and twisted a part of his shirt to drench the water in a poor attempt to dry it.

Somehow it wasn't awkward. Even if he had spent weeks without talking to you, your friendship didn't seem to have taken any impact.

Your smile lingered and you noticed that his stare did too.

Weird.

Were the twins right?

Right until Heather stepped out of the changing room. Her wet hair tied in a bun, she was all wrapped in dry clothes, fixing something about her bracelet by the changing room entrance.

Cedric noticed her, and suddenly, the glim in his eyes died down, making you frown.

He cleared his throat--giving you a stiff nod before following her out and back up to the castle. You heard his words echo from a distance--something about needing to talk about their fight.

It made you frown even more.

But you couldn't dwell on that too long, you were on broom cleaning duty.

The rain had made your job easier. It had partially removed all the dirt from the collections of nimbus and cheap school brooms. You didn't mind the work and the thundering rain made relaxing music as you meticulously scrubbed every last one of them.

You dusted your hands and admired the clean brooms aligned on the floor of the big shed, awaiting polish and all the other products to make them stay pretty and shiny.

You opened the closet and frowned when you saw that the polish was empty, realizing you would have to go to the other side of the field to the second storage unit; the one with old broken brooms and extra products.

You grabbed your raincoat, securing the hood before darting across the pitch and slipping in between the tall bleachers, walking along the field downhill towards the crooked storage shed, half hidden in between the overgrown trees and bushes.

"Wait- we have to stop-" You heard mumbling from the inside, freezing as you realized people were in there. Great. You had forgotten this was a famous make-out spot.

"What do you mean stop? Is this about Cedric? Aren't you two practically broken up?" You gulped as you heard the name, your heartbeat quickening.

Maybe you heard the name wrong, or it was another Cedric?

But the female voice that spoke again felt way too familiar.

"Well, I think we sort of made up?" You balled up your fist. So it was true, Heather was cheating on Cedric--with who you expected to be nonother than Jamie.

Cedric wore his heart on his sleeve while she was doing all this behind his back...

"You made up!?" Jamie's voice became a bit angrier. "Heather, I thought you were ending this? I thought you said he became interested in what's her name again?"

Was he talking about you? You munched at your lip in anxiety as the conversation went on.

The rain was still harshly falling against your raincoat, but you were frozen in place. It felt impossible to move with what you were overhearing.

"Yeah, Y/n. She's one of the Gryffindor chasers. The one who broke your nose last game, remember?"

"Oh, her. Aren't they like best friends of something?"

"Kind of..." She mumbled--she seemed angry.

Jamie laughed at her reaction. "She's definitely a threat. I thought they were together before the two of you were a thing."

What you didn't see was Heather shooting daggers at him with her stare.

"Will you shut up?" She sounded mean, nothing like the facade she wore every day.

"Why? You dragged me here remember?" Jamie bickered back and you could sense tension in their words, this felt like your cue to leave.

The brooms would be fine without polish.

You turned back, making your way back up the small field leading up to the pitch. Walking through the bleachers again and back inside the shed.

What the fuck?

~

The next day, that overheard conversation was eating you whole.

You were walking in the middle of the hallway as you headed to your next class, Fred and George on either side of you like usual. You were drifting off into thoughts again, running images of how you were going to tell Cedric, or how you were going to attempt to make this situation stop.

He was your best friend, and he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her.

"Hey!" A voice came from behind you, making you jump as you felt two hands on your shoulders. You all turned around to meet a bright-eyed Cedric.

He looked all happy and giddy and it made you raise an eyebrow.

"Can I steal Y/n for a second?" He looked at each of the twins.

"Ask her," they both pointed to you.

"Yeah," You nodded, not being able to help the small smile that bloomed on your lips at the sight of him. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you." He looked behind your shoulder to make sure the twins had continued their way and weren't eavesdropping like they famously did. "Somewhere quieter," he smiled and you almost thought he was blushing.

"Sure."

You followed him down to your secret place. Your hidden corner of the world where you had spent the last few months coming alone.

It felt weird seeing him there again, especially with you.

"I wanted to apologize." He awkwardly stood in front of you, scanning your features for a reaction.

"Apologize?" Your scrunched your eyebrows. "For what?"

"For how distant I've been lately..." He went back and forth on his heels and looked down to the floor. "For the way I've been ignoring you-"

"Cedric, it's ok."

"No, it's not. It's not because you didn't deserve this. I've been an awful friend lately and it's been because of-" He didn't want to stay it. He didn't want to voice the name of the person whom he knew had caused you and him all this pain.

He might have been oblivious for a long time, but now he knew.

And he wasn't going to take this opportunity for granted.

"Because of her"

"You can't blame her, it's normal, she's your girlfriend-"

"Was," he corrected you. "She was"

You blinked, your breath catching in the back of your throat as the words registered.

"What?"

"We broke up," you looked to the side as you tried to process the information.

Was that why he was acting all happy when he asked you to follow him here in the first place?

"But I thought?"

He shook his head.

"I told her it was over yesterday. We got into another fight because she complained about the fact that I was talking to you after practice," he took a step closer to you, "but she also made me realize that it wasn't her I liked," he looked down to his feet, and you could feel your heart leaping in your chest.

"I've heard things... about um- the way you might feel too. But- if it's not true, I'm not going to ask you to feel the same-" He sighed through his nose and suddenly your whole world lit up again. "But I want you to know."

"I'minlovewithyou" you muttered, barely audible.

He heard it. His whole being lighting on fire as the words climbed up to his mind.

But he wanted to hear you say it again.

"What did you say?" He muttered, reaching to cup your cheek as he took a step closer to you, chests touching.

"I'm in love with you," you said again, loud and clear for him to hear.

Cedric didn't think twice before leaning down, breath mingling together as he whispered.

"I'm in love with you too," he smile before closing the gap between your lips faster than you could say Quidditch.

You thought you were going to explode, your body as his hand found itself on your waist.

You were kissing Cedric.

You were kissing your childhood best friend.

find the archived version here

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#Cedric Diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory fan fiction #cedric diggory x reader #Cedric Diggory x you #Cedric Diggory x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson

[audrey-emeralds]

Can you please do a fake instagram with Rob x actress!reader, where they break the internet by announcing the birth of their daughter and no one even knew they were pregnant cause they were so secretive. 😭🙏🏻

Liked by taylorswift and 11,829,023 others

ynpattinson For the past few months I have been preparing for my biggest role ever, putting my phone and scripts aside and reading magazines and many other books, listening to pieces of advice given by my mother and being educated for a new part in our lives. We are incredibly thankful for our baby girl and can't wait to meet her, so I only ask of you guys to give us a break, and some privacy and you will hear from us again when we are ready.

Love, Robert and Y/n Pattinson

View all 12,313 comments

blakelively can't wait for girl play dates

robbertsmommy aaaaaaa congrats

zebramelon that's so amazing, congrats!

annehathaway the best of news right now, congratulation 🎉

rosiehw *adds another member to the mom group chat*

empattinson4lifeeeee ah! THIS IS AMAZING

sorrynotsingle oml there is a Pattinson baby on the day, I repeat a Pattinson baby on the way!

robpfandom girl this is some cute ass news, good for you

Liked by arianagrande and 13,828,972 others

ynpattinson After a few months here we are, introducing Amelia Charlotte Pattinson, our greatest creation.

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annehathaway hey there Amelia!

rosiehw ❤❤❤️

zoekravitz congarts dear!

intorpattinson my god it's a baby

user1 queen y/n is back, with a little princess

ynxroberopat AMELIA is literally my middle name and CHARLOTTE is my cousin's name like aaaaaaaaa!!!!!!

klever.choicess.wseals wow they look good

mother.onthw.internet3234 welcome into motherhood

attention-lights bro, this is slowly killing the internet, no joke

robertsvampiregirl nawww she is adorableeeeeee

12,330,076 likes

ynpattinson mama's precious little thing 🐥

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empattinson4lifeeeee stop the earth, people look who posteddddd

ynpattinsonsprettiest how amazing is this ahhhhhhhh

pattinsonverse ah they are soo lovelyy

robertpqttinsonfan11 precious!!!!!!

lovinrobertp the greatest thing on the internet fr

flag.gassed omg where is that

ynylnfanpagee amelia's hair is soo cute!!

rad.io.music IT GIRLS OF THE CENTURY

#robert pattinson instagram #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson icons #robert pattinson #fake social media #fake instagram #social media au #instagram au

[angelltheninth]

Battinson x virgin female reader headcanon

Sure Anon! Always love more Battinson content.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, gentle sex, cunnilingus, fingering, praise, Bruce is a romantic

A/N: Maybe it's just me, but Battinson seems to be really popular in terms of requests. Is it because it's the version I started writing for first?

