#Robert pattinson x reader fluff

[soulofapatrick]

I Like Your Mind - Edward Cullen x female reader

Summary: As soon as you meet Edward, you're both drawn to each other with an intensity you never expected

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I step into the Cullen house, my heart racing in my chest, and my mind filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. Bella has brought me here, introducing me to the family of her new boyfriend - Jasper Hale - and I can hardly believe where I find myself. I know their secret, the one they’ve been hiding from the world, the fact they’re vampires. And I know Edward can read minds which makes the whole situation even more daunting. But, as Bella races off to find Jasper, I’m left alone I the living room, taking in the stunning surroundings. 

The Cullens’ house is unlike any place I’ve ever seen. The air is heavy with an unspoken history, and everything within is both timeless and modern. A grand piano rests against one wall, a dark mahogany masterpiece, and the soft notes of a melody linger in the air, a testament to the musical talents of the family. On the opposite wall, a massive bookshelf houses an impressive collection of novels and ancient texts. Their spines form a spectrum of human knowledge, artfully arranged. 

My gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the room, offering a breathtaking view of the dense, ancient forest that surrounds the house. The trees stand tall and proud, their branches intertwined like guardians, protecting the Cullens from prying eyes. The afternoon sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that dance across the polished wooden floors. 

As my eyes linger on the tranquil forest, my imagination takes flight. I envision myself running through the woods, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath my feet. The leaves would crunch softly with each step, and the intoxicating scent of pine and damp earth would fill my senses. My heart would race, and a rush of adrenaline would surge through me as I lose myself in the untamed beauty of the wilderness. But, what captivates me the most is the idea of running through the forest in the rain. The thought of raindrops falling like liquid diamonds from the heavens, pelting the leaves and creating a gentle, rhythmic melody, sends a shiver of delight down my spine. In my daydream, I am drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin as I twirl and leap through the woods, liberated and carefree.

The rain washes away all my worries and fears, leaving only the exhilaration of the moment. It's as if the world, with all its complexities and complications, has melted away, leaving only the simplicity and purity of the rain-soaked forest. It's a feeling of utter peace, a sense of being one with nature and the world, a sensation I've longed to experience again. 

Lost in the serenity of my daydream, I sense a subtle presence to my right. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a strange but not unwelcome shiver runs down my spine. Slowly, I turn my head to see one of the Cullen brothers standing there, a striking figure with sharp, chiseled features. He exudes an air of quiet strength and confidence, and I can't help but admire his physical appearance.

As I take in his feature, I quickly realise that this isn’t Jasper, as Bella would undoubtedly be with him if he were here. Besides, Jasper is known for his blond hair, which contrasts with the dark brunette locks of the Cullen brother beside me. His eyes, however, remain a shimmering gold, and their intensity is captivating. 

Going over Bella’s description, I recall that she mentioned Emmett to be big and buff. Emmett is tall and muscular. He has dark curly hair and dimpled cheeks. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is light-hearted and carefree. This man in front of me is almost quite the opposite with perfect and angular high cheekbones, strong jawline, a straight nose, and full lips causing my heart to quicken with a sudden realisation. In a hushed voice, I tentatively ask, “Edward?” 

The name hangs in the air between us, my uncertainty evident in the way I speak his name. The Cullen brother gives a small nod, his eyes holding a hint of amusement and there’s a small smile on his pretty lips as he says, “Hello.” His voice is a velvet whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. My cheeks heat up in response, and I can’t help but feel flustered by his presence. Turning my face away from him, I gaze out at the enchanting forest, using the breathtaking view to regain my composure. 

But just as I start to calm my racing heart, I sense his movement. Edward is moving closer, somewhat hesitantly as if he’s scared to do so but he moves so close I can feel the coolness of his chest against my back. The physical proximity is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and I can’t help but wonder what his intention are as I continue to look out at the tranquil forest. 

The peaceful silence in the room is broken by Edward’s soft voice, barely above a whisper, “I like your mind,” he admits, his words sending a rush of warmth through me, “It’s quiet.” 

His words wash over me like a gentle caress, and I can’t deny the intrigue of his interest in my mind. It’s a compliment I could never have anticipated, coming from a vampire who can hear the thoughts of others. The intimacy of this moment is palpable, and I can sense the internal struggle within him, as if he’s torn between his desire to touch me and the realisation that we’ve only just met. 

Despite my rational thoughts screaming at me to maintain my distance, I surrender to the magnetic pull of Edward Cullen. My back leans into his cool, sculpted chest, and the sensation of his icy hands on my hips sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. It's as if the enchantment of the Cullen house, the breathtaking view of the forest, and Edward's irresistible presence have combined to create a spell that I am unable, and unwilling, to break. 

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to become completely enveloped in everything Edward. I’m hyperaware of how he feels behind me, the firmness of his chest pressed against my back, the subtle rise and fall of his breath against my neck as if it’s a force of habit for him despite vampires lack of need to breathe. His scent, a delicate blend of lilac, honey and sunshine, fills my senses and intoxicates me, wrapping me in a warm, inviting embrace. 

The moment feels intensely romantic, the air electric with the unspoken connection between us. I know that Edward can read my thoughts and perceive my view of him, and in this vulnerable instant, I choose not to resist. I grant him access tot he unfiltered depths of my desire, allowing him to see and feel the passion that simmers beneath the surface. 

The tension in the room crackles, the rain outside intensifying as if mirroring the fervour building within us. It's a clandestine dance of two souls drawn together by an unexplainable force. In this silent, electrifying embrace, I become an open book for Edward, my thoughts and desires laid bare, and I can only wonder what he'll make of the desires that race through my mind like wildfire

With a slow and deliberate movement, Edward turns me to face him, his eyes open and unguarded. They flicker with a hint of vulnerability, as if he, too, is uncertain of the depth of this connection. His gaze drops to my lips, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin as he hovers close. His fingers twirl my hair around them, an intimate gesture that feels like an attempt to memorise every part of me that he can reach. The air crackles with anticipation as I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this electrifying moment. 

Edward’s gaze remains locked on mine, a silent promise of the depths of emotions and desire that lie beneath the surface. In the hushed room, our shared anticipation and vulnerability create an electric tension that’s impossible to ignore. His lips are tantalisingly close, and I can feel the coolness of his breath as he hovers near. It’s as if he’s about to kiss me, his intentions clear in the smouldering depths of his golden eyes. But he hesitates, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbles something about not being able to stop once he starts, a confession laden with both longing and restraint. 

Unable to resist any longer, I tangle my fingers in his tousled hair, an intimate gesture that communicates my desire and intent. With a gentle, yet urgent push, I guide his face the rest of the way down until his lips finally meet mine. 

As our lips meet in a hesitant and guarded kiss, a complex swirl of emotions and desires floods the space between us. Edward, despite his initial restraint, can’t help but respond to the fiery connection we share. His lips, cool and soft, brush against mine with a caution born of a lifetime of self-control. The kiss begins with a tentative exploration, as if he’s testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy. 

The initial hesitancy slowly gives way to a growing intensity, and I can sense his need for more. His grip on me tightens ever so slightly, fingers digging into my hips, a delicate balance between desire and restraint. His response is careful, as if he’s constantly aware of his vampire strength, wary of causing any harm to me. The kiss deepens, his passion building, and the chemistry between us becomes an irresistible force that pushes us further into uncharted territory. 

With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to walk me backwards, his lips never leaving mine, until my back makes contact with the cool glass of the windows, drawing a gasp from me. It has Edward smiling softly, golden eyes a little glazed as if in a trance of disbelief this is happening before his cold nose bumps my neck, making my pulse jump. I should be scared by how close he is to my jugular but I don’t feel any fear or anything, especially when Edward places a soft kiss on my jugular, a silent acknowledgement of the temptation that throbs beneath my skin. His lips are cold, but their touch is gentle, sending shivers of desire coursing through me. 

My hands tangle back in his soft locks, guiding his lips back to mine, their coldness a stark contrast to the burning passion that courses between us. In that moment, I am both vulnerable and empowered, willingly allowing myself to be drawn further into this intoxicating dance of desire. 

Each kiss makes me feel more alive, more connected to a world I never knew existed. The world outside may be drenched in rain, but in this electrifying embrace, a different kind of storm rages, a tempest of emotions and desires that we can’t control. His lips, cool and velvety soft, meet mine over and over again in a symphony of fire and ice, a fusion of elements that ignite a burning desire deep within me. 

His body presses against mine, a solid and unyielding presence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and empowered. The contrast between his cool skin and the heat of my own sets my senses ablaze. As we deepen our connection, the room seems to spin around us, and I lose myself in the feeling of everything Edward. 

The room is charged with our passion, and I can feel it deep in my core. Every kiss is like a secret, a stolen moment in a world that is entirely our own. We lose track of time and space, our lips locked in an intimate dance that only intensifies the fever that has drawn us together in the first place. 

But then, like a bolt of lightning in our own private storm, I hear Bella’s joyful squeal. Edward pulling away from me, and I let my face fall into the warmth of his chest, overwhelmed by embarrassment. As I hide from the world, I can feel the soft rumble of amused laughter in Edward’s chest, a sound that both soothes and electrifies me in equal measure. 

“Fuck yeah!” Bells shrieks with joy and I flip her off over Edward’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around me, stifling a laugh as he can probably hear all of my silent insults and embarrassed thoughts thrown Bella’s way. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, fingers carding through my hair and I just hum, letting my eyes flutter closed in contentment. I don’t care how quick this is happening, all I know is I need Edward and no-one else so I’ll live with the embarrassment if it means I can have Edward. 

“You have me.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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Twilight Masterlist

[sunburnhurts]

Blind Date || Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n's best friend, Angelina Johnson, wants Y/n to start dating. Angelina decides to set Y/n up with one of Fred Weasley's friends, Cedric Diggory. Angelina and Fred decide to go on a double date with the 2, but its more of a blind date.

Words: 1,470

All My Stories

"Can't you just tell me who it is!?" Y/n questions her best friend, Angelina Johnson.

"No, it's called a blind date for a reason!" Angelina responds as she hands Y/n an eyelash curler. The 2 friends were getting ready for their double date, Angelina with Fred Weasley, and Y/n with an unknown boy.

"So he goes to our school," Y/n says as looks in the mirror and curls her lashes, "can you tell me what house he's in?"

"No! You already know too much!"

"No! I promise I know nothing!" Y/n wines, trying to get her way. "This is making me too stressed out!"

"Don't worry! Me and Fred wouldn't set you up with a murderer!"

"It better not be someone like- Draco Malfoy! He's too young and too weird!"

"Ew! Of course not! Way too young!" Angelina laughs, watching Y/n through the reflection of the mirror.

"So he's in our year?" Y/n says as she picks up mascara and leans into the mirror to get a good view of her lashes.

Watching Y/n apply the masacra, Angelina says sarcastically, "No, it's some first year Fred is best friends with."

Y/n pauses, looking at her friend in the mirror with a serious face. "Say you're joking. I'm not ready to be arrested."

"Of course I'm kidding! Yes, he's in our year."

"It better not be George, I'm not into red heads."

"I mean I am buttt, no it's not George. I'm not telling you anything else. You just have to trust me, you'll like him."

"But will he like me though?"

"Y/n! Of course he will love you! Stop over thinking this! I wouldn't put you in a bad situation!" Angelina promises, "And how could he not like you, look at you! You look stunning!"

"As always." Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, putting the mascara down.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cedric and Fred were walking to the Three Broomsticks, talking about the upcoming date. "I hate not knowing who this girl is." Cedric says, feeling the nerves growing.

"Don't worry, I know you'll like her." Fred says, trying to calm his friend down.

"You said she's a Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, one of Angelina's friends." Hearing this made Cedric assume it was Y/n Y/l/n. If you were to have asked anyone in their year who Angelina's best friends was, Y/n would be the first to come to mind. Cedric didn't want to get his hopes up that it was Y/n, but he was looking forward to getting to know the girl more. Cedric has always found Y/n attractive, but he never got the chance to befriend her.

On the first day of first year, Y/n was the first person Cedric talked to. He was nervous, waiting in the line to know what house he was going to be placed in. Y/n was behind him, listening to the boy anxiously mumble to himself. "You'll be fine, trust me." Young Y/n says, putting her hand on the boys shoulder.

Cedric turned around, relaxing when he saw Y/n's face. They both smiled at each other, exchanging names. Once Cedric got sorted into Hufflepuff, he prayed Y/n would be sorted there too. When she was sorted into Gryffindor, they both looked at each other with sad smiles. When the school year started, they would smile at each other when they saw one another in the halls, but as the year went on, they slowly stopped.

As the years went on, they would always make eye contact in the halls, but it always lasted a second. When they both saw each other, it reminded them of the first day of first year. They both wondered what their lives would have been if they continued being friends, wishing they had.

Now, Cedric and Fred were about to enter the Three Broomsticks. Y/n and Angelina were sitting across from each other, Y/n facing the door. Every time Y/n heard the door open, her eyes shot to the door. Noticing her best friends nervous behavior, Angelina put her hand on Y/n's, making Y/n relax.

Hearing the door open once more, Y/n turns her attention to it. She sees Cedric enter the door. It's probably not him, I don't see Fred. Y/n thinks. She watches as Cedric turns around to someone who is also entering into the pub. She sees Cedric and Fred looking around the pub to spot the 2 girls.

"Angelina. You seriously got me a date with Cedric Diggory?!" Y/n whisper shouts, burying her face in her hands laughing.

"Girl, I know you want him! Every time you see him in the halls you get quiet for a few seconds. Now don't mess this up!" Angelina says, pulling at Y/n's arms so she would unbury her face. When Y/n looked up, she saw Fred spot her and point over to her. Cedric turned around to look at what Fred was pointing at, making eye contact with Y/n. He smiled at the girl, making Y/n naturally smile back.

Y/n looked back at her friend, who was smiling at Y/n. "Don't look at me, I'm already nervous enough!" Y/n whispers, keeping a smile on her face so it looked natural. Angelina laughs at the girl, making Y/n laugh back.

When the 2 boys arrived at the table, Fred sat next to his girlfriend, planting a kiss on her lips. Cedric sits next to Y/n, smiling once more at the girl as he greets her. "Hi, Y/n."

"Hey, Cedric." Y/n smiles back.

"You 2 already know each other?" Fred asks.

"Yeah." They both answer.

"We were friends in first year," Y/n explains to the couple.

"You remember that?" Cedric asks, turning his head to the girl.

"Of course I remember, you were the first person I talked to." Cedric nods his head, grinning at Y/n.

"We are such grate matchmakers." Fred says, looking at Angelina.

"Excuse you, this was all my idea, who's 'we'?" Angelina sassily asks, making everyone laugh.

As the date went on, Y/n and Cedric hit it off. They bonded over talking about school and all of their favorite things. When the double date was over, the 2 couples decided to walk apart to give each other alone time. Angelina and Fred walked behind Cedric and Y/n, watching their matchmaking work out.

"So you didn't know who you were going on a date with either?" Y/n asks with her arm wrapped around Cedric's.

"Fred is bad at giving hints. He gave me 2 and I guessed it was you right away." Cedric laughs, making Y/n chuckle.

"Were you disappointed?" Y/n asks in a joking way, but it was a serious question.

"No, not at all." Cedric looks down at Y/n, giving her a genuine smile.

