#honestly though like... what a boring take

[with-my-calamitous-love]

burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

[crazyvik97rpg]

They got all comfy around Sebastian's bed - it was so lovely to see them all here, Sebastian was still amazed they surprised him like that. He could smell the flowers from here, William sat right beside him too, and he had delicious chocolate - no more boring porridge or soup. He would have to ask the nurses if he was allowed chocolate but...well, he assumed it was alright.

They spoke more about what was to come now, after the surgery. Recovery was the main focus now, it would very well take him a few weeks to be back to full health completely. William explained that he would need follow-up treatments, just to make sure they didn't overlook anything, minimize the risk of any undetected cancer cells spreading again. It sounded easy enough - yet Sebastian was sure they would both lose much more sleep over this.

Their friends nodded understandingly, they all honestly had these looks on their faces - worried and sad, it was not great news, really. But there was also a bright side - and they had come to cheer Sebastian up after all. "But hey, that's already great news", Eric spoke up first, smiling again, "Cancer is gone, you were lucky it didn't spread anywhere else. And...well, I'm absolutely sure whatever treatments you do, you'll make it through just fine as well. You're a tough guy, Seb, you can take it. From what you told us, you took a lot so far, so this will be a piece of cake", he smiled encouragingly. It made Sebastian smile too.

"Yea, well...thank you for saying that, but...it wasn't me all alone. I really wouldn't have made it so far without William", Sebastian spoke then and looked at his boyfriend with such loving eyes, "As you can imagine, this whole thing really took a lot from me mentally as well. But William is my biggest support, I couldn't possibly do it without him. He probably saved me just by spotting that mole on my back back then. All alone I wouldn't have noticed a thing. And...then the appointments...they were tough, this...all of this really fucks you up mentally. But he was there, always".

As he spoke, he just kept admiring William, squeezing his hand - eventually he let go of his hand though and raised his arm, gently cupped his cheek and rubbed it gently with his thumb. Ronald had to admit, he was touched by Sebastian's words - and yet incredibly weirded out be the way he touched William during. This looked so incredibly intimate and...weird, when it was these two.

William reacted - and that had to put the final nail in the coffin - with the words 'Aw, darling...' Nobody reacted. And thus, Ronald couldn't take it anymore. Was he crazy or something, what was going on? He just had to...somehow react to this, to tickle any kind of reaction out of the others.

"Haha, okay, woah. Guys, that feels like I'm interrupting something", he snorted, glancing at the others now for some kind of reaction, "Am I right, guys? Haha".

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Some Smut

Please comment and engage!

After spending an extended weekend in Dublin, you stepped into the familiar set again, the echo of footsteps fading into the buzz of production chatter.

The air hummed with energy, the walls adorned with bright lights and intricate props, but today you felt detached.

You had just broken up with your boyfriend after four years of simmering frustration, and the relief mixed with sadness stirred in your chest.

You felt like you had wasted your time with James and this was what hurt you the most.

“Hey,” Cillian’s voice cut through the noise as he approached, those deep blue eyes of his scrutinizing you with an unsettling familiarity.

You plastered on a smile. “Hey Cills, how are you?" you asked, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“Not bad,” he replied, eyeing you carefully. “You?" he asked, but sensing that his question barely scratched the surface.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, forcing a laugh. “Just another day on set, right?”

He didn’t buy it. “You don’t look fine,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if trying to peer through the mask you wore.

You shrugged, trying to dismiss his concern. “Well, I am fine enough and, honestly, I don't want to delve into it right now.”

Cillian narrowed his eyes, one eyebrow twitching upwards, his expression a blend of skepticism and genuine care. “You know, sometimes it helps to talk. I’m here if you want to...”

You shook your head, forcing a light-hearted tone. “You’d just get bored listening to my silly problems.”

“Hardly,” he replied, his voice lowering slightly, creating an almost conspiratorial just as the director called for you.

"Your scene is up next,” the director said, waving you over as he paced between the crew and the set. You exchanged a quick glance with Cillian, who offered an encouraging nod before heading back to what he was doing,

As you walked to the set, the weight settled heavier on your shoulders, a reminder of the lingering emotions swirling within you.

Luckily for you, the scenes scheduled for today were simple and straightforward, requiring little more than the scripted banter. You took a breath, adjusting your focus as you prepared for the scene with one of the other actors while Cillian looked on from the distance.

He could see that something was off. Your delivery felt flat, the lines slurring together without the usual spark of life. The actor next to you glanced your way, concern flickering across his features.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, lowering his voice as the crew set the cameras.

You forced another smile. “Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is.”

“Sure,” he replied before stepping back as the director called for action again.

“Alright! Let’s roll!” The command sliced through the air, and the familiar hum of the set drowned out the chatter in your mind and, after a few takes, you still managed to pull it off.

Cillian leaned against a nearby wall, his gaze fixed on you, rapt attention painted on his face as he watched the scene unfold. His presence both grounded and unsettled you, simmering underneath your skin. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, prompting you to deliver each line with precision. The scene ended, and appreciation echoed from the crew.

“Nice work!” the director called out when the scene was wrapped up, clapping his hands together as he walked over.

"Thanks," you replied, though your voice felt distant, barely floating above the whirlpool of thoughts in your mind.

In that moment, Cillian, who had been watching, stepped forward too, an approving smirk stretched across his face. “You nailed that, despite... whatever’s bothering you.”

“Thanks,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

“So, uhm, what are your plans for dinner tonight?” Cillian’s question cut through the haze of your thoughts, an anchor in the roiling sea of emotion.

You chuckled, a hint of sarcasm lacing your voice. “Instant noodles probably," you stated, your eyes rolling with mock disdain.

“Ah, the gourmet life continues,” Cillian teased, a playful grin presiding over those handsome features.

“Living the dream,” you replied with a dramatic sigh, leaning against a nearby prop like it was a lifeline.

Cillian chuckled, crossing his arms. “How about I save you from a dinner of noodles again and whip something up instead? You look like you can use the company."

The offer lingered in the air, and for a moment, all thoughts of James and the earlier turbulence dissipated. You raised an eyebrow, surprised yet intrigued.

"Are you serious? You want to cook for me? Again?" you eventually asked, a smirk creeping onto your lips.

Cillian shrugged, his confidence unwavering. “Well, I am kind of cooking for myself but you are welcome to join," he said, making it sound as casual as discussing the weather.