Bruce is make sure your first time is the most romantic night of your life so far

It's not that he places a high value on virginity or anything like that, it's because it's you, and you're the most important person in his life right now

So he makes sure your experience is the best it can be

He doesn't want to push you and makes it clear you can back out any time, just say the word

Pretty confidant in his own skills

And with good reason too, he is very practiced with his hands and mouth

Could spend the whole night just eating you out, and has on a few occasions

He does that cute little thigh where he kicks and sways his feet into the air behind him while he eats you out

Careful when he stretches you out with his fingers

If you like flavored lube you can try that sometime but right now he just wants to make this as comfortable as possible for you

The lube feels even colder because you're already sensitive and stimulated from mouth and fingers

Keeps whispering sweet things against your hip and thighs, always reassuring and praising how you're doing really well so far

By the time he slowly introduces his cock you can tell how painfully hard he is

He's holding back, his hands and hips are shaking from how good it feels to just be inside you, to be one with you

Gently cups your lower back with his hips and lifts you up a little so his cock can slide in easier and deeper

You can tell by the way his eyes are shut tight and sweat gathering on his eyebrows that he's really concentrating on just your pleasure

As soon as he feels you pulling him close and your body arching into him he has to pull out or else risk coming inside of you

It's fine though, feeling his hot, sticky cum on your stomach and boobs is hot enough, there will be time for creampies later

You both have these silly, happy, smug smiles on your faces as you kiss the aftershocks of your orgasms away

He insists on cleaning you up, but not with a tower, with his mouth

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #the batman #the batman imagine #the batman x reader #batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman smut #battinson #battinson x reader #battinson imagine #battinson smut #dc #dc imagine #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine

[folklorcore]

how about a little scenario where the reader wrote call it what you want for robert and him reacting to it

call it what you want ─ r. pattinson

Thank u so much for your request. <3

Pairing: Robert Pattinson x Singer!Fem!Reader

TW/Tags: Established relationship, pure fluff.

Summary: Everyone believes that fame is happiness and perfection, but on the other side of the coin is that at any moment they can destroy you. And that's what happened to you, but during that you met Robert, who you wrote a song for and he reacts to it for the first time.

Words count: 0.83 k.

Robert's Masterlist.

As is known, fame is not always rosy. Much less perfect.

You learned this as soon as a rumor that nearly destroyed your entire reputation caused you to disappear from the public eye for almost half a year.

If it hadn't been for Robert, you honestly wouldn't have pursued that career.

The two first met in person a month after the whole mess went off. When you first started dating, dubious about everything that was going on, you tried to break up with him a couple of times. You didn't think it was good for his career that when both went public with your relationship, they linked him to you.

Most of the discussions were about that. And they always brought you to tears.

So he took you by the cheeks, caressed them gently and looked directly into your eyes.

"Listen to me, if I'm with you knowing everything that happened it's because I really love you for the great person that you are. I know that the y/n they talk about out there is not my y/n. I'm here to stay, honey ."

And that's when you started planning your comeback, preparing your next studio album.

In which there was a song, or more, for Robert.

"All the liars are calling me one,

nobody's heard from me for months,

I'm doing better than I ever was."

You started humming while writing the lyrics.

As the days passed you had more than half the song done.

Everything was inspired by the situation you were going through, how you went from feeling so low but Robert helped get you out of the hole you were in when everyone turned their backs on you.

There was one time where they almost saw you on the streets of Hollywood when you and he went to buy breakfast, only you stayed inside the black armored van and they only got photos of the actor. But they were photos of him smiling at the van as he got into it.

Magazine articles and Internet pages began to speculate about Robert's new conquest, but they never imagined that it would be you.

"'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream,

walking with his head down,

I'm the one he's walking to."

You recorded little clips of moments with him for a possible video for the song.

Moments when it was you and him in a cabin you had in Canada. You spent much of the time there.

You playing the guitar by the fireplace with him in front of you while recording the video.

Walks in the woods. You smiling as he took your hand to kiss the back of it. You composing. You looking at the snowy landscape through the window with a cup of hot chocolate in it. Making forts under the covers in the living room.

"Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night."

It was almost completely finished, only the bridge was missing.

As you tried to figure out what you could write on that part, you brought your hand up to your clavicle, playing with the thin chain that hung from your neck with Robert's initial.

And just like in the cartoons, it was like a light bulb went on over your head.

"I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck." you murmured singing, writing everything before the idea left.

And at least a couple of days later the song was completely finished. A week later you went to record it in a studio and a couple of months later the album was completely ready.

That had been three months ago. All your fans received you in a good way along with your new album.

And some time later the rumor that had caused your disappearance was denied.

You started a tour and that was the first night of it. And it would be the first time Robert would hear the song, because you wanted it to be special, when the album came out you didn't let him hear it.

"This song was inspired by a person who stayed with me all the time when I disappeared," the screams of the fans filled the stadium, making you smile. You looked in the audience for your boyfriend, who was already looking at you with happiness shining on his face. "Robert, this is for you."

You started to sing the song, watching at all times Robert's reaction, which did not stop smiling with love.

"So call it what you want, yeah,

call it what you want to."

You finished, your chest heavy with joy and adrenaline, facing the entire audience with a genuine smile.

Backstage you looked for Robert, and when you saw him you ran to him to hug him, so he welcomed you with open arms, hugging you tightly.

"I loved the song."

"Yeah?" You looked at him affectionately and he nodded caressing your cheek.

"Yeah." He tilted his face a little so he could kiss you softly.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

#val's version #missamercana #robert pattinson #robert pattinson fanfic #robert pattinson imagines #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson fluff

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

#neil tenet #tenet movie #tenet #tenet 2020 #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson imagine #deadlines & commitments

[storiesforallfandoms]

my favorite superhero ~ robert pattinson

word count: 2601

request?: yes!

“hii, recently saw that u write for robert pattinson, if ur requests r open, could u write something about being his gf and going to the batman premiere with him and overall just being excited that he is Batman, thank uuu”

description: in which she goes to support him on the biggest night of his career

pairing: robert pattinson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, lil steamy moment but nothing explicit, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

From the very beginning, Robert had zero confidence that he would get the role as Batman.

He had mentioned it so casually to me during dinner one night, as if he was telling me about a mundane thing that happened in his day. “Curtis put my name in for some Batman movie.”

I nearly dropped my fork in shock. “What?! As which character?”

“Batman.”

“What?! Babe, that’s exciting! Why aren’t you more excited over it?”

“I’m likely not going to get it, so why get my hopes up?”

I looked at him, stunned. I couldn’t believe he was saying this. Robert loved acting, and he was excited over every character he had even a chance of playing. To have the opportunity to play one of the biggest and most loved superheroes in the world should’ve had him giddy with excitement, even if there were a number of steps until he knew whether or not he got the role.

“You have just as much chance as anyone else whose names are in for the role,” I said. “I think you can be excited over it.”

Robert shook his head. “I’d doubt it. I’m just the Twilight guy, I’m not a real candidate to play Batman of all characters.”

“I’d argue that playing a vampire makes you the best candidate to play a bat.” My joke finally coaxed a smile out of him, and I smiled back. “You don’t have to be excited if you don’t want to, but I’ll be excited enough for the both of us.”

And I was. I continued to be excited when Curtis called Robert to let him know that the director, Matt Reeves, wanted him to audition for the role. I hyped him up the day of the audition, which I could tell was making him feel a little more confident, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. I held that confidence when he was one of few actors that was chosen for a callback. I held it all the way to the day that Robert got a call from Matt Reeves himself.

His face gave everything away during the phone call, but I waited until he gave me the news himself before I celebrated. “I got it. I got the part!”

I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly, kissing all over his face just to be a little more extra with my celebrations. I refrained from the “I told you so” in that moment. I figured it would be best to save that for when the movie came out and was a massive hit.

It was a long process. Robert didn’t change much physically as he didn’t agree with actors basically completely changing their bodies to play superheroes, but Matt still figured out a way to make the process incredibly long. The costume fittings and fight choreography took weeks before filming even began. When filming did start, it lasted for many months. Robert would never admit to how exhausted filming made him, but I cold see it on him after his long days on set. Despite all of that, though, Robert was beyond happy in the role and excited for the movie’s release.

That day arrived a lot quicker than we expected. It felt like one day the filming was just starting, and the next the two of us were getting ready for the premiere. I had picked out a silky black dress to wear and was in the process of putting on a smokey eye look as my tribute to Robert’s character when he walked into the room.

“You really do not need that much makeup,” he said as he came over to kiss my cheek. “You look so beautiful without it.”

“I know,” I responded with a shrug. He chuckled. “But I wanted to base my look on Batman. So, black dress, and I think smokey eye makeup works really well for the vibe of the character. Especially after your raccoon eyes in the trailer.”