"Good." There was a few moments of silence before Y/n admits, "I thought it was going to be awkward, or something. I mean we haven't talked since we were 11."

"Honestly, I was worried too."

"Good thing we were with Fred, he made a fool of himself before I did." Y/n says, laughing. Cedric laughs, thinking back to the moment that happened during the double date. Y/n made a joke about everyone's least favorite teacher, and Fred snorted his butter beer out of his nose.

"How much do you bet they are watching us?" Y/n says, referring to the couple behind them.

"I don't need to bet, I feel them looking." Cedric chuckles. Y/n and Cedric both turn their head around to look at the pair. No supersize, Fred and Angelina whip their head to look somewhere other then Y/n and Cedric. Y/n and Cedric both look at each other, busting out in laughter.

After more conversations about both of their lives, Cedric and Y/n arrived at the fat lady painting, which indicated their date officially ended here. "I had a lot of fun reconnecting with you again, Y/n. We should do this again." Cedric says, tucking a piece of hair behind Y/n's ear.

"Yeah, definitely." Y/n beams up at the boy. Cedric nods to Y/n, then walks away, past Angelina and Fred. He nods at the couple and walks back to the Hufflepuff common room.

Angelina runs up to Y/n, whisper shrieking in excitement. In response, Y/n does the same, holding Angelina's hands. "I did that!!" Angelina beams.

After that night, Cedric and Y/n would walk in the halls together, hand in hand. They went on many more dates together, growing closer and closer, eventually becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, thanks to Angelina.

THE END

A/n: Thank you so much for reading!! Hope yall loved this! PLS REQUEST! I'm pulling stories out of my ass here 😊 I don't really like this story so I hope it wasn't too bad...

[waynewifey]

aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

[nyasbae]

Childish

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend finally finds out about your childish secret.

warnings: none

main masterlist

The two of you were such an unlikely pair; he was dark and vampiric (literally), while you were naïve and childish – searching for the good in everyone. Neither of your friends would’ve ever thought of or even considered you guys together. You weren’t overly emotional and you still acted your age, you just viewed the world a little differently. However, due to this he didn’t exactly know just how different you were until visited your house for the first time, to help you with an assignment.

You were busy tidying up all the clutter in your bedroom, and shoving a pile of clothing under your bed when Edward suddenly knocked on your window, startling you. You turned to the source of vibrations, eyes locking with the ones of your boyfriend.

You zoned out for a short moment, before snapping back to reality at the realization that all of your plushies were still scattered everywhere from your bed to the top of your wardrobe. Immediately shutting the curtains as you scrambled to pick everything up and hide everything. As you did, you didn’t miss the smirk forming itself on your face.

Just as you were about to pick up your favorite stuffed toy “Sunny”, (which was a grey elephant with Dumbo-like-ears) Edward beat you to it. As he carefully inspected it, you found a suddenly found the floor patterns very interesting. “Listen, they’re not mine–!” You pleaded, timidly lifting your head to meet his gaze. Though, you were met with surprise at his expression.

He was smiling – grinning, in fact. His teasing smile fit perfectly with his squinting blue eyes, you thought. The glimpse in his eyes stunned you, and you could no longer move as your body wanted you to. He spoke up, “Sunny, huh?”. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he chuckled.

“I can read thoughts, remember?”

“Babe, I told you not to read my thoughts anymore!” You wined, stomping your foot as you snatched the plushie away from him. You sat down on the bed, facing away from him, huffing. You acted out of awkwardness in situations like this as you never really knew how to handle them.

Edward pulled you out of your thoughts and into his arms, the two of you positioned leaning against the bed frame. He kissed your cheek plenty times as his ice cold, firm hands came in contact with your chest. The way he did it was nowhere near sexual, he simply enjoyed being able to keep up with your heartbeat. “you’re adorable, you know?” He started as he played around with the elephant, holding it by its giant ears. “Is this one your favorite?” He asked you in a baby voice.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You laughed, “it’s not like I’m a baby or anything – I just like having these plushies, it’s nostalgic”. Although Edward couldn’t read your emotions, he practically sensed the way your heart fell.

“Hey, hey! You know I didn’t mean it like that!” His voice was soft, even when he raised it. “I get it, I still hold onto my first prom suit from the 1900s”.

“Did you even have prom back then? You giggled into his chest. “Sort of, I guess it was more like a ball”

[satansapostle6]

Everything But Time | Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin girl. Nathalie Adams never thought she’d fall for the class clown.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Wrapped Around Her Finger

She was everything. The way she walked, and the way she talked, and the way her hair fell effortlessly over her shoulders was something of a marvel. Only, Fred Weasley didn’t think so, or so he said.

Fred Weasley was a proud Gryffindor; he never in a million years would have betrayed the honor of his House by consorting with a rival Slytherin. It was just out of the question. No matter what all the other boys in his year said, and no matter how short her skirts got, he remained vigilant and kept his unspoken promise to himself never to give her the time of day, even if he had no reason to suspect Nathalie Adams even wanted it.

“Look at her,” Fred’s younger sister, Ginny Weasley, said almost spitefully at dinner one night early on in his sixth year. “You can’t even tell her apart from one of the Beauxbatons girls. With her shiny hair, and perfect nails, and rosy cheeks…”

Everyone sitting with them at the Gryffindor table gave her a strange look as she blushed aggressively and redirected her focus to her plate in silence.

“She is quite the vision,” George Weasley, Fred’s twin, remarked dreamily. “Isn’t she, Ronniekins?”

Ron Weasley, who was a year older than Ginny, also grew a bright shade of pink, scowling at his brother.

“Why are you asking me?” he muttered defensively.

“Because you’re the one who drooled into your soup staring at her,” Fred replied, completely matter-of-fact.

“I did not!”

“Did too,” Harry Potter checked him.

“What about you, Harry?” Fred cocked his head at Ron’s best friend. “What are your thoughts on the topic of Nathalie Adams?” he said her name with a mocking lilt to it.

“I… hardly know her,” Harry responded reasonably.

Ginny just rolled her eyes at his innocence.

“Whether you know her isn’t the question, it’s whether you’d like to,” George explained with a mischievous grin.

“You boys are gross,” Ginny said disapprovingly.

“So gross,” Hermione Granger, Ron and Harry’s other respective best friend, agreed.

“Well…”

Harry thought for a minute.

“She’s two grades above us,” he concluded.

“Cho’s one grade above us,” Ron teased him.

Once again, Ginny rolled her eyes at the mention of Cho Chang, the girl Harry was too afraid to openly ask out.

“It’s alright, you know, Harry,” Fred told him wisely, “Liking older women. They’re usually more experienced, and that’s never a bad thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Hermione shook her head, mortified as Ginny looked at the two of them sharply. “You know, people are trying to eat here?”

“Trust me, so am I,” Fred quipped, earning a clap on the back from George and laughs from Harry and Ron, as well as Lee Jordan.

“So, Harry,” Ron wondered. “What are your thoughts on the blonde Slytherin?”

“Erm…”

He tried to collect his thoughts as he glanced over at the Slytherin table, searching for Nathalie Adams. He eventually found her, sitting with her friends not too far from Pansy Parkinson and the other popular Slytherin girls in their year at Hogwarts. He definitely saw her appeal; she had long whitish hair, and porcelain skin that might as well have been made of clouds, and not to mention, she was tall and graceful. She truly did look just like one of the French girls from Beauxbatons.

“She’s… nice,” Harry tried to compliment her chivalrously, knowing that Ginny Weasley was listening expectantly.

“Nice, indeed,” George agreed, much to his twin’s disappointment. “She could slap me across the face, and I’d thank her.”

“I think that’s just a ‘you’ problem, Georgie,” Lee stated, earning hearty laughs from the group.

*****

Nathalie Addams had everything a sixteen year-old girl could want; she came from a reputable family and maintained excellent grades. She was beautiful, and it certainly did not go unnoticed. To the Slytherin boys, she was the epitome of beauty, and class. Draco Malfoy, for one, had made plenty of jokes to his fellow Slytherin boys about telling his father that he wanted her for his birthday.

As a sixth-year, Nathalie Adams had become easily one of the most talked-about girls at Hogwarts, even amongst the other Houses. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, even Gryffindor. It didn’t matter; they all believed her to be the standard.

Equally popular among Hogwarts students was a seventh-year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts’ resident pretty boy. Cedric was very much a Hufflepuff; although he had his talents, he was most easily recognized for his good looks and his excellent performance as Seeker on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

He was quite popular amongst the boys and girls alike, and although he could have chosen just about any of the girls at Hogwarts, which wasn’t really an understatement, he didn’t find himself particularly in the mood to play the field in his last year at Hogwarts. Cedric Diggory was much more the kind of person to seek out one girl in particular, and in the first few weeks of his seventh year, he was beginning to feel that Nathalie Adams could very well be that girl.

Of course, he had never spoken to her before. He had never actually met Nathalie Adams, and only knew her from watching long successions of people in the halls. He hadn’t even known her name until he had asked a friend of his the year before. From then on, Cedric was determined to speak to her, and get to know her. Cedric Diggory was a very driven young man, the kind of person who knew where he saw himself in five, ten, fifteen years.

Fifteen or so years in the future, Cedric saw himself comfortable and successful with a stable career, and having at least one child to love and nurture. And in this dream of his, he could see the mother of that child being Nathalie Adams.

“Are you going to talk to her, mate?” William Albert snapped him out of his trance as they completed their Transfiguration worksheets.

“Yeah, soon,” Cedric said in a hushed voice, mortified as he looked around them to make sure no one had heard.

In the past half hour, he had only written his name and the answers to two questions on his piece of parchment; he was too distracted by Nathalie and her long blonde hair on the other side of the aisle.

“Well, you’d better get on with it, then” his friend advised him. “Before Weasley beats you to it.”

Cedric looked across the room in a panic. Sure enough, there was his friend Fred Weasley, talking to Nathalie as he sat behind her. He muttered a curse under his breath, unable to hear or make out what they were saying.

“Can you stop?” Nathalie stared back at the long-haired Weasley twins. “You’re getting my parchment wet.”

Due to the disruption that the three of them had been causing, Professor McGonall had sat Lee Jordan in front of Nathalie, separating him from the twins. Naturally, this did not stop the twins from firing the Water-Making spell at him every time the professor’s back was turned. And naturally, their aim was a bit hit or miss.

“My apologies,” Fred Weasley said smoothly, offering a cocky smile as his eyes started to wander. “Perhaps I could make it up to you?”

“You could make it up to me by shutting the fuck up,” she stared angrily.

“That’s not very nice,” Fred pouted, turning to his brother. “Was it, George?”

“Indeed, it wasn’t,” George Weasley instigated.

“And why would I be worried about being nice to you?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I could make it worth your while,” Fred said softly, his flirting obscenely obvious.

“In your dreams, Weasley.”

“Oh, if only you knew,” he whispered with a playful smile.

Nathalie just rolled her eyes, turning back around in her seat as the twins just grinned at one another. Nathalie’s unmatched looks put her at the very top of the social hierarchy, and she knew how to take advantage of it. Everyone wanted her, whether it was as a friend, or more. Speaking to her was a privilege in high demand, and she knew not to oversaturate the market.

Even Cedric Diggory, who was one of the few boys at school who was actually in her league, was reduced to a hopeful nobody when it came to her.

“Ced. You need to ask Nathalie out before someone beats you to it,” William urged his best friend as they walked through the halls, approaching the courtyard where Nathalie and her friends were.

“I’m sure three people have already asked her out since class ended,” Cedric remarked.

“Before she says yes to someone,” William corrected himself.

“Well, what do you suggest I say to her, then?” Cedric questioned.

“I don’t know,” William admitted. “Just walk up to her, and ask her out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Cedric’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re a Triwizard Champion,” William rationalized, “There’s no way she’ll say no.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cedric sighted.

“To a Slytherin girl?” William pointed out. “Yes, it does.”

“I don’t know, Will. She seems hard to talk to.”

“Isn’t that a challenge you’re willing to take on?” William asked.

Cedric sighed, just standing at the edge of the courtyard as the other two girls sitting by Nathalie got up to leave, leaving her alone on the bench. She seemed perfectly content, pulling a book out of her bag. One of the first things Cedric had ever noticed about her was that she actually liked to read.

“Look; she’s alone,” William pointed out. “Now’s your chance.”

“I don’t know,” Cedric murmured, “Are you sure I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

“Go,” William urged him, emphasizing his point by giving him a little shove.

Cedric looked back at him, embarrassed as he slowly walked toward the center the courtyard. Nathalie certainly looked beautiful as she read her book in peace, closed off to the world. She was beautiful, but also quite intimidating. Cedric very slowly and timidly approached her, lightly clearing his throat before announcing himself.

“Hi,” he said, as she slowly looked up.

She seemed indifferent in her reaction, marking her page in the book with her finger as she spoke.

“Hey,” she said, not sure as to what he wanted.

“I’m Cedric,” he introduced himself, politely offering his hand.

Nathalie glanced down at his hand with a smirk, looking back up at him knowingly. She accepted his hand, and he gave hers a gentle shake.

“Hi, Cedric,” she remarked.

“You’re Nathalie, right?” he asked her.

She nodded, a stoic expression on her face as she insisted upon maintaining an advantageous status over him. “That’s right.”

“How are you, Nathalie?” Cedric Diggory asked chivalrously.

“Well,” she replied.

Cedric felt himself getting hot. Making small talk was becoming increasingly difficult.

“We have Transfiguration together, right?” Nathalie recalled.

He was relieved to hear that she was at least aware of his existence.

“And Potions, and History of Magic,” Cedric nodded with a charming smile.

Nathalie’s mouth curled into a smirk that she, for the most part, hid. His attempt at making conversation with her was adorable. Nathalie had to admit, Cedric Diggory was probably the best-looking boy at Hogwarts by far, with his auburn curls, and rosy cheeks. Not to mention, he towered over her, which not many boys could do as she was rather tall for a girl.

“Yeah…” she remembered, beginning to see an angle. “You’ve got pretty good marks in History of Magic, right?” she asked him, slyly running her fingers through her blonde hair.

Cedric had to clear his throat as he forced himself not to be distracted by her perfect waves, which framed her pale, heart-shaped face in the most beautiful way.

“Erm, yeah, yeah, I got an O last term,” he confirmed, reminding himself to appear confident.

Nathalie smiled, her demeanor gradually softening as she crossed her feet in front of her, tilting her head playfully as she spoke to him.

“You know, I can never understand a thing that Professor Binns says. He’s so dull, and lifeless. He’s practically asleep half the time he talks,” she commented.

“Yeah, he’s so boring,” Cedric agreed immediately, chuckling as he realized he might actually stand a chance here.

“Say, Cedric,” Nathalie looked up at him with the most enticing feigned and exaggerated doe eyes, “Would you like to get together and study some time?”

Cedric nearly gasped, shocked that it was this easy.

“Yeah! Yeah, I would,” he nodded. “I’d like that.”

Nathalie nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, it’s just… We have that essay coming up, and I hardly know what to write.”

“Well, we could definitely figure something out,” he promised her, his kind brown eyes locked onto her hazel ones.

Her eyes had this strange magnetic quality to him, as if they were two chasms of greens and browns, sucking him in and consuming him. Nathalie’s beauty was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The most comparable thing to it that he’d seen in nature was probably the Black Lake, bottomless and dangerous.

