#robert pattinson x y/n

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 9 - Southwark Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 8 Summary: Neil finally shows you what it is that does for a living. The answer is not something you are prepared for in the slightest. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language and a tiny teeny dose of angst because it's me. Author's Notes: Considering this one took just a little over a month to write, I think I should be proud. Especially if we consider the amount of pain that first sequence caused me to write. Let's reiterate - I hate descriptions. With passion. So I hope it's somewhat decent and is a not a terrible homage to good ol' Chris Nolan who made all this happen in the first place. This one is a bit unconventional, partially because Neil takes over the floor from the very first line, but also because it's the only point at which I'm dealing with the canon material. Yes, this is a reassurance to y'all ✨ This time, there'll be no Stalsk-12. Instead, there'll be human idiocy and feelings, terrifying as they can be. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think? 💕 Enjoy! Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

When TP not only agreed to Neil to telling Cupid about Tenet and inversion but also proposed he can make use of the headquarters for this purpose, he instantly decided that his friends’ idea was miles better than his half-devised plan, wherein the key equipment involved a piece of paper and a pen.

Neil knew from experience that practical demonstration always did the trick where words could hardly be enough, especially for a complete novice. And the last thing he wanted was to traumatise her so hard she would disappear from his life without further ado. No, that would not do.

So, with the green light from the boss himself, he set out to prepare everything for the event. After settling that Saturday morning was a relatively quiet time in the building with ample time for recovery on the following day, Neil texted Cupid with an invitation. Her enthusiastic reply sweetened the pains of facing Ives and Wheeler with their permanent smug grins and knowing looks. Rueing the fact that he needed their help with the plan, Neil convinced the pair to join him on Saturday and laid out the schemes. Simple as they were:

Lead her into the HQ.

Convince her he had not lost his mind as he introduced the concept of inversion.

If, by some miracle, she is still there, show her what it means through Ives and Wheeler doing a demo.

Answer multiple questions.

(Hopefully still have a friend).

Simple, right?

Nearly trembling from anxiety, Neil avoided coffee as he got ready and made his way to Canary Wharf an hour early. Having ensured his support was present and ready for whatever awaited, Neil made his way back to the station with ten minutes to spare.

Observing ducks from the docks could only take so much time after all.

Unsurprisingly, she was not late. At 9:00 AM sharp, Cupid ascended the stairs, her gaze scanning the people with the vigilance Neil was familiar with from every Wednesday morning aboard the Jubilee line. Her eyes would dart from face to face until she would locate him, often without Neil noticing he was observed. He had a feeling that was not something he should ever share with TP. The lack of awareness was glaring for someone who was supposed to be a part of an intelligence task force. Intelligence is the keyword.

This morning, however, he had the upper hand. His gaze swept over her before she had located him. An affectionate smile was a reflex, strengthened by the fact that this was the first time he had seen her since Thursday nightÔ. Another event which had earned the trademarked status in his head. Annoyingly so because, again, there was nothing special about it. Except for maybe another evening of memorable sex and unforgettable sensations. Yeah, just that.

When her eyes had finally found him, Neil was more than grateful. He pushed past the unhelpful recollections and stepped forward from his post by the wall, meeting her halfway. Before he could let himself overthink, Neil grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, gathering her in an embrace he suddenly needed. It only took her five seconds to reciprocate the hug, her arms wound tightly around his waist, slipping underneath the unzipped leather jacket. If he suppressed a shudder at the sensation, it was no one’s business but his own. As was the sigh Neil released into her hair, allowing himself to relax just a fraction.

Another beat had passed before Cupid let go of his, her hands sliding down his arms to take his hands into hers and squeeze them once. An impish smile on her face felt too much like home for Neil’s liking.

“Hello,” entangling her fingers with his, Cupid scanned his face, her eyes flitting between his, undoubtedly reading every thought he had ever had as if he were nothing but an open book. Neil supposed that, for her, he was one. For better or for worse, “Should I be worried that you look this nervous?” the question was asked with careful consideration, her piercing gaze still trained on his.

Yet Neil knew what it was that she was asking. Can I trust you? It was the one question he did not need to debate.

“No, not at all” he squeezed her hands back, offering a reassuring smile to make up for his internal turmoil.

Because this was the one thing Neil was sure of. Nothing would happen to her. Not on his watch. He knew Cupid understood, for she nodded and shot him a cheeky smile, clearly meaning to dissipate the remains of his uncertainty.

“Hmm. Very encouraging, Neil” the humour in her voice was enough to raise his spirits, always embarrassingly sensitive to everything she said or did. Slowly, she let go of one of his hands and started leading him out of the station entrance despite not knowing the direction. It was a clear signal where he was concerned – get over yourself, “I haven’t prepped my will, just so you know,” the quip was made with a familiar glimmer in her eyes, easily drawing out a laugh from Neil.

Too easily, perhaps. But who was he to judge? A light shake of the head had to do before Neil started leading her towards their destination, painfully aware of her curious looks. Still, somehow, he knew she would not ask questions; eager to understand but also conscious of his mind state. Aware of the fact that this would not be easy, even if she had no idea why. Or where they were going.

“That won’t be necessary” a glance sideways told Neil that Cupid was observing him with unwavering curiosity, a million questions multiplying in her mind.

“Very well” accepting his feeble attempt at reassurance, she added with confidence, “I trust you,”

The statement was strengthened by the look in her eyes and the firm hold over his hand. It was highlighted by the very fact that she did not question where they were heading or what he was about to reveal. She just followed without a protest. The weight of her trust settled comfortably on Neil’s shoulders, inspiring courage where before he would stutter. Suddenly, he needed to express this heady feeling in any way possible.

“And I treat that very seriously” he waited for her to meet his gaze before shooting an honest smile, reserved only for her. She mirrored the expression, an unexpected softness of affection making her eyes shine with something Neil did not understand well enough to name. Something hopeful “Come on, Cupid. Let’s go pray, shall we?” her answering laughter warranted a perfect response to cut short the worries.