Robert laughed again. He sat down on the bed behind me and watched me finish up my makeup. I caught a few glimpses of him through the mirror every so often. He was dressed in a black suit, looking incredibly dapper and handsome, and he was watching me with this dreamy look on his face. I smiled to myself as I put on my foundation. I felt incredibly lucky to have such an amazing and loving boyfriend. Here he was, a big named actor who had just played the role of a lifetime and was about to debut that movie, but he was looking at me as if I were the star.

“What if we ditch the premiere and you let me take that dress off you and make your makeup run?” he asked once I had put the finishing touches to my look on.

I spun around to look at him, trying to seem shocked but I knew my amusement was outweighing the shock. “Robert!”

“What? Can you blame me? You look so good.”

He took hold of me and pulled me up from my vanity. He sat me down on his lap and started to kiss my neck. I tried to fight back the tingling feeling that was running from where he was kissing me down to between my legs. If I gave into that feeling I knew we would miss the premiere, like Robert was trying to do.

“We are not missing the premiere of what will likely be the biggest movie of your career,” I said as I reluctantly pushed him away from my neck. “Besides, I took too long getting ready for you to mess it all up so soon, and for no one to see how good I look.”

Robert groaned and rested his head against my shoulder. “I don’t want to go.”

“Why not? I thought yo were excited about the movie.”

“I am. I’m proud of what we made, and I can’t wait to see the finished product. But...what if people don’t like it?”

I took his face in my hands. “There’s always going to be people who don’t like it, baby.”

“I know that. But what if no one likes it? What if they all think it’s garbage? That I’m garbage?”

“You can’t let the what ifs stop you though. There’s always a chance people won’t like it, that’s just how being in the entertainment business is. But you put everything into this role. No one can say you were garbage in this role. And if they do, it’s because they just don’t like who you are or they can’t see past your role in Twilight to realize how amazing you truly are as an actor, not because you did bad in the role.”

He looked at me for a while before leaning forward to kiss my lips. “I don’t deserve you.”

I giggled. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to support you and tell you not to sweat the haters because they suck anyways and you’re cool, and stuff like that.”

He smiled and gave me another kiss. “I guess we should get going then, before I change my mind.”

“I guess we should.”

I could feel Robert’s anxiety as we drove to the premiere. I held his hand the entire way, giving him reassuring squeezes every now and then. I knew there wasn’t much else I could do for him besides just support him until the premiere started and he got to see everyone’s reactions to he movie. I had nothing but faith that the movie was going to be good, and I knew that Robert had done amazing in it. I just wished he had that same confidence in himself that I did. But, once again, I didn’t mind having enough confidence for the two of us.

When we arrived to the red carpet, I felt his entire body tense. There were so many people there already, all cheering and taking pictures. They knew who was in the car before Robert even opened the door. So many excited people there to see him in this role.

I squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention back to me. “You’re gonna be fine. The movie is going to be amazing.”

He gave me a small smile before opening the car door. Deafening cheers filled the air as everyone saw him. He held out a hand to me to help me out of the car as well, ever the gentleman that he was. We both smiled and waved at the fans who had been waiting for him. Robert took the time to sign some autographs and take pictures. I could see the fan interactions were helping to bring down his nerves a little bit. If he could, I knew he would’ve stayed here with the fans all night instead of actually doing an interviews or going in for the premiere. But, unfortunately for him, he had to move along eventually.

He stopped to do a couple of interviews on the red carpet. All of the questions were basically the same: how did he prepare for the role? What was his reaction when he got the call about getting the part? Could he see this movie becoming a franchise of it’s own given that it wasn’t a part of the currently established DC cinematic universe?

Robert answered each question with the same generic answer before moving along to the next interview. He tried to move through them as quickly as possible so we could get into the venue, but being he main star of the movie meant that every interviewer was trying to stop him for a couple of questions, and there were a lot of interviewers. I wasn’t even the one talking and yet I could feel myself growing tired of it all.

One interviewer did spot me behind Robert and said, “I see you’ve brought the lovely (Y/N) with you tonight.”

“I have indeed,” Robert responded, turning to extend an arm to me so I would join them. “If it wasn’t for her endless support throughout the entire process, I may not have even be here tonight.”

“What does that mean?” the interviewer asked.

“It means that I forced him to be here tonight,” I responded, keeping my tone light. “He’s a little nervous, as one would be playing such a huge character, but I think he’s done amazing and the movie is going to be amazing.”

“There seems to be a lot of good buzz around the movie from critics so far, so I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about in that regard.”

I smiled up at Robert, mentally preparing for that “I told you so” moment.

We finally managed to get off of the red carpet and into the venue. I felt the tension in Robert’s body deflate once we were away from all the cameras and the screaming fans. The next step was going to be the Q&A, and then finally the movie.

“The movie has good buzz,” I repeated to him as we walked through the venue.

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I heard her. I guess I’ll know tonight for sure how much positive buzz it will have.”

“You gotta stop doubting yourself. It’s going to be amazing!”

Robert wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” I teased before kissing his cheek.

~

Hours passed. The Q&A went smoothly, and then it was time for everyone to finally see the movie. Robert’s knee bounced anxiously almost the entire time. He kept glancing around the quiet room as we all took in the film. I noticed him look over at me a number of times during the film, but I was so entranced by it that I couldn’t pull myself to look back at him.

I had no idea what he was so worried about. The movie was amazing! Probably one of the best movies in general I had seen in such a long time, let alone the best superhero movie I had seen. And I can promise that wasn’t just because my boyfriend was in the starring role. It was genuinely amazing, and I was prepared to sing its praises to Robert when it ended, but it seemed I had to wait my turn. The moment the credits started to roll, the audience began to clap and raise to their feet. Robert looked around him in surprise at everyone facing him, and the rest of the cast, as they applauded. I smiled brightly at him as I also rose to my feet to be a part of the standing ovation.

Robert, Matt, and Zoe moved towards the front of the room so they could bow for all the applause. The standing ovation went on for some time, which they definitely deserved but my hands began stinging after a minute or too, so I just stopped and smiled happily at Robert. I could see that the weight had been completely lifted from his shoulders. He was standing a little taller, and a little prouder now that he had gotten to see the positive reaction to the movie first hand.

When the applause finally died down, Robert was kept around for another few minutes as people came up to him to congratulate him on how great it was. I stood by and watched, feeling extremely happy for him but also starting to feel the pain of wearing heels for basically five hours straight. Robert looked over and spotted me, then thanked those around him for the kind words before excusing himself. He took me into his arms the moment he reached me and pulled me to him to kiss my lips.

“They really loved it,” he said, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Everyone did.”

“That’s because the movie is incredible, babe,” I told him. “Seriously, I think it’s one of the best movies I’ve ever seen.”

I could see the tips of his ears turning pink at the compliment. “Well, let’s not go that far.” But the smile on his face gave away the humble act he was trying to pull.

“Let’s go home?” I asked, leaning into his touch as I felt fatigue start to wash over me. “I’m ready to take all of this off and let you do whatever it was you had planned for me earlier.”

He smirked. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to do that all night. I could barley keep my hands off of you in this dress. I can’t wait to see how nice it looks on the floor next to our bed, though.”

We started for the exit. Our ride was waiting for us just outside the door. Robert thanked a few more people who stopped him to compliment him on the movie before the two of us finally got into the car and started back towards home. My head was resting against his shoulder as we drove along, the car dark except for the occasional street light shining in through the window. We were close to home when something popped into my head.

“I told you so.”

He looked over at me, an eyebrow quirked. “What was that?”

“I said I told you so. I’ve been waiting a very long time to be able to say that, and now I can.”

Robert chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “You did tell me so. Please keep telling me so for the rest of time.”

I smiled. “I will.”

#robert pattinson #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson x reader #imagine #rpf #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[dreamtinblackandwhite]

Hi lovey. I saw u post writing prompt and ur free to take this as an idea or a request but can we have "You mumble in your sleep, you know, it's quite fascinating." for robert pattinson’s role as monte from high life or bruce wayne if u’d prefer? there hasn’t been any fics of his role as daddy monte its criminal 😢

how have I never noticed there is nothing for Monte! well, now there's a little something :) thank you SO MUCH for reaching out!

Our Daughter

pairings: Robert Pattinson!Monte x Mom!Reader

background, in case you have seen or heard of High Life: Monte (Robert Pattinson's character) is among a group of criminals who depart on a space mission to collect scientific data. There is a doctor onboard (Dibs) who is obsessed with using the men on the ship to get the woman pregnant. However, every baby (and eventually every adult) die from radiation poisoning, leaving only Monte and the baby Dibs created from his sample (Willow) alone. Basically the entire ship is sex crazed except for Monte - it's a crazy movie, y'all.