“Sounds good,” Nathalie beamed, allowing him to believe that he knew the game they were playing. “When are you free next?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? After classes,” Cedric suggested.

“Works for me,” she said softly. “The library?”

“Yes,” he answered, glad they had come to an arrangement.

Nathalie knew she had Cedric wrapped around her finger. He watched as she walked away, unable to ignore the elegant figure she cut beneath her school uniform. The green and silver would look good alongside his yellow and black, he thought. Cedric’s thoughts were eventually interrupted by the curiosity of his casual friends, the Weasley twins.

“Was that Nathalie Adams you were talking to?” Fred inquired.

George looked over at him knowingly, fully aware that he already knew this.

“Yeah,” Cedric responded with a delighted smile. “We have a study date in the library tomorrow.”

“Study date, you say?” George echoed, glancing at his brother.

“Well. We’re meeting to study,” Cedric said nonchalantly.

“Good luck with that, mate,” Fred offered, which was naturally met with confusion.

Cedric frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Fred replied coolly. “Just… Nathalie’s a slippery one. Tricky little minx, she is.”

“She seemed perfectly nice to me,” Cedric shrugged.

“Because that’s what she wanted,” Fred told him, fully intending to instigate. “She’s a smart one. Likes to play games; takes a special kind of bloke to keep up with a girl like that,” Fred stated, hinting to him.

“You think?” Cedric asked him.

This thought hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind yet.

“Just be careful with her, is all,” George Weasley advised him. “It’s like handling a snake; you don’t know if it’s poisonous, but even if it’s not you could still lose a finger.”

“Might be best to leave this one to someone a bit more experienced,” Fred offered with a shrug, giving him a supportive pat on the back before the twins disappeared, leaving Cedric alone with his thoughts.

-

Chapter Two

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXIV. “natural curiosity”

parts: previous / next

plot: under extreme pressure to perform, you prepare for your first and final interview with Bruce Wayne. Batman learns intriguing info on the gruesome murder of John Doe.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mental illness, anxiety

words: 3.2k

a/n: this brings me to the end of my back-posting! we are now up to date across tumblr, ao3, and wattpad 🥳 excited to keep writing more soooon 👀

Was this some kind of cruel punishment?

If it hadn't been for Dr. Vry's unfortunately logical and desperate plea, you wouldn't have said yes—now you were left flying back for half a week. With enrollment for freshmen starting the first day of September, you had to have this in to Bridgit the morning after meeting with him. Thinking of all the belongings you'd just bought for the apartment you thought you'd be living in, you decided against a flight and booked a U-haul for that weekend instead. You'd see if Mar wanted to drive back with you in it, and if not you'd buckle down and do it yourself.

Your parents came back not an hour later. After a few minutes of hugs and chitchat they put themselves to bed, exhausted. Your mom didn't appear critically ill or markedly different in any way (besides a darker tan), so you let yourself relax for the evening out on the couch. A rerun was on the television, the air was stale, and the setting sun stabbed your eyes. You grappled with feelings of guilt as the minutes turned into hours of nothing. You loved them, but was this all you had to look forward to?

Bruce busied himself with monotonous tasks the rest of the day. The panic attack had wiped him out physically, but his mind was wired. A still-relevant yet menial task he felt he could get into a rhythm with involved stealing the giant stack of newspapers Alfred kept by his fireplace in his office for kindling. He flipped through pages and pages of decades-old Gazette publishings, refusing to indulge his curiosity as he passed the months directly preceding or proceeding his parent's murder. It felt like an impossible feat as he discarded them to his left, forcing his eyes to remain tethered to the current moment. Eventually he found clippings from the past few years, and he nestled into the corner chair to pore over their contents. Why was the Gazette failing? Why was the journalism department going to shut down? He distinctly remembered his parents reading the Gazette together every Sunday before church. On the walk to church, he remembered people sitting on park benches reading it. He only paid attention to the comic strip curated by the art majors, but even as a young kid he knew the paper was influential.

As he skimmed through the recent few years of publishing he couldn't discern why sales were lower. It was putting out relevant information that was decent to read... He stood up and walked down the hall to Alfred's room, and found him buttoning his cuffs. "Master Wayne, what's wrong?"

Bruce shook his head. "You read the Gazette, right? Do you know how many people read it?"

Alfred finished the last button and shook out his sleeves to straighten them. He shrugged. "I don't know precisely, but in concept it seems to be doing rather well. On my grocery trips I see lots of people reading it."

Bruce nodded and made some small talk for a moment about dinner ("I've been craving some sausage and cabbage soup, would you mind that, boy?") before making his way back to Alfred's office. He logged onto the computer and looked up sales for the Gazette. While there had been a decline, it had been slow and not enough to completely shut down a department. After looking into Gotham's budget, he realized there was enough budget and in fact, the majority of the Gotham finances were allocated between GCPD and GU. Looking into the school attendance rate there was still a good amount of students applying to the university; less people going into journalism, sure, but still enough to warrant continuing the major. Was Vry a particularly attentive and anxious president, or was it manipulation to get him to agree to be interviewed?

Alfred forced him away by physically walking upstairs to bring Bruce down, and they ate the soup in silence. It was warm, and soothed him enough to take the edge off his guttural sense of impending doom.

The next day he got a call from Gordon. A quick change into the suit and a back exit getaway later, Bruce found himself at the police station. The guards stiffened their spines and glared at him as he walked up; usually it didn't bother him, but after being discovered he felt every eye on him was an x-ray. He walked down a dingy, slim hallway to Gordon's office and knocked on the door. Gordon invited him in, appearing visibly stressed. "In the office on a Saturday?"

"Hey. I don't know what to tell you, but the results came in inconclusive."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "No idea what the metal is?"

"That's not exactly the problem." He reached into the desk and pulled out a plastic EVIDENCE bag smattered with pokes from the sharp metal inside. It landed on the table with a sharp rap. "We know what it is, but we are lost as to its function."

Bruce swirled the bag so the shrapnel tilted and moved about its cage. Gordon continued. "We brought in a few dentists, even one doctor, to clarify why this might be used as a filling but no one had heard of it before." He quickly continued. "Well, one guy did. Said he used to be a chemist. He'd heard of the metal, but said it was bordering on corrosive. He couldn't make head nor tail of why it would be used in a man's mouth."

"What is it?"

"The man said 'Electrum'. I made him repeat it because it sounded made up." Gordon rolled his eyes and bit his lip, lost in thought. His tone was biting. "I just want to find these punks. Can't have someone causing crime scenes like that running loose."

He'd never heard of Electrum. He opened his mouth to speak but Gordon continued again. He's talkative today. "The man said its properties are that of a 'spark to light up the wire'. Something about conductivity. I think it's just some man who got an under-the-table dental. Probably cracked open a soda can and peeled off a clip to tuck into his gums." By the end he was mumbling, and quickly stood up.

"They were certain it's Electrum?"

Gordon nodded. "He said it was clear. Bet his life on it." And with that he left, motioning to be followed out.

Electrum. Nothing could be found on the web about it. Alfred didn't know, and there had never been a mention about it in any newspaper since 1800 (any further back he couldn't find). By this point he was exhausted, and hadn't even realized he'd pulled a whole weekend staying wide awake. He physically pored over every newspaper article himself pre-1900, his smart engine struggling and misreading the small, fuzzied print. There was nothing that could even be vaguely related to Electrum. Fuck. He dragged his feet up to bed and crashed early Sunday evening.

Had it really only been a strange, foreign filling? Usually this would be his favorite type of thing to sleuth out, something no one could find but he could; he would read the small print from an article in 1806 and solve the mystery, following its crumb trail to an ultimate victory. It was the perfect catharsis, but he was too in his head. All Monday afternoon he twiddled his thumbs and waited for evening, but when evening came he couldn't bring himself to put on his suit. That one scrap metal felt like it was lodged in his tooth, giving him an emotional toothache. He slipped into bed and laid on his back with his arms behind his head. He gazed up at the ceiling, drawing a mental map of the situation. The John Doe couldn't be traced back. Dentist, former chemist, clarified it was Electrum. Electrum can't be found anywhere. No trace of it. Testing was inconclusive. Bordering on corrosive. Man was stabbed repeatedly and hung by the blades. Owls were etched into hilt. Owls were etched into pins and rings of the Gotham University president... Bruce squinted. How could he gain more information on Dr. Vry? His first thought was a Batman interrogation, second idea stalking her in his car for a week to see what she was up to. Both options, especially the latter, caused an internal cringe. Much like he couldn't shake his suspicion about Electrum, he couldn't shake the thought you embedded in him that he was too invasive.

Being invasive to criminals isn't bad. Often, it's the only way to catch them. Your voice came into his mind. And you're assuming she's a criminal. What happened to probable cause?

Her jewelry insignias perfectly match those on the weapon in an unsolved murder.

Perfectly, huh?

Almost.

Almost, yeah.

Even imaginary you mocked him. He continued having a conversation with himself until Alfred knocked on his door. He bristled and sat upright in bed. The old man leaned against the doorframe and gazed at him, spectacled. "Wanted to check in. Social battery ran out, I assume?"

Bruce stared down at his sheets. "Unsolved murder. Can't find any clues."

"Peculiar. Not much stumps you these days."

He struggled not to receive it sarcastically given how vigilant Alfred had been about his mental wellbeing the past few months. He hoped this wasn't another request for him to meet with his therapist, but his hopes were quickly dashed. "I called New Discoveries, they have a few openings this week and next."

Bruce bit back a retort. "If I ever need her, I'll give her a call."

"Bruce,"

"Stop, please. I've got enough to deal with right now."

He leaned in and raised his eyebrows at the boy. "Your analyst could help with that."

"I don't need someone to tell me my parents died."

Alfred heaved a deep sigh. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm not talking about this." This was the push he needed to get out and into his suit. He jumped out of bed and strode firmly past him, ignoring Alfred's calls to get him to 'just make a phone call'. He was surprisingly swift getting into the suit and out on the town. Guilt plagued him at abandoning Alfred, but this was about the tenth time they'd had that conversation since June and it was making him ill. He wouldn't mind seeing his therapist again, he'd liked going after the murder, but he didn't think he could handle being forced to reckon with his mortality at this point in his progression. He still wasn't sure it existed, and until he tied up all the loose ends about the owls, or his symptoms got significantly worse, he was going to ride this last high as long as it let him.

The next few days with your parents went smoothly. It was almost like before your mom had gotten sick, plus Walter. Walter was ecstatic to see your parents back, and you no longer sobbed in the shower out of lonely desperation. You were able to distract effectively through various arts and crafts with your mom, and by the time you were starting to need 'me' time she would tire. You spent some time with your dad fixing the back deck and pulling some weeds out of the raised flower beds. You tended to the pumpkins your parents had planted in June, and harvested some bell peppers and blueberries.

You avoided thinking about Gotham until you were in Gotham; you hadn't even mentioned to your parents you'd been fired/quit, and figured they'd know when a U-Haul ended up at their house with you and Mar inside. The quiet neighborhood was relaxing when your family was around, but that desperate feeling of loneliness was pinned to your chest. The town felt more desolate after being in the city, the quiet felt heavier when they were gone, and knowing how fragile her health was you figured you'd spend more of your life without her than with her. The combination threatened to consume you, and you spent every lull in conversation and every night lying in bed unable to sleep from worry about finding your purpose in life. What interested you? What motivated you? What were your values? How could all of the above be translated into a livable life?

Where did you belong? Did you belong here, in the sleepy town with wide open skies? Did you belong in a city with skyscrapers and sardine-squishing sidewalks? You liked the access the city afforded you. When you'd first moved there, you'd been enthralled by the hundreds of restaurants and stores within a mile's radius. You'd maxed out a small credit card being silly and young, trying cuisines you'd never even heard of. You found cute themed shops that were abhorrently overpriced but nonetheless aesthetically pleasing to visit. But the city moved so fast, and just in time for you to settle into a routine with a favorite restaurant they'd be closing shop. It was cutthroat and intimidating, and you felt softer. Too soft. Life here was too slow as to be entirely, aggravatingly boring. There were only a handful of restaurants in town and they were all dying fast food chains strung out amongst various struggling mom and pop shops that wouldn't dare invite in a health inspector. But the nature was beautiful, and sometimes you loved the quiet breeze of it all. You had no friends besides Mar who you could never see leaving the city, a degree that was worthless in the current economy, and your extended family lived in south Florida for some unknown reason. You only saw them once a year at a family reunion that was usually in July, but had been postponed to Christmas. Ugh.

On Monday you set off for Gotham. You'd arrived on time a few days earlier to ensure you could properly pack your stuff. Day one was filled with throwing out the perishable groceries and giving yourself a moment to breathe outside of your childhood home. The food tasted bland, your favorite shows had lost their spark, and your bed was lumpy and hard. The floors were cement and made your feet ache with every slapping step. The water took ages to heat up compared to home, and you kept watching your step for Walter who never showed. The flight had been frustrating. Your head pounded. You felt like screaming into an empty field, creating a dust storm from pounding your hands into the dirt until you were bruised.

Day two after arriving back to Gotham, you sat down at your small desk in the corner to think up some questions. It was impossible to focus, but you kept yourself to task by repeating you'd be out of here permanently, genuinely, so, so soon. As you stared at the blank page, anxiety sprouted. It hadn't before occurred to you that everyone would be reading this; in fact, everyone would likely be seeking this out so much it would be translated to different languages hours after being published. For a moment you couldn't wrap your head around why this time felt so much more high-stakes, and then you remembered the fate of an entire university department rested on how marketable and quality this interview was... and remembered how obscenely rich and powerful the subject was. You twiddled your fingers just slightly above the keyboard, nervous to even begin to dive into it.

The first thing you did was peruse Scypher, especially their forum sections.

SEARCH: Bruce Wayne

SEARCH: Mr. Wayne

SEARCH: Bruce

SEARCH: billionaire

SEARCH: Gotham

SEARCH: Gotham City

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce Wayne

You sifted through hundreds—if not thousands—of posts thirsting after him. There were pap photos, one-shots written daydreaming about him, some tweets hating on how rich he was (you liked those), but the vast majority were simply pining after him in a public arena. You got a small sense of what people wanted to see from him, but not enough to create a substantial question.

You went onto Google and searched the same things. A handful of articles from major news outlets were titled similarly: What We Know About Bruce Wayne, the Orphaned Billionaire. People generally knew about the circumstances of his parent's murder, that he lived at home with his maids and butlers (was there more than one Alfred?) and everything that he'd announced at Gotham University graduation. There was logistical data on his Wikipedia page such as his height, birth date, current age, and where he went to school growing up. Information for the past decade was slim, the only bits being where he attended college, his date of graduation, and his major. It appeared the only times since his parent's death he peeked out into the public eye were school-related.

No one knew anything about his personal life, and you worked yourself into a tizzy brainstorming ways to persuade him into talking about himself. Where was the line between too benign of a question and too invasive of one? What was relevant information to someone high-profile's first interview? You'd spent hours digging into the first interviews of now-major celebrities, but they all happened before they rocketed into fame. This was different: he was born famous, and now at age 30 he was finally speaking to someone. After a certain point in your research you feared you would need to be the blueprint for this kind of thing; even nepo babies had been interviewed as children, asked questions such as their favorite musicians, movies, books, and colors. How did you show the public he was normal, personable, even? Did you even want to make him appear normal, because he didn't seem it. He was an enigma. Someone you couldn't quite peg.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What's my goal with this? No one else's, mine? What do I want to learn about him? What are my natural curiosities? This led to an immediate rush of creative energy, questions popping up left and right; you didn't care about how invasive or off-kilter they might seem. After the brainstorming, you gathered the questions into three categories: COMFORTABLE - DEEPER - DANGEROUS.