At least for the present moment.

The light mood, filled with nonsensical conversations and multiplying reasons why it was probably a terrible idea to let her get that close, lasted as far as the first security checkpoint by the outer gates. When they approached the steel fencing, Neil could feel her tense up. The chatter ceased, replaced with silent consternation, millions of unasked questions visible in her wary gaze. Neil could only offer her a reassuring smile as he led her through the security check, signing his name under multiple white pages that outlined the severe consequences should things go awry. He could only hope they would be entirely unnecessary. Please.

Her silence lasted as far as the HQ lobby, which Neil strode into with all the confidence of someone who knew what he was doing. (He did not know what he was doing). Cupid stepped inside the high-ceilinged space and stopped, pulling him back instantly. One glance at her confused face told him there would be no more running away from that first dose of preliminary questions.

Blessing the quiet Saturday morning, Neil gently tugged at her hand to lead her over to the armchairs by the coffee table on the side and waited for her to sit down before he motioned for Cupid to speak:

“So, you are James Bond, huh?” the first question was not what Neil expected, yet it made all the sense in the world.

Her wide gaze roamed over the space, occasionally darting to his face with a palpable nervousness. She looked adorable in her skittishness, and Neil did not know what to do with this fact. He counted it a win that she was still present, waiting for the information.

“Not- Not quite” a crooked smile made it home on his face as Neil felt his hands twitch in his lap.

It felt strange not to hold her hand as he was about to share the groundbreaking knowledge which probably would change their relationship. But she needed the space. He could see her process every little piece of information with that thoughtful look in her eyes. The best he could offer was patience and answers.

“But you’re definitely not a priest” once her gaze wandered back to him, Cupid gave him another cursory glance and perfected it with a sardonic smile, “This doesn’t look like a church,” no matter how hard he looked, Neil could not find hints of distrust or anger in her eyes.

Instead, all he could see was curiosity, burning bright and strong. That he could work with.

“It’s not. Welcome to Tenet, Cupid” pointlessly opening his arms in an attempt at a grand gesture, Neil let his hands drop to his sides pathetically as he launched into a well-rehearsed speech, “We’re an independent intelligence agency. Kind of like MI5. But we’re more… specialised” with the easiest part out of the way, he paused and took a deep breath to organise his thoughts to provide a reply she would understand.

But before Neil could open his mouth to continue, she interrupted with a half-choked groan and covered her face with her hands with a curse ready on her tongue:

“Jesus… how the fuck-” he stared as she seemed to process it, her chest heaving with rapid breaths, just short of something resembling a panic attack. Leaning forward in his seat as if trying to get closer to her, Neil pondered reaching out, checking whether she was alright. Before he could decide, Cupid let out another deep sigh and raised her head, meeting his worried gaze with a shaky smile, “Okay, don’t mind me. Go on” the hysterical edge in her voice made his lips twitch in a bemused smile, an expression Neil soon wiped clean off his face.

It was no time to make fun of her. Surely. Instead, he took a deep breath, ever so grateful for the lack of company in their vicinity, and continued with the well-rehearsed explanation:

“We’re specialised in something called the inversion and the effects that has on our world. We’re basically protecting all of you innocent citizens from the inverted technology, warfare and the like. Only, the main thing is that most of these things, the conflicts we observe, haven’t happened yet from our point in time” as soon as the most significant part of his summary dropped, Neil could see her eyes widen.

As if on cue Cupid’s head snapped up to meet his gaze, evidently looking for any signs that he was joking. That she understood it incorrectly. Despite the sudden desire to shoot her a smile in reassurance, Neil maintained a serious facial expression, hoping that would push the point forward. It was not a joke, unfortunately. As much as he sometimes wished it was. Especially when dodging inverted bullets, and trying to understand what was coming in the upcoming years. What the Algorithm meant for the world. What had he missed in all of it?

“Time travel?” her unusually high tone immediately brought Neil back into the present. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Cupid launched across the space between the armchairs to grasp at his forearm, wrinkling the shirt with an iron-like grip as she barked out a question in his face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” plea in her eyes suggested what it was that she wanted to hear.

But it was not something he could give her. Gently, he covered her hand on his forearm with his palm and squeezed it until she relaxed the hold and allowed him to entangle their fingers together. It was much better that way.

“Wouldn’t dare, darling” allowing a soft smile to appear on his face, Neil tightened the hold over her hand before continuing. It was easier to get it all out of the way first, like ripping off the metaphorical band-aid, “The temporal nature of what we’re dealing with here means weapons and ammunition that have been manufactured in the future are streaming back at us. I’ll show you what I mean in the lab” he could see that utter lack of comprehension on her beautiful face.

But there was no judgement. Neil was prepared for that. The demonstration was prepped and ready to go as soon as he led them to the lab and the controlled environment inside. It was only fair that she was allowed to understand what he unveiled. Even if, currently, Cupid looked completely befuddled, a frown etched between her brows, mild panic in her eyes. The tight hold over his hand just short of crushing his bones. But that was alright. Neil could deal with that.

“Okay. I mean, not okay, but… yeah” as if waking from a daze, she nodded, a bewildered laugh slipping through her parted lips. Her gaze wandered over the space again, briefly glancing at the exit before she relaxed a fraction. Although Neil was not partial to her thoughts, he could tell a crucial internal conversation just took place within the pause. A conversation that determined she was staying to listen. When her eyes settled back on him, Neil suddenly felt breathless, “And what is it that you do? Because I doubt that you’re a nobody considering the level of security you have here” arching her eyebrow, Cupid glanced at the ID card attached to his lanyard.

Despite himself, Neil grinned. He already knew he would miss her attempts at guessing his profession during every Wednesday morning rendezvous. He only hoped the ‘priesthood’ banter was not going anywhere. Now, that would be a loss. 

“I’m one of the top agents, but my field is mainly in Physics” the strange uncertainty washed over him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

That was another layer peeled back for her perusal. Another truth at her disposal. Another mystery gone and buried just to let her know all of him. Another thing he did not anticipate those months previously when he picked up her belongings from the carriage floor. For someone whose life’s work revolved around the future, he did not see her coming. Whether that was something worth boasting about was yet to be determined.

