#But that's no matter he was very gentlemanly even though there was Tension | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

after-witch · 4 years ago

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Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

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In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth & reader #batman fic #batman universe #dc #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne angst #batman angst

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

Jake and amy as a crlebrity it couple !!!

(let's try to make this as far from Melissa+Andy as possible because... weird?)

- Jake started out as a youtube 'personality' and has somehow wormed his way into actual celebrity status and work, as a comedy actor that seems to prove lately that he can do serious work too, but it's hard to shake that goofy image he's been branded with

- Amy is a classically trained actress with several extra talents (singing, dancing, the standards, but she's also been directing some things and has started screenwriting and pitching her own stories), who's been on the 'up and coming' lists for three years in a row now and is starting to become a household name after some big movie hits

- Jake snags a guest spot in her current television series, and his character is such a fan favourite that he's asked to come back for several cameos and a kind-of-almost steady role.

- BTS pics and infos seem to show that the otherwise so kind and friendly Amy is extremely annoyed by her new co-star, and the rumours start flying. Amy’s fan base trolls Jake on twitter and anywhere else, Jake’s smaller but devoted fan base starts shouting about mistreatment and Hollywood infights.

- Their agents, management and PR from the show want to calm the waves, so they book them for a lot of interviews and appearances together to show that they’re actually friends! It kinda backfires because they can’t stop bickering and teasing each other.

(- only a very small group of both their fanbases is like... wait a minute... the tension! and starts ‘shipping’, but they’re usually shot down as fanatics and weirdos, even as they make gif-sets of Jake being gentlemanly to Amy during all their appearances and hunting down any interview that even mentions the briefest second of their ‘private’ lives and BTS)

- so they manage to keep their budding relationship under wraps and a complete secret. Not even Amy’s agent knows, because he’d definitely tell her to drop Jake like a hot potato and maybe go for someone who can further her career, like a famous director. She drops him soon enough when she finds a far better agent and manager in Rosa. (Jake, meanwhile, is mostly being ‘represented’ by his childhood friend Gina, and everyone keeps laughing about how he can’t snag a proper agent even, but Gina gets him good gigs and amazing deals, so he’s definitely not going to tell anyone how wrong they are)

- Problem is that Jake can’t stop fangirling his own girlfriend. Even after his guest spot ends and Amy moves on from the tv show as well, they still get pap-snapped together at each other’s new work. Especially Jake bringing her lunch or coffee or just hanging out. He also keeps gushing about how amazing she is and how cool it was to work with her in any interview or tidbit, even if it’s not related to their show at all. Interviewers notice, of course, and keep digging and asking about her for more info.

- pretty soon the whole ‘are they? aren’t they? will they? won’t they?’ thing takes off, especially as Amy pulls back from acting a bit to focus on some passion projects she’s written and wants to produce, while Jake finally gets rid of the overly goofy comedy actor image and wins some awards for some really good, serious roles

- it’s all just hearsay and gossip though, and no one ever gets any definite proof or the ‘TOP STORY’, because they’ve become brilliant at keeping their private life private and hiding away perfectly. No one even figures out that they’ve bought a whole house together.

- needless to say their sudden, quiet, and very elegant marriage announcement with just one picture of their private friends&family wedding causes a complete and major shitstorm. Gina might or might not have stoked the fires on twitter a bit, too.

- after that they go complete radio-silence on private matters though, and interviewers only ever get adorable little snippets out of them but nothing big. Sure, Amy loves to talk about how supportive her husband is and how he’s making sure they see each other at least once a week even if they’re working far apart. And Jake still loves gushing about his amazing wife and how he’s hit the jackpot. But nobody really knows where they live, how they live, etc.

- photographers DO notice the baby bump after about six months though, when even Amy’s awesome stylist can’t find another billowy shirt to hide it.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #headcanons

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elriell · 4 years ago

Text

The Seer of Shadows

Chapter One— A Fateful Return

It came once more, cold and forceful as it so often did, ripping open her thoughts and bleeding through her unconscious mind. It surged like a powerful river, the running rapids numbed her hearing completely, the soft dreamworld fading to a dark loveless expanse. The terror would only continue to grow inside her, though asleep her whole body seizing with dread, spilling over into reality and it would end how it inevitably always did.

Feyre had thought to comfort her throughout many months, speaking of how the nightmares would get easier and with time the dark clouds that settled over her during sleep would slowly grow weaker and would eventually go away all together. However what she had not told her sister, nor anyone for that matter was that the opposite was true. For her nightmares where only growing stronger, and her sleep shorter each day.

Elain’s scream clawed itself out her throat violently, weaved its way through the night settling in the air, chilling her own blood.

As she attempted to calm her racing heart which could be heard pounding in her ear like war drums, she knew she could not go on like this for much longer the short bursts of sleep scarcely got her through the day and she grew paler and frailer by the day. It was infinitely frustrating feeling powerless, the backpeddling of her recovery since that terrifying day at the Cauldron, but try as she might she was wilting away like one of her favorite flowers during the winter season.

Disturbing her from her musings a sharp crisp knock sounded at the door. It was during these moments she became most afraid, because the truth was, she never quite knew whether she was dreaming whilst asleep or drifting whilst awake, her visions felt so real, so true, it confused even her own mind. As dread heighten once again, she tugged at the sheets, submerging herself beneath them willing the horrible images that flickered in front of her eyes though her lids remained closed.

Gentle but firm, the voice called out, “Elain?” At first it was dulled by the ringing in her ears until it came again, louder, clearer, finally breaching her murky thoughts.

At that her heart felt like it came to a stop momentarily, though it made her feel better to hear his comforting voice, the male on the other side of the door did little to slow the rhythm of her heart.

Taking a deep breath, once then twice more, she vocalized her internal thoughts. “Azriel, what are you doing awake so late?” Or early she supposed, depending on how you looked at it. She hadn’t been aware he had returned after so many weeks away; the shadow-singer had been gone on an important task with the Illyrians, alongside her sister and Cassian. Rhysand had casually informed her over dinner one night after she couldn’t bear to wonder any longer and perked up the nerve to ask, she had not realized quite how accustomed she had become to his quiet strength and companionship. Ordinarily she might not have noticed his absence quite so much, however with Nesta ‘s departure to the mountains as well it had left quite the notable hole in her life.

“I was returning from the mountains when I thought I heard a scream from the other end of the house, I thought I would seek out the source of the sound. Are you alright?” Azriel paused, he seemed apprehensious to continue but his voice picked back up again, just as clear as before. “May I come in if it is not an imposition.”

Casting a glance down herself she was relieved to see she appeared relatively decent, though sweat lined her temple and her hair was a tangled mess from thrashing about, she supposed he had seen her in far worse states throughout the years. Smoothing her hand through the tendrils in a half-hearted attempt to separate the sweat plastered hair lining her face, and righting the nightwear from off her shoulder.

“Of course.” She replied with a confidence she did not truly feel though the quiver in her voice almost certainly betrayed her.

The door released gently and as it unlocked the candlelight from the hall trickled in slowly, the glow framed his shape casting the rest of him in shadows but there was no doubt who the tall figure with broad wings belonged too, sapphire syphons glimmering across his torso, they seemed to thump steadily almost in unison with her own heart.

There was a stillness in him that set her on edge, though it had only been a few weeks it seemed like a lifetime ago as he stood quietly in the doorframe, whatever calm understanding had grown between them over months prior seemed to be absent. Tonight, he was tenser than usual she could read it in the creases of his forehead, in the tension of his torso, his whole being was screaming out for release. Not to mention his shadows rippled around him, very unusual for him to allow them such free range around her.

"I apologize for disturbing you, I did not realize I was quite so loud.”

He remained far from her by the now shut door, keeping his eyes downcast probably in some chivalrous attempt to allow her to maintain some modicum of privacy. He was always like that Azriel, gentlemanly to the core.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His siphons glowing vividly in the dim room.

She knew he was only being kind to her as he always was, nonetheless she appreciated the gesture, did not have the energy to sustain any sort of façade she had been prolonging for Feyre. She had so much to worry over already, what with being pregnant. It certainly wasn't the time for her to fret about her again, so she kept her rising demons to yourself.

“How often has this been happening?” He queried gently, it was so low she had barely heard him, almost as if he had been speaking to himself.

“Not frequently.” Only constantly.

He searched her face for any trace of a lie and she knew with his experience, and intelligence he was likely to see the lie for what it was, if he did, he made no comment on the deception, allowing her this secret. And for that she was infinitely grateful.

He did not speak for a while the silence between them louder than the usual tranquility she was accustomed to when it came to the shadow-singer. Tonight, was different. Perhaps whatever happened in Illyria had put him on edge, at the verge of his control, because the silence between them was anything but serene.

“There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky ours are the former.”

“You get night-terrors too?” She guessed.

No hesitation. “Of course.”

It was hard to imagine such a strong and stoic man being capable of being rendered powerless by a mere dream, more likely he was trying to make her feel better about her weaknesses, for the fragility of her mind some days. She wondered if going mad might be easier, if she simply let it pull her under, perhaps she could finally get some much needed rest.

Elain implored genuinely, “And how do you cope with them?” He took his time to ponder her words, carefully picking the ones he would use.

“I want to keep my dreams, even bad ones, because without them, I might have nothing all night long.”

“That seems inordinately sad.”

A soft chuckle, and then, “Never.” Pause. “Have you spoken to Feyre about your nightmares? From the look of your eyes, I am guessing she knows...”

“No, no... I do not wish to worry her, what with everything going on and all, it would be unfair. Anyway, it is all under control so there will be no need to lose sleep over it.” The god of Irony was looking down upon her she was sure. However, it was her best bet at making sure he did not seek Feyre out and tell her, so she would reason with him, certain he was aware of her sister's delicate condition.

"Mhm.” He fiddled with his rings. “Would you like me to do anything? I could bring you a sweat tea...” Azriel was looking around the room as if it would divulge all the answers to him, or mayhap to avoid looking at her. As the thought manifested, she considered how improper this was, how intimate this room was to her and even further still as she lay in short silk underthings with only a thin sheet covering her lean form.

“I can wait for you to fall asleep before leaving, if you'd like?” Damn— She had not realized how long her musings had gone on for, taking her silence as a refusal he had persevered on.

“Oh no, that's quite alright. I am sure I have a tonic around here Madja gifted me.” She refused to tell anyone she had ran out quite some weeks ago, believing she could regain control of her nightmares, perhaps that was ill-advised on her part. Continuing on, “Truly, I was not expecting such a rough sleep or I would have had some before laying to rest.”

A lie, regrettably. Elain felt a heap of shame envelop her but it was no more than she would feel at the look of pity she was sure to receive if anyone knew the truth of it.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Azriel was anything but at ease tonight himself, so at odds with his usually calm steady demeanor. He appeared to be contemplating his next words carefully but settled—

“Well should you need me at any point I'm in the West Wing. Day or Night.”

She offered him a appreciate smile, again it was out of kindness he offered, but it was no matter why as she knew with absolute certainty that she would never take him up on that offer. She watched him take his leave and some part of her rebelled and she murmured, “Oh, Azriel... I am glad you are back home.” A blush rose to the surface quick and hot.