The first contained questions that were more basic, and likely wouldn't elicit an emotional response in any way to the interviewee. The second probed a bit more, considered more thorough and juicy. At this point an interviewee might be more choosy with their phrasing, or pause to think about it. The final category was fully questions of your own mind, questions you didn't think you'd ever ask but wanted to be put to paper. These were so juicy as to be intimate, so personal as to be disorienting.

When else would a woman have the leverage to ask such a dizzyingly powerful man anything she wanted?

[a-fandom-reimagined]

ALL OF YOU | BRUCE WAYNE X PLUS SIZE GN! READER (FT. ALFRED)

୨୧ type: fluff & angst | word count: 887 | tw: sfw, mentions of bullying but no actual descriptions of what was said or done. please enjoy

→ please note that I don't think I've ever written anything for a gn reader before so if I messed anything up (like how i couldn't figure out what the gn alternative for master/miss is) I apologize

requested: omg okay, idk if you would want to write this but; since i can't find ANY battinson x plus size reader stuff, could i request a battinson x gn plus size reader where bruce discovers his partner being insecure about themselves and tries to cheer them up? this would be angst mixed with fluff if that's okay with you :>

Everything is fine, you told yourself.

The limo pulled away from the curb merging into early morning rush hour. The annual Wayne Foundation Ball had ran hours longer than you'd intended. And as host, you couldn’t leave early. No matter how much you'd wanted to. You relaxed into your lover's embrace, drinking in his cologne. Basking in his warmth. It was the most relaxed you'd felt all evening.

You were almost asleep when Bruce's voice dragged you back to reality. "What's wrong?"

You opened your eyes. "Nothing." You couldn't even manage a smile to better sell the lie.

Tonight was supposed to be your night. And they took it from you…

Bruce frowned. "Don't lie to me. We're better than that."

You were better than that. And now you had shame to add to the long list of emotions weighing you down.

They were just words. Everything is fine.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't want to talk about it. Not with him. But you couldn't lie to him either.

Your fiancé kissed the top of your head, hugging you tighter. "Talk to me. Did someone hurt you? Did something happen?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not important."

"It's bothering you so it does matter and it is important. You've been talking non-stop about this Gala. You've been planning it for months. What happened?"

You pulled back to wet eyes and a broken smile. Bruce's jaw ticked, his expression chillingly blank. Bruce usually kept this side of himself hidden away from you. Was this the version of him that went out to hunt bad guys every night? Or was this just a small sliver of him?

"Sir, not to interrupt but would you like me to turn the car around?"

You'd forgotten the partition was down. Alfred's voice was low and clipped. Almost unrecognizable from the sassy, well-mannered man who'd been like a father to you over the past four years.

"I'll let you know." answered Bruce before returning his attention to you. "Please." he said softly.

You shook your head. "It's so silly. They were just words."

"What did they say? Who said it?"

You sighed heavily. He wasn't going to let this go. And it was stupid of you to try to hide it from him. The World's Greatest Detective… The World's Most Attentive Fiancé was more like it. "The…people at the gala were mean to me," you admitted in a small broken voice. You hated the way you sounded. You hated even more that you'd let it get to you. "There. I told you. They were mean to me tonight and they said awful things about my weight, how much I ate at dinner. One woman gave some diet pills she swears by in the bathroom. It shouldn't bother me. It's not like I haven't experienced this before. I am a plus-sized person, I know that but…I don't know. These people gather every year to give away exorbitant amounts of money to make Gotham a better, safer place to live. I don't know, I guess I just expected better. Dumb, I know."

"It's not dumb."

"But it is! Bruce, you put on a mask every night and go face down real villains. Real villains that cause real pain with real weapons."

Bruce's jaw dropped. It took a lot to shock him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything because they're just words, Bruce, not bullets! And I let them get to me. I've been miserable all night. That's why you caught me in the hallway tonight. I didn't get lost, I just got down crying in a broom closet and I was walking around and waiting for my eyedrops to kick in and hide the redness! Now, can we please just drop it and forget that this ever happened?"

"No we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you feel like you can't confide in me just because of who I am and what I do at night. They're not just words, Y/N these people bullied you. You worked your ass off to make this Gala the success it was. We've never raised this much money in a single night before and it was because of you. Y/N I don't care how minor or unimportant you think it is. You don't have to get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster for your feelings to be valid."

You swallowed a laugh. "When in the world did you get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster?"

Bruce smiles. "That's the point. The point is your feelings are valid. And you can come to me with any of them."

"And I as well, *[Master/Miss] Y/N."

You breathed easy for the first time that night, And smiled for the first time that night. "Thank you. Both of you."

Bruce smiled back, pressing his forehead to yours. "Feel better?"

You nodded.

"Good. Because you're going to tell me the name of everyone who bothered you tonight. And then Batman is going to toilet paper their house and slash their fucking tires."

You barked out a laugh.

Bruce pulled you even closer leaving a trail of kisses from your temple to your collarbone. "You're perfect just the way you are, my heart. All of you."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: ALWAYS OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | MASTERLIST

[neonovember]

Do they know you’re with me?

pairings: battinson x fem!reader

summary: this city always found a way to take another part of bruce, until all that was left of him was Batman. But taking you? Now that was just downright stupid.

warnings: very graphic displays of violence, feral!bruce wayne, misogyny, assault, fluff, angst, literal murder

word count: 4.9k

a/n: watched batman for the second time and decided to dip my feet into the seeping black oil spill that is bruce wayne and his fucked up morals. + you end up driving the fucking batMOBILE

You don’t remember how you found yourself sprawled on the floor of a rotting warehouse 20 miles from the inner city streets of Gotham, all you can do is feel the brick stones beneath the weight of your body, scratchy and old, crumbling beneath the grip of your fingers.

The slits of sunlight that cast shadows across the floor look like mirages. The fuzzy edges of your vision not quite clearing despite your desperate blinks. You want Bruce, you want him now.

You scrawl to the bordered-off windows, stuffing fingers into the space between the pieces of bordered wood, trying to pry them open, you’re exhausted, you don’t know why, your entire body is just aching, your limbs limp and feeble, sore from an exertion you have no memory of. The thought makes you shudder unconsciously, why is it so hard to remember?

Your mind is a collection of big black oil spills, they spread, when you try harder to think back to hours before. You don’t like this, god, everything fucking hurts

You continue this limp pathetic excuse of an escape, eyes burning with tears as the wood refuses to budge, the flashes of Bruce teaching you self-defence engulf your mind.The smell of old rubber, your complaining and his gruff condescension clambering on the gym floor as he taught you a left hook, how to twist under an assailant, how to fight smart instead of hard, how to knock a 200lb man unconscious- it all falls flat now, settles on the floor amongst the rotting moss and burrowed insects, what a fucking joke.

You can’t help but feel the discerning glare on Bruce’s face at this moment, watching you stifle as if you hadn’t spent weeks together preparing for this exact moment.

You’re pathetic, he’s wasted air and time on you. The image of his face pulls the tears on your waterline down your cheeks, and you collapse against the warehouse walls as you crumble. You relish the burn of your nails digging into your palm, letting the burn radiate through your hand as you roughly hit your head against the moist rotting stone.

This was it, the last of your name left to rot next to wet hay and dust, all you’ve worked for, all you’ve done, swept away and taken with the autumn wind. You know it’s horrible but isn’t this such a pathetic way to die? Not in combat, the blood and dirt of your struggle signifying your sacrifice, but because you were weak, brittle and foolish like your father had always said.

You stuff a fist into your mouth, reprimanding yourself, you will die, you will get your head spilt on this floor if you don’t get up, right fucking now. Forcing back the guttural groan back into the ribs of your chest, you survey the damp warehouse for any way out, and your eyes catch the glint sparkling against the rays of the rising sun.

Metal, something hard, something you can use to pry open blanks. It might be oxidising into rusted dust in the seconds that pass but it’s something, and that’s good.

Staggering towards it, you hold your weight against the warehouse walls, practically hopping with your one good foot towards the sledgehammer. You grasp the metal into your weak fist, and relief washes over you as the weight of it reassures some real damage.

Your eyes catch the bordered wooden door, secured with a padlock drilled into the metal bars, this warehouse is left to its mere skeleton, the metal rotting as peaks of asbestos break free.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you shuffle your body towards the door, crouching closer to inspect the latch, your ears catch rambunctious laughter and the crash of bottles far to the right of the rotting warehouse. Your assumed assailants celebrating your capture perhaps, you shudder as you recall your unconsciousness moments ago. What else had they done to you?

Bringing the heavy hammer down into the padlock, the dust from the door flutters to the floor. You pause as you await the sounds of boots running to ensure your capture again, but it does not come. The laughter and boom of their festivities conceal your escape.

Giving the padlock two more hits, it finally gives way, cracking through the metal as you rip it from the door handle. You breathe through your nose as you take a tentative step forward, slipping through the gap you’ve forced open.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the pitch-black darkness that surrounds you, and soon you realise the warehouse is much bigger than you thought. Rows of brimstone columns hold up the rows of metal fixtures, slits of moonlight filter through the expansive window roof, the stench of old machinery and dye hinting to a possibly old fabric factory. You don’t want to consider how those big machines could be used against you, the idea pushed back down in your mind.

Shuffling forward, you catch the shadowy burst of light coming from your right, licks of orange and yellow crawling up the decrepit walls. A fire of some sort, surrounded by your assailants casts shadowy figures that seem huge and monstrous.

You begin searching for an escape, a latched window you could force open, some hole in the wall, anything. You come up empty, the towering walls looking down on you almost sealing your fate. You’re at the hands of these men to do as they would like, and for a moment you’d wish you’d listen to Bruce and let him attach that tracking device on your watch, violating or not.

You press your fingertips to your eyes as you try to think, the only plausible chance of escape is to move closer to the right wing of the warehouse and slip past their drunken state whilst their guard is let down.

Pressing your back to the wall, you venture forth, pressing forward with the tips of your toes as your sneakers squeak against the dirt floor. Making a turn your feet crash into a wayward liquor bottle, the glass chattering beneath your feet. You wince as you hear the men stop their guffawing at the sound, ears picking up your mistake. 

“What the fuck was that?” You hear the gruff throaty sound of someone yelling.

“No idea, ya sure you kept our girl locked and tied??” Another replies, you have to keep from retching at the sound of them referring to you as “their girl”. The way their slimy mouths wrapped around the word had you sick.

“Don’t fucking tell me you forgot rookie, or else you’ll fuckin join her ass” The man from before argues, anger riddling his tone.

“Hey! Relax aight? He padlocked that shit, there ain’t no way she’s getting through it. So sit the fuck back down Daroll, it’s probably some fuckin’ rat. You know how this city is, with all its fucking filth clogging the streets, turning those animals into the size of goddamn cats” The man replies, in a calm tone. He seems to be the ring leader of sorts, the rest of the men falling in line and replying in unison.

“At least now we’ve got Bruce Wayne’s girl tied back there, this time we’ll get our goddamn compensation from this city. I’ll make sure of it” The man replies.

You shiver as they refer to you as some sort of bargaining chip like Bruce would send millions in a briefcase in return for your safety. You don’t doubt that he would, but the thought scares you to no end. If this played out how they wished for it, what would stop any common thief from snagging you off the streets of Gotham in return for their “reparations”?

Bruce had to set an example, and you don’t doubt the events that would follow would be a bloody mess of fists and broken bones. You can’t help it, but something deep within you preens at the thought, Bruce, clad in his dark element, falling over the assailants like a spreading darkness.

But the fear of being left to rot in some warehouse on the docks of Bleak island is still there, and who’s to say Bruce would even find you? Your body, left in an unmarked grave once they got what they wanted, or better yet, thrown into the city’s river to be used as fish bate.

“Bruce fucking Wayne, man if there’s one name I hate in this goddamn city. Shit, you can barely escape it from the way they’ve plastered his face on every inch of Gotham” A man says

“Ya know the news outlets, always love a fucking sob story, actin’ as if families don’t get massacred by us daily” The man laughs, and they soon join him, falling back into the harmony of throwing back beer bottles and throwing knives at rats scurrying away.

Once you feel their ears aren’t catching every tiny sound, you continue your venture through the warehouse, the grip of the sledgehammer is firm in your grasp and it tethers you to the ground. If they did find you, at least you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Catching the view of the group of men, huddled around a large bonfire, they each wear the same worn dirtied clothes, maroon jackets and washed-out plaid shirts that peek through. Beer cans and stunted cigarettes litter the ground, chests full of what you assumed would be weapons and drugs strewn about.

From the way their expansive shoulder stretch the material, you grapple with the fact that these men weren’t your typical scrawny thugs looking for a fix. They had decent muscle, the kind that could crush your neck within their grasps. And you were in their very own lion's den.

Gulping down the fear radiating down your back, you catch the stream of moonlight peeking from a cracked open door. A hope stirs within you, and you force yourself to swallow your fear as you calculate the very short steps you would need to make before finally escaping.

Stepping forward, your eyes are strained on the group of men, never letting your eyes leave them as you slip past from the shadows of the warehouse walls.

You’re so close, the door practically at arms reach before you are yanked hard by an invading hand, your neck rag dolls back as the mysterious man shoves you against him.

“No!!” You scream, as he leans into your neck, the faint smell of tobacco and beer causing you to wretch your face away.

“Looks like I found our very own little lady tryna escape” The man yells towards the huddled group at the centre of the warehouse. You thrash against him with all your might, limbs flying with little control as you try and rip yourself from his grip.

His chest is like a wall, laughing down at your frail body thrashing against his own, he presses your backside into his own as he grinds from the side of your eye.

“If you want it rough ya could’ve just said that doll” The man snarks, hand reaching down to grip your chest before you bite down on it, hard.

“You fucking bitch!!” He rips his hand from your mouth before his fist is colliding with your face. Your brain takes a minute to register the pain, almost blinded by the force of it, before you groan loudly. The white-hot pain spreads across your face and down your neck, throbbing with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

Your neck lies limp across his chest and he drags you towards the men looking on in amusement. Throwing you to the ground, your eyes meet scuffed boots that press against your bruising cheek.

You try and get yourself up before the boot is pressing onto your back, imprisoning you to the floor.

“Seems like you got in a little tussle huh?” The man you’ve recognised as the leader of the pack speaks down at you.

“You see, we wanted to make this as painless as possible for you, but now you had to go and try and escape didn’t you?” The man pulls you from the floor, dropping you onto a plastic chair that presses onto your back.

You don’t dare to look up to the man, he’s got a good foot on you and he looks at you like a formidable statue.

“Look at me when I speak to you” The man roars suddenly, pressing a dirty finger to your chin, forcing your chin to meet his thundering blues.

Forced to look up at him, you take notice of the features that make up his face. Blond hair dirtied with blood and dust falling over his face, the scratching scrawl of a yellow stubble that spreads across his jaw and neck. Brooding dark brows hang over his deep silver-blue eyes. His features are conventional in the way a Prince Charming or cover model would be, but the snark and deep hatred that seeps into every one of his features cast an malevolent shadow, and sets your heart to pound against your chest.