Warnings: fluff, a few swear words, little bit of angst, mention of implied sexual encounters, mention of drug use, like two sentences of implied nudity, pretty sure that is all!

word count: 2430

You sat in the main operation room watching Monte’s viewpoint while he worked to repair a damaged hull section. Willow babbled in your lap, tugging at your hair occasionally. “Dada!” She giggled over and over again with the goofiest grin while watching the images in front of her.

“That’s dada!” You agreed, laughing softly as you bounced the baby on your knee.

“Hi Willow,” Monte sang through the speakers between his soft grunts as he worked. “Alright, all quiet,” he grumbled softly as he started to do the more precise work. You turned Willow from the screen and started to make silly faces at her, trying to get her to just giggle instead of call her for her dad.

It worked… sort-of. She giggled at you, but continued babbling ‘dada’ over and over again. Hearing Monte chuckle warmed your heart; you couldn’t deny how happy he seemed to be a dad, even considering the pending death they were facing. “I’m here, honey,” he reassured in a soft voice as Willow continued to babble for him.

“I knew I should have pushed ‘mama’ harder,” you joked in a quiet voice, scrunching your nose at the small child in front of you. Monte said nothing, he often avoided talking about Willow’s parentage – even though you were both subjected to similar experiments by Dibs. You knew it was because you weren’t really Willow’s mother. No, you were never one of Dibs ‘successes’ and each child you bore for her died from the radiation.

You barely registered Monte’s calm voice trying to calm the babbling baby while you were distracted by thoughts of what you lived through just months ago. It wasn’t until Willow was suddenly screaming and flailing in your arms that you were pulled back to the present. “Shit,” you mumbled, standing up and gently rocking Willow in your arms trying to shush her.

“Ah,” Monte winced sharply at the high-pitched sound that probably could have blown his ear drum through the mic in his suit. “Damnit, Y/N,” he groaned as he flinched back and hit a wrench off the edge of the station, watching as it floated away towards nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as Willow finally settled in your arms after you distracted her with the makeshift doll she loved. Monte simply grunted in response before collecting the repair kit back together and making his way inside.

You and Monte didn’t speak much, there wasn’t much of a need anymore. You simply co-existed for Willow, she was your only connection. It was easy to adopt the routine Dibs laid out for the crew into this strange new life of just three. Every day was the same array of chores, passing Willow back and forth depending on who was working on what.

You made sure to always eat together; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was something Monte had insisted upon when you finally accepted that the radiation would not bring the last three of death. This surprised you, but you didn’t argue it. You’d sit in silence, taking turns feeding Willow, and trying to enjoy her youth in this steel, grey life you were stuck in.

Today was no different, now that Monte was done with his repairs and he’d sent the system required message back to Earth so our water would run (even though it would be hundreds of years before anyone would hear it). He walked into the main operation room and swiftly pulled Willow from your arms, ignoring your pained sigh as he did.

“We’re going to dump the bodies,” he informed, looking at you hesitantly.

“That’s probably a good idea, best to shut off any system that we don’t need…” you trailed off, picking up the clutter of garbage that Willow would grow up to think are toys. The images from Earth clicked through on the screen, catching both of your attention for a few silent seconds.

“Do you regret coming?” Monte whispered slightly, as if he was afraid of your answer.

You shook your head, running a nervous hand through your hair. “I wouldn’t call it regret – I would have died if I stayed on Earth.” You tossed some of the objects into the makeshift play area at the center of the room, “but, who knows, maybe that would have been better than this.”

“I read your file,” he admitted next. You nodded, this didn’t surprise you – if Dibs had left the command chip to you, you would have read his.

“I know,” you replied with a shrug. Monte knelt down and let Willow support her weight with only three of his fingers as she tried to stumble walk towards you. You knelt to the same level and held your hand out to encourage her.

“You didn’t deserve to come here – everyone else; murders, rapists, sex-traffickers…” he avoided your eyes and focused on Willow trying to stumble back towards him now.

“It kept me clean,” you defended the decision you made a lifetime ago to come here. “I tried so many times back on Earth, but I’d always end up with the same people and I’d always end up half-dead in rehab.” You hugged Willow close to my chest as she exploded into a giggling mess after falling into your arms; she quickly recovered and turned to stumble back towards Monte – this was her favorite game, and Monte and you could do it for hours on end.

Monte’s eyes jumped between your face and Willow’s, trying to decide if he wanted to open up to you finally about himself and his own past that brought him to this station. “Come to dada, honey!” He encouraged, smiling at Willow now. She stumbled towards him and took his fingers before fidgeting to look at you again.

“M…” she started, your eyes went wide as you held your hand out to her. Monte froze looking down at his daughter. “Mmmaaahh mmmah!” She squealed, stumbling towards you. You laughed and engulfed her in a hug, tears stinging in your eyes; had she just tried to say mama for the first time?

“I should tend to the fields,” Monte quickly mumbled as he stood up, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.

“Monte,” you breathed, standing up with her. “I’m raising her too.” He kept his back towards you, only tossing a dismissive glance over his shoulder. You could see the troubled and pained look on his face and wished to know why this hurt him so much – wasn’t it better that you were here? Would he have preferred you died with the rest?

“You aren’t her mother,” his voice was barely above a whisper. He couldn’t will it any louder without risking painful cracks in his throat seeping through.

Monte prepared the same dry mixture of potatoes and nutritional powder from the ration closet for the three of you to eat for dinner. He knocked on the wall outside of the living quarters where you and Willow had floated to and you were telling her a story. “Dinner bell,” he grunted as you looked up at him from the stiff mattress.

He didn’t wait for you to prompt him in and moved to sit next to you, handing you a bowl. You silently ate your food, taking turns feeding Willow small spoonful’s. “You weren’t the only one who went through hell for Willow to be here,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes again. “I know you hate me; I know I will never be Boyse; I know you wish I died with the rest of them. But you need to accept that I love Willow just as much as you do.”

“I don’t hate you,” Monte’s head snapped to you with a pained look in his eyes. “It’s the opposite, don’t you see? I’m so happy you’re here; I would hate to be doing this alone.” He squished a potato cube against the side of his bowl and gently scooped the mash into Willow’s waiting mouth. “Someday, Willow will you need you more than me – that’s what hurts so much.”

“She won’t, Monte, she will always need you. Take it for a daddy’s girl myself – you never stop needing your dad,” you frown, looking at the food in your bowl and feeling like you could throw up at any point from the blandness.

“If we aren’t all dead by then,” Monte joked, a small grin on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter at the sight of his small smile. You leaned your head on his shoulder while releasing a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish you were her mother,” he whispered his confession into your hair; you swear you felt his lips brush against you as if he were kissing your head. You knew it was a confession meant to remain unacknowledged so you said nothing - though you felt the same no matter how guilty that made you.

You continued to eat silently, both of you finally allowing the familiar comfort of company to wrap around this strange family of three. Monte eventually took Willow to do a medical check up while you readied the room for sleep. You tried to ignore the feeling in your chest. You had worked so hard over the past 8 months to stomp down those feelings that had appeared just from being alone with Monte; and now, after his admission that he was happy you were here (no matter how stubborn he still seemed) those feelings were raging forward fast.

“You watch her while I dump the bodies?” Monte asked as he came back into the room. You gasped slightly and covered yourself with your arms, the clothes you were changing into sprawled across the mattress in front of you. “Please, nothing I haven’t seen before,” Monte chuckled dryly.

“That was when we were being pumped full of aphrodisiac’s and sedatives all day long,” you rolled your eyes at him. “This time, I’m stone cold sober, Daddy Monte. Turn around,” your ordered with a smirk. He blushed and laughed softly at your mockery but obeyed and faced his back towards you. You quickly slip the shirt onto your body before walking towards him and tracing your fingers across his bicep as you reached for Willow.

Hey, you were going to be alone together on this ship for a life-time… what’s wrong with some innocent teasing between co-parents? Your smirk and teasing glance weren’t lost on Monte, he shared the smirk as the nearly passed out baby in his arms desperately reached for you. “Brat,” he scoffed before leaning closer to give you better access to your daughter.

“You know it,” you giggled softly, rocking Willow against your chest and beginning to hum a soft melody to her. You paced about the small room, giving Monte a look to say it was okay for him to leave the two of you.

It was a rule that if one of you were doing anything in the suits or near the airlock that your mics had to be on and broadcasted to the entire station. Just because you were trying to put Willow to sleep didn’t change that, Monte knew as he released the air supply to each suspended body bag that you’d hear all of it. He tried to keep quiet regardless, listening to the hums you were showering your daughter in.

After you ensured Willow was asleep in your arms, you gently laid down and held her close to the curve of your body. Eventually, you allowed your heavy eyes to close and fell asleep listening to Monte’s strained grunts.