“Alright then, I accept,” you replied, unable to suppress a grin before turning your back to the set, the prospect of a dinner with Cillian somehow pulling you away from the chaos of the day.

Once the shoot wrapped, you went back to your place to get changed before making your way to Cillian’s apartment.

Arriving with a bottle of red wine in hand, you felt a flutter of nerves twist in your stomach as you knocked on the door. Having dinner like this, alone, with your best friend's father, felt somewhat absurd.

Cillian opened the door with that effortless charm of his, deep blue eyes sparkling with warmth.

“You made it,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. The aroma of garlic and herbs wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

“I brought a bottle of red wine. I hope that’s not too weird and inappropriate,” you said, holding it up with a half-hearted laugh.

Cillian waved a hand, dismissing your concern as he took the bottle from your grasp.

“Not weird at all," he said, his smile widening as he uncorked the bottle with practiced ease. “In fact, I appreciate the gesture. It will pair perfectly with my culinary masterpiece.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his statement, knowing that he was trying to be funny.

“Culinary masterpiece, huh?” you teased, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as he poured the wine into two glasses, a delicate swirl of crimson capturing the light.

Cillian shot you a playful glance over his shoulder. “Oh yes, just wait until you see my famous spaghetti al pomodoro. A classic, really,” he said, his voice dripping with mock-seriousness as he turned back to the stove, stirring the bubbling pot with a flair that echoed his charm.

“Can you say this again?" you laughed, mocking his pretend Italian accent when he said it.

Cillian laughed, a rich, warm sound that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

“Spaghetti al pomodoro," he declared again, waving the wooden spoon like a conductor’s baton.

"Oh god, let's hope you never decide to portray an Italian mobster in a film," you teased, leaning back against the countertop, crossing your arms as you smirked at him.

Cillian turned to face you fully, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. “You wound me,” he replied, placing a hand on his chest, feigning injury before reaching for a red wine glass and filling it up to the brim, the ruby liquid catching the light as he raised it in a mock toast.

While enjoying your glass of wine, you watched Cillian cook with an effortless grace, each movement fluid and precise as he navigated the kitchen. The scent of simmering garlic filled the air, mingling with fresh basil, wafting toward you.

While he prepared dinner, you talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing with an ease that felt rare and welcomed.

iYou discussed books and music, fun topics like the latest films you had binge-watched and the classic bands you both adored.

Your mood was good now after he had made an effort to lighten it but this moment of happiness was short lived when your phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through the laughter like a thunderclap. You glanced at the screen, and instinctively, a frown swept over your features as the name “James” flashed on the screen.

Cillian noticed, his gaze shifting to the phone before landing back on your face, concern lining his features. “Everything okay?”

You snatched the phone up, a sigh escaping your lips as you swiped the screen open.

“It’s just James,” you said, dismissing it with a wave, though you felt your heart rate quicken as you willfully ignored his call.

C illian raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to a mix of worry and curiosity. “Just James?" he asked, sensing trouble.

"I broke up with him last night,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you poured another glass of wine, trying to drown the memories in crimson liquid.

Cillian straightened, his eyes widening slightly. “Last night? Just like that?”

You shrugged, swirling the wine in your glass. “Yeah, it just didn’t feel right anymore. He was jealous, always questioning my choices, my time on set, and it felt suffocating. It's like he resented all the good things happening to me.”

Cillian leaned against the counter, his expression shifting to one of understanding, his posture losing its usual relaxed charm in favor of concern. "After what I have heard over the ye ars, I can’t say I’m surprised," he admitted, his voice gentle. "You probably are better off without someone tying you down like that because, at your age, you really deserve the freedom to chase your dreams."

With a bitter laugh, you responded, “I know, but it took me too long to realse that. I wasted four years of my life with him," you stammered, your voice more shaken now than you intended.

Cillian’s eyes softened. He tilted his head slightly, the warmth in his gaze adding a layer of comfort to the tense atmosphere. “You’re still young though and, at your age, we all make choices that we later question,” he said, his voice low and steady. “What matters is that you learn from them and move forward.”

“Easier said than done, right?” You took a deep breath, swirling the wine in your glass again, the crimson liquid catching the light. “I mean it’s hard to just move on, especially when the memories stick like glue after four years, you know?" you explained reluctantly as your eyes were tearing up, betraying your attempts to maintain composure.

Cillian stepped closer, a subtle shift that closed the distance between you. “I get it. It’s difficult to shift gears when you’ve invested so much emotionally, trust me. I've been there," he said, his honesty catching you by surprise.

You hadn’t expected him to share that side of himself and his own vulnerability stirred something deep within you.

“What you need to know, however, is that you deserve better than what you experienced with him,” Cillian said, his tone serious as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a softer timbre that felt intimate.

“You’re talented, smart, and you have the world at your feet. You shouldn’t let anyone hold you back from chasing what’s truly yours," he told you while placing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin with a warmth that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

His gaze anchored you, those deep blue eyes glimmering with sincerity. You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the intensity of his stare.

“Thanks, Cillian,” you murmured, your voice barely breaking through the air thick with unspoken tension. The way his gaze held yours made your heart race, each beat a reminder of the shifting dynamics around you.

Cillian leaned back slightly, drawing his hand away but the moment lingered, electric and charged with unspoken words, thick as the aroma of the cooking dinner that now seemed to fade into the background and it was then that you did something you hadn’t planned on doing.

You stepped forward, closing the distance as if pulled by an unseen force and, just like that, your lips met Cillian's, a soft collision that felt both shocking and inevitable.

Cillian was suprised at first, his eyes widening in disbelief, yet the moment hung in the air, heavy with something unsaid. Thus, he gave in to the kiss, his initial shock melting away as his lips moved against yours.

The kiss deepened, slow and exploratory, a fleeting moment that suspended time around you.

You felt yourself melt into him, the tension of the last few days dissipating like fog under the morning sun. Cillian’s hands found their way to your waist, firm yet gentle, grounding you in a moment that felt both surreal and intoxicating.

But then, suddenly, just as it began, it ended. Cillian pulled back, a look of shock on his face as he struggled to process what had just happened.

“Wait—” he stammered, stepping back as if your kiss had burned him. “I can’t… we can’t…," he murmured, his voice trailing off into a breathless hush and, suddenly, you stood frozen, confusion swirling in your chest.