“Don’t you see? My men wouldn’t have hurt you if you’d- if you’d just listened. Why can’t anyone fucking listen, huh? Do you think I want to do this?” He screams at you, hands flying arms they press at his chest in some sort of act. His features morphed into a facade of anguish as if he had no choice but to chain you in a rotting cell.

You bite your tongue to stop your sharp mouth from scoffing in his face, the taste of copper is one you swallow regretfully. You eye his erratic behaviour, the way his body moves around like his a life wire, it’s one you’ve seen before.

Some unmarked drug that had taken over the streets of Gotham, one the GCPD has been scrambling to find out but coming up with loose ends. Bruce himself had warned you of its destruction on mostly unassuming teenagers and drop heads, the way the high would go on forever, before descending into a madness fuelled by the user's deepest fears. Sending you into a psychotic breakdown you can’t escape without throwing yourself from a building or shoving a pistol down your throat.

He seemed to be at the peak of it, relishing in the euphoria and grandiosity it granted him.

Your eyes catch the shadow of a winged cape, up high and cloaked in the darkness of the ceiling, and you have to press your fingers into your thighs to stop your face from showcasing the relief that washes over.

Bout damn time.

Your eyes focus on the man again but glancing from the corner of your eye as you catch your winged saviour perched on the ceiling's metal columns. He raises a gloved finger to his lips, mouthing one single word.

Distract.

You blink twice to show you understand, before diverting your eyes back to the erratic man who’s begun to sneer at you in disgust.

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” You mutter, and he reels back at you in shock, before a smile pulls at the slit of his lips, eyes blazing with a fury that sets you on edge.

“I always knew he liked em’ mouthy” The man replies, before stepping forward.

“Bruce isn’t going to sacrifice the security of his name just to give you all some fucking pocket change. You think he’s that stupid?” You reply in a voice you hope is every bit steady and confident as you think.

That man narrows his eyes at you, as the rest of the men look on in eagerness. Ready to watch you get ripped to shreds by their beloved leader, salivating at the thought of you bloody and bruised by their fists.

“Bruce is too soft for this city, spending all his damn time boarded up in that manor, all that money just left to gather dust.” The man begins, resting his body against a barbed-wrapped bat.

“For years, Gotham had griefed that man, reconciling that The Bruce Wayne was no longer a symbol of hope for this city”

“But then there was you, that sweet little thing that forced him out of his fucking cave. And boy did the media love you, how couldn’t they? A precious doll that got Gotham’s billionaire to open his manor gates again” The man replies in disgust, spitting next to your shoes.

“And then he was back to being the public’s favourite rich, billionaires boy. All we’ve worked for, everything we’d done to prove he was like the filth that crawled through these streets out the fucking window”.

“Whilst people like me, like us, good hard working people, were left to get drowned by the muck and filth of this city. The swamp that sludges and clings to the streets. Now I’m not that religious, but how the fuck is that fair?”

“I know you aren’t stupid, different from the other woman he’s plastered to his side, anyone with two fucking eyeballs can see that. Which makes it all the more reason that we’ll get what we need no matter what”. The man smiles at you fondly, as if he hadn’t just threatened your life mere moments ago.

His eyes light up at the look of disgust you throw at him,

“Oh don’t look at me like that baby, It’s just business. Brucey will give us our well-deserved money, and we’ll give him back the one thing he cares about.” The man replies, before raising his bat to press gently into your chest.

“You.”

Your ears catch the swift swoop of air before your eyes register the enveloping black armour that glides across the warehouse.

It happens quickly, one moment the self-proclaimed leader is chanting, murmuring Bruce’s fate before he is knocked down by a batted creature

“The fuck?! Is that Batman-“. You hear the murmur of confusion litter the men, as they catch glimpses of a swallowing darkness descend into their safe haven.

The rest of the men don’t get a second to reach for their weapons before he's taking them down with his bare hands, picking them off, one by one like fleas.

You watch on as Bruce collides a man's face into another, smashing their skulls until their faceless and bloody. One brave thug throws a wooden crate at him, and he catches it swiftly, throwing it into another’s back.

The sound of splitting skin and the crunch of bone seems to go on forever, the grunts of Bruce’s voice the only sound he makes as he throws limp bodies like rag dolls across the dirt floor.

The rest of the thugs scurry like ants, escaping through the side door and jumping into rusting pickup trucks as they watch through the review mirror in heaving horror.

Batman has left one men in particular behind, wanting to take his time with them, the ferocity of his unneeded rage doesn’t escape him, his fists are practically dumb as they are split and bleeding from colliding with bone.

He’s shaking with it, the fear and malevolence that seems to drip from him like blood. His head is screaming, white noise blocking the outside world since the moment he found you missing. He knows at that moment that the deep dark part of his night city creature is rearing its head, he wants to destroy every single fucking thug that has ever even aided in your capture, preens with a burning desire to eradicate and burn their entire existence off the face of Gotham itself.

He hears the sound of your soft whimper, and he tears his eyes away from the groaning man at his feet. And for the first time since his fist collided with that fucking, he’s eyes glide over your frame hunched in the chair.

Jaw tight as he naughs his teeth, a growl escaped his chest at the sight of you, his baby, dried blood seeping down your neck as your left eye is swollen shut from the force of the punch.

Bruce steps towards you, tearing his gloves off to press his cold fingers towards your cheek, soothing and brushing the tears that streamed down your face.

“It hurts Bruce, it hurts so bad” You sob, and the sound retches at Bruce’s heart, his eyes set on the outline of a fist pressed into your perfect skin.

“I know baby, I know, I’ll make it better okay? I’ll make it better” Bruce replies softly, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The evidence of another man, daring to put he’s hands on you sends that same unchecked rage to burn through his chest, and Bruce turns swiftly at the man responsible.

He’s crawling away pathetically, his leg twisted at the awkward angle as he sobs in pain loudly. Bruce boots steps towards him, the towering expansive figure of what you could only describe as a brick fucking wall moving with ease as he watches on at him pathetically.

Reaching down, he reaches with a gigantic hand to drag him back towards Bruce’s feet. Pressing a foot to the broken bone, the man howls in pain as Bruce brutalising his wounds. It isn’t enough, the cries and screams of your attacker do nothing to satiate the flames of anger unfurling in him.

He wants him silenced.

Gripping his neck, Bruce roughly licks him up, dragging his limb body towards you. Picking up his face by his dark strands, Bruce forces him to stare at his work shaking him to emphasis what he had done to you.

“You did this no? You like beating women?? You dare put your goddamn filthy hands on her and you try to run away?” Bruce roars, pulling tight against the man’s hair as he gains enough energy to howl loudly.

“I think it’s only fair to apologise, it’s the least you could do” Bruce growls into his air before throwing him to the floor. The man looks back at Bruce in confusion, blooding spitting out of his nose.

“APOLOGISE” Bruce roars, it bursts through his belly like a caved creature and the man quickly complies, shaking in fear as he fold himself onto his knees, looking up at you behind clasped hands.

There is a gurgle as you look down, like he’s trying to speak the words but there is too much blood flogged in his lungs. It fills you with a concerning pleasure to see your attacker like this, shaking knees as he looks up at you, coughing and heaving, mouthing the words before restarting.

“I’m not sure she hears you, how about you say it abit louder” Bruce yells from behind, causing the man to flinch.

Finally regaining speech, the man fights through the tearing and failing of his voice cords, and screams out in sobbing chants.

“I’m sorry? ‘m sorry ‘m so sorry’ please!”

It’s all it takes before Bruce is picking him up by his collar, colliding a ginormous fist across his face, the wheezed scream leaving his barely intact throat as he beats him to the ground, hands coming down again, and again and again. Blood spraying across his unmasked face, a deranged look taking over that saw only one purpose.

The man begins to crawl away on his knees, a wheezing wet exhale leaving his chest every few seconds, a line of sludge blood follows him, circled him like a tail, he sputters as his lungs begins to fill with liquid, before upruptly shooting up and collapsing limp onto the dirt floor covered in shit, piss and blood.

Bruce turns to you, his footsteps hurrying to crouch down as he cradled your head in his strong arms. He shushes you gently as he rocks you back and forth, caressing you with the bloody hands that avenged you.

“Oh Bruce, I should’ve listen to you, if I hadn’t-I I had just, if I would’ve just listened-“ You strain, voice wobblying as the fear and anger burning through finally caught up. The adrenaline and numbing you felt moments ago now replaced by the reality of the situation you had found yourself in.

Bruce raises your face to meet his own, shaking his head as he wipes away tears

“Hey, hey, none of that, you being connected to me? It would’ve happened sooner or later. I just thought I could protect you from that-this” Bruce gestures to the mangled corpse surrounding you two “Just for a little longer. You held your own today, and god you looked beautiful doing it”. Bruce replies, a haze cast over his eyes as they bore into your own.

“I’m proud of you, and l’m just thankful your alive, alright?” Bruce shakes your shoulder gently to emphasis his point, causing you to let out a laugh that sends knifes down your lungs.

You grip him closer to you, your hands trailing againts the thick metal and fabric of his suit that seemed to stretch endlessly. Reaching further, your hand comes into contact with a wet lukewarm spot that seems to stream between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes bludge as you take notice of the deep jaggered gash stretching across Bruce’s midsection.

“Oh my god, Bruce you’re bleeding” You whisper, pressing a hand towards the bleeding wound spreading its wetness further and further.

And as if he hadn’t even noticed before, Bruce takes his eyes off of you for the first time, looking down at the wound on his stomach. Ripping through skin and muslce so fiercely, lol or a lighting bolt only thicker and redder with blood.

“It’s fine, just a little scratch” Bruce replies, however he doubles over you anyway, hunched figure holding onto your shoulders as the pain rocks through him.

“You’re going to bleed out, we have to get you to a hospital” You cry, tears burning your eyes at the thought of losing him. You had just got him back, it isn’t fair.

“No, no, no hospital, take me to Alfred” Bruce erases our, copper spilling out of his mouth as he coughs violently.

“How? Bruce I can’t, you won’t make it if I walk you or-or get a cab-”

“Honey, honey I need you to listen to me, you have to take the Batmobile, it’s the only way” Bruce replies, as you haul him up gently onto his feet, resting his arm around you.

“What? You can’t possibly think I’ll be able to drive that” You mourn, the Batmobile was another thing entirely, a second extension of Batman himself. You don’t even know if it was suited for anyone else to drive without you know, hurting them.

“I’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire contents of my bloodstream is emptied between those fingers” Bruce replies wincing, as he angles himself so that he is resting his body weight on his good foot.

“You’ve got to do this, I know you can do this” He groans out, a wave of nauseous pain takes over him and he topples over, retching.

You have no choice, despite the spine tingling fear of driving Bruce’s most prized position, your man needed you, and if you didn’t step up, you would lose him right between your fingers.

“Okay, okay” You huff out, breathing air from your mouth as you shuffle towards the exit of the warehouse, Gotham twinkles in the depths of the night, the crumbling infested towers and roads of filth alive even now.

The Batmobile comes into view, in all its indestructible and formidable glory, and you gulp as you approach the mass of a vehicle.

You slide Bruce into the passenger seat, before walking around the car into the drivers compartment, the cool ventilated air of the Batmobile does little to ease the anxiety jittering your bones.

Bruce rips a rug in half, holding it between his teeth before wrapping it around his stomach, forcing the wound to soak up the cotton. He reached for a latch in the batmobiles left console, ripping open a syringe filled with some sort of golden liquid, handing it to you, he nods againts your wide eyes, towards his naked arm.

“What??” You reply ghastly

“Just some pain killer hun, ain’t nothing different than an IV”

Shaking, you brace his arm, before driving the needle into his arm, pressing down the contraption as you watch the liquid golden seep into his bloodstream.

Bruce winces before letting out a huffed breathe of releif, blowing out some strands across his face before leaning back.

You gawk at the millions of contraptions and buttons of the center console, parts you notice belonging to any normal car while others seemed intergalactic. You know Bruce had a knack for inventing even the most daring gadgets, technology that veered on science fiction. But this was something else entirely.

As if sensing your trepidation, Bruce walks you through the powering switch, before pressing a button from his sleeve that promoted a holographic figure of Alfred.

“Master Bruce? Y/N? Is that you?” Alfred replied in shock, the brisket white hairs of his eyebrows pulled tight.

“Alfred, god, Bruce has been hit, badly, he’s just- he was saving me and now- now” You hastily reply, a half sob crawling up your throat as your forced to recount the prior evidence.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce always over estimated himself in all the years I’ve known him, but taking down a whole sector with no back up??”

“It’s just a scratch Alfred, you-” wheeze- “you need to relax” Bruce replies coughing loudly

Alfred peers down at him in disapproval

“It’s save to say, I’ll be prepping the operating room and phoning in Dr Proctor” Sighs Alfred, the turbulence of caring for such a man, for two men, aging him.

The holographic projector of Alfred shuts down, as Bruce shifts his face to look at you, beads of sweat has formed across his forehead, a thin sheen coating his face.

“Now it’s all you baby, get us home” Bruce replies softly, you reach towards his face to brush away the dark wet strands falling across his face.

Pressing a hard kiss againts his forehead, Bruce quickly reachers for your cheek, pulling you down to press his soft lips against your own, swallowing the pain and anguish whispered between the both of you.

You can’t help but let the tears stream down your face, and as Bruce glides his tongue along your bottom lip in a strangled moan, he licks them away quickly.

Shuddering with squeezed eyes, you peer at Bruce’s figure, layed across the passenger seat, heavy breaths wheezing through his chest.

You turn back to the wheel of the Batmobile, your hands grip the wheel until the leather squeaks under your fingers. Everything from this terrrifying ordeal falls away, the men, Bruce’s final victim, that room..it’s muffled by the thick air of the Batmobile interior. You are Bruce’s, and you will fight teeth and bone to ensure he doesn’t die saving you, after all his done, after everything that had happened.

Most of your life, you’ve never been able to know exactly what you want, or what to do, until Bruce had swooped into your life, cape and all. And now you have one purposes at this moment, and it comes to you clear as day. Deep as bone, beyond flesh and blood.

You get him home.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

🏷️ Just send an ask to me a part of my Taglist!

[folklorcore]

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

call it what you want ─ r. pattinson

Thank u so much for your request. <3

Pairing: Robert Pattinson x Singer!Fem!Reader

TW/Tags: Established relationship, pure fluff.

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

Words count: 0.83 k.

Robert's Masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All the liars are calling me one,

nobody's heard from me for months,

I'm doing better than I ever was."

You started humming while writing the lyrics.

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

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

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

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

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

walking with his head down,

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

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

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

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

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

"Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So call it what you want, yeah,

call it what you want to."

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

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

"I loved the song."

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

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

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[ceddiggory-33]

Cozy

A/n : it is raining here and I felt like writing something about Cedric because the Rainey weather reminds of Cedric ( for god knows why ) so here it is .

Warning: none

CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Sound of rain hitting the ground , smell of the wet soil hits y/n who is wrapped in the arms of her lover and cozy blanket, when she opens her eyes. Y/n turns around to see sleeping Cedric . He looked so peaceful …

Placing a soft kiss on her lover’s hair y/n gets up from the bed carefully not wanting to wake Cedric up , When she hears a groan

“ just a few minutes more please love . “ says Cedric not opening his eyes.