Monte made his way back to your quarters, it was a nightly tradition at this point. You always sang Willow to sleep and would, more often than not, fall asleep holding her. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, examining the sleeping faces of the two girls he’d fallen in love with so unexpectedly. He moved to sit on the cot on the other side of the room from you, listening to the soft mumbles that escaped your lips.

Every now and then he’d be able to interpret a word or two and had a mental log of your most frequented. If you were having a nightmare, which happened most nights, you whispered no, stop, run, it hurts, please. Each night he’d hear you pleading with these dark things that plagued your mind, he’d need to restrain himself from going to you. It was like every molecule in his body needed to comfort you.

But there were good nights: Willow baby, kitten, iced tea, mama, papa. “Monte,” you whispered, causing each of his muscles to tighten. He examined the lazy smile on your face and only after making sure you were still asleep, he relaxed with a smile of his own. This one was his favorite: his name. The first time he heard it was when he was forced to accept that he had fallen in love with you, and maybe you had too.

He laid down, listening to your incoherent babbling and the tiny snore of his daughter. He felt as relaxed now as he did before his childhood went to shit back on Earth.

Willow’s sharp cries forced your eyes to shoot open after only a few hours of sleep. You quickly sat up and pulled her into your chest again, rocking your shoulders as you yawned and tried to wake yourself up enough to comfort her. “Monte?” You asked as your blurred vision started to clear to see Monte sitting up in the cot across from you.

“Uh-“ he stuttered, looking down embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t want to be alone… I guess.” You offered a small smile and a nod as Willow started to calm down in your embrace.

“You can always sleep in here with us,” you reassure. “I’m sure Willow can sense when we’re both near, she probably would like it.”

Monte chuckled softly and nodded, slipping his shirt off and handing it off to you. “Here,” he smiled at you. “Maybe the warmth will help her stay asleep longer.” You smiled and took it, sliding it onto Willow before laying back down. Monte knelt in front of your cot and gently swiped his thumb across Willow’s forehead.

“You mumble in your sleep, you know,” he whispered, his eyes connecting with yours. “It’s quite fascinating.” Your gulped slightly as a blush took over your cheeks as you noticed how close your faces were. “Maybe our daughter will get that from her mama,” he added. Pride filled him when he saw the smile creep across your face.

#monte #high life #robert pattinson x yn #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson au #battinson #battinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson imagine #monte x reader #request #writing prompt #ask

[imagine--if]

Bruce wayne (battinson) x reader, an imagine where she’s feeling unsafe when it’s dark and she’s out so she calls bruce and he comforts her and stuff❤️

A/N: Too sweet, here you go 🥰️

IMAGINE...

Bruce Wayne, the mysterious vigilante known as The Batman, swearing to protect you with his life.

You can't help feeling guilty as you call him up, his number easy to find on your recents. You know exactly what he's doing and why he's not tucked safely away in Wayne Manor like yourself, but the lightning of this mild storm just keeps sparking too close to the windows... and the thunder makes you flinch as you bite down on your lower lip.

The call tone goes on for a few rings, then stops, the sound of light rain and muffled cars outside the sidestreet he's hidden in echoing through the line. The shadows speak.

"Are you hurt?"

That familiar, hushed, attentive voice makes a small smile tug at your lips when you hear it. "No. Well... no, um, not really."

"I told you to stay at the Manor-"

"No no, I am there," you try to justify, screwing up your face in thought and annoyance at yourself. "It's fine, I'm being stupid. I'll see you when you get back, okay?"

A small pause. "Storms don't last forever," he says, reminding you that he probably knows you better than you know yourself. Your smile grows as he continues, "I'm coming back now. Stay safe."

"Course I will," you joke with a slight laugh, laying back onto the soft sheets of the large bed. "I've got you."

"You'll always have me," Bruce promises before he ends the call, and you know he must be smiling like you are as he starts up his motorbike.

#battinson x reader #battinson #battinson imagine #battinson fanfiction #battinson fic #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #matt reeves #battinson oneshot #robert pattinson fanfiction #robert pattinson fic #robert pattinson batman #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson bruce wayne #rob pattinson #pattinson!bruce wayne #pattinson!batman x reader #pattinson!batman #the batman fic #the batman imagine #the batman fanfic #the batman x reader #the batman x you #the batman x y/n #the batman fluff #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction

[toomanyrobins2]

Mr. Bruce Wayne

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

27th May

Bat man, Esq.

Dear Sir: I am in receipt of a letter from Mother Waller. She hopes that I am doing well in deportment and studies. Since I probably have no place to go this summer, she will let me come back to the asylum and work for my board until college opens. I HATE THE BOWERY HOME.

I'd rather die than go back.

Yours most truthfully,

Y/N Abbott

Cher homme chauve-souris(French for Batman),

Vous etes un brick!

Je suis tres heureuse d'about the farm, parsque je n'ai jamais been on a farm dans ma vie and I'd hate to retourner chez The Bowery, et wash dishes tout l'été. There would be danger of quelque chose affreuse happening, parceque j'ai perdue ma humilité d'autre fois et j'ai peur that I would just break out quelque jour et smash every cup and saucer dans la maison. Pardon brievete et paper. Je ne peux pas send des mes nouvelles parceque je suis dans French class et j'ai peur que Monsieur le Professeur is going to call on me tout de suite.

He did!

Au revoir, je vous aime beaucoup.

Y/N

Bruce was at his desk and he was laboring over the blank sheet of paper. Similar pieces were littered across his desk and all of them a similar message, and yet, sounding wrong each time.

Dear Miss Abbot,

I put pen to paper with some trepidation but with the feeling after your last letter that I really do owe you some sort of response…

With that, another piece of paper was crumpled and tossed away. Throwing himself back against his chair, Bruce groaned, “How does one say, I want to write you back, but I don't know what to say? How can I explain that I'm not really old? That I am not at all the man you have imagined and I am definitely not the one you expect?” Getting up from the desk, Bruce began to pace and gesture wildly, “Of course, I write in contravention of my own rules of engagement which forbid any sort of communication from me. But last month, I was guilty of sending you a bouquet of flowers, so perhaps the damage is already done. It's getting very hard to abstain from a response, especially as a man who loves to correspond. I am longing to interject my observations and bursting with opinions and advice.”

Clark and Alfred were sitting on the couch, watching as Bruce had a prolonged temper tantrum. The former turned to Alfred, “Do you think he remembers we are still here?”

The grey-haired man laughed, “The world may never know, Master Kent.”

“How many letters is he at now?”

“He’s started 23. He’s managed to complete 0.”

Clark hid his laughter in his coffee, “Maybe he should just give up on writing a letter and just show up.”

Bruce whirled around and pointed at his friend, “Clark, that may not be a bad idea.”

“Oh, so you do know that we are in the room.” Clark pushed off the couch and pushed Bruce into one of the chairs, “I know you’re losing it now, because you have never thought my ideas were good.”

“No, this will work! I will drive up to the college one of these afternoons and introduce myself. I may not be ideal, but I should be able to manage. Although, I'm not good at friendship–as you know–I'm not good at attachment, or family, or commitment. I roundly despise my relations but she’s met Harriet, so she will understand. After all, my uncle is the reason for my low expectations. 

Alfred stepped in to offer some advice, “Perhaps, it isn't wise to reveal yourself just yet. Why not meet Miss Abbott first as the man you really are? Why not introduce yourself as Harriet’s relation?”

“Because, it’s insane!” Clark couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “You’re going to meet your sponsee and hide your true identity all because you can’t manage to write a letter?”

“Yes!”

Clark ran a hand through his hand and turned to Alfred, “Surely you can see that this is madness.”

“Of course, but you are the one who planted the idea. Now, you will have to deal with the consequences.” The older man walked out of the study with a grin on his face.

30th May

Dear Batman,

Did you ever see this campus? (That is merely a rhetorical question. Don't let it annoy you.) It is a heavenly spot in May. All the shrubs are in blossom and the trees are the loveliest young green—even the old pines look fresh and new. The grass is dotted with yellow dandelions and hundreds of girls in blue and white and pink dresses. Everybody is joyous and care-free, for vacation's coming, and with that to look forward to, examinations don't count.

Isn't that a happy frame of mind to be in? And oh, I'm the happiest of all! Because I'm not in the orphanage anymore; and I'm not anybody's nursemaid or typewriter or bookkeeper (I should have been, you know, except for you).

I'm sorry now for all my past badnesses.

I'm sorry I was ever impertinent to Mother Waller.

I'm sorry I ever slapped Freddie Perkins.

I'm sorry I ever filled the sugar bowl with salt.

I'm sorry I ever made faces behind the Trustees' backs.

I'm going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because I'm so happy. And this summer I'm going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. Isn't that an exalted stand to take? Oh, I'm developing a beautiful character! It droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines. That's the way with everybody. I don't agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. I have no faith in misanthropes. (Fine word! Just learned it.) You are not a misanthrope are you? I started to tell you about the campus. I wish you'd come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say:

‘That is the library. This is the gas plant. The Gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the Tudor Romanesque beside it is the new infirmary.' 