He paused abruptly; his hand was paused wrapped around the doorknob and stayed so as if glued to it, though frustratingly, she could not make out his face with his back towards her, the air within the room seemed to vibrate over her skin, raising goosebumps along the length of her arms. The tension that he had been holding in since he arrived seemed to reach its crescendo, his shadows growing and rising higher up his body swiftly covering him as if safely tucking away whatever was eating away at him.

She could not be certain as the shadows pooled around them and pulled the room deeper in to darkness but she caught the slight movement as he ducked his head in a nod, a poor attempt to acknowledge that he heard her.

Elain wasn't even sure if that was just her imagination playing tricks because as quickly as she could think it, he regained himself and pulled the door open wide and fast, causing a rush of air to flow over her cheeks, Azriel was through the doorway and a mere shadow before she could even blink.

All that remained was the fading light from the halls as her door gradually closed on its own accord.

She would lay there for many hours to come, eventually falling back in to dreamland, though this time when she returned her thoughts were filled less of a frigid baren land and replaced by visions of dark mountains scattered with wild-flowers, gentle wind chimes sounding through the trees and a small but beautiful cabin lay ahead.

Although the inky sky should have filled her with fear there was no such unease here, the shadows seemed blanket her, appeared to comfort her in this foreign land, welcoming her home, even though she was certain she had never visited such a place before.

Elain was not able to identify anything familiar but its presence loomed over her in a intimate embrace and the soft smell of roses soothed her soul and coxed her in to a deep sleep.

The respite would not remain so for long, as the cold abyss would return on her next sleep as the sun set beyond the hills, summoning her to the icy void where reality was far from her reach.

As usual if you wish to be added or removed just let me know 🖤

@theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @verifiefangirl @stars-falling @abraxos-is-toothless @tswaney17 @elrielllll @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @julemmaes @thefangirlofhp

#Elriel #Azriel #Elain Archeron #Elain x Azriel #ACOTAR #ACOFS #ACOMAF #ACOWAR #a court of thorns and roses #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #myelriel #myelrielfic #the seer of shadows

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glorified-red · 4 years ago

Text

The Types of Hugs Tim Gives

word count: 1150~

warnings: none

The Polite Platonic

Usually happens after some time getting to know Tim, he doesn't hug strangers or new people but won't deny a friendly, polite hug between friends

Lasts like 1.6 seconds max

This hug is very loose because Tim doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries the you may have about touching

Usually paired with a polite Gala Smile™ at the beginning and end of the hug and a simple goodbye

Super gentlemanly about it by avoiding touching any showing skin and keeps his arms around the shoulder area of you

He may even resort to the classic Side Hug™ at this stage in relations, super polite and super short but a way of affection nonetheless

The Starfish

You have officially reached Best Friend Territory but this hug can also be used on his s/o

Lasts a good solid 7-8 seconds

He’ll bound up to you with open arms and envelope you in a tight hug, making it goofy by shifting his weight drastically from side to side and dragging you along for the ride

Guaranteed to make both of you burst into a fit of laughter

He likes to end this hug with a squeeze before pulling away and striking up a conversation with you, a huge smile on his face

This is usually used after not seeing you for awhile or after an important event that you partook in and he came to show his support i.e. a performance

The Backpack

Welcome to s/o territory my friend

This is strictly reserved for his one and only true love: you

He can get super clingy after not sleeping for awhile and when you just so happen to pop by? You brought this upon yourself

Also popularly known as The Back Hug™

Both his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head plopped onto your shoulder as he talks to you

He will shuffle behind you if you try to walk, there is no escape from Tim’s grip when he does this hug so it either ends with him falling asleep holding onto you or someone prying him away from you with more cases (he usually drags you along to help him anyway)

This hug happens when you cook for him and he decides to be a nuisance, on dates, or as surprises where Tim just latches onto your waist with a pout, basically begging for your affection

Has a cuddly counterpart: When you sit in between his legs while watching something, leaning back against his chest, and feeling him litter your neck with gentle kisses

The Proud Boyfriend

Ahh yes, when Tim is extra proud to be your boyfriend and happy that you are in his life, you are blessed with this absolute MONSTER of a hug

He’ll stand with his arms spread wide open and a huge goofy smile on his face, just waiting for you to run into his arms so he can lift you off of your feet and spin you around

The cheesiest moment of your life I guarantee it but its a sure fire way to make Tim look at you like your his whole world, bright shinning blue eyes absolutely smitten for you

This hug evolves into the classic Carry Hug™ where his arms are holding you up from under your thighs and your hands fall across his shoulders

Tim always expects a kiss during this hug and if he doesn't get it? Pouty boy who will annoy you until you finally give him his kiss, he’ll immediately break out into a huge blush right after though

This has been known to happen when he picks you up for dates or after work/school or on extra special occasions like your birthday

The Comfort Corner I

When you’ve had a rough day and Tim notices? He won't udder a word but he’ll open his arms slowly in a silent invitation, his face etched into a slight frown from worry

Completely enveloping you in his arms, a tight hold on you to show you his support for you and as a means to try to hold you together

Super warm both inside and out, his arms and tight hold on you immediately make you feel warmer but his loving touching is what makes your heart feel fuzzy and warm from the comfort

He lays his chin on top of your head as to encase you fully, not letting you peer into the outside world because in this moment, its just you and Tim, nothing else matters

He’ll rub soft slow circles into your upper back with one hand while cradling your head with the other, his thumb caressing your hair gently

Sometimes he stays quiet during this hug when he doesn’t know what's going on, he’d rather offer physical comfort instead of assuming the situation

The majority of the time however, Tim will mutter reassurances under his breath when he knows about the situation or just general sentences like “I’m here for you okay?” and “Just breathe, it’s gonna be okay”

Tim never pulls away first during this hug, he doesn’t know how long you need his comfort so he never even attempts to pull away from you when you might need him the most

He’ll happily stand and hug you for an hour if that’s what you need but the second you pull away he’s happy to oblige as well

If you end up not pulling away for awhile? He’ll gently lead you to a bed or nearby couch and continue to hold you for as long as you need, just letting you cry or sniffle into his shirt until you inevitably fall asleep

The Comfort Corner II

Sometimes Tim has a rough night/patrol/day what have you, this is the time when this hug comes into play

No words, just a sunken Tim walking up to you -his eyes usually focused solely on the floor- before just leaning into your chest, placing his head onto your shoulder and hiding his eyes from the world

Sometimes when Tim doesn't have the strength left in him to do anything but breathe he’ll just keep his hands at his sides while you rub his back and hug him

Shaky breaths leave him but please hold him until they even out and Tim can slowly wrap his arms loosely around your waist, all the tension in his shoulders leaving

Other times Tim will hug you with a bone crushing grip on your waist, scared that you might leave or aren't even real

You can try to offer reassurances to him but it usually falls onto deaf ears because he’s too caught up in his brain to focus on anything but your touch and the heart beat pulsing against his ear

He really just needs an anchor and in that moment? It’s you, you are all the comfort that Tim needs

#Tim drake #Tim Drake x reader #Tim Drake x you #Tim Drake x y/n #headcanons #Tim Drake headcanons #red robin #Red Robin x you #Red Robin x y/n #Red Robin x reader #Red Robin headcanons

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captain-barnes-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Someone Like You [5/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 5]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (LOTS) , language, 18+.

NOT PROOFREAD so watch out for lots of errors.

Word count: 4.5k

You’d avoided thinking of Sebastian for a good portion of the morning, but he was creeping back into your head forbidding you from forgetting what had happened just last night. Upon arriving at your hotel room the night before, you had turned into a weeping mess while still clad in your beautiful satin dress, a huge contrast to the ugly emotions that were seeping out of you. Sobs had wracked through your body to the point it had become hard to breathe.

The strong smell of him lingered on your body as if taunting you that he still owned every part of your being. Despite everything, despite the many months apart and despite the very reason why things had not worked out he still had an effect on you. Even after you’d jumped into the shower to wash the night away, especially to rid of his scent and the smell of sex that had followed you, you could still feel his lingering hands on you, the wet trail his lips would leave on your skin. As if taunting you, his scent was still present even in your room. You couldn’t escape him.

He still managed to pull at your every heartstring. It was the silky locks, the azure eyes with the crinkles on each end and that toothy grin of his. It was the way a single glance your way and you were a puddle at his feet, melting for him. But whatever happened last night had been a mistake, he was a part of your past and had to stay there. Yet you still found yourself pondering over how after so much time he could hold such a part of you, tight and permanent. The fluttering sensation in your belly, and pressure on your chest weighing heavy and electric that he induced with just one glance let you know that he was still very much a part of you. And when he looked at you, kissed you, let alone put his hands anywhere on you? It was a magnetic force so strong it left you breathless.

With a heavy chest and an even heavier heart, you thought of how you’d become pathetic and submissive all over again with just a mere touch of his. So puddy in his hands, holding onto every word that fell from his lips. His hands had been so greedy, wanting to hold you and kiss you all at once. He’d been everywhere, placed his large hands on every single part of your body. And you couldn’t lie to yourself, couldn’t deny the deep attraction that was clearly still present.

The magnetic pull, the sexual tension and desperation that had surrounded both your glistening bodies the night before was an engraved image in your head; pinned to your mind not letting you forget how he’d felt inside you. How he took you with such force, kissed you as if your lips were his only mean of survival. It was memorable what you’d both shared. Raw and emotional and in its wake left a gaping hole in your heart.

Despite how good it had felt while it happened, once it ended everything felt as if it had come crashing down. Like shattering glass around you, falling, breaking and so very loud, your mind had woken you from the bliss that had been shared in that stuffy closet. Like an alarm that rang and rang and the only way of shutting it off was the very act of leaving. Again. And so you did, you ran off once again from the man who’d held your heart almost two years ago and had refused to care for it. Refused to hold only you and you alone. He’d been valiant enough to corner you and take you again with such confidence, then you were valiant enough of walking away too.

But this time it felt different. Horribly different because there was pain growing inside, building up and tormenting you. You had been unfaithful. It didn’t matter that the relationship with Romeo was not yet serious or that he was away in a different country at the moment, none of that mattered because your desire for Sebastian shouldn’t have clouded what reality was in the first place. Nothing should have made you forget your morals and had you commit such a sinful act. It felt as if the guilt was diminishing you if you didn’t come clean or at least put pause on the budding relationship.

As if he had an extra sense, your phone rang next to you breaking you from the torturous thoughts that had been clawing at you. Romeo’s name appeared on the screen, his contact picture blank. Swallowing loudly with tears already brimming your eyes, you took a hold of your phone with shaky hands. God, what the hell were you going to say?

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out when you finally answered. Voice low and dull, nothing compared to the usual silkiness and cheerfulness that laced it.

“What is going on, Y/N?” Romeo’s boomed through the phone. The background noise was distracting, loud chattering in Spanish could be heard.

“What?” You felt slightly shaken at the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound like the sweet Romeo you’d grown used to hearing. He sounded different and, dare say, impolite without even a simple greeting to start the conversation off.