“ Cedric we have been asleep for 5 hours now if I sleep more I will have to be awake all night “ laughs y/n .

“ oh come on just a few more minutes please love “ Cedric says opening one eye .

“ you won’t take a no would you ceddie “ “no” laughs Cedric .

“Fine only few more minutes ”. “We will see y/n ”whispers Cedric slowly dozing off again as y/n admires his beautiful face, planting a small kiss.

“ oh what did I do to deserve you Ced”

A/n : I know it’s a small story I just wanted to write something so …

[lazycats-stuff]

Mafia!Bruce Wayne x male!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne, the main mafia boss in the Gotham city, is happy with his husband (Y/N). That is, until his husband is taken and Bruce nearly loses it.

Warnings: Violence, guns, descriptions of torture, Bruce being a good husband, kidnapping,

" Bruce! Five more minutes, please... " (Y/N) pleaded with his husband. It was early in the morning, a Friday none the less.

" I can't hun, I am already late. You are going to be late too. " Bruce said tying his tie.

" I won't, please Bruce. " (Y/N) said in a singsong tone and with a sweetest smile he could muster up.

Bruce chuckled at the attempts of his husband to keep him in bed longer. He sat on the edge of the bed and brought (Y/N) closer. He leaned down and gave (Y/N) a soft kiss on the lips.

" I have nothing in the evening, so we can spend evening doing what you want. How does that sound? " Bruce said, nuzzling his cheek against (Y/N)'s.

" You know me too well B. " (Y/N) said nuzzling his face into Bruce's neck and taking a sniff of his cologne.

" This cologne? "

" What? "

" It stinks. "

Bruce gently laid (Y/N) down and tucked him again.

" I will call you later so you can get ready for work hun. "

" Thanks Bruce. "

Bruce gave his husband on last kiss on the lips and left their bedroom with a smile on his face. His husband really has him wrapped around his finger and he wasn't even aware of it. Bruce chuckled to himself and shook his head.

His husband has the biggest mafia boss in Gotham city wrapped around his little finger and he is not even aware of that power. Unfortunately, some people also realized that power, the people who shouldn't be aware of it. Bruce is proud husband and he is not afraid to show it or to say it, but there were some concerns Bruce had.

There is apparently a new mafia boss on the horizon. Bruce wasn't worried that much because he made it clear that his husband is off limits and not to mention that his husband has a 2 bodyguards that watch from afar. (Y/N) had said he didn't want bodyguards, but Bruce had to put his foot down when it came to his protection.

(Y/N) had agreed to have bodyguards, but from afar. He didn't really like the fact that people were so close to him. So him and Bruce reached a compromise. Two bodyguards would be watching from a distance.

Now, Bruce was being driven to the meeting by his head bodyguard. He really didn't want to meet with him, he was supposed to have a day off and take his husband out for dinner after work, but this new mafia boss wanted to meet with Bruce Wayne, because Bruce controls this city and if anybody new wanted to come here and do business, they would have to come to Bruce Wayne first.

" Mister Wayne, if you could only hear me out- "

" I have heard you, mister King, I have, but I won't change the prices. All the prices are the same for everyone who wish to do business here. I can't give you a discount and besides, the product is not that good. "

Mister King sighed and took a sip of his drinks. He has heard about the brutality of Bruce Wayne, he wasn't dumb and he wasn't going to piss the Prince of Gotham off. Or so he thought until he remembered that Bruce Wayne has a husband, (Y/N) if he recalls the name correctly.

Bruce looked at his watch and noticed that it was (Y/N)'s break.

" If you are going to excuse me, I need to make a phone call. "

King wasn't dumb enough to protest and let Bruce leave the room to make a call. Bruce was waiting for his husband to pick and smiled once he heard (Y/N)'s voice.

" Hey B. "

" Hey hun, I just wanted to hear your voice. Did you make it on time? "

" I did, I was actually 15 minutes early. "

" Really? " Bruce asked, a bit suspiciously.

" Yes Bruce, I came 15 minutes earlier. "

" Did you eat anything? "

" I did. Alfred made me some Cesar salad and it was great. You need to give Alfred a raise. "

" I will, don't worry. "

Bruce could sense (Y/N)'s smile from a mile away.

" And you B? How is work? "

" Not bad, we just took a break from a meeting and I wanted to see how you are doing. "

" Boring office work, nothing interesting. Oh, I also know what are we going to do when you get home! "

" What is that hun? " Bruce asked, turning to look at the other mafia boss who was texting on his phone.

" We can make a pillow fort and cuddle or we can take a walk around the park. I wasn't there for so long, I heard that there were ducklings Bruce. Ducklings. "

Bruce smiled and simply replied with sure.

" Okay, I have to go, love you B. "

Bruce melted and replied with a love you and hanged up.

" Sorry about that, mister King, lets continue. "

(Y/N) was happy beyond belief. He was finally done with his work and he was going to spend evening with Bruce for the first time in weeks. Bruce's work schedule wasn't a 9 to 5 like (Y/N)'s is and that meant long hours and his husband coming in late during the night, while (Y/N) is sleeping.

He said goodbye to his coworkers and left the office. It got a bit colder and (Y/N) put his coat up higher. He noticed that the bodyguards weren't there. He remembered Bruce's words. If there are no bodyguards, go to a crowded place and try to blend and call him.

Just as he turned around he noticed somebody behind him. He tried to turn around, but a swift punch with the back of the gun to his nape rendered him unconscious. He fell down hard with a thud. He was out like a light.

The man took his phone and sent a text to his boss, writing it's done. Then another man came and they tied (Y/N)'s hands behind his back, gagging him and putting a bag over his head, but not before throwing the phone out, but making sure to leave it functional, as per boss's instructions.

They were all hesitant to do so, knowing that (Y/N) Wayne is Bruce Wayne's husband and that if he was harmed in any way, shape or form there will be hell to pay, but their boss wanted to send a message. He wanted to say that he was superior to the Prince of Gotham. They put (Y/N) at the back of a van and drove off to the chosen location.

Now Bruce was losing his mind. (Y/N) was supposed to be back home, but he wasn't picking up his phone. He called Alfred and the man said that (Y/N) didn't call him either. Then he called the bodyguards who were knocked out.

After that, Bruce wanted to have his phone tracked to see where his husband is. If the bodyguards were knocked out, then he was kidnapped, Bruce had no doubt about it. Now he needs to figure out, where he was taken and who took him. Once he answers the who, he will answer the why. And not to mention the hell will put the kidnapper through.

Bruce took a deep breath. He can't do things with out a plan. With his husband in question, Bruce can't make any mistakes or it will backfire. Now, he needs to send his people to his work and he needs to see what happened. Who would be dumb enough to kidnap Bruce Wayne's husband? Who?

Bruce's mind thought of the mafia boss he had a business meeting with, the angry look on his face when Bruce denied him what he wanted... Was that man really dumb to kidnap his husband in broad daylight?

Bruce clicked his tongue as he was driving to (Y/N)'s workplace. He was anxious now. He called (Y/N)'s phone once more. He froze oce he heard the familiar ringtone. He walked to the phone and kneeled down. He hanged up and rubbed his face. Nope.

" There are cameras around here, I want video footage. And have a team on standby. When I find the the guy who did this... "

" Sir? "

" Do what I just said and make sure that medical wing is ready for (Y/N). "

" Yes sir. "

(Y/N) blinked, opening his eyes. He tried to move his arms, but they were bound behind the chair. He frowned, but then realized that he was kidnapped. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

What did Bruce tell him? Don't show them that you are afraid and try to get along with them.

(Y/N) will do that until he is saved. He knows that Bruce will search the entire city from top to bottom to find him. He looked around to see where he is. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. He could hear the sea outside. Okay, he was on the docks then. All right, it's not so bad, but the docks were used for executions, so it was not so good after all.

He took another deep breath. Bruce was going to find before something were to happen to him. He was going to remain positive and not pessimistic.

(Y/N) looked up when he heard footsteps coming towards him. (Y/N) didn't recognize the man at all. He told himself to remain calm. He was not going to show fear.

" So this is the famous (Y/N) Wayne. I have to say, you truly are beautiful as they say. "

(Y/N) tried to remain as still as possible as the man caressed his face the way only Bruce can. He wasn't going to do anything stupid enough to get him killed. Bruce was going to find him. He would hold onto that thought for as long as he could.

" Your husband wouldn't budge with a deal, so I need to use you as a leverage. "

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response, afraid that if he were to say something, it would be something snarky and sassy. And that wouldn't be so good in this situation.

A slap to his face brought him back to reality. He licked his lips, feeling the blood on his lip. Asshole.

" When I am talking to you, you are to respond. Clear? "

" Yup. "

" Good. "

" Sir we have a location! "

Bruce jumped up to see the location pop up on a computer. It was the docks.

" Take the team and lets go! If the team gets there first, tell them to wait for me! "

The bodyguards nodded and left to gear up and to leave. It was the middle of the night and (Y/N) should have been in bed with him, not on the docks. Bruce entered his car and sped all the way to the docks, his men in the cars behind him. The team that Bruce ordered to be on a standby, was already on the location. Bruce felt his fingers twitching and his body being on edge. He was ready for a fight. He parked quietly next to the team and waited until everyone came.

" I would like to make this very clear. Now that we know who the perp is, I want him alive and (Y/N) is not to be harmed in any way. Am I clear? " The men nodded quickly and Bruce nodded. He took out his gun and looked at the big warehouse.

" I am coming hun, I am coming. " Bruce told himself before he led the team.

(Y/N) was in pain. A lot of pain. He was hit all over his body and face. He was sure that something was broken. It was hard to breath, so he concluded that it must have been the ribs. His nose was in no better shape and his lips were bloody. He was also hit in the head, making the side of it bleed.

He was close to breaking. He couldn't take this anymore. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Come on Bruce. (Y/N) needed him to save him now, he was in too much pain and wasn't as strong as Bruce. He is strong mentally and physically and could withstand any type of torture. But (Y/N)? Nope.

" Did we break your spirit so quickly? "

(Y/N) didn't have time to respond before he was kicked and thrown back, falling down onto his hands. He grunted from the impact, heaving slightly from the lack of air.

He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. The amount of pain he felt in that moment was indescribable. The pain shot to every single part of his body and he groaned.

" (Y/N)! "

(Y/N) opened his eyes when he heard Bruce's voice. Gunshots rang out and (Y/N) flinched. Bruce ran to him and quickly put the chair back up and cut the ropes on his legs and arms. Bruce quickly hugged him and kissed the top of his head, putting (Y/N)'s in his chest, making sure he didn't saw the carnage.

" Bruce... " (Y/N) sobbed, clutching tightly to Bruce.

" It's okay, we are going to home now, okay hun? "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce picked him up. Bodyguards moved out of the way to let their boss through. Their boss was a good boss even before (Y/N) came into the picture, but once (Y/N) came into the picture, Bruce became even more human. And even the bodyguards were protective of (Y/N). That may sound weird, because they are supposed to, but there was something about (Y/N) that made him so loveable and easy to hangout with. He was nice to the bodyguards that were assigned to him, despite not wanting anyone to follow him.

" He is going to fully recover. He has bruises all over his body, his ribs were slightly cracked, but just make sure to have something cold as ice on them for the first few days and don't let him take any painkillers for the first 48 hours. And make sure he is laying down it's better for the ribs. " The doctor said.

" And what about his head? There was bleeding. "

" No concussion thankfully. Now, make sure he rests because of the ribs. "

" I will, thank you doctor. "

Doctor nodded and Bruce went inside where (Y/N) was laying in the bed. He was in their bedroom and Bruce felt relaxed. (Y/N) was back where he is supposed to be, in their home, in their bedroom. Bruce sat down on the edge, smiling at his husband who gripped Bruce's hand tightly.

" What did the doctor say? "

" You are going to be fine and make full recovery. We just have to ice your ribs and for the next 48 hours not take any painkillers. "

(Y/N) nodded and looked down on his lap.

" And that so called mafia boss? "

" Don't worry about him, he can't hurt you anymore. "

(Y/N) nodded once more and moved over for Bruce.

" Come on, I need some affection Bruce. "

Bruce smiled even more and laid down next to him, ever so gently embracing him. Bruce gently kissed (Y/N)'s cheek and wished him good night. Together they fell asleep, breathing as one and Gotham could breath easier tonight, knowing that Bruce Wayne's sunshine was safe and sound.

[uselesssomebody]

𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣 - cedric diggory x reader

complete masterlist | harry potter masterlist

words || 𝟚𝕜

series masterlist || week to all hallows' eve

summary || in which the reader and cedric's friends like to play matchmaker

a/n || oh my god? more? but this time, it's part of a multifandom series! ➵ part of my 'week to hallows' eve' halloween countdown. check out the masterlist ^ ➵ i've never watched titanic; can you tell? ➵ i wrote this super late a night so please don't be mad if it is a little ass ➵ this was inspired by a convo with a friend but i realize that it is also veryyy similar to @creativepromptsforwriting halloween prompt (#418) & a audio on the g.w.a. subreddit so great minds think alike i.g. ➵ not yet proofread ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff

her friends had been quite adamant about the outfit that she was currently wearing. it was a period-type: long dress, hair pinned up into a half up-do. it was supposed to be the character of rose from the titanic. the red, seemingly expensive, fabric of her dress wrapped around her figure snugly, and she couldn’t help but find herself gazing just a bit too long at her own reflection in the mirror.

“move your hair out ‘f your face, hon.” she turned to look at her good friend, mavis williams, who was currently giddy at the thought of painting her friend’s face. she complied, pushing the straggling locks of hair on her face behind her ears. she tries to sit as still as possible as mavie attempted to place the light dust of blush on her cheeks and accentuated her eyes just slightly by adding a swipe of eyeliner to each. she marveled at her friend’s ability, knowing that she would have used much more time to complete the same task to the level at which her friend could.

after she was done, she stood up to smooth the wrinkles in her dress, grasping on the necklace at the vanity while mavie went on to do her own makeup - having dressed as cher from their collective favorite movie: clueless.

dottie had left about a half-hour ago to meet up with her ravenclaw friends, and martha had just left to go find her boyfriend. on the other hand, mavie and herself would meet with mavie’s hufflepuff boyfriend, and all three of them would head down to the gryffindor common room, where fred and george, with the help of angelina johnson, had organized a halloween party - advertised as transcending house boundaries, cause no one should be able to recognize anyone anyways.

she was excited to go, not seeing her own friends outside of classes that much and now finally getting a chance. she also did love the weasleys’ parties, a common sentiment shared through the school.

she watched as mavie finished up her own outfit, popping the signature stick of gum in her mouth, before - as if on cue - they both heard a knock at the door. mavie rises up, a smile she tries to suppress still beaming over her cheeks, as she opened the door and greeted her boyfriend. well, she says greeted - the girl pulled him into a jovial kiss almost immediately, having not been able to spend much time with him over the past few weeks. after the show, she joined the cute couple, and nodded at her friend’s boyfriend. he’s quick to greet her, friendly smile ever-present on his face.