“Great, I’ve been shagging a nerd” Cupid’s groan acted like an alarm, blaring through the nonsense in his brain. Mostly because the indignation in her voice sounded almost like an endearment. Like a badge of honour. At least, Neil was sure about to treat it as one, “That’s just fantastic,” she rolled her eyes, briefly offering a peek at Cupid he knew and liked.

The unshakeable one, unbothered by anything in her path. The thought immediately brought a smile to his face despite an attempt at a stern glare directed her way:

“Very funny” squeezing her hand, Neil stood up from the armchair and pulled her up alongside him. It was time, “Are you ready to see an inverted bullet?” a cheeky smile seemed to be all she needed, for she begrudgingly squeezed back and sighed with pretend weariness.

“No,” grinning widely, Cupid stepped away from the chairs and the coffee table and looked at him pointedly, sending a signal Neil could not miss.

“Let’s go” mirroring her manic smile he led her towards one of the corridors at the far end of the lobby.

Cupid stayed silent as they entered the elevator and went to the second floor. Every now and then, Neil could feel her eyes staring and analysing, undoubtedly trying to understand how the fuck did she end up here with him on a Saturday morning. He could only hope that at the end of the visit, she had found at least some reasons to maintain their relationship. That this would not be the ultimate breaking point.

Only when he has opened the laboratory with the security code and a tap of the ID card against the reader, Cupid opened her mouth to let out a sound that can only be interpreted as an awed sigh. Whatever was to follow got lost between her head and her tongue, for his sidekicks took that exact moment to let their presence be known. In a truly typical fashion.

“Finally. I thought you two detoured to shag in the bathroom” Ives was heard much earlier than he was seen as the man strolled towards the lab entrance with a trademark smirk gracing his face.

“Ives, I swear-” Neil got as far as tightening his fists and taking one (hopefully menacing) step towards his ‘friend’ before Cupid interrupted the incoming promise of violent death and closed the gap with an unnatural pep in her step.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect you two here” from a bystander’s perspective, there was no flaw in her smile or a fake note in her voice as she greeted Ives and Wheeler with a wide grin.

But Neil knew better now. He could see the shaken foundations underneath the smile, the panic flashing in her eyes, quickly disguised by another chuckle. It was more than mildly concerning. To be frank.

“Neil called us in for support” Wheeler (God bless her soul) stepped forward, answering the real question.

She glanced at him, clearly checking for the true status of the situation. Neil could only offer her a shrug, allowing his gaze to show the extent of worries crowding his mind. They had to proceed carefully. That much was clear.

“I’m grateful. My brain is already fucked” a heavy sigh from Cupid interrupted his thoughts as she ventured further into the room, her eyes coursing over the equipment with frightful caution, “But then I suppose this is only fair since I’ve just learnt that time travel is real” approaching the glass separating the workspace from the dangers of the shooting range, and the cement slab in place of a shooting target, she threw a pointed look at him.

It was as much a plea for help as a call for answers - any clarity he could offer.

“Not quite” shooting her a reassuring smile, Neil cracked a grin as he joined her by the glass partition and chanced a joke to relieve the tension, “Don’t expect the Tardis here” it felt like a victory when Cupid met his gaze and allowed her lips to twist into a wry smile.

For a beat, as always, he found it impossible to look away, drawn to her in this indescribable way that never failed to pick up his heart rate or make him question the self-preservation instincts all homo sapiens were supposed to have.

Except for Neil, apparently.

“Or a DeLorean,” Ives’s comment burst through the fragile bubble, forcing Neil to step away, instantly urging his mind to get back in the game.

Instead of whatever this was.

“That’s a shame. I was getting excited,” feigning disappointment in the slump of her shoulders and a sigh, Cupid leaned her back against the partition and looked back at Neil.

Acutely aware of the company, Neil steeled his spine and took a deep breath. It was time for the show. Faking confidence, he took out the key for one of the cabinets from his pocket and unlocked the storage, grabbing two sets of protective gloves and safety glasses. Setting them down on the lab counter, he met Cupid’s wary gaze with an easy smile:

“Come here. This is the important part” motioning for her to approach the counter, he pulled on the gloves and glasses and handed the equipment to her, patiently waiting until she was ready to open yet another case and grab two .243 WIN bullets. Placing them on the counter, he met Cupid’s wide gaze and explained “One of these bullets has been manufactured in the future and then inverted and streamed back at us” that was the easiest part, yet Neil was not surprised to see her trepidation deepen as she peered at the bullets, trying to see a difference between them.

The trick was that there was none.

“But they look the same?” her brows furrowed as she looked up, her face suggesting that Neil was an idiot for even trying to convince her the reality was different.

Yet again, he was struck with an inconvenient thought of how ridiculously adorable she was. And how that was not something he should have been thinking in the first place. Ever probably.

“Well, yes. Except for-” ignoring the idiocy of his heart, Neil gave the rounds a quick check.

He made sure they varied as intended and adjusted the gloves. Feeling the intensity of her gaze following his every move, he reached out towards the inverted bullet and grasped the round as it flew up into his hand, mimicking the move of a dropped light object. He did not have the time to turn his head towards Cupid before her exclamation pierced the silence:  

“Oh, fuck” during her stunned pause, Neil picked up the other bullet to ensure she noticed a difference and put them back down before turning to address her panicked glare and a simple question, “How?”

But before he could open his mouth to reply, Ives reminded him of his presence with the usual cheekiness:

“Inversion, love,” and if Neil frowned upon his friend’s typical term of endearment, then it was no one’s business but his own.

If even that.