“I’m not a fool, Y/N. What the fuck happened yesterday? What are all these pictures of you and that damn actor from those Marvel movies?” He paused, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard and the background noise was slowly disappearing. “They’re circulating everywhere to the point that people keep tagging me on that shit.”

You shouldn’t have, but a wave of relief washed through you. He was referring to Chris and at the mention of him you wanted to laugh. Even he thought the same as the media and besides the relief, you also felt upset.

“Oh, that...I got really anxious during the red carpet and he was nice enough to help me out. Walked me inside the venue and all. After the awards, we were just chatting.”

“You’re making me look like a fool. My whole team thinks so too.” It was apparent that he was only concerned about his image and the way people perceived him. It was disappointing to hear the roughness of his voice, accusatory and unkind. Though deep inside you were telling yourself that you deserved this type of treatment. You deserved it because even though he was upset about something that had not even happened, there was still something to be upset about. He just didn’t know what.

“I can’t befriend people because it makes you look bad? That makes no sense.” The words had flown past your lips before you could even think. You wanted to take the accusations, forgive them because you’d done something awful, but you weren’t that type of person anymore. You didn’t let men walk all over you.

“That looked more than friendly to me.”

“Yes, to you. My line of job has me meeting people constantly, as does yours, so either you get used to it or you don’t.” You had no filter. The words were just coming out without much thought. You wanted to be calm and let him continue accusing you using the harsh edge in his voice because you deserved it. You felt like he had every right to treat you this way, to denounce your behavior because he was right it had been more than friendly. It had become more than friendly just not with Chris, but with a different man he didn’t even know about.

“¿Qué estás diciendo? Se clara conmigo.” What are you saying? Be clear with me.

“You heard me. I’m not going to sit here and let you accuse me of anything. ” You responded, voice somewhat shaky. You were pleading with yourself to let you be firm and to keep an even voice, but your eyes were already welling up with tears for the second time in less than a day.

“Don’t embarrass me anymore, that’s all I’m asking.” He couldn’t be serious, you thought. The world didn’t revolve around him.

“Vete a la verga.” Go to hell.

And you hung up the phone. You didn’t know what had come over you. You wanted so badly to take the treatment and the accusations because you were worthy of them. Despite Romeo’s true colors that were coming to light, you had still done him wrong. You’d slept with another man and now you had probably just ended a relationship not even over that, but because of another man whom you had nothing to do with. You were an awful person.

Although you were an emotional mess and felt like one too your mind drifted to what Romeo had said about being tagged in certain pictures. You became curious and despite the state of being you were in, curiosity always overrode anything.

Grabbing your phone again you did the one thing you were advised to never do, google yourself. Upon typing your name in the search bar and hitting the search button, instead of it being about you it was about none other than Chris Evans. High quality pictures had surfaced the web the moment your anxiety fiasco happened last evening and it had become an even bigger deal today.

Y/N flirts with Chris Evans.

Romeo who? Y/N cuddles up to Chris Evans.

You pressed your face back into the pillow and groaned loudly. The sound echoed in the empty room as the city of Angels boomed below you. You were upset that even the sweet interaction such as yours and Chris could be taken so out of context. The man was no doubt an Adonis, you weren’t blind and you’d be a liar if you said your heart hadn’t beat faster at the sight of him yesterday. But it had all been so innocent and his gentlemanly actions had been genuine and with no underlying intentions. It was nothing but friendly. He’d been gallant, extending his arm so you could hook yours through it to get you out of the dramatic disaster that had been your red carpet experience. That was it. People were insatiable with their yearning for new information on people’s personal lives, wanting every little detail.

You’d taken pictures with other people at the after party and those pictures were out there too, but the media had clawed at those images that included Chris and ran with them. Of course, he was single and any woman who crossed his path was apparently dating him. You hated that now you were rumored to be one of them.

You were now a fuse of different emotions. Sadness because your relationship had just ended through a phone call, guilt because you’d been unfaithful and a flare of anger because you couldn’t believe your interaction with Chris had been taken as otherwise.

You saved one of the images to your camera roll. You were upset because many things in your life had come tumbling down in a matter of hours, but you knew that only you could discredit rumors that had no foundation. You didn’t want to become a victim of the media and knew just how to fix this.

Just letting y’all know that @ChrisEvans noticed me become extremely anxious in the middle of the red carpet & was kind enough to walk me the rest of the way. That is all. Please don’t believe these dating rumors, men and women CAN be friends🙄

You typed on twitter and attached a picture of him being the perfect gentleman, your arm hooked to his, bearded face smiling while he led you down the carpet. The real fixture of the picture was the clearly agitated face expression you wore. Lips formed into a nervous smile, anxious with knitted brows, forehead creased.

Pleased with the words and image, you pressed send to your tweet and dropped your phone back onto the bed. It bounced on the very edge of the very edge of the bed, any sudden movements and it would fall to the floor but you didn’t care.

Your cheeks were still wet with tears. Eyes dull, saddened and you felt exhausted. Chest so heavy it felt as if a weight was on top of it. Crawling under the covers you decided that the only way to forget about everything at least for a few hours was to doze off into a deep sleep.

-------

When you arrived back in New York a few days later after having concluded with a packed schedule, the weather had significantly dropped. You noticed the way the trees were still continuing to change in colors and drop their foliage on the wet floor. The holiday season was commencing and the vibrant colors of lights and many christmas decorations were already up throughout the city. It was such a divine sight and provided a serene feeling throughout your body. It felt like such a contrast from the way life had been playing out for you the last few days. Everything had changed in such a short time.

Your apartment was exactly as you’d left it and because the temperature had dropped even being in the comfort of it you felt as if you were freezing so you’d turned on the heater. You’d spent the last few hours trying to forget what the reality of your personal life was by taking the christmas decorations from storage and beginning the process of decorating that you loved so much. The holiday season was one of your favorites and despite the emotional state you were in, bits of happiness had oozed into your aura.

Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon was rudely interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You hadn’t contacted anybody in the last few days so nobody knew you were back in New York so you felt a little puzzled as to who it could be. You looked down at yourself in a haste noting that you were decent enough with your cozy oversized clothing. With a huff, you opened the door.

“Sebastian.” You sputtered out at the sight of the disheveled man. Like you, he was clad in comfortable clothing. Black sweats and a large jacket. With a shocked expression you noted how he looked so tired with dark undereye circles and he looked awfully cold standing in the hallway of your apartment complex.

“Hey.” Was all he said. His hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?”

He remained quiet for a few seconds, his teeth biting the plushiness of his bottom lip. Sebastian was just standing there looking at you as if you were the one standing in his apartment. As if you’d been the one to show up to his place unannounced.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me, Y/N. But I really have to talk to you. Can I please come inside?” His azure eyes were almost pleading, gazing at you. Even in the situation you found yourself in you couldn’t help but take notice of how blue his eyes were in the light, gleaming and so pretty. It was inappropriate to even be thinking of him this way when he’d just asked you a question and you seemed to be stalling.

“Uh. I don’t know, Sebastian.” You were unsure if to let him in. You’d been so weak for him at a venue filled with hundreds of people that you didn’t trust yourself to be alone with him in your apartment.

“I just really have to talk to you. Please.” He was begging and looked so desperate for you to say yes. He looked so cold just standing there in the freezing hallway that his lips seemed chapped too. You were pitying him despite everything and thought how this was the exact reason why sometimes you were taken advantage of. You were too kind.

Regardless of how much internal battle was taking place within you, you nodded and pushed the door ajar to let him in. He walked into your living room, taking a seat on the love seat opposite you when you did too. The atmosphere felt a little awkward.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have initiated it, but it felt so right at the time. And even now, it still feels right.” Sebastian started.

“That night wasn’t supposed to happen, Sebastian. I did something awful to someone I was in a relationship with by being unfaithful. And guess what?” You paused, slightly chucking at yourself and the way life seemed to be playing with you. “Not even a day after I cheated and we broke up. Not even because of us, by the way, but because of something completely unrelated. And now here you are in my living room almost a week after we had sex and I’m...lost.”

Sebastian’s gaze was glued on you, he looked desperate. But you didn’t know what he was desperate for. You were confused as to why he was in your apartment in the first place.

“I’m sorry about your relationship.”

“No you’re not.” Was your response. He wasn’t sorry at all, why would he be?

“My relationship just recently ended too. But this was a little bit before the awards show.” God, what did he want from you. You wanted to know why he was at your apartment but he was beating around the bush.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that.” You unconsciously took your lip in between your teeth while looking down at your clasped hands. Your apartment was warmer now with the heater having been on for a few hours and you made a mental note to turn it off soon.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And this has been going on for a long time, Y/N. It’s not a recent thing. I think what triggered it even more was when I saw those music videos of you and...Well I felt extremely jealous. And I felt so angry with myself at having let you go and not treated you the way you deserved.” Sebastian stopped himself as he broke his gaze from you to look down at his hands. “And God, he just couldn’t even keep his hands off you...fuck, it was like you were a piece of meat to him and you just let him touch you like that.” His blue eyes were wide, mouth slightly ajar while he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had no right to be telling you off like this, especially not when you were witness to his many escapades with other women after you called it quits with him. No matter how hard you tried to avoid any news on him, it always came up somehow. It had been a nightmare.

“Who do you think you are, Sebastian?” You retorted, loud enough to alert him but not loud enough for your neighbors to hear. You didn’t let him answer as you continued spewing your rage. “So what’s it to you now? It seems like you suddenly want me again only because you saw me with another man. Was it because it wasn’t you?” You spat, doe eyes furious. Even with the gushing hot anger pulsing through you, this whole scenario was somewhat satisfying to you. After so long, he was the one in a jealous fit.

“Because that should be me. I feel like it’ll always be me.” His face had perked up at your questions, face still red with anger but slightly softening his hardened expression. He’d gotten to his feet, rounded the coffee table and started walking to you in a slow manner, careful not to push you away. You were on your feet then too, watching his movements and not at all knowing what to expect next from him.

“I don’t belong to you, Sebastian.” He hated the way his name seethed out of your mouth because you used to call him adoring names or whenever his name flew past your lips it wasn’t out of anger.

“Did you think I was going to sit around and wait for you? You refused to commit to me. I mean we weren’t even in a relationship according to you. You didn’t have time for one, didn’t have the type of commitment it took to be in one. Even the thought of being in that type of situation again makes me sick now.” Your voice was wavering, but your newfound confidence had not. He was going to hear what you had to say and he was going to hear it loud and clear. “You never did much for me. We were always holed up in my apartment because it seemed as if you didn’t want to be seen with me.”

“No, that was not it at all. Don’t think I was ashamed of you because that’s not it.” Sebastian was grabbing at his hair again, and this time he was pacing your living room back and forth. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d been ashamed of you.

“I was stupid. I was a fucking idiot who didn’t appreciate you and had commitment issues. That’s it, but I was never ashamed of you. I don’t want you to think that.” He exclaimed, eyes meeting your teary ones. He didn’t want to make you cry, and the sight of your pretty face with fresh tears falling down your cheeks was eating him alive.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You cried out, hands wailing in the air in exasperation.