“What do you mean?” you pressed, your heart racing as the unexpected shift threw you completely off balance.

Cillian ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of surprise and regret. “You’re my best friend’s daughter. My daughter's best friend. I am married," he blurted out, the weight of his words crashing around you like a thunderstorm. "It's just wrong," he finished, his voice strained as he took another step back, creating an uncomfortable space between you.

You blinked, your heart thudding hard in your chest, a rush of conflicting emotions surging forth as if a dam had burst within you.

“Cillian, I—” you attempted to explain, but the words caught in your throat weighing heavy with confusion and regret. "I am sorry. I should go," you managed to say, the tremor in your voice betraying the calm façade you tried to maintain. You turned away, moving toward the door as though its exit held the answers to your storming thoughts.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22 @meadows5 @randomcreator-09

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I was fortunate enough to watch Gladiator II at the Royal Global premiere at Leicester Square last night (Wednesday 13th November) and I NEED to share some thoughts but there are definitely some spoilers, so…

I cannot stress this enough:

THERE ❗️ ARE ❗️ SPOILERS ❗️ BELOW ❗️ THE ❗️ CUT ❗️

Once again

⚠️ DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR II ⚠️

There’s probably things I’m missing/forgetting right off the top of my head, and I might be paraphrasing/summarising some dialogue. I definitely need to rewatch it when I’m NOT super close to an IMAX cinema screen because I spent the whole movie with my neck craned backwards and my eyes darting everywhere because I was trying to take it all in.

Anyway, without further ado:

The opening credits were very beautiful, it recounted the plot of the original film but kind of like in the style of the opening credits of Pillars of the Earth? I don’t know if that makes sense 😭

If I remember correctly, Joseph is billed third behind Paul and Pedro, and Fred is billed fourth 🥹♥️

The film opens with a huge battle where the Roman army, led by Marcus Acacius, conquering the last free city of Africa (I think?), which is what Lucius and his wife are trying to defend

I cannot for the life of me remember what Lucius’ wife was called but she seemed nice, we only had her for a few minutes though before she got killed 😭

Okay so I’m going to start right off the bat by talking about the Emperors as they were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing, and I want to give them their own section!

We NEED to talk about Fred as Caracalla - this isn’t even me being biased, I’m being as unbiased as I can when I say that he was AMAZING

By the way, for months I’ve seen people talk shit about Fred, complaining about how they wish it was Barry Keoghan, whinging because “we could have had Joe and Barry” - to those people I say, shut the fuck up ☺️ I will NOT tolerate any hate for my boy Fred!

Fred actually had a much meatier part than Joe which was pleasantly surprising. I’m not saying Joe wasn’t unhinged or good, but he was way more sane than Fred’s character and you got the feeling that he was trying to hold their rule together and keep his brother from bringing down the whole empire

Caracalla surprised me because he was so much more softly spoken than I anticipated; in so many scenes he was childlike and almost pitiful to watch. For example, there were times where you could see him pouting or fidgeting like a bored toddler, at one point he essentially threw a tantrum and Geta had to hold him back from killing Acacius and Lucilla (and then in the background you could see him playfully swing the sword about like a child would with a toy) He would grin and get excited like a child whenever there was fighting or bloodshed, bouncing in his seat, he looked surprised and excited in the beginning when Geta handed him wine etc.

In the last coliseum fight scene, this was literally Caracalla getting excited when the fighting started - a literal child 😭

Honestly it was just fascinating to watch Caracalla because you could never tell if he was going to be childlike and almost-innocent or if he was going to start screaming and get violent

So apparently the reason that Caracalla is unhinged is because (to quote Geta) “the disease from his loins has spread to his head” (to paraphrase) which makes me think he’s got syphilis or something.

Also both of the emperors are briefly seen with concubines (as in the trailer), and Caracalla has both male and female ones hanging around him 😭 we love a bisexual Emperor!

Caracalla seems to have memory problems (probably as a result of his STI) because he doesn’t remember seeing Lucius fighting in front of them from just a couple of days ago at their party (the scene with the concubines) and Geta tries to remind him, “it’s the poet” but Caracalla just sits down and says he doesn’t remember

There’s a scene where Marcus and Lucilla are brought to the emperors in the middle of the night after being caught in a conspiracy to overthrow them, and you’ve got Geta in that red robe from the trailer whilst Caracalla is basically just wearing a fucking bedsheet toga style 😭 you know that shot in White Lotus where Fred/Quinn has a duvet around himself? Kind of like that

Contrary to that Letterboxd review calling the twins “BJ brothers”, there is NO incest in this film, and no hint of incest between the twins. I know a screenshot is circulating of Joe in the red robe where you could see what looked like the top/side of Fred’s head as if he’s on his knees, but they were absolutely NOT doing that 💀 the scene shows them both entering the room (Geta in his robe, hastily put on) and Fred in his bedsheet toga thing. I definitely didn’t get the vibe of incest at all, I got the vibe of “it’s the middle of the night and they’ve both been woken up because these two traitors (Marcus and Lucilla) were caught plotting against them”

I love that Caracalla’s weakness is Dondas (or Dundas? Different magazines are using different names so I’m so confused), his pet monkey (WE FUCKING LOVE CHERRY AND SO DOES FRED 😭♥️) Like he’s got Dondas/Dundas wearing a fucking dress and on a little chain lead, eating sweets from a bowl, and I have to applaud Fred for being able to act with a straight face while he had the monkey crawling over his shoulders, touching his hair, and at one point when the monkey moved the chain lead literally went right around/over his face

While there’s riots going on outside the palace, Caracalla is freaking out and has Dondas/Dundas the monkey on his shoulder, and Geta straight up threw wine at both of them before saying that maybe Dondas (or Dundas, whatever the fucking name is) go and calm down in another room 💀

There’s a scene where Macrinus finds Caracalla hiding under a table with the monkey and it made me think they were almost playing hide and seek 😭 truthfully I think he was just under there crying and hiding

It’s the fact that Macrinus was able to manipulate Caracalla into killing Geta by using his love of Dondas/Dundas against him; the people of Rome protest against their emperors, and Macrinus basically tells Caracalla that Geta is going to throw him to the plebs outside to be killed - and Dondas/Dundas. “Think about what they might do to Dondas” (or Dundas) - and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

NOT CARACALLA AND MACRINUS SAWING GETA’S FUCKING HEAD OFF LIKE THAT 😭 IT WAS STRAIGHT UP LIKE A HORROR FILM WITH MACRINUS COMING UP BEHIND CARACALLA AND HELPING?!?