Instead, he motioned for Cupid to have her go at handling the inverted round, wordlessly showing how to best pick it up from the surface. The tension radiated from her body as she approached the bullets and followed his instructions flawlessly. His eyes instantly searched hers, hoping to find traces of fascination there. But the only thing he could see was unease, highlighted by the shaking voice as she muttered under her breath:

“Whatever the fuck that means” Neil watched as she tested the bullet and then quickly deposited it back into his waiting palm as if yearning to be rid of it instantly.

The worry he had managed to push to the back of his mind was slowly creeping to the front again. This time harder to ignore.

“Are you okay?” unable to shake it off, Neil got rid of the rounds and gloves and approached her slowly, fully aware of the unusual softness of his tone and the two pairs of eyes trained on them.

For a split second, he considered asking Ives and Wheeler to leave so he could manage this alone, but even Neil could not deny their use in situations that needed tension de-escalation. And this moment felt much too charged for his liking.

“I don’t know” sighing shakily, Cupid tugged at her pair of gloves to take them off and met his gaze with uncertainty, “This is completely not what I expected. Who had even invented that?” when it came to questions he expected, that was not one of them.

Count on the only person ever to catch him unaware every goddamn day. Count on Neil liking her way too much, too.

Before he could collect the facts in his mind into something comprehensible, not endangering her life, and at least a bit logical, Ives stepped forward. His summary effortlessly encapsulated within a one-worded response:

“Russians,” it was delivered with a deadpan tone and expressionless face, undoubtedly showing Cupid that it was true.

In this instance, Neil was grateful for having been spared. For someone else offering the answers in a way he never would have thought of.

“Oh,” the startled pause following a gasp of realisation showed that it was effective. For a second, she did not seem panicked anymore, but instead, Cupid appeared pensive. Her brows furrowed further as if trying to make sense of that revelation before she offered a sober reflection, “That- that makes sense, actually” raising her head to look at all three of them, she nodded curtly, intending to show that there was one thing about it all that she could understand.

Neil was grateful for even that tiny bit of reassurance. But where normal people would abandon the subject and perhaps follow it with something more productive, like the demo they still needed to give her, Ives had other ideas.

“Doesn’t it?” mirroring her incredulity, the man grinned, his jovial tone almost out of place, “Bloody Russians,”

The best Neil could do was hope Cupid had no Russian roots in her ancestry. The second-best thing he could do was speak up:

“Ives, this is neither the time nor the place for anti-Russian sympathies” he could hear the tiredness in his voice, and for once, he did not try to mask it.

But, as expected, remorse was nowhere to be found on his friend’s face as the man shrugged and offered another annoying grin.

“Eh, I’d say any time and place is good for that” usually, Neil would very much agree.

But nothing about this Saturday morning was normal. And he was aware of the confusion in Cupid’s gaze and the tension radiating from her body as if she was poised to run at the next opportune moment. Neil did not even want to consider that she could disappear from his life for good.

“Well, yes, but-” for the umpteenth time, his attempt to offer some sensible rebuttal was cut short.

At least this time, it was another voice of reason. Wheeler approached the group with her stoic expression broken only by an arched eyebrow:

“Shall we give our lovely ballerina a demo?” the pointed glare at Ives increased Neil’s gratitude.

It was high time to tick off the final part of the checklist today. It seemed like Cupid was slowly reaching her limit, and the last thing he wanted was to cross that line.

Neil waited for her nod, accepting this next phase of introduction, before he motioned towards Ives and Wheeler for them to lead the way to the turnstile. With the short walk down a back staircase and a corridor, he did not have the time to check in properly. All he could do was steal a glance at her, which only highlighted what he already knew. Cupid was tense, confused and uncertain. So different from her usual confident self, striding through life with the pretence of someone in control. It was startling to notice. It did nothing to stifle the anxiety.

Once they entered the room with the turnstile, her face somehow more astonishing, bathed in the red light and backlit with blue from the other side, separated by a thick glass, Cupid gasped. Her eyes widened as she took in the room, her gaze pausing once it landed on the turnstile itself, and it did not budge until he explained the basics about the machine. Even then, though, she remained frozen in her spot close to the exit. Another nod to proceed was all Neil needed to proceed with the explanation.

It was simple, really. Ives and Wheeler were to enter the turnstile, equipped with oxygen masks, and they were to give her a demonstration of how things looked like when someone was inverted. A walk in the park for the duo. A brief conversation and show of the physics of the other side and back out again. Except Neil did not take into consideration just how jarring the sight was. How shocking it would be to see “duplicates” of the people standing next to her appear in the adjacent room, looking and behaving strangely. How the warbled speech could rattle the mind of someone not used to this. How this could be too much for her.

A shaky gasp was all the warning Neil received before Cupid breathed out one simple sentence:

“I’m sorry, I have to leave” her terrified face was the last thing he saw before she turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

Fuck. Neil let out an impressive string of curses before he banged his head into the glass separating the room and closed his eyes. Yeah, that went splendidly.

Christ.

***

The late autumn sun shone into your eyes as you reclined on the wooden bench and sighed. Only within the past half hour, your heart rate had begun to slow down, and most of it you had spent getting lost on suspicious paths in the fields, wondering whether Neil’s message was a ruse to get you killed for having seen too much. You still considered that option. But that other traitorous part of your brain, once it has calmed down, could not possibly ignore his pleading message to meet. So, there you were – scared, tired, staring at the goats. And not in the Coen brothers’ meaning of the term.

For better or for worse.

Admittedly, the charity farm Neil has led you to was a peaceful, unexpected spot that soothed your brain with each subsequent breath. With the Canary Wharf skyscrapers visible in the distance and a couple of square kilometres of grass and trees, the place seemed like a perfect oasis for the farm animals lucky enough to end up there. In the background, you could just about make out less-favoured sounds of children, undoubtedly ecstatic at the prospect of spending the early Saturday afternoon feeding sheep.

You were less ecstatic at the prospect of hearing their screams.

“Cupid-” the unmistakable sound of your nickname, breathed out in relief somewhere behind your back, made you turn on the bench to see him approach.

Still so damn beautiful, even breathless and in a state of mild panic. Neil stopped a few paces away, catching his breath and watching you cautiously, almost as if worried you were about to get up and run away from him. Again.