“To be with you.” Sebastian choked out. He was coming to terms with his feelings again, he’d pushed them aside for too long.

“Fuck, that’s all I want baby. To be with you. A chance to make it right by you and treat you the way I should have done before. I’m sorry for not appreciating you before and for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for being a blind asshole. I’m sorry for everything. You deserve the whole world and I’m willing to do anything to give you just that.” He was walking closer to you, hands stretched in front of him to grab hold of your arms. Your heart was beating erratically and eyes searched your living room, looking everywhere but him.

“Look me at me, doll.” He whispered as he stood in front of you now. He was so close. Too close that you could feel his breath fanning down at your face. He was taller than you and your eyes peered up at him through long dark lashes .

“I can’t, Seb…” Your voice was wavering, the confidence it oozed earlier was diminishing. You were internally screaming at the fact that he still had an effect on you. A heavy deep seated effect that pulled waves of electricity through you as his hand traveled up to caress your tense jaw.

“Fuck, yes you can. We can. Don’t you feel this?” He was inching ever closer if it was possible. His body plush against yours.

“No. ” You said, eyes breaking contact with his and hands pushing at his chest to move him away. He slightly stumbled backwards, not expecting the harsh refusal from your part.

“And you need to leave right now.” You pointed at the door. His shoulders had dropped at the sound of your words and he felt so dejected at your refusal to be with him now. He knew exactly how he had made you feel now because he felt devastated. Chest tight and his breathing uneven. You were tearing him apart.

“Is that really what you want?” His voice was low, eyes downcast as his hand slipped from your arm.

“Yes.” You whispered, your eyes looking forward trying so hard to focus on the tan lamp at the far end of the room. Even though it tore him apart, he walked his way back to the front door. He turned again just to take a quick glance at you as if expecting you to change your mind. When you didn’t even budge, didn’t even offer a single look at him, his demeanor faltered and he sauntered past the door managing to shut it behind him.

A sudden pang of excessive emotion allocated itself in your chest. So heavy it almost had you gasping. Cheeks wet with fresh tears and lips quivering, you were in such disarray not even a minute after he’d walked out the door. Even after so long, this is what you’d wanted. Him finally confessing how he felt about you, showing you the very emotions you so deeply felt for him.

You were unable to move as if glued to the spot near the sofa staring into space as cries wracked through your body. The man you thought you had stopped loving and had seemingly forgotten had just left and instead of feeling relief or a gust of calmness, you felt desolate. You were being forced to face the very reality that you didn’t just desire Sebastian, you were undoubtedly still in love with him. It didn’t matter that you’d been apart for so long, none of that mattered because what you felt for him was otherworldly.

And maybe you were the most ludicrous person in the world and maybe you deserved to get your heart broken many times again, but your feet dashed to the front door. You swiftly pulled it open, expecting to find the hallway empty. But Sebastian was still cemented there, back against the wall of the narrow hallway, with teary eyes. He pushed himself off the wall as your figure planted itself in front of him.

“Y/N.” He gently whispered your name. Frantic eyes meeting, both swollen and red, and his hands had moved to touch you in a desperate manner but they moved back as if scared you’d stalk back inside your apartment and leave him.

“When you walked out, I felt—I felt everything was closing in on me and this sudden rush of sadness washed over me. I don’t know why I feel this way about you, Sebastian. You know, maybe I’ll never be able to understand why after everything that’s happened between us we still have this strong connection. And I’m probably stupid for even contemplating this…”

Sebastian was holding onto every word you were uttering. Waiting for you to say the words he wanted to hear the most. He watched you pause, trying to gather your thoughts with your lip between your teeth.

“You get one chance, Sebastian. One chance and you better not fuck it up.” You finally finished. Sebastian’s mouth had fallen agape first before a large smile began to form on his handsome face. He immediately moved his body to reach out to yours, but you backed away.

“Not so fast. We’re going to do things differently this time.” You pursed your lips. He was still beaming at you and you tried so hard to fight off the same expression from your face.

“I’m going to take you on a date. That’s the first thing I’m going to do.”

“What?”

“I’m going to do things differently this time, Y/N.” Sebastian was looking at you with gleaming eyes as if they were reserved just for you. His smile hadn’t faded away.

“Tomorrow we’re going on our first date.”

----------

Good god this took me so long to write lol I feel like this is a horrible chapter! Next chapter will be the final one. Lee Bodecker is next on my list🥴

Thanks for reading y’all ♥️

@jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

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thrillridesz · 4 years ago

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[ to start from the prologue - click here ]

The geography report is in need of a lot of work and the last thing you wanted was to receive a bad grade for it for all the effort you have put into it so far. The report was almost done but you had just a little bit more reading to do.

As you entered the empty library, you waved to the librarian - a short, stout old woman whose glasses were always missing - who smiled at you in return. It felt odd to be in school so early, especially in the library which seemed practically deserted. It did however, feel weirdly calming and serene to be surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, knowing that you would be allowed to read in peace. There was the scent of peaches and old books in the air which felt extremely soothing to you as you walked around the empty library until you reached the humanities section. If there was a single place you loved more than your bed at home, libraries and bookstores come in at close second.

Running your fingers along the spine of the books on display, you smiled softly to yourself. Maybe you should start coming to school earlier. The tranquility and warmth derived from just being surrounded by books in the early morning where nobody could bother you felt exhilarating to say the least.

You must have been too caught up in the moment because when you turned around the corner and ran smack into a firm chest, you were so surprised you fell backwards and landed with a dull thud on your bottom.

“Ow!” You hissed, rubbing at the tender ache at your lower back.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I… I didn’t think there’d be anyone else here.” The figure in front of you apologised hurriedly, clearly flustered and embarrassed. His voice was gentle, yet anxious and you couldn’t help but notice that it sounded really pleasing to the ear.

“It’s fine, neither did I.” You said, feeling your face heat up. What a way to start the day - making a fool of yourself in front of someone.

“Let me help you up.”

“Thanks, I- Oh, it’s you.” You said, barely able to keep the discontent from your tone as you looked at the towering figure in front of you.

“Hey, y/n!” Younghoon’s eyes widened, looking properly surprised at seeing you as his lips lifted up into a smile.

Was he always here so early? Is this why he’s consistently topping the class and pushing you down the rankings?

“What are you doing here?” You asked, narrowing your eyes and folding your arms. You were in no mood to present yourself as welcoming or thrilled by his presence. You knew you weren’t being the nicest or friendliest person right then but you couldn’t help it. The competitive side of you had kicked in as soon as you saw your competition.

Younghoon’s smile faltered ever so slightly at your question and you knew he felt the tension. His cheeks darkened and he looked down, as though unable to look you in the eye and it struck you how your friends always found him to be attractive even when you didn’t. Tall and well built, Younghoon had large doe-like eyes that seemed cold yet warm and dark hair that always seemed to be in perfect condition, no matter how strong a breeze outside. The glasses he had perched on his nose did nothing to detract him from his good looks, instead giving him a studious, gentlemanly appearance which your friends had on many occasions gushed to you about.

You on the other hand, saw him as competition. Exam after exam, Younghoon had always come up on top, ranking first in most of his subjects if not all of them. Whatever he studied, he aced - something that annoyed you to no end. The most irritating part was the fact that he seemed to be in every other class you were in. Seeing the teachers praised Younghoon for his stellar achievements made you jealous and you wanted so desperately to place first for once but with him around, it was clear that that was not going to happen.

“I um… I’m here to get some guidebooks for literature class.” He answered shyly.

“You? You need guidebooks?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“It’s not exactly my best subject…”

“When was anything not your best subject?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing.

Younghoon gave you a deflated look.

“I’m supposed to be tutoring someone. Miss Yuan told me to fill in for Dee - she’s got photography club duties.”

You frowned, not liking what you were hearing. Miss Yuan chose Younghoon to take on tutoring duties? Why would she? As much as you did not want to admit it, you felt mildly offended at this decision. Literature was one of the subjects you absolutely aced at and it was one the classes where you had managed to rank higher than Younghoon on several occasions to come in second only behind Dee, the literature queen of the class.

“Why did she pick you and not me?” You asked petulantly and Younghoon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, finding himself in an uncomfortable position.

“Well… I don’t know either since you are clearly better than I am at literature. I think she probably thought you were busy with your other classes.”

“Well, she’s got it wrong then.” You huffed, still feeling a little disgruntled.

“I bet I would be a better tutor than you if given the chance.” You mumbled softly under your breath which thankfully, Younghoon didn’t catch.

“I… I…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say before he brightened. “Why don’t you come… and join us?”

He said the last few words so softly, you barely caught what he was saying as he lowered his head. Sometimes, it’s truly astounding how someone who looks so cold and intimidating could look so soft and meek.

“Sorry?”

“Why don’t you come and join the tutoring session? It’s at 3pm today after school.” Younghoon asked and maybe it was just a figment of your imagination but was that a hint of anticipation in his voice.

On one hand, you’d love to show up and prove your worth and ability as a better literature student compared to Younghoon and it wouldn’t take very long but on another, why should you? This was Miss Yuan’s task to Younghoon and furthermore, you could be doing other things like working on your geography report.

Do you want to join in the tutoring session?

➳ Yes

➳ No

#juyeonzz's 1k milestone special ✨#deobiblr #deobiwritersnet #kwriterworldnet #kpopscape #tbznetwork #tbz imagines #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz fics #the boyz fics #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff

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bexterbex · 5 years ago

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A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 31

This is chapter 31 if you haven't heeded the WARNING by now, then I can’t help you. Also, I will now be posting the new chapter before 2 PM CST, so it may be before 11 AM like it use to be but it might not. I have had some priorities change and the posting time reflects that.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 31: A Dinner to Remember

You took your seats. Kylo was of course of was at the head of the table and you were seat next to him. The others took the remaining seats but Ushar was at the end of the table.

“Everything has been ordered already we will just have to wait until the food gets here,” said Kylo.

You took this moment to ask, “So were are you all from?”

Ap’lek spoke up, “All of us were born somewhere on different planets but unlike you sweetheart, we don’t exactly call them home. So it really doesn’t matter.”

You bit your lip in confusion. So they had no home, but from what Kylo had said they at least had each other.

“So Kylo informed me that you are all single, on earth being a Knight is somewhat of a turn on,” you joked.

“You making us an offer sugar,” asked Cardo with a suggestive smirk.

You were taken aback at this question, blushing at the suggestion. But before you could answer Kylo did for you. “She isn’t a prize and you best remember that before you end up on the wrong side of my saber.” He was serious and firm, a threatening tone in his voice.

“It’s just a joke boss, no harm done,” said Vicrul holding up his hands in surrender.

One of Kylo’s eyes twitched and his jaw clenched. “What were you saying about the knights here though, that they are….chivalrous and gentlemanly. I think that would be a matter of improvement for you all.”

“We will follow your lead boss,” said Kuruk. You could tell they liked pushing his buttons a bit, you didn’t exactly why but you knew they might just like messing with him when they can--like brothers.

“I suppose you could all take some notes from the Allegiant General then,” you said with a smirk of your own.