Oh, I'm fine at showing people about. I've done it all my life at the Bowery Home, and I’ve been doing it all day here. I have honestly. And a Man, too! That's a great experience. I never talked to a man before (except occasional Trustees, and they don't count). Pardon, Batman, I don't mean to hurt your feelings when I abuse Trustees. I don't consider that you really belong among them. You just tumbled on to the Board by chance. The Trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. He pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain. However—to resume:

I have been walking and talking and having tea with a man. And with a very superior man—with Mr. Bruce Wayne of one of the first Houses of Gotham. Harriet’s cousin, in short (in long, perhaps I ought to say; he's as tall as you.) She tells me that he is the last of his family. The Wayne family is one of the founding families of Gotham.  He's her father’s sister’s son, but she doesn't know him very intimately. Mr. Wayne’s mother was Harriet’s aunt. You’ll notice my use of the past term. Harriet informs me that Mr. Wayne’s family was killed when he was a child. 

I have always thought that my situation was a sad one, and yet, I find my heart breaking for Mr. Wayne. While I have no memories of my parents, he has eight years of knowing how much his parents loved him. Knowing what could have been seems more heartbreaking than not knowing at all. I can at least pretend that my parents were horrible and mean, or they died and there was no one else to take me.

Sadness aside…being in town on business, he decided to run out to the college and call on Harriet. It seems he glanced at her when she was a baby, decided he didn't like her, and has never noticed her since. I can’t say I disagree with him. Anyway, there he was, sitting in the reception room very proper with his hat and stick and gloves beside him; and Harriet and Barb with seventh-hour recitations that they couldn't cut. So Harriet dashed into my room and begged me to walk him about the campus and then deliver him to her when the seventh hour was over. I said I would, obligingly but unenthusiastically, because I didn’t think I would care much for those related to the Kanes. But he turned out to be a sweet lamb. 

He's a real human being—not a Kane at all. We had a beautiful time; I've longed for an uncle ever since. Do you mind pretending you're my uncle? I believe they're superior to grandmothers. Mr. Wayne reminded me a little of you, Batman, as you were twenty years ago. You see I know you intimately, even if we haven't ever met! He's tall and thinnish, tired eyes, and the funniest underneath smile that never quite comes through but just wrinkles up the corners of his mouth. For someone who looks so uninterested in the world, he had a way of making me feel right off as though I’d known him a long time. He's very companionable. We walked all over the campus from the quadrangle to the athletic grounds; then he said he felt weak and must have some tea. He proposed that we go to College Inn—it's just off the campus by the pine walk. I said we ought to go back for Harriet and Barbara, but he said he didn't like to have his cousins drink too much tea; it made them nervous. So, we just ran away and had tea and muffins and marmalade and ice-cream and cake at a nice little table out on the balcony. The inn was quite conveniently empty, this being the end of the month and allowances low. 

We had the jolliest time! But he had to run for his train the minute he got back and he barely saw Harriett at all. She was furious with me for taking him off; it seems he's an unusually rich and desirable uncle. It relieved my mind to find he was rich, for the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece. This morning (it's Monday now) three boxes of chocolates came by express for Harriet and Barbara and me. What do you think of that? To be getting candy from a man!

I begin to feel like a girl instead of a foundling. I wish you'd come and have tea some day and let me see if I like you. But wouldn't it be dreadful if I didn't? However, I know I should. Bien! I make you my compliments.

'Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'

Y/N

PS. I looked in the glass this morning and found a perfectly new dimple that I'd never seen before. It's very curious. Where do you suppose it came from?

Lois raised an eyebrow, “You felt weak and needed tea? You hate tea.”

Bruce refused to look up from his meal. “We walked a lot.”

“You walked a lot and felt weak?”

Bruce finally set down his utensils and rested his chin on his folded hands, looking annoyed, “Are you going to rehash every detail of the letter?”

Clark laughed, “She’s just focusing on the most amusing bits. You had tea with your sponsee while hiding your true identity. Claiming weakness, even though you are in perfect health and didn’t even visit Harriet. Oh, and let’s not forget you sent her chocolates.”

“I sent all of them chocolates.”

Lois smiled knowingly, “Only because you couldn’t send them just to her without raising suspicion.”

“Why did I agree to dinner with the two of you?”

Clark shrugged, “We are the only ones you have to talk to about this.”

“How sad for me.”

9th June

Dear Batman,

Happy day! I've just finished my last examination in Physiology. And now: Three months on a farm!

I don't know what kind of a thing a farm is. I've never been on one in my life. I've never even looked at one (except from the car window), but I know I'm going to love it, and I'm going to love being free. I am not used even yet to being outside the Bowery Home. Whenever I think of it, excited little thrills chase up and down my back. I feel as though I must run faster and faster and keep looking over my shoulder to make sure that Mother Waller isn't after me with her arm stretched out to grab me back. I don't have to mind anyone this summer, do I?

Your nominal authority doesn't annoy me in the least; you are too far away to do any harm. Mother Waller is dead forever, so far as I am concerned, and the Kents aren't expected to overlook my moral welfare, are they?”

No, I am sure not. I am entirely grown up. Hooray! I leave you now to pack a trunk, and three boxes of tea kettles and dishes and sofa cushions and books.

Yours ever,

Y/N

PS. Here is my physiology exam. Do you think you could have passed?

@inluvwithladybug

@pierres-new-spectacles

@kity-k4t

@sassymemesfanficfestival

#toomanyrobins #✉️ #Batman #Batman imagine #Batman x reader #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne x reader #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #battison #battison imagine #battison x reader #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #batfam #Batman au #Bruce Wayne au #batfam imagine #dcu #dc imagine

[waynewifey]

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

#fluff imagine #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson #robert pattinson imagine #battinson x you #batman x you #battinson #batman #the batman #the batman x reader #angst imagine #batman angst #fanfiction #batman x reader #harry potter imagines #golden trio era #james potter #marauders fanfiction #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne insert

[navstuffs]

Robert Pattinson

ONE-SHOTS:

Temporary Annoyance (Female!Reader)

Robert gets jealous after sensing your chemistry in an interview with Chris Evans.

"Let's go, Vengeance." (Female!Reader)

You are Robert Pattinson's proud girlfriend during the Premiere of The Batman.

Protective (Female!Reader)

Robert will always protect (Y/N) when she needs him the most.

Clueless (Female!Reader)

A clueless barista and his even more clueless crush.

Astraphobia (Female!Reader)

Robert comforts (Y/N) during a heavy storm at night.

Safe Harbor (Female!Reader)

When a reporter snoozes too much on (Y/N)’s personal life, Robert is there to cut her off.

Let me be yours (Female!Reader)

Zoe and Robert have gotten surprisingly close during Batman’s shooting. (Y/N) is worried she might lose him.

Tension

You finally get hired to a big production. You are worried your chemistry with your co-star Robert Pattinson might ruin it all.

Fight for him

When Prince Robert scares away all his suitors, King Victor decides to make a tournament to decide who will marry his son.

Falling for you (Female!Reader)

(Y/N) surprises Robert during her first concert on her new tour.

Imagine finding THIS while dating Robert Pattinson

Lasting love Story (Female!Reader)

Robert's love story with his PR assistant, in this case, you.

The distance that tears us apart (Female!Reader)

When (Y/N) and Robert’s vacation time gets shortened, (Y/N) might just have reached her limit.

Betrayal

You come back earlier from a work trip, excited to surprise your boyfriend. It doesn’t end well.

#robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x female reader #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson fanfic #robert pattinson fanfics #this list soon will have chris evans #probably

[spideyanakin]

Heather (archived version)

Cedric Diggory x reader

Based on Heather by Conan Gray

Synopsis - ‘As she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, she’s got you mesmerized.’ Cedric is oblivious to your feelings, so you end up watching as he dates a girl that isn't you. Will the two of you get a happy ending?

N/A - Stop I haven't written or thought of Cedric in so long, he was my first big fictional crush back in 2018 lmao, and I never thought I'd crush on him again 😳 I fully blame Batman... I ALSO PROMISE THIS ENDS WELL LMAO

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Cedric Diggory Masterlist 🌻

rewritten version

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater

It was a cold day - a third of December to be exact. It was late in the afternoon and quidditch practice had just ended. You were drenched in sweat, your bright red Gryffindor quidditch jersey barely shielding you from the cold now that your body was cooling down from the exercise.

You fished in your bag but loudly cursed when you realized you had forgotten your sweater and your jacket back in the common room. Fred had asked you for a service right before practice, making you almost late and completely forgetting half of your things on the common room chair.