A hot wave of shame coursed through your body as you swallowed hard and turned back towards the animals. Hoping Neil would understand that it was an invitation to come closer.

“Have you come to kill me? Now that I know everything?” an attempt at a joke fell flat as you struggled to keep the tension out of your voice.

Still, it must have worked, for you heard Neil’s approach. His footsteps stopped just a step away from the bench before you raised your head again and met his gaze with an uncertain smile.

“Honestly, I’d more be likely to kill myself,” chuckling mirthlessly, Neil shook his head slightly and measured you with an affectionate look that felt almost out of place, “I’m so happy you’re here,” you could tell he meant it.

That only now stood before you again Neil could breathe again. He could let go of the tension that seemed to permeate his soul by the turnstile. And for a good reason.

Anticipating another wave of guilt, you patted the free seat on the bench and shot him a timid smile as soon as Neil took the spot.

“I considered ignoring that text, but… This place is quite charming” it was not the real answer.

It did not disclose how you had spent at least an hour on a bench at the Canary Wharf station watching Jubilee line trains stop and pass, unable to get on and go home. You stared at his text the moment it came, contemplating ignoring it and cutting short this strange thing between you before it tangled any further. But you also knew that ignoring him was never an option. Not really.

None of that needed to be said. Neil understood what that shift in the conversation meant and what you needed him to do.

“I found it a couple of months ago when I went on a walk to clear my head. I thought that it’s a good spot to talk” his cursory look around the surroundings ended with another glance at you, a meaningful pause offering a space for you to decide the next step, “If you’d want to,”

Somehow, you did not have to ask Neil to know what it was that he wanted. It was written in a hopeful tone, and the sparks in his eyes inviting you to lean back into it. A tempting proposition you could not resist for much longer.

Letting out a bracing sigh, you stood up from the bench and extended your hand to pull him up. Upon Neil’s questioning gaze, you inclined your head at the animals in the pen and grinned:

“Sure, but first, let’s get some food for those darlings,” without waiting for Neil to catch up, you bravely started in the direction of wailing children and sheep bleating.

You knew he was following your shadow.

***

Shaking the bag with the feed to check how much you had left, your gaze scoured the horizon to find Neil among the children vying for the sheep’s attention. That was not a difficult feat, considering the height disparity. Still, his enthusiasm made him a worthy rival. Once you spotted him, you waded through the kids and tapped his shoulder, wordlessly asking him to join you aside. After a joyful half hour on the farm, you finally felt like talking.

You plopped down on another bench connected to a wooden picnic table, and waited for Neil to join you on the other side before meeting his gaze and letting the apology flow like it should. As silently practised in your head during that hour at the station.

“I’m sorry I bolted like that. It all caught up with me suddenly, and I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t understand what I was seeing back there… I genuinely thought you had some boring 9 to 5 job, not… this” your hands flailed aimlessly atop the table as you stared at Neil, yet again feeling almost too perceived.

Too understood.

There was not an ounce of frustration in Neil’s eyes as he leant forward, bracing his elbows on the table and turning the contrite smile for you to do with as you please:

“I’m only blaming myself for dropping this on you without a warning. None of this is your fault” you started shaking your head vehemently, trying to interject an undeniable fact that this was your fault. Undoubtedly. Yet it seemed that was not something he wanted to hear, “But believe me when I say that I waited this long to tell you the truth only because of how unusual this is” the earnestness in his eyes added weight to the statement, rendering you unable to do anything but believe him “Not out of the lack of trust” his hand flexed on the table, as if unsure whether he still had the right to reach out to you.

That was an issue you did not mind solving. You extended your hand to cover his and give Neil a gentle squeeze. The simple gesture strengthening the believability of your assurance.

“I know” raising your head to meet the blue of his eyes, you added, “I hope it goes without saying that I’m not going to share anything I’ve learnt today,” resisting the urge to do something idiotic like crossing your heart, you endured the eye contact and hoped it would be enough.

Because, truly, what would you even share? Who the fuck would believe you? There was no point in entertaining the idea, let alone acting upon it.

Yet, still, you were grateful that he told you. Neil’s enigma was no longer that impermeable. It added another layer to the person sitting before you now. A little more context to the scars littering his body and to the wit in his eyes. A little more understanding of who he was.

“I hope so. Then I would have to kill you” returning your earlier joke, the corner of his mouth twisted in a smirk.

It also marked the perfect opportunity to lighten the conversation, even just by a notch. Taking a beat to appreciate the man sitting in front of you with a selfish look, you allowed your eyes to skim over his body leisurely before mirroring the cheeky smile:

“Spoken like the real James Bond” his easy grin was the invitation you had been looking for, allowing you to let go of the apologies and shifting guilt that would never have a place to settle, “Granted, you’ve got the looks” without thinking about it, you picked up his hand from the table, flipping it to play with his fingers as the effortless complement was received with another bashful smile.

It was true, though.

“And the gun” arching his eyebrow, Neil captured your hand in his, loosely trapping your fingers.

You did not feel like tugging it free. Not yet. Feeling desperate to extend the banter for a little longer, you chanced a suggestive glance down his body and dropped your voice to a sultry tone:

“Oh yeah, you do” twisting your mouth into a smirk, you met Neil’s startled gaze and barely stifled a laugh at the look on his face.

Bewilderment did not quite catch it.

“Not th-” he sputtered, confusion blending into his voice as Neil stared at you with wide eyes and asked, “What sort of gun are you thinking about right now?” it was the sort of reaction you wanted from him.

The thrill you had been seeking for the past few hours, and yet also something you would never admit. Except that, now that you had it, the light of his awed smile shining upon you with just the right amount of disbelief at your existence, you did not know how you had survived so long without it.

“Take a guess” standing up from the bench before you could begin to feel even more things, you tugged at Neil’s hand and signalled that it was time to go.

Somehow, you knew that he would follow.