“hey, connor! josh, right?” she refers to cher’s love interest in the movie, pointing at his boring-for-anyone-else outfit. truly, it didn’t work without the appearance of his girlfriend, but it didn’t really seem like the two of them would separate for much time tonight anyways.

as soon as they near the stairs, they can already hear the heavy bustling and chatter standard of a weasley party, seeing the common room flooded with people in all sorts of costumes as they ventured down. many were the standard: zombies, vampires, werewolves. there were a few fairies, elves and the like. then, there was an assortment of movie and tv characters. she glanced around for her friends, immediately finding dottie - who was in a white shirt and tight corset - with her ravenclaw friends, emulating a team of bloodthirsty pirates. martha went to greet her, with her boyfriend in tow, and she marveled at the cute outfit: baby and johnny from dirty dancing.

her friends were all talking amongst themselves, being shockingly distant to her and, for the life of her, she couldn’t tell why. deciding to ignore it, she broke away to go find the refreshments counter - a butterbeer had never sounded better. she filled a glass with the stuff - the sweet drink having been infused with something slightly more potent to really make this a party, and she absentmindedly glanced at who else was attending.

well, she says absentmindedly, but, truly, she’s looking for one person: cedric diggory. see, the girl had had an almost embarrassing crush on the boy for some time now, and the only people who knew that were her dorm-mates and close friends. half the reason she’d come to this party was because mavie had heard that he’d be here and, as pitiful as it was, she was really excited to see him.

“’lright there?” she’s broken out of her thoughts by a loud voice - voices. in the blink of an eye, she’s surrounded by hogwart’s double trouble, and fred and george both have somewhat expectant looks on their faces.

“hmm? yeah, yeah, i’m great! ‘t’s a nice party.” she nods back at them, plastering a smile to make it look like she was more tuned in to their conversation that she actually was.

“how come you sound surprised? all our parties are nice -” started fred, but george was quick to cut to the chase, knowing they had other guests to talk to (see: bother).

“we just wanted to say that you’ve got a cute outfit. pretty original of a couple this year, y’know? most of these other ones are pretty similar.” she’s nodding along, but, suddenly processing what they said, she’s a bit confused.

“couple? wait, what?” fred and george look at her for a moment, before looking at each other.

“uh, jack? like jack & rose?”

“yeah, we tend to zone out when dad puts muggle movies on but even we know that one.” then, suddenly fred smacks his brother’s shoulder.

“oh, george, she’s just messing with us,” if there was one thing the weasleys hated, it was getting beat at their own game of sarcasm, “good one, but you won’t pull fast one over good ol’ freddie that easily.” he laughs at his own comment, before him and his brother waved her off. except, the issue was that she truly had no idea what they were talking about. of course, she was well aware of the implication of jack when she was rose, but it was fairly obvious that she had come alone, right? and that jack, in fact, was not here with her?

she figured that the boys had just been messing with her, deciding to gulp down the rest of her butterbeer and make her way back to dottie. she was struggling with clipping on her corset as she spoke with a friend, so she went up behind her and helped her out.

“hey, dot.” she mumbles, and she tightens the clasp. her friend gives her a sweet smile of gratitude. suddenly, dot’s friend gasps and looks at her.

“oh my god, your guys’ costumes are so cute!” she smiles back at the friend, a little confused by her way of speaking but grateful nonetheless.

“yeah, haha, thanks. mavie really helped me out and, honestly, dot looks like she’s really gone all out for this -”

“oh, no, not dot!” the friend’s quick to clarify, “i mean the handsome jack to your beautiful rose.” she sent a playful wink to her confused face and, when she turns to look at dottie, she sees her suppressing a smile.

“dot? dot, what did you do?” she hisses to her friend, and all she does in response is shake her head.

“ask mavie and connor, it was their idea!”

“what was?” dot just shrugged. a little exasperated now, she left and set off on the quest to find mavis, infinitely more confused now than she was before.

as she weaved her way through the groups of people, she found herself looking back to apologize to someone whose toes she'd stepped on, prompting her to walk right into someone. they grasp at her biceps to steady her, a polite litany of apologies already leaving their mouth. as soon as she hears them speak, she recognizes them, hoping her ears haven’t gone too red.

“it’s - um, cedric, you’re fine. it was my fault, i wasn’t looking-” as she glances down to look at his own outfit, she stops. he does the same. for a moment, they’re both examining the other, the gears in their heads clicking into place with each second.

“connor…”

“i’m gonna kill mavie.” they both mutter the names of their traitors, before cedric looks up at her, and laughs lightly.

“god, i’m so sorry, this must be so awkward.” she immediately goes to shake her head, laughing as well.

“no! it’s not awkward. just…oh, mavie’s always been a bit extra about things like this.” she mumbles, trying to find a way to diffuse the situation. luckily, cedric’s much better at that then she is as, after taking a half-step back, he daintily grabs her hand in his and presses it lightly to his lips.

“rose.” he says it with affection, and she blinks, having to remind herself that it’s for the sake of the bit.

“jack.” she curtsies lightly in response, hoping the low light covers her blush.

“i was just about to get myself a drink, would you like one?” god, he’s such a damn gentleman, she thinks, before shaking her head.

“i’ve already had one, but i’ll go with you, if you don’t mind?” there’s the faintest hint of desperation in her voice, and she’s just hoping to god he doesn’t pick it up.

“that’d be lovely.” he holds his arm out for her, and she takes it delicately, knowing anything more would come off as too intimate. he’s really playing into the bit.

after getting himself a drink, they find seats near the edge of the room, the place slightly more reclusive and giving themselves an environment to talk.

“how’s your night been so far?” he asks conversationally. she sighs in faux exasperation.

“it’s felt pretty orchestrated, to be completely honest,” he laughs, and she does too, “y’know, mavie’s always trying to play matchmaker, but i usually figure out her ploys ahead of time.” he nods in agreeance.

“it’s the same with connor - he seems to be a bad influence on his girlfriend.” he says it in humor, with a fake accusatory tone.

“oh, i’m sure it’s the other way around.” there’s a beat of silence.

“we do make a cute couple.” he lingered on the word, before rephrasing, “a cute couple’s costume.” then, having noticed her face perk up at the first sentence and then again depress at the next, he attempts to hide a smile behind his glass, “i think we’d make a cute couple too.” she stares at him with narrow eyes for a moment.

“y’think so?” it’s a mumble, because she really, really hopes he isn’t playing games with her right now. he’s silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. his usual air of confidence had dwindled slightly, and she looked at him with big, questioning eyes.

“i’d - uh, i’d hope we make a cute couple.”

“you hope?” he laughs, before shaking his head and moving closer to her.

“i am trying to ask you out here. can ya, uh, help me out?” the last bit’s a joke, but she’s too busy processing his first sentence to notice.

“you - you want to ask me out?” she’s baffled, having assumed that all her previous affections towards him had been one-sided.

“i mean, if you’d let me. ever since connor introduced us, i thought you were just so sweet and i - uh - i guess i just didn’t have the courage before.” still in shock, she doesn’t answer for another moment, and he looks down at the ground, “i’m sorry, you can just say no, i didn’t -”

“no!” he deflated at the exclamation, ready to accept the rejection, before she shook her head, taking his hand, “no, i mean yes! i’d love to go out with you.” he looks confused, and it makes her laugh, “cedric, please. i would really enjoy going on a date with you.” he smiles, pressing another soft kiss to her hand.

“y’think we should tell them that this worked?” he said after a moment, in reference to mavie and connor. her eyes widened.

“oh, absolutely not!”

[sunburnhurts]

Heyy!! I absolutely love your stories and I was wondering if you could do a Cedric Diggory x Female reader but enemies to lovers? Thanks sm!

Rivalry || Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Cedric are both captains and seekers but on different teams, already creating a rivalry. When their 2 houses have a match, Cedric does something that created more tension with the 2. *More like 'rivals' to lovers*

Words: 1,705

All My Stories

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this! I literally decided to delete the whole story and rewrite it when I was almost done because i hated it.. sorry! Idk how i feel about this story so lmk to delete it LMAO

Y/n sits in potions, trying her best to consentrate on Professor Snape's lecture, but her mind keeps wondering off to the upcoming Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff. Being the captain of Slytherin, her mind was always on Quidditch, even when she knew she should focus on her school work. She tries to picture how the match will go, her catching the snitch, outflying Cedric Diggory.

Y/n and Cedric didn't know each other outside of the game. Of course Y/n's competitiveness would set a divide if they ever became friends, Quidditch always came before any friendship in her mind. Although she knew it wasn't a good mindset, she couldn't help it. The talk from around the school about how Cedric is so perfect, best Quidditch captain, good looking, and more, never made Y/n more fond of the boy.

Professor Snape eyed Y/n as he spoke, knowing her mind was elsewhere. "Ms. Y/l/n," He started, interrupting his own lecture. Y/n blinks, clearing her mind and turning her attention to Snape, her face becoming a bit heated. "care to repeat what I just said?"

Y/n looks up at her Professor, becoming a bit shy out of embarrassment. Slowly shaking her head, she replies, "I don't know, sir."

"Would anyone like to show that they were listening, unlike Y/l/n?" Snape coldly says, looking around the room. Although embarrassed, Y/n looked around the room, seeing multiple hands raised. "Mr. Diggory?"

A smug look appeared on Cedric's face as he answered, "You said that we will be learning how to create the potion, 'Draught of Living Death'. This potion can send someone into a slumber that is similar to death," He pauses, his eyes on Y/n, "sir." Y/n looks at him, her eyebrows turning down into frustration, her mouth slightly in a frown.

Obviously no one liked being shown up, but it was Cedric Diggory, so she hated it even more. What she hated even more was his smug face, slightly smirking as Snape says, "Very good, Cedric. 5 points from Slytherin, 5 points to Hufflepuff." Y/n finally breaks her death stare at Cedric, looking down at the desk in front of her.

~~~~

After giving a speech to her team in the shared locker room, Y/n puts herself into the mindset to win. As she leads her team onto the pitch, she looks over at the Hufflepuff team. Still frustrated at the situation in potions class, a dirty look was thrown to Cedric. Cedric turns his head at the Slytherin team, smirking at the obviously angered girl. He knew how to piss her off, and it was certainly working.

Hearing Slytherin being called, Y/n and her team hop on their brooms, flying around as the Slytherin section cheers. Y/n's mood lightens at this, the thoughts of Cedric gone. She then hears Hufflepuff being called, the Hufflepuff fans roar over Slytherin. Not minding this, Y/n focuses on the game, getting ready to play.

The game starts, Y/n immediately going for the snitch, Cedirc does the same. While points were being scored and announced, Y/n ignores everything, focusing on the tricky ball. The snitch moves fast, Y/n and Cedric flew side by side, slightly behind it.

After about 14 minutes of chasing the snitch, the 2 seekers were extremely high off the ground. Suddenly, the snitch flys down, making them fly quickly after it. They both reach out while still flying down, Cedric then bumps into Y/n, trying to get her out of the way. Feeling this, Y/n steadies herself, then bumps him back a little harder.

Cedric returns the bump, a lot harder then he intended it to be. He finally catches the snitch, a huge smile on his face. "Cedric Diggory catches the snitch! Hufflepuff wins!" Was said over the roaring cheers from Hufflepuff. Cedric was ecstatic, adrenaline still running through his body as he stops his broom, floating in mid air. He raises the hand that holds the snitch in the air, the smile never leaving his face.

Suddenly he is confused why Y/n suddenly disappeared. Although he was still smiling, a pity look was on his face. He knew Y/n was competitive, he assumed she stormed off already because of her loss. Cedric then looks as Y/n's teammates fly down to the floor, seeing Y/n hunched over, facing the ground.

When Cedric bumped into her the second time, he made her lose control. She got knocked off her broom, hitting the ground. She didn't fall too high out of the air, but enough for it to make a mark on her. Anger grew in her, Cedric just won the game and she knew she wouldn't be able to play in the next match.

Y/n sat on her knees, facing the ground hunched over, her hand holding the side she landed on. Cedric flew down, guilt rushing over him. He gets off his broom, running over to Y/n. "Y/n!" He says as he grabs her, helping her up. Y/n accepts this help until she sees Cedric.

Pushing him away, she says, "Asshole!" She couldn't feel the pain because of how angered she was, tears forming in her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed as she was backing up, she was still facing him. He stood there, unsure of what to do. He knew she was angry, he was a bit angered at himself too, he also knew she was in pain.

Y/n turns around, storming off of the pitch as the pain starts rushing to her. One of her teammates helped her to Madam Pomfrey's office. Although still angry, Y/n answers the nurses questions about her pain nicely, not bringing her anger out on Madam Pomfrey.

Nothing was broken but Madam Pomfrey asked for Y/n to stay the night to see how she would feel in the morning. Even though she didn't want to, Y/n agreed and laid on a bed, taking the pain killing potion Pomfrey gave her.

After an hour of being alone with her thoughts, Y/n stares at the ceiling, replaying the events that just happened. God she hated Cedric. She didn't realize how tense her face was until she relaxed it when Madam Pomfrey came over to her to tell her a guest was here for her.

Y/n smiles and nods, watching the nurse call over the guest to her. She watches as Cedric reveals himself, pity in his eyes. Madam Pomfrey leaves, allowing Cedric to sit in the chair next to Y/n's bed. As soon as the nurse turned around, Y/n's face dropped, a huff escaping her as she watched him sit down.

"Y/n," He starts, looking her in her eyes. He noticed her hair was still messy from the match, her Quidditch uniform still on. "I'm really sorry."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Y/n coldly responds, staring deep into his eyes. He nods, looking down at the bed for a second, trying to think of things to say.

"I know," He looks back at her, "I'm not going to leave you alone until you know how sorry I truly am."

Y/n scoffs, "Your little charming tacit wont work on me, so save it."

"Y/n, I'm serious, I didn't mean to hit you that hard, I'm truly sorry."

Y/n notices somethings sincere about him, she didn't know if it was the look he gave her, or his tone of voice, or was it both? She ignores this, her eyebrows tense as she looks at him. "Just leave, Cedric, you're wasting your time. Go celebrate your win." She says coldly once again.

He thinks for a second, still holding eyecontact so she knows how serious he is. "I'll leave you alone, but I'm not going to stop bothering you until you accept my apology." He says, getting up. "Goodnight, Y/n." He walks away, making his way out of the room.

Y/n spent the night thinking about Cedric, even though she told herself not to and to get rest, but she couldn't. She knew he was just trying to win the match, that's why he did what he did, she would do the same to win.

~~~~

Y/n got little sleep, an hour or 2 was the most she had her eyes closed for. She woke up less angry at Cedric, but she still was upset at her loss. Madam Pomfrey lets her stay in bed for a little bit before sending her to class with a note saying where she was and why she was late. Once she arrived back at her dorm, Y/n quickly took a shower, changed into her robes and got her books for class.

By the time she was done, it was potions class. She opens the door to the silent class, everyone turns around to see who was late. Y/n awkwardly walks over to Professor Snape who had his eyebrow raised at her. She hands him the note then walks over to her seat and sits down.

Y/n pulls out her potions book as she looks at what the person next to her was doing. She opens the book then turns it to the same page, reading the passage.