You could tell that this was not something they liked hearing. Kylo suppressed a chuckle while the others glared at you for a second before shifting their eyes to him. He was now wearing a half-smirk on his face.

Before anyone could say anything two droids came in with carts full of food and drinks. They served you all at an amazing speed.

“So why don’t you like the general,” you asked curiously while starting to dig into your appetizer.

“You mean the sniveling little bastard that walks around in daddy’s uniform? The feeling is mutual between us. He has a stick shoved so far up his ass the blood flow has turned his hair red. He doesn’t like us because when we come back from missions we track dirt onto his ‘clean’ starships. He calls us dogs and hates that we don’t shit our shoes to anal perfection. What is there to like,” asked Ushar.

“I can’t respect a man who hasn’t spent any time in the trenches. He gives his orders from the safety of his precious starship. He despises actually getting his hands dirty, he always orders others to do his work for him,” said Kuruk.

“I see. I’m sorry for asking,” you said.

Kylo’s hand was a clenched fist on the table, he wasn’t happy about the conversation.

“It’s best to stick to things you shouldn’t be sticking your nose into, Pet. How about something like baking and babymaking,” said Cardo.

In a flash, Cardo’s back was against the wall and he was clutching his throat, choking. “Maybe you are dogs because you certainly need to learn how to obey your master and heel,” asked Kylo through gritted teeth.

Cardo choked out, “I’m sorry boss, it won’t happen again.” And his body slid to the floor he was gasping for air.

“Make sure of it. It is your life that is on the line. This is the final warning for all of you. Next time it will be my saber.” Kylo was furious. His breath was uneven and he was clenching his fists.

“Kylo it’s alright, it’s not the first time something like this has happened and it really doesn’t bother me by this point,” you said trying to calm him down.

“They should know better,” he said gesturing to the knights. “They all should know better,” he said gesturing to the rest of the ship.

You move to place a hand on his arm, “why don’t we just try to calm down?” You were trying to appeal to him, “why don’t we finish eating?”

Kylo eventually gave in and you all resumed eating now turning to the main course. You tried changing the subject. “How did training go for you all this morning?” You were hopeful that they would all take the hint to be friendly and civil.

“We got our asses kicked, but that usually happens when we spar with the boss,” said Ushar. “If your sparing is anything like what Captain Phasma and Commander Pyre did the other morning then I would like to see it sometime.”

“The silver captain is a very formidable opponent. She and the golden commander are the only ones who are even worth trying to spar with outside the knights,” said Ap’lek.

“If the boss agrees with it you should watch us tomorrow morning,” asked Vicrul.

Kylo nodded in agreement. “I take my morning debriefings during our training, so you’ll be accompanied by most of the First Order High Command and other various high ranking officers. But it shouldn’t be a problem if you are willing to get up early enough.”

“How early is early,” you ask.

“6:00 hours. I am usually up by 5:30 hours and take breakfast afterward,” said Kylo.

“I think that is something I can manage.”

There was a shared chuckle around the table. The droids took away your plates and served desert. Most of the knights seemed rather enthusiastic about this, you had a feeling some of them had a couple of sweet-tooths.

“You seem to be only asking about us m’lady. Why don’t you tell us about yourself? After all, the boss has made it clear that we are your new bodyguards,” asked Ushar. Who seemed to be the unspoken leader in the group, he was visibly the oldest too.

This took you by a bit of a surprise. You wiped your lips on a napkin before asking, “what would you like to know?”

“How about your favorite flower,” asked Trudgen this was his first time speaking all night. He looked to the others for confirmation, “women like flowers right?”

You chuckled. The old Russian saying, ‘what the priest is like, so is the church’ seemed to be true. “Why don’t you ask your boss that question?”

“_____ her favorite flower is ____,” he mumbled in response.

They seemed confused by your laughter. “That is the first question he really asked me.”

“So, the boss has got as little game as Trudgen,” said Kuruk. The other guys seemed to laugh at both of their expenses.

“I wouldn’t say that. There is a large beautiful bouquet next to my bed of them,” you responded jovially.

Ushar leans back in his chair, “so the kid does have game. Who would’ve thought?”

Kylo repeats the action challenging the elder, “Better game than you and you know it.” There was a smirk on his face and a certain gleam in his eye.

“Makes sense, but you know not everyone has your natural talent,” challenged the old man.

Kylo’s smirk tightened, the other knights held their breath. You were missing something but you didn’t know what.

“You’re right my old friend. Don’t you forget it.” His eyebrow twitched. You could tell whatever you were missing was something that if pushed hard enough would certainly anger him again.

Trudgen spoke again, you could tell he was the least confident in speaking to you. “What about your favorite color?”

You smiled at him, thankful that he was trying to cut the tension in the room. “It’s ______, it reminds me of ________. It’s always made me happy.” It worked the tension released.

“Do you like sweets,” asked Trudgen.

“Yes, but not as much as you all I see.” At this, some of them blushed knowing they were guilty.

Ap’lek put his hands up, “You caught us when you fight in the trenches most of your life you develop an appreciation for them.”

“Especially when most of the time you eat crap for food,” agreed Vicrul.

You chuckled at their honesty. They seemed to be much more comfortable around you now than when they first came in. But you were starting to feel exhausted the entirety of the day catching up to you again.

“I think its best that you all go,” said Kylo noticing your exhaustion.

They all thanked you for the meal and went to the living room to collect their helmets. They left saying their goodbye’s and saying that they would see you in the morning.

Kylo turned to you, “what did you think Kitten?”

“I think they are all nice guys, just a bit rough around the edges. It might do them some good having to guard me, they might pick up a thing or two about being gentlemen.”

Kylo smirked at your response, he wrapped an arm around you and kissed your forehead. You definitely enjoyed his new confidence in showing affection. You smiled but felt very tired.

“Why don’t you head to bed early, you had a long, rough day and you could use the rest. Plus you promised them you would be at training early in the morning and they don’t like to be disappointed.” He guided you up the stairs and to your room. You opened the door and started to head in before he caught your arm.

“Now Kitten, you haven’t forgotten our deal already, have you?” There was amusement in his tone and a smirk on his face.

You leaned in only to give a peck, but he caught you and took your breath away. You made a mental note to never forget a goodnight kiss, especially if they were going to be as good as this one.

You said your goodnights and you got ready for bed. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come. Knowing that you were going to watch him train was getting you hot all over once again, but you shook your head at the thought. You both promised to wait, and you would, but at least you were sure you would enjoy tomorrow’s performance.

You set your alarm early and messaged Lieutenant Mitaka your plans before you drifted off to sleep.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #knights of ren #a soul to mend his own

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matth1w · 4 years ago

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I Won’t Say - Chapter 1

(Gif Credit)

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: You and Obi-Wan stand on the edge of something more than friendship. With Anakin in your ear and a special gift from Obi-Wan, will you finally admit your feelings?

Warnings: Typical slow burn angst

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 2,837 words

Note: I took some liberties and I’m not an expert in Star Wars so apologies in advance if any terminology or anything is incorrect.

For: my dear friend @commander-writergirl’s #800CelebrationChallenge / I chose the song prompt I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) from Hercules

A soft knock on your door stirred you out of the book you had been reading. The climatic scene was unfolding between two classical lovers who were finally professing their undying love for one another. If you couldn’t live out your desires, you could at least read about them.

“Come in!” you announced as you shut the book and shifted in your chair. You knew it could only be a handful of people at this time, even less being so polite as to knock (looking at you, Anakin Skywalker).

You didn’t try to contain the joy on your face when Obi-Wan stepped through the door. You quickly stood and rushed to embrace him. Something you only felt certain enough to do after long or dangerous missions and in private places.

Obi-Wan chuckled underneath your touch as he wrapped one arm around your waist, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

“Careful, my dear.” He murmured in his low comforting voice against your hair.

You pulled back, letting your hand rest on his arm as you examined his face.

“Are you hurt?”

This brought another sparkling laugh from Obi-Wan.

“No, no. I’m perfectly fine.” He explained with a wry smile, “I just didn’t want you to crush your present.”

Your face lit up at the mention of a present and a slight blush rose up your cheeks.

Obi-Wan smiled at you as he moved the arm that was behind his back and held a small potted plant in front of him. It was a trio of small, delicate white flowers adorned with smatterings of blue and purple.

“It’s beautiful!” You whispered in adoration and genuine surprise. You had never seen a flower like it. And it of course meant that much more coming from your favorite Jedi.

Had you not been so enamored by the floral gift, you would have flinched at the electricity that ran through you as your fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s as you accepted the present.

“Do you like it?” Obi-Wan mused. You looked up at his affectionate eyes that had been examining your reaction and giggled.

“Of course I do!” You admonished, but it was without malice as you truly loved the easy teasing between you two.

Obi-Wan moved to stroke his beard as he nodded, trying to maintain a semblance of control over his facial expressions and busy his hands that yearned to reach out and touch you.

He cleared his throat, trying to rid his head of distracting thoughts.

“It’s a unique thing. It’s called an Evening Primrose. It opens up during the nighttime then shuts when the sun rises.”

You examined the flower curiously, turning it in your hands. You had never heard of such a thing. You wondered for a moment if it had medicinal uses.

“To be quite honest, when I saw it, I couldn’t help but think of you, my little night owl.”

Your head shot up and you were certainly blushing at the nickname. Obi-Wan had never called you anything like that before, and certainly never looked at you with such tenderness either.

You tore your eyes away, looking down to the flower below. And in a desperate attempt to maintain the light atmosphere, rather than delve into anything that could be perilous, you returned once more to light hearted banter.

“Not everyone can be as early a riser like you, Obi-Wan.” Your lips curled into a content, albeit secretly saddened smile and his soon matched yours at the surface.

“But then who would bring you breakfast when you sleep in?” Obi joked back and you had to laugh at that, the tension easing from your body.

“I would say Anakin but I know he struggles as much as I do most days.”

Obi-Wan sighed at that and once again brought his hand to his chin.

“Yes, he’s become much less strict about his morning meditation since he’s become a Knight.”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world.” You chided. “You should try it sometime, you might like it.”

The unintentional double meaning behind your words made Obi’s smile turn upside down for a fraction of a second, it would not have been noticeable if you weren’t so close to him or had known him for so long.

The room became silent for a moment as you struggled with what you should say and Obi-Wan seemed to do the same.

You met his eyes hesitantly and lifted the potted primrose up.

“Thank you for the gift, Obi. It was very thoughtful of you.”

He smiled, that soft, melancholic smile that never reached his eyes that appeared often during moments like this.

“Of course.”, he said quietly, his voice low and weak.

Fearing nothing was left to say than things neither of you were ready to speak aloud, he nodded.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He reached his hand out to rest on your shoulder and smiled more genuinely and lightly this time. The familiar sparkle of lighthearted teasing covering the misery brewing within them.

“I’ll need to get my rest if I’m to wake up before you. Though I suppose it won’t be too hard.”

He tauntingly grinned at you and you rolled your eyes, trying to focus on anything but his light touch and the unspoken words and emotions that desperately tried to surface around you.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nodded with a gentlemanly smile and bowed before he turned on his feet and exited your room.