***

Over an hour later, when all the animals had been fed, and you worried you had caught permanent tinnitus from the proximity to screaming children, you took Neil’s hand in yours and allowed him to lead you back to the Isle of Dogs marina. With the early afternoon sun presenting a golden hue on the horizon, you slowed down your walk and asked a question that had been stewing in your mind since the morning:

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?” you could not help the nervous tone that permeated your voice.

It could not be shaken off or ignored. It just was.

Much like your general, unspecified feelings towards Neil that were never acknowledged. Or even identified. They, too, just were.

You could feel Neil’s eyes on you as he seemed to think on an answer before replying:

“Yes, quite. I won’t go into details, but getting shot by an inverted bullet is worse than getting shot by a normal round. And there’s much more to this than weapons, but it’s… There’s been a few close calls through the years” the weariness in Neil’s voice did just enough to soften the blow caused by his honest words.

But the impact still hit. Ever since learning about Tenet this morning, you did not try to delude yourself into thinking that what he was doing was safe. Or that no harm could ever come to Neil because of his job. It was another thing to have those exact worries confirmed as not only probable but also inevitable. A shiver coursed through your body as you swallowed past the anxiety building in your gut.

The fear you could already feel crawling to the front of your brain was another reason why getting involved was a bad idea. Hookups were supposed to be just that. Not a friendship, spiced up with amazing sex and afternoon walks hand-in-hand along the Thames. And yet, you were already in too deep. Attached on an unprecedented level. There was nothing else to do but shut away the anxious thoughts and ask another pressing question.

“How long have you been doing this?” almost as if rebelling against your better judgement, your hand flexed in his hold and tightened the grip.

A betrayal of that sort was ridiculously predictable. Frowning at your hand for a split second, you directed your gaze back at the Canary Wharf. The pyramid atop the One Canada Square building reflected the sunlight straight into your eyes, the sharp sting of light hitting your retina and waking you up from the strange haze.

“Not that long. I think John recruited me two and a half years ago. Roughly,” Neil paused, his wistful tone painting the picture the way you hope it would – with facts and figures, “I didn’t think this is what I’d end up doing as I’ve picked up my Cambridge master’s degree in physics” the note of an apology hidden somewhere between the words made you grimace.

You did not like that he could feel somewhat guilty for doing what he did. That he could be looking for excuses instead of owning it like you knew he wanted. It took no genius to understand Neil was simply extraordinary.

But you could not exactly tell him that, at least not without a fight.

“God, you’re a nerd” rolling your eyes to show the extent of annoyance, you shot him a grin.

Yet you knew he could see the depths of affection and admiration in your eyes.

“It’s not like you haven’t noticed before” mirroring your faux exasperation, Neil returned the smile and squeezed your hand.

You have noticed, admittedly. Less admittedly, however, you liked that about him. The nerdiness hidden underneath beauty and wits. A heart so full of feelings, you often wondered how it had not yet burst. Someone you were grateful beyond measure to have met and got to know.

“No, but now I have proof” you did not need to add that you wanted to have even more proof.

You were looking forward to knowing more about him. Especially about that nerdy side.

“So?” as if reading your mind, Neil arched an eyebrow, the challenging gleam in his gaze luring you like the siren song.

It helped to set the stage for your bravery to take the lead. For what you wanted to do next.

“So… Tell me more about Tenet” halting your steps for a second, you pulled Neil to a stop and looked up to see his delighted gaze. The brightness in his eyes was one of the best sights you could think of, “And then buy me dinner” upon seeing his smile widen, you raised your joined hands to your lips and pressed a fleeting kiss on his knuckles to seal the deal “For the trouble” it already sounded like the perfect conclusion to the eventful day.

One that you did not expect when you ran out of the building with tears in your eyes and fear crawling up your throat. Nothing went as you expected it to. Yet you could not find it in yourself to regret what had occurred instead. You couldn’t. Because alongside the anxiety and shock that still ruled your mind and soul, the gratitude was there. And the dawning understanding that Neil trusted you with something this grand. You were important to him in a way that could not be easily dismissed.

You mattered enough. And that, perhaps of all things, was the prime reason you could not regret it. All that you wanted right now was to have more of him. Just for a couple of hours. It was impossible to say if Neil understood all you did not say, but still, he smiled and tightened the hold over your hand to offer an easy agreement.

“It’ll be my honour, sweetheart” his blue eyes searched your face a beat as the affectionate smile made its home on his face.

As always, it was impossible to look away. Impossible to do anything but stare back, hoping that you had the answers he was looking for.

After what felt like ages, Neil ended his scrutiny with a seemingly appraising nod and tugged at your hand to lead the way back to the station. You did not know what happened just then or why it felt monumental.

You only knew that something had changed, and things would never be the same ever again.

[folklorcore]

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

call it what you want ─ r. pattinson

Thank u so much for your request. <3

Pairing: Robert Pattinson x Singer!Fem!Reader

TW/Tags: Established relationship, pure fluff.

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

Words count: 0.83 k.

Robert's Masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All the liars are calling me one,

nobody's heard from me for months,

I'm doing better than I ever was."

You started humming while writing the lyrics.

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

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

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

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

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

walking with his head down,

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

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

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

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

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

"Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So call it what you want, yeah,

call it what you want to."

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

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

"I loved the song."

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

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

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[anitalenia]

━━ 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐂 ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

RATINGS — s , smut | f , fluff | a , angst | d , dark content

none yet…

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

none yet…

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

none yet…

[fear-is-truth]

# BEING BRUCE WAYNE’S ❝SUGAR BABY❞ AND FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM — HCs

warnings — slowburn. brief mentions of sex synopsis — being a broke college student that caught the attention of none other than bruce wayne a/n — this is the fluffy slowburn sfw version… the 18+ one is still in the works

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

it started when you were a broke college student in your early twenties, juggling classes, part-time jobs, and an unrelenting mountain of bills. bruce wayne, freshly thirty, was already a household name—gotham’s elusive billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.

you first crossed paths at a charity gala, where you were working as a server, weaving through the crowd with a tray of champagne flutes. you’d only seen bruce wayne in tabloids before, so when you caught him leaning against a marble pillar, watching you, you simply froze.