Also Caracalla made the monkey a fucking consul of state (I think) after he killed Geta?!?! 😭 Absolutely fucking UNHINGED I TELL YOU

“ALL HAIL DONDAS! 😃” (or Dundas - again, someone please tell me the fucking monkey’s confirmed name)

They showed Geta’s head for WAY too long 😭 and Macrinus just showing it around like that?!? NASTY

Reeling over the fact they airbrushed out Geta’s head for the trailer because in this shot in the film Geta’s head is clearly visible on the table behind Denzel 💀

Sorry but Fred looked damn fine in that purple outfit near the end 😋

I feel like Caracalla had a little bit of a soft spot for Lucilla but the two sides of his personality were warring with each other: the sadistic bloodthirsty side wanted to murder both her and Marcus right away, but then near the end he whispers to Macrinus “must we kill Lucilla?” and he sounded a little hesitant or unsure which was interesting

Seeing Fred as Caracalla without Geta in that last coliseum battle scene? I can’t help but love him, Fred is seriously too good in this role. The shouting, the childlike excitement when the fighting started (see gif above)

Fred was definitely playing up the childlike side of Caracalla in his last scene when the people started revolting, he was literally curling up in his seat, snivelling and crying like a baby until Macrinus killed him from behind (he put something in his ear, i think he stuck a pin in his ear to impale his brain?) Truly pitiful end for Caracalla.

Once again: Fred Hechinger for Best Supporting Actor at the 97th Academy Awards campaign!! 😊↕️

Okay so now I’ve talked about the Emperors, I can talk about the rest of the film:

Ridley Scott truly said fuck historical accuracy in this film 😭 which is not surprising to be fair if you know him and his movies

This film was, expectedly, VERY bloody and violent from start to finish

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

At one point where they’re bringing the slaves into Rome, they show statues of a wolf feeding two human children from her teat and Lucius recounts the story - this is obviously a reference to Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a wolf mother. This is actually really fitting because from earth on, Ridley AND Fred and Joe have mentioned the idea of the twins being based on this Romulus/Remus story?

DAMN, Paul Mescal was super beefy in this film like holy fucking shit dude

Honestly I adore Pedro but his role was way smaller than I thought it would be. His role is essentially to be Lucilla’s decent and loyal husband who also happened to lead the invasion that killed Lucius’ wife in the beginning of the film, something he did not want to do, hence why Lucius wants to kill him so badly (family drama, eh? 😭) and who is part of a plot to dethrone the twins

MATT LUCAS AS THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES?!? 😭 I won’t lie, at first it distracted me because I was like “why the fuck is Matt Lucas here” but he got a few laughs out of the cinema screening so his tiny parts added a little bit of humour to the film when it got tense

As I said above, there’s no incest shown - there is a MENTION, however, of a rumour that Lucius’ real father wasn’t Lucius Verus(?) but rather Commodus (obviously Lucilla’s brother/Lucius’ uncle from the first film). However, it’s not true because they make it very clear that Lucius’ father is Maximus. They do however briefly mention that Lucilla was a child bride at the age of 14 which is a bit fucked up

I was probably the only person in my screening who noticed this but at one point I saw graffiti on one of the walls on the outside/entrance to the coliseum that said something like “Irrumbo Imperators” - according to Google, that translates as “I attack the emperors”. However, it could have also been “Irrumabo Imperatores”, and if you ask Google to give you the Latin word for “fuck”? It’s “Irrumabo”. So essentially there was graffiti in the film that either said “attack the emperors” or “fuck the emperors” 💀

I thought that maybe Lucius had somehow forgotten that Lucilla was his mother despite being 12 when she sent him away but nope, he’s fully aware of who he actually is and who his mother is, he’s just angry at her for sending him away and never seeing him again 😭

NOT THAT SERVANT TATTLING ON LUCILLA AND MARCUS?!? 😤

They killed Marcus off WAY earlier than I thought they would by the way. The trailers give the impression that the final battle is Lucius vs Marcus but it’s actually Lucius vs Macrinus which is WILD to me

You know that scene in LOTR where the orcs shoot Boromir full of arrows? That is basically what happened in this film to General Acacius but with about 20 more arrows 💀 I had major Boromir flashbacks watching this scene

I’m glad that Lucilla and Lucius got to reconcile before the ending, given what ended up happening

“Because Emperor Caracalla is generous, he will allow Lucilla to have one Gladiator to fight to defend her” - ONE. ONE AGAINST ABOUT 30 TRAINED GUARDS 💀

I’m still reeling over the fact Derek Jacobi spoiled his own character’s death on the red carpet a mere hour before the film screening in front of THOUSANDS of people 😭 that man did NOT give a fuck quite frankly and I think that’s kind of hilarious of him

THE GASP THAT EVERYONE IN THE SCREENING COLLECTIVELY LET OUT WHEN MACRINUS KILLED LUCILLA BY SHOOTING HER IN THE CHEST?!? HE KILLED CARACALLA AND LUCILLA IN 60 SECONDS FLAT 😭

That said, this shot from the behind the scenes featurette about Ridley Scott is ten times funnier to me after watching the film and realising that not only is Ridley showing Denzel how to shoot the arrow that kills Lucilla, but Fred is also supposed to be dead in the chair at this point since Macrinus takes the bow and fires the arrow straight after killing Caracalla 😭

Poor Lucius has now seen his father, his mother, his uncle and his wife all die right in front of him, the man CANNOT catch a break 😫

That final battle between Lucius and Macrinus was GRUESOME 😳 Lucius cut off his hand and slashed him - I’m not sure if he actually cut him in half or if Macrinus just crumpled in the river in a heap but DAMN

This film used footage from the first Gladiator film so they gave the actor who played Lucius in the first film a credit which was nice!