As the class went on, Cedric kept looking at Y/n, making sure she wasn't in visible pain. He noticed her hand on the arm she landed on, but it looked like she didn't know she was doing it. Once he even caught her glancing back at him, his eyebrows untense from worry as he saw her looking at him.

~~~~

Y/n sat in the library by herself, catching herself up from all the classes she missed. As she was doing so, the chair next to her was suddenly pulled out from the table, someone sitting in it. She looks over, her eyes laying on Cedric looking at the paper she was writing on. "What class is that for?" He asks, hoping to ease some tension. He also hopped this question made it so that she didn't shoo him away.

Y/n looks at him for a second, a silent sigh escaped her. She looked at him with an unreadable face, "Herbology."

Cedric nods, taking his eyes off the paper and looking at Y/n. "Um, how are you feeling?"

"Sore." She says shortly. Realizing shes being rude with her one-word replies, she says, "Nothings broken, obviously, but lots of bruising."

Cedric notices that she's continuing the conversation, taking it as a good sign. "I'm sorry, Y/n." He says with a serious face.

Y/n nods, her eyes leaving his for a second, then coming back. "It's fine, I probably would have done the same," she pauses, "but I probably wouldn't have apologized." She jokes, slightly smiling at him.

He huffs a laugh, grinning and slightly shaking his head. "I know you wouldn't." Y/n laughs, turning her head back to her paper. Cedric sits there for a moment, wanting to continue conversation. Before he was able to say anything else, his friends came up to him.

"Cedric, we're going to that Gryffindor party, lets go." One of them say. Y/n looks up at his friends as they pull Cedric up from the chair.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Cedric says as his friends walk away. He then turns back to Y/n. "Want to come?"

Y/n smiles at his offer, suddenly having a soft spot for a boy she just hated. "I have lots of work to catch up on, thank you though."

Cedric nods, returning her smile. "I'll see you later then, Y/n."

"See you," Y/n replies, watching him walk away.

As she finished her work, Y/n's mind kept wondering back to Cedric. She was glad she was introduced to his nice side, she was honestly getting tired of having a rivalry with him. She oddly felt closer to him, they've known each other for years, but their only interactions were all negative. But now, she felt comfortable with him, almost like they have been friends for years.

~~~~

It was now the next day, Y/n had a free period which she spent in the court yard. She had no school work to do so she sat on a bench, reading her book. The court yard was mostly empty, a few kids in different years were the only other people. She noticed someone walking to her out of the corner of her eye, she looked up.

She saw Cedric smiling down at her as he sat next to her, "What are you reading?" He asks, leaning down a bit to see. Y/n smiles at him, she placed her finger on the page she was reading as a bookmark and flips the cover over for him to see. He nods, a smile still on his face.

"You know you don't have to say you're sorry anymore?" Y/n jokes, assuming that's the reason he is coming over to her.

Cedric looks from the book to her face, laughing at her joke. "Yes, I know." He pauses, "Who would have thought I enjoyed your company?" She cracks a smile and scoffs a bit, not really believing him, wondering if he's just doing it out of pity.

Closing her book fully, not caring what page shes on anymore, she turns her full attention to the boy sitting next to her. "So, you have a free period?"

Nodding, he replies, "Yeah. I was walking to the library to study, but then I saw you and decided to say hi."

She smiles at his words, feeling no hatred for him anymore. "Well that's nice of you."

He nods, continuing to look at her. "I like this side of you, it's better than your competitive side."

"Yeah, and all it took was you to knock me off my broom." She jokes, chuckling a bit.

He laughs, "I would have done that much sooner if I knew we could be friends."

"Well how kind of you." Y/n laughs, subconsciously touching the side of her arm she fell on.

Cedric noticed this, his heart had a pang of curiosity and worry. "Can I see.. the bruise?" Although a bit surprised at his request, Y/n nods and rolls her sleeve up all the way to her shoulder. Turning so he can see it better, Y/n looks at the bruise herself. It was a lot worse than it was the day before.

Cedric's eyes widen a bit in surprise, guilt washing over him. He reaches out, gently moving her arm to see it better. Leaning in, he whispers, "I'm sorry."

Noticing the close proximity, Y/n gets a bit tense, slightly hitching her breath as she responds, "It's okay, I'll just get you back next match."

Cedric laughs, looking up at her. "I guess so." He pauses. "Hey, promise me we wont let competition interfere with us?"

She looks at him, feeling the seriousness in the air. Y/n nods, she is glad that there is an "us".

~~~~

The next week, Y/n and Cedric grew close, they bonded over little things that they never knew they had in common. Y/n sat in the bleachers, cheering Cedric on in the Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw match. Once Cedric caught the snitch, once again, she couldn't help but have a huge grin on her face for him.

Y/n exited the bleaches, hoping she could catch Cedric before he made it into the locker room. While walking, she notices the Hufflepuff team exiting the pitch, everyone cheering Cedric on. Hearing this caused Y/n to laugh as she spots the brown haired boy.

Debating if she should call out his name, Cedric looks over at Y/n, his smile somehow grew. Her heart fluttered at this, even after he won a big game he was even happier to see her. They both sped up to each other, holding their arms out for a hug. Once they were in each others arms, Y/n shouts over the cheering, "Congratulations on the win!"

Cedric looks down at her, still hugging her. "Couldn't have done it if you weren't watching."

"So you were trying to impress me?" Y/n teases.

He laughs, "Maybe."

~~~~

The 2 spent their free period everyday with each other, sneaked glances in Potions class, and would bring up each other while talking with their friends. Their feelings for each other grew, one day it grew unbearable for Cedric. Y/n noticed a change in him right away.

While she sat with her friends in the Great Hall, Cedric would not take his eyes off of her. Y/n's friend pointed it out a few times during breakfast, her friend knew he was interested. Y/n looked at him, giving him an confused smile, all she got in return was a small smile as he continued to stare.

Unsure of his weird behavior, she decided to wait until her free period to see if he was still being weird. As soon as her class was over, she walked to the court yard to meet up with Cedric. Sitting on the same bench they always do, she watches as people pass by, walking to their classes.

Suddenly a hand reached out for her. She looked up at Cedric who had that same infatuated look on his face as he did at breakfast. "I want to show you something." He says, keeping his hand out for her to grab. Y/n looked at the hand, then back at him as she placed her palm on his.

Smiling, Cedric intertwines his fingers with hers, guiding her through the now empty hallways. Y/n recognized where they were going, the Astronomy tower. Glancing down at their connected hands, Y/n can't help but feel how intimate the moment seemed.

They climbed up the steps, finally arriving at the top. "You know I've been here before, right?" Y/n asks.

"Yeah," He pauses as he leads her over to the railing. "but have you seen that?" He points with his unoccupied hand. Y/n follows the gaze to many trees that have turned different colors due to the seasons changing. Y/n talked about wanting to see these kinds of trees and how shes only seen pictures. "Those are the ones you mentioned, right?"

Y/n nods as she looks out. She loved the sight of the trees, but she loved that it was Cedric that showed them to her more. Y/n looks over at him, a compassionate look in her eyes. Something came over her, she reached out and placed her empty hand on his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. "Thank you for showing me this."

Cedric's heart beat quickened at the feeling of her hand against his cheek, he lets out a breath. "Of course," A comfortable silence came over them, they were both thinking the same thing. "Y/n.."

Y/n felt her heart beat quicken as his hands are placed on her hips, letting go of her hand. She raised her hand to his other cheek, slowly bringing his face down to hers. Letting a subtle shaky breath out, Y/n places her lips on his, gently kissing him. He pulls her closer to him with the hands on her hips, kissing her back. The kiss was slow and passionate, it was obvious they were both waiting for it.

Y/n felt a smile against her lips causing her to smile in return. They separate from the kiss, looking each other in the eyes once again. They both smiled at each other, Cedric looked down at her, admiring everything about her face. "I really like you, Y/n." He quietly says, just in the right volume for the moment.

"I really like you too, Cedric." Y/n replied, brushing a hair that fell in his face.

The End

A/n: I lowkey hate this but yeah!!!!! I'm thinking of doing a fred weasley story...... thoughts??

[waynewifey]

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

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

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

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

word count: 2k

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

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— depression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yeollie-plz]

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[satansapostle6]

Anything But Time | Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin girl. Nathalie Adams never thought she’d fall for the class clown.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One

Chapter Two: Courting

Nathalie Adams was supposedly the most beautiful Slytherin girl in her year, or just the most beautiful girl in her year, or even the school. She looked like her mother, the glamorous blonde heiress, and dominated like her father, Gorgon, the convicted Death Eater.

Like some of the other students Sorted into Slytherin, Nathalie was forced to bear the legacy of a pureblood family that fought on the side of the Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. Although her parents weren’t quite as extreme as some of the other fanatics in the pureblood community, they still held old beliefs and practiced rather archaic traditions, which Nathalie was certainly growing to realize more and more.

Nathalie’s mother Irina was very much concerned with finding Nathalie a suitable husband, even long before she actually could even have a husband. From the moment Nathalie was born, her mother kept a close eye on every reputable pureblood family they knew or met, searching for a son good enough for Nathalie.

Until recently, Irina Adam’s’ fixation had been on one of the Slytherin boys in Nathalie’s year. This was naturally before Irina had gotten word of Cedric Diggory’s potential crush on Nathalie.

“You never told me that the Diggory boy was pursuing you,” Irina said in a petty tone, her face taking shape in the Slytherin common room fireplace.

Earlier that day, Nathalie had received a letter from her mother instructing her to wait alone in the Slytherin common room at 11 P.M., as she typically did when there was something pressing her mother wished to discuss with her. How this qualified as pressing, Nathalie had no idea.

“Mother. I’m not quite sure where you got that wild bit of misinformation, but I assure you, even if he were trying to pursue me, I have no intention of dating Cedric Diggory,” Nathalie scoffed at the idea.

“And might I ask why not?” Irina demanded.

“Because. I want to marry someone I have more in common with,” Nathalie sighed exhaustedly, “This might come as a shock to you, but I want to marry someone that I… Oh, yes. Want to marry!”

“Oh, get over yourself, Nathalie!” Irina rolled her eyes. “Cedric Diggory might be soft and folsky like his father, but he’s no less of a suitable bachelor than any of the boys born to Sacred 28 families. He’s talented, wealthy, handsome, and—”

“Pureblood?” Nathalie finished the sentence.

Irina frowned at the retort. “Reliable,” she corrected. “He would make a fine husband.”

“To some mousy brunette who reads poetry, maybe,” Nathalie agreed.

“Nathalie… Just humor the boy,” the woman sighed in exasperation.

“Yes, Mother,” Nathalie mocked her. “I’ll study with him. That’s it.”

“Good. Write me by the end of the week,” Irina instructed.

And before Nathalie could manage to get a word in, the fire consumed her mother’s image once again, leaving nothing but an ordinary fire as she just sighed, skulking back upstairs for bed.

*****

Nathalie made her way to the library, book bag slung over her shoulder as she smoothed out her blonde hair, a consistent habit that she had. Cedric spotted her in the corridor before she noticed him, a small moment in time which he captured the beauty of.

“Nathalie,” he called for her.

She turned to face him as she approached the library, smiling once she saw him standing by the doors.

“Cedric,” she breathed out.

He had the most innocent look as he stood there waiting, tall and kind-faced in his black sweater with the tiny Hufflepuff crest on it. Nathalie admitted that, were he more interesting, he’d be captivating.

“Shall we find a table?” he asked her as they walked in together.

“Sure,” she nodded.

Not only was Cedric Diggory the only person at Hogwarts she’d seen make it into the library without being shushed by Madam Pince, but she could’ve sworn that the woman even greeted him with a soft smile. Of course, Nathalie figured, even the ornery librarian can’t resist Cedric Diggory’s charms. But it didn’t take long for her to frown upon noticing Nathalie’s shorter emerald green plaid skirt.

“So. Where would you like to sit?” Cedric asked her pleasantly.

“Anywhere is fine,” she said indifferently.

Nathalie and Cedric found a table far enough from Madam Pince, near one of the windows. Soft light shone in from the window beside them, creating a sort of ambiance. Nathalie had to wonder if Cedric had considered this upon choosing somewhere to sit.

Nathalie and Cedric were both relatively quiet for the first half hour or so of their study session, only speaking when discussing their course work for History of Magic. It was only after they had finished the small amount of studying that needed to be completed when Cedric finally mustered up the courage to start a genuine conversation.

“Professor Binns really is quite thorough in his assignments for someone who spends the better part of classes asleep,” Cedric remarked.

Nathalie nodded in agreement. “I think he’s one of the few teachers who’d fail his own class,” she scoffed.

Cedric just chuckled, appreciating her wit.

“You know, my father said he slept through a week’s worth of the classes he had with him,” he shared with her. “He and his friends ran a wizard’s chess tournament.”

“He sounds like a funny man,” Nathalie thought.

“He definitely is,” Cedric agreed.

He took a moment before

“You know… I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but… you’re really quite beautiful,” he professed, looking at her in awe.

Nathalie just smiled, not surprised at all.

“That doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” she said softly.

She was amused to see the ‘popular Quidditch captain’ Cedric Diggory blushing as he tried to cover it up with a nervous chuckle.

“Good,” he remarked, as they carried on with their conversation.

*****

“Miss Adams,” Professor Snape said curtly as she entered the dungeons for Potions.

Everyone in the room turned as Nathalie arrived in class, thirty-seven minutes late, for the second time in a week despite it being a Tuesday. Any other student would have been given three detentions by now. But, there was no way Professor Snape was willing to publicly punish one of the Slytherin prefects, with some of the highest marks within his House.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” Nathalie said with poise, “Professor Flitwick asked me to stay behind and help.”

“Yes, I received his owl, now have a seat.”

Fred Weasley grinned as he turned to Lee Jordan beside him. “Any chance he also said to walk slowly past the back?”

The two boys chortled in amusement. 

“Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley!”

Nathalie shot a look towards the back room as she sat beside one of the other Slytherin girls, Macy Westfield.

“I hate classes with the Gryffindors,” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t mind, really. Some of them aren’t altogether unpleasant to look at,” Nathalie shrugged.

“Who, like the Weasel twins?” the girl beside her questioned. “You can’t seriously mean them. They’re beneath you.”

“Not yet,” Nathalie pointed out with a smile. “Besides. That was my mother’s plan in hiring a house boy.”

“Fair point,” her classmate remarked as she returned her attention to her brew. 

After class had come to an end, Nathalie and Macy put away their Potions supplies and eagerly left the classroom, only to find Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins blocking their path. Macy and Nathalie exchanged looks as Macy just rolled her eyes. Nathalie stood there, crossing her arms irritably as she made her presence known.

“Excuse me.”

All three boys turned to look at her. Lee and Fred seemed especially pleased to find Nathalie standing behind them. Fred, of course, being the bolder and more brazen twin, shamelessly looked her up and down as she waited for him to move.

“What’s the hurry, little lady?” Fred asked Nathalie cheekily.

Macy’s patience was waning much faster than Nathalie’s.

“We need to find someone who can afford a pack of gum,” she retorted.

Lee couldn’t help but laugh as George just stood by and watched to see how this would play out.

“Now hold on. What’s with the aggression?” Fred attempted to flirt. “I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re making me dry,” Nathalie said in a deadpan sort of tone.

Lee and George were now both invested bystanders.

“I bet I could fix that,” Fred offered even more shamelessly, his face inches from hers as he bent down to speak to her.

“I bet you had ham for lunch,” Nathalie forced a sarcastic smile. “Now move.”

George laughed giddily at his brother as he just stood there, looking a bit disheartened as he reluctantly moved aside for the two girls to pass.

-