In the quiet air, your fingers caressed the smooth terra-cotta underneath them as you brought the flower up to your nose to take in its sweet aroma.

—————

The soft chimes of your alarm stirred you from your slumber. It had been peaceful and calm night of rest, taking away your worries and repeating thoughts and replacing them with lovers dreams.

You shifted onto your side, admiring the now closed flowers. They were a beautiful sight to behold, even now, and one you could get used to seeing each time you opened your eyes.

Your heart pained at how you would much rather see a different view each morning, a pair of light blue eyes, but you fervently pushed the image away.

—————

Today had been a slow day in the medical bay, the hours crept on like thick mud. Thankfully, the evening and end of your shift were finally arriving as you thrummed your fingers on the table beside you. You had finished your rounds on the longer term patients and just finished typing up your last report on your datapad.

You heard one of your coworkers call your name. They didn’t sound panicked, moreso tired and annoyed so you didn’t worry but walked their way nonetheless.

When you reach the front of the wing, you saw Anakin standing with a mischievous smile alongside your much less energized coworker.

A slight tinge of pity hit you, Denoto, the veteran medical assistant had been there for nearly 12 hours today. You glanced at your watch to check the time. There were only a few minutes left in your shifts and the new wave had already arrived.

“You can go, Denoto,” you notified him with a smile that hopefully had seemed compassionate. You two didn’t much get along and you knew he envied your position as Head Medic.

The man gave a curt nod in response and walked past Anakin without a second look.

You rolled your eyes at the grumpy old man with Anakin and turned around.

“Come on,” you waved him back and heard him quickly follow, his boots sharp on the hardened floor.

Anakin cleared his throat as he caught up to walk in line with you.

“I got a bit scratched up on our mission. I think it’s fine...” his voice lowered as he leaned in with a sly smile, “but Padme insisted you check it.”

You smiled back, “She’s typically right. Let me see.” You had reached your destination and patted the bed beside you for him to hop up on.

He lifted his sleeve to reveal a minor wound on his shoulder. It was nothing to be worried about, but it could use some cleaning as it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly.

It wouldn’t surprise you, Anakin was reckless and once countered your reprimands with the claim that if he tended to his own wounds, you wouldn’t get to see him as often.

You settled into the familiar process and Anakin leaned back and closed his eyes. You didn’t mind, the silence was comfortable due to your strong friendship.

“So,” his voice broke the silence, mischief apparent in the one word alone.

You looked up to see him looking at you with those interrogating eyes and you turned around to pull out a bacta pad from the drawer behind you. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to talk about.

“Did Obi-Wan give you your gift?” His voice was playful and teasing, like only a best friend’s could.

You blushed as you turned back around, even though you willed your face and emotions to stay neutral and didn’t meet his eyes, though you could feel them practically burning a hole in you.

He chuckled, “I take that as a yes.”

Your eyes flitted to his momentarily then back at the wound. You knew Anakin wouldn’t leave well enough alone so you gave in with a sigh.

“Yes he did. I assume you had a role in it?”

You poked him with your finger, outside his wound but he still flinched as it tickled him slightly, a satisfied smile blossoming on your lips.

His signature troublemaker smile came back slowly, like he was relishing in the moment.

“Actually, no. The first I knew of it was when we were boarding the ship back.”

You blushed at that. It was harder to dismiss the gift as simply your friend’s meddling if he had no part in it.

You silently took off your gloves, standing to dispose of them in the bin, and patted Anakin’s covered shoulder. You didn’t want to think too much about it. And certainly didn’t want to hear any more of Anakin’s thoughts on the matter.

“Just a small infection.” You were pleased with the neutrality of your voice.

“Come back tomorrow to get fresh gauze. But otherwise, no one needs to worry about you.” Your voice and eyes softened as you finished.

He smiled gratefully, thankful for your abilities and confidence.

“Thank you.”

Anakin took your hand and looked seriously at you a moment before speaking in a hushed tone.

“Obi-Wan cares about you, you know.”

“Of course he does,” you sighed as you softly pulled your hand away and fidgeted with the roll of gauze you were packing away. “But no more than he cares about you or Ashoka. He probably is only kind because I tend to his injuries and don’t get all starry eyed around him or the other Jedi.”

“But...” he interjected.

“He’s a friend, Anakin. Nothing more.” Your voice grew stronger, more stubborn.

“Not like you...” you lowered your voice before your continued. “... and Padme.”

Anakin shook his head in exasperation and scoffed quietly.

“Whatever you say, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

His playful smile returned and you knew there were no hard feelings between you two.

“You better!” You chastised as you playfully swatted him.

A laugh is shared between you two before Anakin bows out and you’re left with your own spiraling thoughts, trying to decipher the meaning of Obi-Wan’s gift.

—————

You had tried to sleep, a bit earlier than usual but you couldn’t stop admiring the primrose on the windowsill. One of your perks of your role as head medic was that you had a corner room that was tucked away down a long hall and had a small window.

The flowers nearly glowed in the soft moonlight, and you couldn’t help but be taken with the beautiful, unique flowers. But also, more truly, what they represented.

A gift from Obi-Wan.

It wasn’t the first but certainly the most thoughtful, more-so now that you knew he brought it to you without any heavy-handed suggestion from Anakin.

You had to admit you were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t seen him today. You cursed yourself for the silly notion. You had just seen him yesterday. Although, it had been brief, and you wanted to hear more about his mission.

Yes, that was why you were disappointed. You wanted to hear about the mission. You laughed bitterly at the lie you were telling yourself and pictured Anakin calling you out on it if he was here.

A bit frustrated and knowing sleep wouldn’t come to you just yet, you sighed and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You stared at the flower a few minutes more before you decided to stretch your legs.

You didn’t know much about how to care for the flower but you thought the soil could give you a clue. Shuffling over to the pot, you determined it was watered enough. But the shine of the flower entranced you once more and you allowed yourself to daydream for just a moment.

You imagined planting it in the small garden in your backyard. You would tend to it and the other flowers and plants while Obi-Wan sat by the small pond meditating or reading.

You two would share lunches outside in the garden when the weather permitted and there would be a bench upon which you both could sit. And as the moon rose and the primrose bloomed, you would admire the stars, Obi pointing out which planets were which and telling you stories about the ones he had visited.

You blinked, the yearning pain in your heart bringing you back to reality. You felt incredibly foolish. Not only because Obi-Wan would never leave the Order for you but also because you knew that dreams that felt so good when they start out would eventually twist into nightmares and you would end up crying your heart out once more.

You had thought about sharing that ideal life with another a long time ago, when you had just finished your training and were stationed at a small hospital. He had been a kind man, another medic who had been on a different team but would always come around for talk whenever your schedules allowed. He was in a terrible accident one day and you stayed by his side through it all.

You scoffed internally as anger bubbled inside you, if there was a prize for rotten judgment, you would’ve won it. He played you like a fool. Once he was healed and regained his life, he left you, cold and alone for another.

You swore off love for a long time, determined that no man was worth the aggravation, the heartache, or time.

But then you became a medic here. And you met Obi-Wan. How twisted of fate to make you open your heart again for someone who could never truly be yours.

Who do you think you’re kidding? He’s the earth and heaven to you. No matter how hard you tried keep it hidden or conceal it, it was plain as day, you were in love. Anakin assured you as much. And mind reading or not, you were certain Obi-Wan himself knew.

You sighed, you hated acknowledging the truth of your feelings, and that... you loved him. But you would never speak it aloud. Not even in the confines of your room, alone and hidden in the darkness.

Plus, you thought your heart had learned its lesson. Your head was screaming for you to get a grip, reminding you of how you had cried your heart out for weeks over failed love before.

This back and forth was so tiring. You should just face it like a grown woman. Tell Obi-Wan your feelings and then leave if, no when, he says it can’t be.

No chance or way you’re doing that. Throwing out your career and friendships. You won’t say it. You can’t say it.

But your heart tempted you with images about how things could end up if you gave up and gave into your feelings. You stopped yourself as much as it hurt, that scene won’t play.

You imagined if Anakin and Padme were here now as your heart and mind fight amongst themselves.

They would say you’re in love, you’d tell them they’re way off base and try to get them off your case, but in turn they’d just tell you you don’t need to be proud, that it’s okay you’re in love. You smiled at the antics you were sure would happen.

A strong wave of sleep washed over you as you made your way back to your bed. You happily gave in as you laid your blanket atop your body, hoping to at least live out your fantasy in your dreams.

As you drifted to sleep, you promised yourself something.

You wouldn’t say you were in love...

At least out loud.

#800celebrationchallenge #commander-writergirl #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan fluff #obi wan angst #obi-wan #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan fluff #obi-wan angst #obi wan fanfic #obi-wan fanfic #obi wan reader insert #obi-wan reader insert #song fic

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barnesandco · 5 years ago

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Third Time Lucky (Expanded)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Kissing

A/N: I wanted to expand the original drabble, but I’m leaving the original up as it is instead of editing it bc it’s smol and I like it.

The first time she kisses Bucky, it's an accident.

He, along with Earth's mightiest heroes, is helping her move into the apartment she bought because she wanted her own space. An escape, a personal sanctuary, away from the Compound.

Not away from Bucky, though, never away from him. Much like him, she's quiet, still hesitant, only four months in as an Avenger. Her calm demeanor occasionally interrupted by bouts of laughter at his dry remarks, usually aimed at Sam. Bucky finds himself speaking more in an attempt to elicit that magical sound, not knowing that she's managed to bring him out of the shell he's been in since he left Hydra. In a number of weeks, she's unwittingly and effortlessly accomplished what they've all been working at for months - Steve's incessant mothering, listening to Sam at the VA, his therapy sessions, Shuri's cheerful video-calls, hours and hours in the gym to work out all that anguish. She hasn’t fixed him, and she isn’t trying to. But she’s made him comfortable, and that’s all any of them were asking for.

She can't remove his pain, nor he hers, but they've established a silent companionship; alone together. She prepares his coffee in the mornings, accepting a quirk of his lips in return. Breakfast passes with him pretending to read her newspaper upside down - he's actually studying the movement of her lower lip as she chews at it thoughtfully.

On the days they don't have missions, or meetings, or meet-and-greets, they'll spend the whole day on opposite ends of the breakfast nook. Surrounded by history books and a laptop - all Bucky's - and cocooned by her blankets and the scent of the flowers that grow in her vicinity when she's at ease. And she is, around him at least. His gentle, inaudible movements now useful for something other than assassination. Tranquility only broken by someone in the kitchen - mostly Sam for lunch, or Wanda, teaching Vision. The bustle of the Avengers filtered out between the tapping of her nails against her phone, and his pencil scratching against half-full notebooks. Peace is a rare thing for a soldier, and yet, here she is giving him some that soothes his very bones.

All of this without apparent affection, other than a fond look when he laughs at a meme she shows him, or the urge to hold his hand when his forehead wrinkles at a particularly nasty detail in the books before him. Averse to touch, after the kinds they've experienced.