That said, I know obviously it’s been 24 years since the original film so of course the child actor from the original is no longer 12 and so could not be in the flashback scenes showing young Lucius, but damn the difference was a little jarring to be honest, especially when it went from footage of the original film to new footage with the new child actor

Ridley Scott spoiled the ending of this fucking movie by saying he wanted to have Paul back to play Lucius again as the main character in Gladiator III 💀 so yeah, I already knew Lucius was surviving this film

Some final summary thoughts:

Let’s be honest, it would be impossible to top the first Gladiator and so while I loved Gladiator II and think it was amazing, it was obviously never going to quite reach the same level as the original

I know I just made the comment about nominating Fred for Best Supporting Actor but I have to be honest, I truly think Denzel deserves the nomination - if there’s only one actor from this film who gets that nomination, it has to be Denzel because he was by far the standout of the whole film. If I had to rank it personally I’d say Denzel and then Fred is a close second, then maybe Joseph and Pedro?

^ This isn’t me saying Joe and Pedro were bad at all, they were all really amazing, but this film just had so many characters and quite frankly Fred, Joe and Pedro had WAY less screentime than Denzel so they didn’t have nearly as much to work with as he did.

Again; I’m biased because I went in the most excited to see the Emperors, but I wish we’d had more of Caracalla and Geta. Fred and Joe did their best to work with what they were given, but they didn’t have that much and pretty much all of their scenes were shown in trailers or TV spots etc.

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

I obviously wasn’t expecting Paul Mescal to fight real baboons, rhinos and sharks but the CGI was… not great. It was quite obvious that it was CGI for the baboons and sharks, I think the rhino was slightly better though (Fred mentioned in an interview his first day involved “the mechanical rhino” so it was somewhat partly practical as well I suppose)

The pacing of this film was a little all over the place, if I’m being honest. I want to rewatch soon, from further back in the screen because, as I said, I was craning my head back the whole time and it ended up giving me a neck and headache so that probably added to me being uncomfortable (plus I’d had a long day and was thoroughly burned out by the time the screening started), but there were times where I was like “oh… we’re back here then 😐”

^ What I’m trying to say is that some of the storylines happened so fast and had very little build up (eg. The emperors in general) whilst other plots were so slow burn in comparison.

The music was so good! I know people are going to compare it unfavourable to Hans Zimmer’s original score from the first film, but I LOVE Harry Gregson-Williams (he did the soundtrack for the first two Narnia films so I’m biased 😅) and I thought he did a great job with the score here. The fact he had Hans Zimmer’s approval and praise made me confident the score would be great anyway

I feel like people are obviously going to compare Paul Mescal to Russell Crowe which… let’s be honest, has gotta suck for him because how the fuck do you live up to Russell Crowe?!? Some people have already said that they didn’t like Paul in this film, which… okay, fair enough. I honestly don’t think comparing him to Russell Crowe does him any favours. I enjoyed watching him personally, and I think given that this whole film rests on him, he did great. Not quite Russell Crowe but I have no complaints about his performance personally.

People are also going to compare Joe and Fred to Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus, and I think they both did a great job given that they didn’t actually have nearly as much screen-time as Joaquin did in the original film. It’s almost unfair to compare them because in the first Gladiator, Commodus was the main antagonist - in this film, Macrinus is the main antagonist overall whilst the Emperors are more secondary antagonists that serve as obstacles for Macrinus’ rise to power. But they both did great with what they had.

Overall, my opinion of the film?

This film NEEDS to be seen on a big screen at the cinema! Go and watch it!

[samgirl98]

Dammit Clockwork! A Little Warning Next Time?

Wrote this while bored at work and on my iPhone so its not my best

“Come in,” a voice said at the other side of the door. Danny took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was just his new boss. What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and have to find a new job.

Of course, being in Gotham, finding a job that wasn't Wayne Enterprise would be hard, especially one that offered such a sweet deal, like the scholarship and health benefits he would receive. So, no, Danny couldn't screw this up.

Danny didn't know why the CEO wanted to meet the scholarship recipients/ new employees one-on-one, but who was he to question it? After all, rich people were weird.

Danny took one last deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine.

He entered and came face-to-face with Tim Drake, CEO of WE.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Mr. Drake jumped over his desk.

Danny gave an embarrassing shriek as he fell to the ground hard. Ow, that hurt! To be fair, though, what else was he supposed to do when tackled by someone who could be his twin? Or a clone.

Well, maybe biting him hadn't been a good idea.

Danny heard a hiss above him as he bit down harder. There was no way in the Infinite Realms he would let go anytime soon. If this was a clone sent to kill him, Danny had to protect himself. Then he could worry about deprogramming him.

The look-alike tried to shake off Danny, causing him to bite down even harder.

And things had just started calming down, too.

His parents had kicked him out after they found out he was Phantom. He had been homeless on his eighteenth birthday, but honestly, being homeless and not vivisected was better than what he thought was going to happen.

Thankfully, the trio and Jazz had made a plan in case Danny had to run away from his parents. Sam had opened a bank account for Danny with a little over twenty thousand dollars. He was lucky he didn't have to use the fake IDs Tucker had set up. His parents had let him take his papers.

Which was how he found out he was adopted.

Danny had talked to the air in the little motel room he had ended up that night, begging for help from Clockwork. Danny didn't know if Clockwork had pitied him, but the Ancient had appeared. Clockwork had given Danny a vague clue about family in Gotham—Oh, the guy he was wrestling was probably the family he was hinted at.

Dammit, Clockwork, couldn't he have warned Danny?

Danny let go of Tim Drake.

Who was Drake to him? A sibling, a twin?

Danny didn't know yet.

Tim Drake was about to attack again when Danny put his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait!”

The other teenager stopped. Tim was breathing hard from the little impromptu fight they had been in.

Danny was glad that his half-dead status made it hard for him to have to catch his breath. It was impossible to run out of breath when one didn't have to breathe technically.

“Who are you,” the other boy asked.

“Fenton! Danny Fenton. I’m the new hire?”

Danny hated that the last sentence came out as a question.

“You bit me!”

“And you tackled me! Now that we have that out of the way, you're not a clone, are you,” Danny asked warily. After all, that wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for him.

“What? No! I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Why would a rich CEO be afraid of cloning,” Danny asked.

“Why would a small-town guy from the middle of nowhere America be afraid of cloning,” Tim fired back.

“Touche,” Danny said.

Neither of them said anything. They stared at each other until Danny broke the awkward silence.

“So, what now?”