A shiver slipped passed your lips and you wondered how you were going to get back to the castle without dying of cold. You watched as Harry Potter got out of the changing room - all wrapped up in warm layers of clothes, you somehow wished you were in his position.

Until your savior came. His voice broke your thoughts like it always did. The way he pronounced your name made you want to melt like snow exposed to the sun. Lifting your head - you met his grey eyes and like always, it sent shivers down your spine. He was walking straight for the changing rooms and had spotted you there - shuffling through your bag in panic.

"Let me guess, you forgot your sweater?" It was always that friendly banter that made you weak to your knees. He would always have a friendly smirk to give you, always something fun to say.

"I think so." You made a weird face as your eyes went back to the snowy quidditch fields.

"Here." He didn't think twice before handing you his. "I know it's not Gryffindor but I'm sure it will at least keep you warm until you get back inside" Your thoughts were frozen and for a second you thought it was only you and him. He was towering over you, his arm raised towards you with his sweater balled up in his hand. "Plus it's too small for me" He chuckled. "It would look better on you" You had to look away to compose yourself from his words. Only if he knew how much you liked him

But then, you watched as his gaze flickered from you to someone passing behind.

It was like him taking your heart out of your chest and ripping it apart. His eyes sparkled with something more at her sight and a short smile climbed to his lips. You turned your head around and of course, it was her. Heather. She was a Hufflepuff chaser, always first in class and always having something bright and positive to say.

What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky

Of course, she had to be prettier than you. Long brown hair braided for Quidditch, with crystal blue eyes. Her positive energy resonated through the hallway and you watched the scene roll before you. You had to painfully watch as his gaze chased after her even when she disappeared into the changing rooms.

She's got you mesmerized, while I die

"It's alright - but thanks." You brought him back to reality this time. Pushing his hand back towards him. "I'll freeze my way back to Hogwarts" You gave out a stiff chuckle and stood up before he could argue.

So you walked back up to the castle - your heart broken into a thousand pieces while your shoulders shook from the cold. Every day you had to be reminded that he loved someone else.

It all started last June, in the last week of class. Professor Trelawny paired them up in divination and ever since he only had eyes for her. She seemed to be perfect. A good sense of humor like you, mixed with the brains and the looks. She was even on the quidditch team, again like you...

But he only saw you as a friend. His childhood best friend who was placed in a different house than him. His childhood best friend who got into way too much trouble with the Weasley twins. His childhood best friend who was doomed to watch him love someone else from the other corner of the room.

But your misery couldn't end there. Because you knew Cedric and you knew bravery was his most beloved trait. You knew that it wouldn't be long until he asked her out. He had already been debating the idea since September.

And it killed you every single second. Watching him sulk over her - sitting next to her instead of you...

By the next week of December, you had to watch as they walked into the great hall - hand in hand.

Watch as she stands with you, holding your hand

Of course, she would have said yes. It was Cedric Diggory - the heart throb. Everyone liked him, everyone dreamed of him. He was kind, brave. The golden traits mixed into one beautiful being.

Somehow you thought that being his childhood friend would have made you higher up the list. That he would notice your lingering eyes and the way you reacted when he was close.

But you like her better, wish I were Heather

She was wearing his Hufflepuff sweater, the one he had offered you a week earlier. You wished you had accepeted it, not even that - that he would have given you the sweater as a token of his love, not as only helping a friend.

Wish I were Heather

You gave her your sweater

Of course, Cedric spotted you by the Weasley twins, and of course, he wanted to introduce you. Oblivious to how he painfully twisted the knife inside the wound. So he sat in front of you by George, and she sat by him, and you had to watch as he wrapped his arm around her.

put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

The lunch went on, and with every second you felt another piece of yourself crumble away. So much that by the end your mind had fully gone blank. Desperately trying to tune out the way he was holding her, stealing glances with her and everything you wished could happen with you.

She's got you mesmerized while I die

The worst part is that it was so painfully obvious to everyone else. Fred and George played eye tennis, reading each other's minds in an attempt to find ways to help you.

Fred who sat by your side ended up placing a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you. It somehow made you feel better, but you knew nothing could fix the Cedric-shaped hole in your heart apart from the man himself.

So instead of holding in the pain, and pretending like everything was alright - you excused yourself, pretending you had finished your lunch early or simply wasn't hungry. Mumbling something about having extra homework to be done before class.

Your feet flew up to the hidden corner of Hogwarts only you and Cedric knew. It had become your hiding place, but he never seemed to come anymore. It was just you in this lonely corner of the world these past few months.

So you let the tears fall. Hot drops stained your cheeks and this time you couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't a random joke from the twins that could fix it. It wasn't his smile or something he would say that could cheer you up. It wasn't anything he could give you, because his heart was already taken. His heart had been partly given to someone else and in your lonely corner of the world, you wished you could have a piece. You wished that Heather hadn't taken all the pieces for herself.

Maybe it was selfish. But also how could you hate her? She had always been kind to you and even today she hadn't shown an ounce of jealousy towards your friendship.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel

No one was to blame.

You had to live with your misery.

December turned into April and the pain in your chest had become nothing but a numb feeling.

The tears were frequent though. And it would always be the red-haired twins that would try to glue the pieces of your heart back with jokes. Bring the pieces back with soft laughter and dumb pranks.

You hated the way this made you drift away from him.

His presence seemed to get further as she stole every piece. She made him drift away from you like a deadly river that was so beautiful you wouldn't guess that stepping in it would drag you miles away, making you drown.

Was that what she was doing? Making him drown in her presence as the tied of her river dragged him further and further from you?

"Hey Y/n/n" George broke your thoughts, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

"S- sorry-" you blinked again, your eyes falling to the work on your lap.

"I asked you what you knew about Disneyland" He pointed to the paper; Muggle studies.

"I've been there once." You replied, your tone slightly off as the thoughts of Cedric tried to grab your train of thoughts again.

"And?" George paused and watched you swallow as you blankly stared at a spot on the carpet. "Y/n/n" He sighed and shuffled closer to you - placing a hand on your shoulder to catch your attention again. "Cedric's a dumb-dumb" He whispered. "He's dumb to have chosen her instead of you, and dumb to have abandoned you after they started dating."

You took a long breath in and out, looking back down to the homework on your lap.

George looked at the clock and clicked his tongue "Let's go to quidditch practice, it will cheer you up." He grinned and stood up, making you follow him.

Rain was pouring down the freshly cut lawn of the quidditch pitch and you looked as the house you were playing against started walking out.

Of course, practice had to be against Hufflepuff...

To your surprise, Heather wasn't glued to Cedric as they walked out - and both of their gazes seemed to be lost elsewhere.

Did they fight?

Something in the back of your mind was asking. Cedric looked pretty mad, and by the way he was guiding his team and giving orders you could tell he was.

From the other side of the pitch, Heather pointed a deadly glance at you. The rain was already bringing shivers, but her stare was even worst and it made you wonder what in the world happened.

Fred was happily walking to the pitch with his broom in hand. He walked to you with a grin from ear to ear.

"I've got something to tell you." He sang along and you spotted Geogre running towards the two of you.

"What's up?" You matched their grins

"There's a rumor."

"A very interesting rumor" George chimed from behind his twin.

"Cedric and Heather had a fight."

"A fight?" They got your attention. "About what?"

"2 rumors: That she cheated on him with Jamie Lammerson - they've been awfully close lately."

"Second rumor is that she did it because he's been acting more distant lately." Fred continued.

"That's he's been acting distracted." George finished.

"Distracted? By what?"

The twins looked at each other like they knew the biggest part of the puzzle that you were apparently clueless off.

"You!"

"Me?" You shook your head. "Impossible." You laughed, a bittersweet laugh by how hopeful they were trying to make you.

"Not as impossible as you think," They said in unison before making their way further the quidditch pitch, leaving you stranded with your own thoughts.

~

This time you hadn't made the mistake of forgetting your sweater, and Cedric noticed.

He noticed?

"I'm glad you brought your sweater today" He smirked. A smirk he hadn't given you in weeks.

What the heck was he doing talking to you? Shouldn't he be with Heather, laughing about a dumb joke she made?

You blinked. "Yeah."

Him, on the other hand, he had completely forgotten his. He was soaked with the rain that had started pouring down in the middle of the game, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulder and framing his handsome face.

"But you forgot yours." You noticed.

"I did." He scrunched up his face and twisted a part of his shirt to drench the water in a poor attempt to dry it.

Somehow it wasn't awkward. Even if he had spent weeks without talking to you, your friendship hadn't been broken.

Your smile lingered and you noticed that his stare did too. Weird.

Were the twins right?

Right until Heather stepped out of the changing room. Her wet hair was tied up in a bun as she was all wrapped in dry clothes.