“you seem a little… distracted,” his eyes flicked to the tray you balanced expertly. “nervous, or just tired of all this nonsense?” you gave him a polite, slightly weary smile. “neither. just trying to get through the night without spilling on anyone important. still got a paper to finish.”

his lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t press further. at the end of the night, though, you found an obscene tip tucked beneath his empty glass—crisp hundred bills folded neatly, more money than you’d made all week.

weeks later, he appeared again—this time at a hole-in-the-wall café near campus where you worked part-time. it wasn’t his scene; he stuck out like a sore thumb in his tailored black coat, looking utterly out of place among the students.

he didn’t say much that first visit, just ordered black coffee and left another ridiculous tip. but he came back. again and again. sometimes he’d stay long enough for a brief conversation, other times he’d sit quietly in a corner, newspaper in hand. it wasn’t just the tips that stuck to you—it was the way he listened. bruce never made you feel small or dismissed your struggles, like so many others did.

when he first offered to help you financially, he did it with tact that left you room to preserve your pride. “you’re working too hard,” he said one evening. “let me take some of the weight off—just until things settle. consider it an investment in your future.” there was a sincerity in his voice that made it sound like a practical solution rather than a handout.

accepting his help wasn’t easy. you’d been so accustomed to clawing your way through life that the idea of someone else shouldering your burden felt unnatural. after days of hesitation, you finally agreed—but only on the condition that you’d pay him back one day. bruce had only nodded, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk, like he knew you never would.

he never made you feel indebted, though. if anything, he treated it like helping you was a privilege.

when your ancient car finally gave up, bruce didn’t even wait for you to ask for help. within the week, a sleek, brand-new model was delivered to your apartment, the keys tucked into an envelope with a simple note: you need something reliable. you tried to thank him, but he just waved it off. “just focus on getting where you need to go.”

your decrepit laptop, with its constant crashing and refusal to load anything on time, was next. one day, you came home to find a pristine, state-of-the-art model sitting on your desk, already set up and ready to use. you didn’t even have to ask.

bruce never demanded anything in return. the closest he came to asking for favours were the occasional lunches or dinners where he’d pick your brain about your studies, your ambitions, your dreams. he always seemed genuinely interested, never letting the conversation veer into anything too personal unless you led it there.

you realized over time that it wasn’t just the money, the gifts, or even the way he treated you like an equal—it was the steady presence he provided. bruce wasn’t there to fix your life or control it; he just wanted to make it a little easier. and somehow, that made all the difference.

when you stayed up late working on papers, bruce would sometimes settle on the couch nearby, a novel in his hands. he never intruded, but his quiet presence was a reminder that you weren’t alone. on particularly rough nights, he’d bring you a cup of tea without saying a word, setting it gently beside you before returning to his book.

on your birthday, he surprised you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers—something you’d mentioned in passing months ago—and a beautifully wrapped box containing a classic hermès birkin. the card attached to it read simply, “something to carry all those books in.”

his gifts were always thoughtful, never ostentatious in a way that would make you feel uneasy. designer coats, shoes, and bags—each impeccably tailored to your taste, yet discreet. the labels were always tucked away, hidden in folds and linings. they were things you could wear without being worried you’d get mugged. nothing about them screamed, “i have a sugar daddy.”

bruce never tried to “buy” your affection. you didn’t owe him anything—not in the transactional way most would expect. he just wanted to see you comfortable, to help you in ways that went beyond financial support. and, over time, you realized you cared for him too—not for what he could give you, but for who he was.

he had an uncanny ability to remember the smallest details about you. the way you took your coffee. the name of the professor whose lectures you dreaded. how the sound of rain on a window always calmed you. those little moments of attentiveness.

at first, bruce kept you at arm’s length emotionally, cautious about pulling you deeper into his complicated world. but as the months went by, as your late-night talks stretched into early mornings, it became clear that bruce didn’t see this as a favour or an obligation. he cared for you in a way that went far beyond surface-level kindness.

when you went through a bad breakup, he didn’t try to fix it or console you with empty platitudes. instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest.

it wasn’t long before the line between benefactor and friend blurred entirely. he was no longer just footing your bills or buying you thoughtful gifts—bruce got greedy. he didn’t just want to take care of you financially; he wanted all of you.

one night, you were venting about your professors, frustration pouring out in a messy jumble of words. bruce listened intently, brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, giving you his undivided attention.

“you’re too nice to me,” you blurted, the words slipping out like a spew of vomit. before doubt could creep in, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was a kiss that changed everything—as you half expected him to gently push you away, his hand came up to cradle your face, deepening it.

the kiss led to one thing, then another, and before you knew it, you were tangled together in his sheets, lost in his kisses, his touch, his quiet attention to your every reaction. bruce wasn’t just passionate; he was thorough in a way that unraveled you completely—it was hands down the best sex you’d ever had.

when you woke up the next morning, still tangled in his arms, a wave of uncertainty hit you. maybe it was nerves or overthinking, but you couldn’t stop wondering if you’d crossed a line you shouldn’t have. sensing your unease, bruce kissed your shoulder, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “i hope you know this changes nothing… we’re fine.”

and just like that, you became his official “sugar baby.” not that the dynamic between you two changed drastically—it simply gave bruce an excuse to really spoil you.

the secrecy was part of the thrill, but also a necessity. bruce wasn’t ready to let the world know, and truthfully, you weren’t either. the thought of being reduced to a tabloid headline or a shallow label like “sugar baby” or “sugar daddy” felt like a betrayal of the genuine connection you’d built.

he started sending you to your favourite spa on weekends, claiming you deserved a break from all the stress. when you protested that it was too much, he just shrugged. “self-care is important,” he said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

your closet, which had been a collection of fast fashion and thrifted pieces, was slowly replaced with the row, max mara, burberry, and dior.