“Now we take a DNA test and try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Ahh, I'm adopted and was told by mystical means that I have family in Gotham and was going to find them ‘when the time was right.’ I'm guessing now is that time.”

“That explains nothing,” Tim said in a hysteric voice. “What do you mean mystic means, and could you be more vague?”

Danny shrugged again, “Welcome to my world.”

A few hours later, through rich guys' means, Danny Fenton and Tim Drake had a piece of paper confirming they were twins.

Well, Danny’s afterlife just got interesting.

Later, Tim is going to feel pissed that Damian respects Danny but still treats Tim like crap.

They both try to hide their heroic tendencies from each other and fail miserably. Jason bonds with Danny over dying and death jokes. Danny also has to fight off Bruce with a broom. No, he doesn't want to get adopted again.

Sam and Tucker are laughing at Danny’s predicament and Jazz gives Tim the equivalent of a shovel talk not to hurt her baby brother or else.

DPXDC Prompt #131

Danny started his new job at Wayne industries today and he was a little nervous about messing up. His adopted family the Fentons kicked him out after finding out he was Phantom. Danny was a little disappointed but it was better than how he thought they’d react. He knew he had other family and from what little cryptic Clockwork told him they lived in Gotham.

He gets to his new bosses office and knocks on his door. When he’s told to come in Danny does so but then comes face to face by what he can only assume is his twin and the CEO of the company, Tim Drake. Danny had about 5 seconds before he found himself pinned to the floor.

[chuckeroo777]

Slay the Princess- Voice Rankings

Slay the Princess has been one of my fixations for a while, and for good reason. It is such a complex, well written, and funny game. So, why not rank all the voices? Maybe I'll do another one later with the princesses.

13. Voice of the Opportunist

God I hate this guy. Despite being involved in all three of my favorite routes (Razor, Thorn, Dragon), he is the worst. Seriously, despite his best attempts to butter everyone up, he only manages to make himself the most hate-able voice. He pretty much never misses an opportunity to betray everyone.

12. Void Narrator

This is the thing that gives narration whenever the Narrator vanishes. Might not be an actual voice. Honestly, I only included it so that Opportunist could be lower.

11. Voice of the Hunted

He's alright. Never exactly a bad voice to have around, he's mostly rated this low because he's boring. Between his soft voice and one-track mind, there isn't really much to say.

10. The Narrator

Ah, Mr. The Narrator, if that even is his real name. He's exactly the sort of guy you love to hate. His intentions are noble, if misguided. I ultimately believe he is in the wrong, though I can't exactly blame him. He's a lot of fun to mess with. Would probably be higher, but evidence points to him being a false voice, so he loses points for that.

9. Voice of the Skeptic

Skeptic seems like a really good voice to have to solve the mysteries of the construct. Until it turns out he isn't. Seriously, he is worse than the contrarian when it comes to making spiteful decisions. If the narrator says something, he immediately wants to do the opposite. He acts like a know-it-all, but really, he knows nothing.

8. Voice of the Cold

Similar to hunted, Cold is just a little boring sometimes. His calm collected manner is helpful sometimes, but really, he's just kinda there sometimes. He is particularly fun in the grey.

7. Voice of the Broken

A lot higher than I thought he would be. Broken is a simp and a whiner, but he is really funny sometimes. His performance in razor and fury are particularly entertaining.

6. Voice of the Cheated

Cheated is not a helpful voice. He's a salty gamer who would totally sling racial slurs at the narrator if he knew any. The reason he's so high is because he is really funny. Flinching? Never heard of him.

5. Voice of the Stubborn

The second horniest voice, stubborn knows exactly what he wants. He always brings a lot of passion, determination, and drive, though he can be a pain to deal with if you don't actually want to fight.

4. Voice of the Paranoid

Paranoid is a voice that might seem annoying at first, but he is probably the best voice to have your back. Better at deductions than skeptic, better at keeping you alive than hunted, pretty funny at times too, paranoid has it all.

3. Voice of the Smitten

As much as I kinda hate this guy, there is no denying that every word that comes out of smitten's mouth is pure gold. Would probably be number 1 is not for his... uncomfortable behavior in happily ever after, putting it lightly.

2. Voice of the Hero

Sometimes the straight man can be boring, but in hero's case, he is a delight throughout the whole game. Adorably innocent, abundantly reasonable, and always wanting to do the right thing, Hero is a steadfast companion, and is funny to boot.

Voice of the Contrarian

I just love this guy. Contrarian never takes anything seriously, but at the same time, is generally never a hindrance (except in razor, but no one was salvaging that one). He's just here to have a good time, and I love that about him. Only downside is how few routes he shows up in.

Honorable Mention: The Princess

She occasionally slips into the role of a voice in your head. But she is not you. She doesn't count, despite how much I love her.

[gingacat]

twisted from: Madame Adelaide Bonfamille

name: Asiel Douleure

birthday: September 20

age: 16

height: 167 cm

homeland: Shaftlands

grade: Freshman

club: Orchestral Music

hobbies: Playing with his cat

favorite food: Meringue

least favorite food: Caviar

talent: Composing

Personality

Asiel is an introverted boy who always seems to be lacking the energy to do anything and always presents a bored or apathetic face. He speaks in a tired but soft voice (i might make a voice claim for him later), and sometimes says words or expressions in French.

He doesn't seem to have any friends and most of the time he's alone, but honestly he is rarely seen in campus at all and only leaves his dorm to go to classes.

Asiel has difficulty in not only expressing his feelings or emotions, but also in identifying them. Most of the time, he doesn't really know what he is feeling, and when he is upset for example, he often doesn't know the reason behind it. The feeling he can identify with the most ease is anger, but it is rare to anger him, although when it happens it is very intense.

Behind his poker face lies a complicated boy with very complex feelings. Because he isn't really good with words and doesn't like talking, he expresses himself through playing the piano.

When he's feeling "weird" (anything that he can't identify, being negative or positive, especially anxious), Asiel plays the piano to either calm his heart or just let his frustration out. His compositions vary from sounding like "Clair de lune" by Debussy to this specific piano solo when he's feeling extra complicated. If it were for him to have a favorite piece, it would be "Lever du jour" from the symphony "Daphnis et Chloé", by Maurice Ravel.

There are a few times when he can be seen smiling or being genuinely happy, and that is when Asiel interacts with Duchess, his cat. He finds it very joyful to play the piano with her and even taught her how to play it (it sounds messy but Asiel is very proud of her pieces).