Suddenly, the glim in his eyes died down and he cleared his throat - giving you a stiff nod before following her out and back up to the castle. You heard his words echo from a distance - something about needing to talk about their fight...

It made you frown a bit. The way his eyes saddened when he had to walk away... It made you wonder if everything was alright with him.

But you were on duty to clean the brooms.

The rain had made your job easier. It had partially removed the dirt from the collections of nimbus and cheap school brooms. You didn't mind the work and the thundering rain made relaxing music as you worked.

You dusted your hands and admired the clean brooms aligned on the floor of the big shed, awaiting polish and all the other products to make them stay pretty and shiny.

You opened the closet and frowned when you saw that the polish was empty, realizing you would have to go to the other side of the field to the second storage unit; the one with old broken brooms and extra products.

You grabbed your raincoat, securing the hood before darting across the pitch and slipping in between the tall bleachers and walking along the field downhill towards the crooked storage shed, half hidden with overgrown trees and bushes.

"Wait- we have to stop-" You heard mumbling from the inside, freezing as you realized people were in there. Great. You had forgotten this was a famous make-out spot.

"What do you mean stop? Is this about Cedric? Aren't you two practically broken up?" You gulped as you heard the name, your heartbeat quickening.

Maybe you heard the name wrong, or it was another Cedric?

But the female voice that spoke again felt way too familiar.

"Well, I think we sort of made up?" You balled up your fist. So it was true, Heather was cheating on Cedric - with who you expected to be Jamie.

Cedric wore his heart on his sleeve while she was doing all this behind his back...

"You made up!?" Jamie's voice became a bit angrier. "Heather I thought you were ending this? I thought you said he became interested in what's her name again?"

Was he talking about you? You munched at your lip in anxiety as the conversation went on.

The rain was still harshly falling against your raincoat, but you were frozen in place. It felt impossible to move with what you were overhearing.

"Y/n. She's one of the Gryffindor chasers. The one who broke your nose last game?"

"Oh, her. Aren't they like best friends of something?"

"Kind of." She mumbled - she seemed angry.

Jamie laughed at her reaction. "She's definitely a threat. I thought they were together before the two of you were a thing."

What you didn't see was Heather shooting daggers with her stare.

"Will you shut up?" She sounded mean, nothing like the facade she wore every day.

"Why? You dragged me here remember?" Jamie bickered back and you could sense tension in their words. This made you realize that one of them might be storming out at any moment now.

You turned back, making your way back up the small field leading up to the pitch. Walking through the bleachers again and back inside the shed.

What the fuck?

~

The next day that overheard conversation was eating you whole. Even Professor Lupin noticed the way you drifted away in Defense of the dark arts.

You were walking in the middle of the hallway as you headed to your next class, Fred and George on either side of you like usual. You were drifting off into thoughts again, running images of how you were going to tell Cedric, or how you were going to attempt to make this situation stop.

He was your best friend, and he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her.

"Hey!" A voice came from behind you, making you jump as you felt two hands on your shoulders. You all turned around to meet a bright-eyed Cedric.

He looked all happy and giddy and it made you raise an eyebrow.

"Can I steal Y/n for a second?" He looked at each of the twins.

"Ask her" they both pointed to you.

"Yeah" You nodded, not being able to help the small smile that bloomed on your lips at the sight of him. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you." He looked behind your shoulder to make sure the twins had continued their way. "Somewhere quieter." He smiled and you almost thought he was blushing.

"Sure."

You followed him down to your secret place. Your hidden corner of the world where you had spent the last few months coming alone.

It felt weird seeing him there again, especially with you.

"I wanted to apologize." He awkwardly stood in front of you, scanning your features for a reaction.

"Apologize?" Your scrunched your eyebrows. "For what?"

"For how distant I've been lately..." He went back and forth on his heels and looked down to the floor. "For the way I've been ignoring you-"

"Cedric, it's ok."

"No, it's not. It's not because you didn't deserve this. I've been an awful friend lately and it's been because of-" He didn't want to stay it. He didn't want to voice the name of the person whom he knew had caused you and him all this pain.

He might have been oblivious for a long time, but now he knew.

And he wasn't going to take this opportunity for granted.

"Because of her"

"You can't blame her, it's normal, she's your girlfriend-"

"Was" He corrected you. "She was"

You blinked, your breath catching in the back of your throat as the words registered.

"What?"

"We broke up." You looked to the side as you tried to process the information.

Was that why he was acting all happy when he asked you to follow him here in the first place?

"But I thought?"

He shook his head.

"I told her it was over yesterday. We got into another fight because she complained about the fact that I was talking to you after practice." He took a step closer to you. "But she also made me realize that it wasn't her I liked" He looked down to his feet, and you could feel your heart leaping in your chest.

"I've heard things... about um- the way you might feel too. But- if it's not true, I'm not going to ask you to feel the same-" He sighed through his nose and suddenly your whole world lit up again. "But I want you to know."

"I'minlovewithyou" you muttered, barely audible.

He thought he had heard it but wasn't sure.

"What did you say?" He raised his gaze to your eyes, a small smirk across his lips.

"I'm in love with you" You said again, this time clear and loud enough.

You didn't think twice before placing your hand around his neck and dragging his face closer to yours. You closed the gap between your lips faster than you could say Quidditch.

The kiss took him by surprise, but when it registered he melted into it. But the situation caught up with you, and soon enough the kiss became clouded by giggles.

"I love you too."

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screaming crying because apparently I have a type.

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[angelltheninth]

How would Bruce react to being caught masturbating?

Bruce is always so damn sexy, especially the sad, wet Battinson version.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, handjob, soft sex, dirty talk, praise

A/N: Would you stare or look away from him? Be honest with me.

You know Bruce can get pretty pent up on occasion

The two of you have had plenty of quickies over time because he either comes home tired or he knows that he's on borrowed time because of patrol

Sometimes you'd even offer to do it in his office, which he has no problem obliging with

Usually he lets you know if he has free time for something much longer than a quickie, he can be spontaneous as well if the two of you are really needy

That must have been the case now because the manor was dead quiet, except for muffled, strained groans coming from the master bedroom

You slowly eased the door open only to be met with a sight of Bruce on his knees on the bed, his hair messy and falling over his forehead as he rubbed his cock and circled the bulging head with his palm

Despite the fact that you wanted to watch this display for a while you couldn't help the moan and the 'fuck' that escaped your mouth

Bruce didn't stop but he smiled in the direction of the door, "It's not polite to peep on others darling. And why would you want to? Wouldn't you rather join in?" Oh he knew very well what he was doing

Perhaps this was planned after all

"I want to see you too." He coos as you approach the bed and places a kiss on your naked shoulder, your clothes being forgotten on the floor bit by bit

His hand drops between your legs to gather and play with the wetness there, slowly easing your open with his fingers while you join your other hand to the one still on his cock

"I was going to wait for you but you were running late. What was that you said about taking things into your own hands. I know you enjoy the show as much as I do but I wanted to give you something a little more for tonight. I'm sorry." He's still busy placing kisses on your shoulder and neck, offering you his own to do the same

You latch onto his skin like a hungry vampire, leaving bruises in your wake as you find yourself pulled toward him, on top of him, Bruce's fingers still making wet, lewd sounds by thrusting them in your pussy

Both of you could have finished right there and then but you wanted to feel him inside of you

You kissed him, parted his lips with your tongue and sucked his into your mouth while pushing on his shoulders and straddling him fully, his hands now on the small of your back and his cock pushing and prodding at your entrance

"That's it love. Take me, take my whole cock, it feels so good, so warm and slick inside of you." Bruce can't seem to keep his mouth shut as you slowly take him in all the way to the base, "Fuck. Do you feel it? You feel my cock inside you, how much I like it?"

His hips twitch and roll upwards, pressing entirely against yours, causing you to moan into his ear before gently biting at the lobe and starting establish a rhythm

It's not fast or aggressive, it's slow and very deliberate, meant to elongate your combined pleasures for as long as possible

If the two of you wanted it hard and fast you would have hopped on his cock the moment you walked through the door and gotten off in a few rolls of your hips

You wanted this to last, you wanted to feel Bruce's lips on yours, his fingers digging into your hips, his hair sweaty and damp under your hands as you guided his mouth lower

You wanted to feel the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back, you wanted to hear the slapping sounds you made when you took his cock back in over and over, to focus on these little things

Bruce was in no hurry either, sure he might be harder than a rock right now but he loves how your walls open and tighten around him at every stroke, how you sigh and moan his name against his skin as you both edge closer and closer to your mutual pleasure only to have it wash over you both as you plant yourself firmly in his lap, your body shaking with release, your walls quivering in pleasure

He wouldn't dream of holding back on you now, he holds you still in his arms as he pumps out every drop of his hot, thick cum inside you, not caring if it ends up on him later

He just wants to hold you, to let you kiss him and tell you he loves you

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