Until now, and it’s a thoughtless, subconscious action that finally introduces Bucky’s skin to the feel of hers, the feel of her lips, actually, and it’s electrifying.

He holds the door for her on his way out to pick up more of her stuff, and she absently pecks him on the cheek in thanks, despite the box full of books straining her arms. She moves forward quickly, not knowing that the soldier now cannot, the split-second sensation like being tased, and the current runs from his face to his feet, stopping his heart momentarily.

The first time she kisses Bucky, he's left standing in the doorway, rowdy sounds from his teammates playing in the background as he tries to calm the furious blush painting his face.

---

The second time she kisses Bucky, she's flirting.

They've been dancing around whatever the hell this is for months, and she’s sick of it. Growing closer was inevitable, a predetermined destination with the course they were taking, but she didn’t think that getting addicted to the scent of his cologne was a prerequisite for becoming attracted to Bucky Barnes. Which she is. Hopelessly, ridiculously, unfairly attracted. As a consequence of their growing friendship, she’s become more familiar with him, providing excessive material for the Bucky-involved part of her brain to think about. The cool metal of his left arm around her shoulders, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs. The sound resonates through the room and then through her heart as if it’s an empty cavern, even though it feels so, so full when she’s close to him.

Right now, she’s very close to him, as they're dancing, metaphorical situation having manifested itself in real life. Surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. employees at the office party, Billie Holiday on the Stark sound system, courtesy of Steve’s unwanted wingmanning. He doesn’t need the wingmanning; does just fine on his own. Took him a while to loosen up, but even he - forties boy that he is - knows the tension between them is palpable. Uses it to his advantage, loves making her shy away, and loves it even more when she responds to his 9mm shots at her with a .950 JDJ. In fact, he's about to tell her her skin glows in the fairy lights when Sam - cockblock that he is, vodka-drunk off his ass, asks to cut in, and bows so low he almost falls at her feet.

She giggles and then gives Bucky an apologetic look, before the innocence gives way to something more, and she stands on her tiptoes to murmur in his ear. His hands automatically fall to her waist when she holds his shoulders to steady herself.

“Sorry, Buck. Thanks for the dance.” It’s a millisecond exchange, over just as Sam straightens up, rolling his eyes when she winks at Bucky, and pulls away from his hold.

The second time she kisses Bucky, he's left in the middle of the dance floor, rubbing the spot where his jaw meets his neck, just below his ear. Wondering if the whisper against his skin is a phantom feeling, or if she actually nipped him with his teeth in goodbye.

---

The third time she kisses Bucky, it's to interrupt his tirade at her recklessness. He had been grounded for this mission, and she was on a self-destructive streak because she blamed herself for the injury responsible for his obligatory bedrest. Three gunshot wounds and a shattered arm. He could have died. She knows this all too well, having spent a consecutive 36 hours at his bedside thinking of nothing but his absence.

They’ve just gotten back from another mission, where she went after the ringleader of the illegal weapons manufacturing they had gone to shut down. Normally, that’s their aim. However, when you disconnect your coms, and go in without backup to kill, instead of arrest, a powerful, well-protected man, it is very much a problem. She could have died, and he’s thankful that she didn’t, but presently the gratitude has been pushed back as the anger and fear elbows it’s way forward.

The team waits awkwardly for the argument to end from the next room so they can have their well-earned meal.

“Well, someone needs to get laid.”

“Tony!” Bruce hisses furiously, and the others erupt into discussion, Steve doing his best to disguise the smirk on his face. Silently, he agrees, as the battle of wills rages on.

Not much of a battle, really; Bucky's yelling his face off as hers gets more and more tense until the rubber-band finally snaps.

“Are you out of your mind? Do you still not underst-” She grabs him by the face, pushing her mouth to his, all tongue and teeth and flesh. It's inelegant and angry, and this is not how she imagined it would be, but it doesn't matter because it's him. It's Bucky, and he's holding her by the waist, as well as he can with his arm in a sling, uncomfortably pinched between them. She doesn't care, focuses instead on the feel of his hair in her hands. The deep groan that she feels rumble from his chest where it's pressed to hers when her nails scrape against the nape of his neck. His tongue, warm and wanton, learning hers thoroughly, attentively. The gentlemanly Brooklyn boy, both corrupted and saved by the tinge of copper on her lips, and the beating rhythm of her pulse under his hand on her neck.

“I can’t lose you. Not you.” Bucky says against her mouth. Chest heaving, she nuzzles her nose to his, shuts her eyes, and breathes him in.

The third time she kisses Bucky, he's left out of breath and with a raging hard-on, metal fist cracking the counter behind her. They pant against each other, lips rasping against one another, foreheads bumping. She kisses him until she finally, finally, loses count.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @kentuckybarnes

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lovebubblechoices · 5 years ago

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The Aftermath [2/2]

Note : As I fear we’ll suffer with today’s Chapter I just wanted to give you this. I know it’s not perfect but I hope you’ll like it. It’s mostly fluff but I mention death and sex (not in the same sentence lol). English is not my first language as you know and MC is still Vicky Monroe

Words: 1,753

Vicky Monroe couldn’t see through her tears and she stumbled on the gravel path but two strong arms caught her just in time so she did not fall on the ground. The massive crowd of family, friend and colleagues was now leaving the cemetery as the funeral was over. You could say the service was perfectly done and orchestrated but sadness and sorrow still lingered over Dr. Monroe’s mind. Vicky came back to her senses and realized she was still in the arms of someone, whom she had already recognized.

“Thank you Dr. Ramsey. I… er… I wasn’t paying attention”

“You’re excused Rookie” Ramsey whispered in her ear. Then he coughed and naturally detached his body from hers. He finally offered his arm to her to make sure she wasn’t stumbling again on anything.

There was a small breeze and it was as if the trees were gracefully dancing for them, encouraging them to do so as well. Neither of them talked but there was no need to talk. Vicky glanced at Ethan who looked absent-mindedly at the horizon. It was a peaceful sight and a peaceful moment after the storm. Dr. Monroe was due to attend a last gathering at Donahue’s where she could have a bite and probably drink a beer, even though she would have preferred something a little stronger. Something like a whiskey on the rocks. Then she chuckled to herself, feeling silly.

“What is it Vicky?”

“Nothing! I was just thinking about how I’d like a whiskey on the rocks but then I… I remember you did not like it on rocks and neither do I” she beamed, pleased with herself. She sighed “Everybody else is going at Donahue’s you know… but I –” she trailed off, tightening her grip on Ethan’s arm who was now intensely looking at her.

“Then I should take you home so you can rest” he said matter-of-factly. And he meant it; there was no husky tone, no invitation to dirty sex. The older doctor just wanted her to feel safe in a peaceful and quiet environment.

“But don’t wanna go home!” she whined like a child.

“I wasn’t talking about your place but mine but don’t get it wrong Vicky, I’m not going to sex you up.”

“Oh…” was all she responded.

They moved aside the path towards Ethan’s car and once inside Vicky tried everything she could to turn him on but she awkwardly failed. She felt ashamed of herself when he scowled her like she was his own little sister.

“Damn Vicky! You’re impossible. You deserve far more than rough sex in the back of a car dammit. Are a whore or a doctor?!” he snapped at her.

Needless to say that the rest of the ride was dead silent. He was mad and she was ashamed of herself. It was the first time she saw him like this, being this angry with her. She could tell it runs deep and she didn’t know what to say to lighten the mood. She wanted to cry so badly because it hurt her but she was not a baby. So she held back her tears and kept her head low thinking how she had messed up big time with him.

“Why are you like this with me, Ethan?” Vicky asked timidly

“Like what?” he replied coldly, his eyes never leaving the road

“Mean… and… and cold-hearted.”

“Truth hurts sometimes. You should know this by now – you’re a doctor. But to answer you properly, I am not mean nor cold-hearted. It’s just…” he trailed of as he did every once in a while, carefully choosing his words “It’s nothing like that Vicky and you know it.” He glanced at her.

“Is it… Is it boundaries again Ethan?” she asked him as her voice was breaking

“No, not anymore…” but he did not develop further and kept his eyes on the road until they arrived at Ethan’s.

In the elevator, the tension between the two was palpable but Ethan’s words were stuck in her head. For one, she was likely not have sex with her lover when she craved for it. She had imagined Ethan would have helped her dealing with her grief with a hot burning makeout session but the events were proving her wrong. Then secondly, the W word had been uttered and it completely shook Vicky to her surprise. Or, more precisely Ethan’s cold but furious anger but now that her brain was not focused on the sex she could have had in that car, she thought she understood him. He highly thought of her and that alone, warmed her heart. Tears began to fall down her cheeks again but the lift stopped as the couple arrived to the right floor. Next thing she knew was that Ethan carried her to his apartment in bridal fashion.

“Ethan! Ethan! What are you doing?!”

“Obviously, bringing you to my place as we were – hey! Don’t do that you little monster”

“You need to put me down! You need to– Oh gosh Ethan!...”

His southern situation was growing and Vicky had felt it against her hip. He put her down in order to unlock his door. The young blonde jumped on the occasion to unbuckle his belt and put both her hands in his underpants. She wanted to give him the best handjob he had ever received from her but she was not expecting to be stopped the way Ethan did.

“Not here babe… not here. Some… somebody could see”

BABE. She was Babe now and she was shocked. She was overwhelmed and she wanted to cry, of joy this time. Her hands had left the underpants and she heard a groan coming from Ethan’s lips. It was dark and wild, an animalistic sound indicating her he was so turned on. She was as well and she hoped that he would have his wicked way with her in the corridor, right against that door. That door which finally opened welcoming their sins and their lust for each other. Ramsey grabbed Vicky’s hand and her whole body was pulled inside the warm cocoon.

Vicky wanted to pick up the things where she had left them in front of the door but Ethan was faster to reverse the situation. He kissed her gently on the lips, biting the lower lip from time to time. Then, soft kisses traveled her jawline and her neck. Vicky moaned less and less quietly as she discovered new sensations on her skin thanks to the Amazonian Gift. Ethan focused again on his babe’s lips, this time asking for access which was granted immediately with a louder moan. The tongues waltzed together in absolute bliss and all lustful thoughts were forgotten on Vicky’s part.

Ethan finally broke the kiss as they were both in need for air. They smiled to each other, quite content with the effect they had on each other. They were completely fluttered and hands were shaking in anticipation of what would come next. But somehow, Ethan was managing to keep his cool and his hands from the incredible woman before him. He cupped her cheeks and open his mouth to speak but she cut him with one finger on his lips.

“Would Ethan Ramsey like a blowjob?” she seductively asked while crawling on the floor

“No”

“No?” she repeated, taken aback by his answer.

“You still didn’t get it love, did you?” he asked helping her back on her feet, never once leaving her eyes. “What I want is to make love to you. What I want is taking the time to explore your marvelous body, every inches of your skin. I want to kiss you until my lips are sore, I want you moaning your love beneath me, I want it to be slow because it is what you deserved.”

And that’s how Vicky knew the last boundary was gone. That’s also why she jumped into his arms taking the initiative to speed things up. Ethan responded in hot moans and groans but he kept control over himself while going to the bathroom. He striped her down, placed wet and hot kisses in strategic places and then ran a bath for her. Once he had checked the water, he very gentlemanly put her inside and stayed outside.