Background

Asiel is a genius composer and piano prodigy born into an aristocratic family. His family always provided him with everything he needed, to the point he grew up kind of sheltered, but even then, his family still wasn't close to him. His family is composed by his mother and his father, and everyone else were distant relatives that never really mattered in his life.

His parents were very emotionally distant from him: his mother would prefer to enjoy formal gatherings with her friends or to hang out with them, while his father was always working and never really established a deep connection with him. When his parents were home, they were barely interested in Asiel, though whatever Asiel asked for, his parents gave to him. The biggest treasure in Asiel's life happened when he was 7 years old, and it was when his mother brought home a kitten that would be known as Duchess.

Because of the constant pampering coming from fake people who were interested into the family's money and status, Asiel ended up becoming someone who doesn't like to talk or interact with people, and finds it very hard to connect or relate to them. Of course, while he dislikes interacting with others, he unfortunately still feels lonely (very lonely). Because of that, he developed an emotional dependency on his cat, the only companion he had since he was a kid. The only moment Asiel ever smiles is when he sees Duchess, and then his personality changes completely, otherwise he's just tired and apathetic towards everything.

Trivia

While it is allowed for students to bring their familiars to school, Asiel didn't take Duchess to RSA because he thought it would be dangerous and inadequate for her, so he's trusting on his parents to take care of her.

Asiel has an addiction to sugar and eating refined sweets or desserts always makes him happy.

Asiel hates caviar because it's something his parents are always eating, but it makes him disgusted.

His French slips out when he's angry and he refuses to speak at all when he's upset. He doesn't want to open up or to cry in front of anyone.

Asiel hates being forced to do anything, especially when he doesn't feel like it or if it conflicts with his moral compass, so he'll be stubborn enough to not do it no matter what.

He became the housewarden of his dorm solely for the purpose of not having to share his dorm room with anyone.

He loves cats the most, but he likes all animals, especially horses.

Asiel's dorm room would be like this: there's a painting of Duchess on the wall (his parents paid a professional artist for this), a very fancy piano, a luxurious bed and chandelier, and curtains that are always closed, since he dislikes the possibility of anyone invading his privacy.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

I’m not sure if this goes against any rules so feel free to delete this but would you write about Sebastian with a monster reader? Something like the void mass things that are in lockers maybe. Like the reader escapes the blacksite and hides under his desk without him realizing it and he only notices when he goes behind it. I mean if nobody is around to see him fuck a bunch of sentient tentacles did it really happen?

I love this so much!! I really love the thought of Sebastian ending up with another experiment idk why it’s honestly leaves so many options!

I really hope you liked this I thing I got lost in the prompt and it turned out not the way I wanted (and way longer!) but i hope it’s good!

If it wasn’t what you intended please do send in another request with what you had in mind!

Sebastian

(Tentacle/Monster! Reader)

-

Cw:tentacle monster, size difference, no communication on readers behave though I didn’t specify really if they could talk

It was boring, like usual, the people he was able to trade with today were annoying and took longer than he cared for. He was leaning on the wall going over the new data he’d obtained, he’d lost track of time by the time he heard a thud from his desk. He looked over wondering what he knocked over.

Sebastian looks around the desk to see nothing out of place, with a sigh he circles his desk, but notices as he coils around his desk, a small mass scurried under his desk. He’s armed so…it’s not like he’s in a lot of danger, he’s also fast, strong and good in a panic. It’s probably just a rat.

Without a second thought he flips his desk, and sees…you.

You cower, basically surrounded by Sebastian, to say he was surprised was an understatement, you weren’t like the other creatures he was familiar with here. He had no data on you…were you a well hidden experiment, or maybe one they’d hoped to keep hidden?

While he’s observing you, he notices the tentacles on you, your small from seemed to be able to expand or shrink at will, Sebastian snapped out of his confusion at the odd squeaking sound you make. Whatever you are, it’s clear you’re like him your original species is a past tense.

“So…little thing, you’ve been here…for a while haven’t you? Look…” He paused and sighed. “You startled me I’m not a threat, ok? Can you talk?” He asked, leaning down to try to look in your eyes, you reach out a bit and he offers a hand to you curiously.

You take the hand and gently pull yourself up a bit, there’s a distinct size difference between you two even in the ‘evened’ state, he gently holds the tentacles you offered him, it’s…kinda soft and…warm? Your touch is gentle, he can’t really imagine you’re dangerous. Hell, he can’t even see a mouth in you.

A part of him enjoys your touch a bit too much, he can’t help how his mind drifts as he realizes your tentacles are self lubricating, likely to help you move around and avoid things getting stuck on you, but that doesn’t stop the quick ‘what if’s in his mind.

With another shake of his head he decides to lift you up. He’ll clean up later. He held you up to his chest and gently pets you. “Good…creature.”

You didn’t seem to care about the compliment, you didn’t even react. You watched him, your glowing eyes a contrast to the void like body of yours, no light reflected off your body but your eyes would give you away…maybe you were a sub species of void mass? Or perhaps the prototype to them?

Sebastian was tempted to get rid if you, but it clicked in his head some companion ship would be better…and maybe he just kinda thought you’re a neat little thing.

-

As a few weeks pass you’d gotten more comfortable with Sebastian and had fallen asleep on him, though you scurry into your little hiding spots when people come by, no one ever catching glimpse of you. He still didn’t know much about you…but he’d learned a little, you’re a fast learner, and act on your own will.

He’s already managed to piss you off a few times. Since you can’t give him the silent treatment, you storm out of the room and climb somewhere he’s too big to get to. Then you stay there until he apologies or offers treats.

Sebastian was willing to kill any expendable who witnesses him begging the ‘domestic’ tentacle creature to come back.

Then there were times like today, while you both had nothing to do, and were both laying down and just…resting since it was slow, not much to do.

Sebastian had been bored. Deciding he needed something to do he gently grabbed you, with a grin he decided to try a new trick with you.

“Little friend…wanna do me a huge favor?” He asked you, a light grin in his face, he gently picked you up, grinning more as you seemingly try to nod.

“I’m dealing with some…’aching’ down here…”

He gestures to his lower body, though your eyes quickly catch the twitching tentacle like appendages emerging from his pelvis area. Despite his unorthodox approach to the subject, you were surprisingly willing, reaching out to grab his cocks, though he held you just out of range for a few moments.

Sebastian watched you squirm in his grip and held back his laugh, with a sigh he lets you slip down and grope his cocks, it might feel good. He wasn’t sure how…ethical it was to let you practically jerk him off.

Before he could think more, you grabbed onto his cocks, he had expected it to feel good to finally be touched after so long but…you grabbed his cocks like you were going to strangle them, making him squeak in protest.

“W-wait let go! You’re gonna bruise em!” Sebastian protest, wiggling to free his arousals from your tight grip. “Not so rough…they are delicate.”

You seemed confused and grabbed only the smaller cock this time, lightly squeezing it as you pull yourself up, Sebastian groans as you just…squeeze him. “Hmph…you have to rub it, here…”

He gently moves one of your tentacles gently up and down on his cock. Sebastian moaned, after a few strokes and dropped his hand, letting his head fall back as you stroke him on your own. “Yess…like that…”

He lets out a low groan, nudging his other cock towards you he waits hoping you’ll take the hint. You could practically see the relief in his eyes as you grab his larger cock, you squeeze his cocks, slowly rubbing them up a down.

He bucks his hips every few strokes, to his amusement you tighten your grip on him when he does so, almost like you’re trying to ride a bull. With a low groan Sebastian tenses.

“Faster…I’m not getting anywhere…” He complained. You let out a huff and release his cocks, before he could complain, he felt one of your tentacles press into his slit. A loud whine escapes the male in response.

When he bucks his hips again, you quickly grab his cocks to secure yourself, feeling you squeeze his cocks mixed with a few of your tentacles inside him had him whimpering in pleasure.

Your tentacles squirm inside him, he’s sure you don’t know the full effect of what you’re doing to him, but he isn’t complaining, the way you’re filling him feels so good…

And once he gets you to stroke him again he knows he won’t last long, getting a little impatient for you to stroke, he tries to guide your tentacles up and down his cocks, you catch on that he wants both.

You give a little more effort to help his ‘ache’. Your tentacles stroke him languidly, though you’re not too confident of your movements yet, it’s enough for Sebastian to hit his peak, panting he didn’t even try to warn you, not wanting to deter you.

Sebastian loudly moans as he cums under you, his cocks bobbing eagerly as he releases thick ropes of cum, he couldn’t help his trembling, it felt so good to get release, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even been touched intimately…

His pleasure is short lived as soon after his release, overstimulation kicks in, though you’re not stopping, in fact it feels like you’re going faster.

Part of him doesn’t want you to stop you, but his cocks ache from how fast your rubbing them, your squeezing definitely isn’t helping either, looking down he whimpers watching you squeeze his cock bases then with more pressure as you stroke up his cock.

It looked like you were trying to squeeze the cum out of him!

Sebastian squeaked as your testicles accidentally pinch his now overstimulated tip. But…at least that got you to pause your sweet torture. “I-I’m good…the a-ache is gone…”

Sebastian whines out, watching you still cradle his limp cocks, holding them with just enough pressure they can’t retreat. The way you stare at him has him worried you might not stop, he’s not sure he can pull you away without some…discomfort from where you’re holding him.

Sebastian sighed in relief when you pulled your tentacles out of him and laid on his stomach, his cocks quickly took the chance to escape, retreating back inside his slit

Though you were…a little rough, Sebastian imagined with a little practice with his…’modified’ body, you’d be able to easily ‘help’ him plenty in the future, he felt one of his cocks twitch as the thought lingers.

He could take a few harsh squeezes from you if it ment he got to release his load like that, and it wouldn’t be too hard to help you get better techniques with pleasuring him, maybe next time-

Sebastian flushed as he watched your sleeping firm, he felt a little embarrassed that here he was, an experiment like you, yet, his brain can only think of all the ways you could ruin him, he grunted as he felt another twitch in his slit.

He swallowed and tried to calm, he…might have to find things to offer to you for this, an incentive would definitely encourage you, and he’d feel less awkward…about asking for pleasure…

He blushed as one of his cock was poking out behind you. With a sigh he wraps his tail around it, lightly rubbing it to avoid moving too much and waking you.

One thing was certain, he’s definitely trying more of this with you when you wake…even when he was human, he’d never felt like that before. He was keeping you, fuck it. Whether he gets out of this facility or not, he’s keeping you.

-

[angelcatsiel]

'well I think the doctor should only ever be a white man' yeah yeah dad I know you have shared this opinion many times

[deva-arts]

You got isekai'd into SYSTEMA. What now.

Be amazed.

Remember I spawned into the "everything sucks" world.

Break down and cry.

Consider death as an escape.

Summon the global chaos by leaking insider secrets that could make about 200 new conspiracy theories.

Hope that Sera's conspirator ass tries to find me before one of the hits get me first.

Ending 1: I get sniped.

Ending 2: I get jumped.

Ending 3: I get kidnapped.

Ending 4:

Ending 200: It worked! Sera insults me. I cry from both the height she's holding me at and the insult respectively. She tells me to quit sobbing so I weep in incognito mode.

Make it into the Manumission. Wipe my face. Contemplate death again.

Get interrogated.

Get welcomed in! (I am still under close observation)

Quietly fangirl about my characters in 4k then feel incredibly weird about how much I know.

Get interrogated again.

I know that Nathaniel knows that I know but he doesn't know how much I know until I make it known that I know that he knows.

Consider death as- oh. He heard that too.

Literally everyone freaks me out for different reasons. I hang out with Sonia. She calls me fat. I still like you Sonia.

Live in the manumission under witness/informant protection and try not to die.

[c0rpsedemon]

oh yeah. the reason why i decided to reread tbhk (and thus it was able to hit me like a truck this time around) was actually not bc of mitsukou going canon but actually bc i maybe accidentally started a tbhk book club w my kids at work and wanted to check the contents of it justttt in case before i put the books in their hands

[wheatstar]

why is shadow so hard to get through i want to be done with it so bad... really really not looking forward to thunder

[falderaletcetera]

absolutely no brain today but pls know I found a button-up mens' shirt that fits my hips and looks bearably okay everywhere else - AND it's a nice colour - and am at massive risk of having THE most boring wardrobe in the history of wardrobes

[neverendingford]

.

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