Vicky was truly amazed by him – his will to remain next to her but outside the bath while she was seductively rubbing her skin with her left hand. Ethan kept watching the whole time and he sure wanted to join but he had other plans in mind. At one point, the blue-eyed blonde lady got frustrated because he didn’t want to join in so she splashed water at him. He laughed but didn’t join her but he leaned and devoured her lips once again.

“I can’t join but I’ll take good care of you” he justifies himself

“But I need your hands on me Ethan…” Vicky pleaded. “I need a massage”

“Oh I guarantee you, you’ll have it all” Ethan stated “In the bedroom” he finally added as his eyes were darkening.

The sex had been intense and amazing as it always was with him somewhere between vanilla and something a little bit wilder and darker as passion was involved. They were now fully dressed and cuddling on couch of the living room, Jenner at their feet and life was quiet simple. Vicky could have easily forgotten she had attended a funeral that morning. She sighed happily as Ethan was running his fingers in her messy hair.

“When did you fall for me Ethan?”

“I don’t really remember for sure if I’m honest. But somewhere around the Tadpole Tragedy I guess”

She kissed him innocently on the lips and then resumed watching outside the window. Ethan was reading some obscure medical document but still payed more attention to her. He kissed the top of her head and replaced the blanket correctly to keep her warm.

“You know… I kind of expected wild sex earlier in the bedroom” she said

“I know yes… But I keep the wild card for our honeymoon” he explained

Vicky did not react at first to the specific term he had just used but when she felt him moving to grab something behind the cushions she chuckled at the window.

“We are not even married Ethan” she replied half amused, half sad by the comment he made

“Then in that case Victoria Rhys Eliana Monroe, I’d advise you to look at me and give your hand.”

#fanfic #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #MC x Ethan Ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Open Heart

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Starting Over Chapter 3 ~The Escape~

" Sassenach!?!"

Jamie blinked twice and shook his head to eliminate the mental cobwebs. His brain had trouble kicking into gear, but his eyes scanned faster than he can compute, every part of him going on a standstill while his thoughts caught up. He had been thinking a lot about the lass in his arms, and if the repercussion was some kind of a hallucination, it was becoming progressively less amusing. Was she trying to get herself killed? He didn't even want to contemplate the state she would have been in if he hadn't made it on time. Or for that matter, the nick of his sanity.

He looked down at her face, wiped blank with confusion like her brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to appraise the current situation. But, she quickly recovered, her huge golden orbs framed in black eyeliner and dark eyeshadow turning dark as she glared at him.

"You, you ..." she sputtered, pushing herself away and attempting to wriggle out of his arms. "Wot are you doing here?" She was looking at him as though he'd sprouted horns.

Considering she just scared the bejesus out of his wits, he ought to have given her a good shake until her ears rang. Or maybe yelled at her for being so reckless. Or perhaps asked her to explain the kiss from a few days ago that had cost him sleepless nights. But he presumed like he was, she was still in a state of shock, so he kept his emotions in check and his grip firm. "I just saved yer arse. Are ye alright?" he asked, surprised at how calm he sounded.

Her jaws unclenched, and her delicate features softened. "I'm fine. I ...I got stuck in the window, and then I lost my footing," she sniffed. "Please, put me down. Now."

Hesitantly, Jamie lowered her gently to the ground but kept one hand under her elbow when he glimpsed the ridiculously high stilettos. Regaining her balance, she smoothed off the white dress as if jumping out of church windows were a normal daily occurrence. It was quite apparent that the seriousness of their circumstances hadn't quite registered in her muddled brain. Aware of the reporters just around the corner, he knew he had to act fast. "First things first, Sassenach. Are ye trying to run away or were ye just checking out the fire exit?"

"Wot?" Her eyes widened, and the ballsy attitude vanished. That's right, my lovely, now I have your attention. To Jamie's surprise, she twisted her elbow from his grip and took a step back. "I have to go," she whispered, picking up the skirt of her dress and toddling away.

Already anticipating her next move, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. "Ye won't get far with those shoes on."

She turned around, a furrow forming on her brows. "I'm in huge trouble, aren't I? Oh, God, what have I done? Maybe I should go back," she said, starting to make a move in the opposite direction.

Jamie stopped her. Briefly closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths. Any moment now, pandemonium and mayhem at the church would ensue when they find out the bride had gone missing. And if the English lass did decide to go back, there would be plenty of questions about why she wasn't in the clergy room. Decisions had to be made quickly. This was not the place nor time for any sorts of discussion. Explanations would have to wait, and he needed answers fast. And with the added problem of the reporters' presence, the last thing the lass needed was a picture of them together splashed across the tabloid papers on Monday morning. He knew he couldn't just walk away. But he could give her a way out of her predicament, and if she didn't take his offer of help, at least he would be able to sleep at night knowing he'd done his best. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced her to look at him in the eyes. "Listen to me, Sassenach. And listen to me good. This is very important. I need ye to dig deep into yer guts where it really counts and ask yersel' this...do ye love the groom?"

"Ah ...I-I care for him b-but..." A mixture of shame and fear fanned out on her face as she searched for words. Damn it!

"Sassenach, I asked ye a simple question. Do ye love him? Aye or no will do," he pushed firmly this time.

Although on the exterior, Jamie's appearance resonated calm, the tone of his voice must have struck a chord. She visibly withered before his eyes as if a sudden realisation had left her empty and exhausted. And then just like that, her face transformed into self-disgust before switching into anger. Anger that was evidently directed at him. "No! Alright!? I don't love him," she yelled, twisting from his hold and yanking the choker pearl necklace and flinging it to the ground. "I thought I did. Are you happy now? I bet your smug arse thinks it had something to do with the kiss. Go on, make fun of me. That's what you do best, you cocky bastard!" She doesn't love her fiance! Stunned, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and felt the tension ease from his body. More bewildered by his reaction than by her ranting, he hoped she hadn't noticed the relief on his face, because she looked like seconds away from beating him to a pulp with his own unattached arms.

Cautiously, he took a step forward and touched her shoulder. He could feel a different type of pressure in his chest, waiting to take over, but he ignored and refocused. "It wasn't my plan to make fun of ye, Sassenach. And I'm sae sorry I had to ask ye something too personal because I cannae have ye having regrets later. Do ye understand where I'm coming from?" he asked, gently this time. When she didn't reply, he waited until she had calmed down before asking the next question. After a moment passed, he just went straight out with it. "Now, are we ditching yer groom or no'?" He offered her his hand and waited.

Her gaze locked with his, and for an instant, he saw uncertainty and suspicion cloud her features. And something else. Something akin to panic. "We? You want to help me? Why?"

Because the past few days had done nothing to dull the memory of your kiss. And that's the top and bottom truth of it. Jamie had been desperate to see her again. And now that she was here, he was desperate enough to risk getting caught by the press with a runaway bride, no less. If they were found together, he knew the reporters would have a field day at the office. He couldn't allow that to happen, at least not at her expense. "Aye, we. There's nae time, Sassenach. I want to help ye because I know what those reporters are like. They are wolves. They'll tear ye apart and even more so because yer fiance, judging from the cameramen out there, seems like an important man. I ken my words dinna mean much to ye, but if ye truly do love yer fiance, ye wouldn't be out here having this conversation with me," he reasoned. He had wanted to mention their kiss but thought better of it.

She cast a reluctant glance behind her like she was taking stock of what she would be leaving behind. Her smoky amber eyes had turned thoughtful, if still slightly wary. Maybe she's deciding between the lesser of two evils, and I'm one of those evils. Something terrible must have happened to make her run off on her wedding day and in as much as he would like to think otherwise, he doubted it had something to do with their kiss. Whatever it took to make it right for her, he vowed he would do it.

After a few heartbeats, she nodded in resignation as she placed her small hand in his, sealing her fate with a decision that could alter her life. Jamie knew, he too was now in the same boat as her and that his life was forever changed. Especially after that simple gesture of hands touching that sent a jolt coursing through his body and into his pants. If a mere touch could make him so hard despite the quandary they were in, he was in bigger trouble than he thought. For what it's worth, whatever happened next, there was no turning back.

With not much time to lose, he tugged her hand and manoeuvred them down the uneven paths, between bushes and over the flower beds. But after a few steps, Jamie realised they were moving too slow. The car wasn't too far, but neither were the cameramen.

"Lose the shoes, Sassenach. I cannae have ye breaking yer neck under my watch. We need to get moving," he demanded.

"But they cost a fortune," she wailed. "And they're..."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Left with no choice and anxious to leave, he heaved her up into his arms and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring the muffled expletives she launched at him. "Dinna fash. The car is just over there." More curses and death threats came out of her mouth, but he was beyond caring. In fact, he prefered her anger to uncertainty. Only because it made him forget, even for a little while, the consequences of what they're about to do.

Sensing the chaos that was beginning to develop just outside the church, he began to jog, hoping no stray reporter would have enough sense to check the back of the church.

When they finally made it to his car, he quickly opened the door and pushed her inside along with billows of satin and lace that made up her dress. There was no time for finesse nor gentlemanly acts, as he thrust her in like she was a sack of potatoes, making her squeak and snort in an unladylike manner. But he'd rather deal with her wrath any day than with those paparazzi vultures.

By the time he got into his seat, she had gone quiet. He had wanted a fight or to hear her rant and rave, but it seemed she had withdrawn into her thoughts. He guessed it was to be expected after what she had been through. Pushing aside his concerns, he hit the accelerator and sped away from the church like the devil was after them, tires screeching and burning marks on the road.

Once they were in the motorway, he checked the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed. Satisfied they were safe, he allowed his mind to contemplate their next move. They needed to be away from prying eyes, and there were phone calls to be made. The lass needed clothes but going back to Edinburgh to retrieve her things was not an option. Her friends would be looking for her there, not to mention she would be tonight's hot topic on the local evening news. Lallybroch was out of the question. Although he could trust his family with a secret and they've had years of practice keeping the media at bay, he couldn't say the same for the village folks of Broch Mordha. They were well-meaning people, but they can't help putting their noses into everyone else's business. Think! Think! Think! The lass needed his head in the game, and he would have to come up with some plan.

Under the guise of watching passing scenery, Jamie stole a glance at her face. Christ Almighty, she's beautiful. Her delicate profile reminded him of the statue of the Madonna of Brugges, serene but at the same time carved in stone. She stared out of the window as if she was watching her old life scatter to the four winds as they sped to some unknown destination. Sensing his gaze, she turned to face him and smiled. It was a weak smile like she had just come out from fighting a long drawn out fever.

"By the way, my name is Claire," she disclosed, extending an arm for a handshake. "Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp."

He looked at her hand and then her face. Too stunned and at a loss for words, Jamie burst out laughing.

"Wot?"

"Nothing," he said finally, after regaining his composure. "I think I like ye, Sassenach. I like ye verra much indeed."

And then he took Claire's offered hand in his and squeezed it tight. For the first time since Jamie retired from his rugby career, he felt alive.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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