your jewelry collection grew as well. delicate van cleef & arpels bracelets, tiffany & co. pendants, and diamond-stud earrings from cartier found their way into your life. he gifted you a dainty rolex, understated yet stunning, with a cheeky note: “don’t be late to class.”

despite all of this, bruce was careful to ensure it never looked like you were “living large.” you stayed in your same modest apartment, though it was clear his influence was woven into the details: a state-of-the-art security system, upgrades to your furniture and appliances that made life a little easier.

dinners became a regular occurrence, whether it was a reservation at gotham’s most exclusive restaurant or an extravagant meal in his penthouse.

when you graduated, bruce was there, blending into the crowd in a simple black coat, inconspicuous among the sea of families and friends. you didn’t spot him at first—he wasn’t the type to draw attention when he didn’t want to—but when your eyes finally landed on his, he gave you the smallest of nods. after the ceremony, he approached you quietly, slipping a small velvet box into your hand. you opened it to reveal a key.

“what’s this for?” you asked, already overwhelmed, fingers trembling slightly. “your new apartment,” he replied simply. then, after a pause, “unless… you’d rather move in with me.”

from then on, everything changed. bruce wasn’t just your benefactor; he was your best friend, your confidant, and eventually, your lover.

[boypied]

bet u wanna

mickey barnes x male reader

summary: mickey has just been cloned for the seventeenth time, and he ultimately can't hide his dark, lustfilled eyes whenever he sees you, mickey 17 wants nothing more than to please you.

requested by: anonymous

wc: 1.5k +

notes: MDNI, FDNI, oral sex (r!receiving), ass play, fingering, praising, pathetic!mickey, whimpering reader, thigh kink, cum swallowing (r!swallowing).

You slowly fall back against your bed, bouncing upwards ever so slightly hitting back against it once more as you press your hands over your eyes, submerging you into darkness. The knot in your stomach tightens as your cock soaks your underwear in your sweet tasting pre-cum, aching for a touch, a release that has been forced upon you from a pleasureful experience. You lay there fantasising about your co-working Mickey Barnes, the well-known disposable employee at your workplace. Throughout the workplace, Mickey comes across as quite submissive and pathetic, but you enjoy that about him. You find it so fucking sexy, almost orgasmic. You can imagine him right now, his perfectly chiselled face buried between your legs as he laps up your perfectly tight hole. You slowly slide your hand down your body and into your underwear, getting yourself ready to touch yourself until you're interrupted by a knock at your door. You let out a low grunt under your breath as you slip your hand out of your underwear. You adjust yourself ever so slightly, and you head towards your apartment door, pulling it open and being shocked at who is waiting behind it, "M-Mickey, what are you doing here?" You mumble out in pure shock as you swallow down a large amount of spit that you almost choked on the moment you opened up the door. Mickey smiles nervously as he scratches the back of his neck, "Can I come inside?" He says in his usual nervous tone. You nod your head and step to the side, allowing him to come inside your small apartment that was gifted to you when you took on the job.

You are completely shocked out of your mind that Mickey was here after the pure, smut filled fantasy that you were just about to blow a load over. "What made you stop by?" You ask him in a soft tone, stepping closer and closer to him, shutting the gap that was between the two of you. Mickey's face reddens with a deep blush as you slowly trace your fingers along his shoulder and then up his neck and down his jawline, you watch his eyes soften and he lets out a quiet whimper from your touch. You smirk as you notice how easy he folds for you, "Such a good boy.." You lean closer and mumble in his ear, which causes his eyes to soften even more, and a very obvious bulge begins to appear in his trousers. "Seems like someone is happy to see me." You say in a sultry tone with a cheeky smirk on your face as your hands travel down his body, feeling him until your finally reach what you've been waiting for; his huge fucking bulge. You gently grip at his bulge, causing him to let out a quiet whimper. You lean closer to him again and whisper in his ear, "Mickey... wanna come back to my roo-" but before you can even finish your sentence, Mickey eagerly nods his head with a huge eager smile on his face as he stares at you with his longing eyes wanting nothing more than to give you the best orgasm you've ever head. You take his hand and lead him into your bedroom, and suddenly, you feel Mickey grip at you from behind, and you hear his breath suddenly hitch when he whispers in your ear "I-I want to focus on you... all on you." He mumbles out in a soft tone, and your eyes flutter back as you reach your hand round to gently caress him.

Mickey's hands grip at your oversized t-shirt, and in one swift motion, he pulls it over your head, and he leans down ever so slightly covering the back of your neck and along your shoulder in soft and gentle kisses as you feel his raging boner pressed against your plump ass. Mickey's hands wrap around your waist from behind, and he grips at the hem of your joggers slowly pulling them down. He moves with it, dropping down onto his knees. Mickey slowly flutters his eyes open, and he's face to face with your bare asscheeks. His breath shudders as he reaches up, gripping at your hips as he pushes his face forward, your plump cheeks opening up to allow Mickey's mouth to reach in, his mouth coming into contact with your exposed asshole. Your body jolts, and your eyes widen at the sudden warmth and wet feeling of Mickey's tongue against your hole, "M-Mickey!" You gasp out in pure pleasureful bliss just from the sudden feeling of his tongue slowly lapping up your hole, coating it in his spit giving him the leverage to slip his tongue past your tight muscle ring and into the warmth of your ivory walls as they clamp around his tongue, you laugh out a breathy moan as you feel Mickey smirk around your asscheeks as he flicks his tongue back and forth getting closer and closer to your g-spot. You bite down onto your lower lip to keep you quiet.

Mickey pulls away from your asshole, his tongue slipping out and away from your tight muscle ring, and he looks up at your slightly arched back as you wobble back and forth. He places a gentle kiss on your asscheek before standing back up, "lay down." He mumbles into your ear as you walk over to your bed where you lay down onto your back and you open up your legs to see Mickey pulling his shirt off as he climbs onto the bed, his face inbetween your thighs. Mickey side smiles at you which causes your stomach to flip upside down and become riddled with butterflies, "fuck, he's never looked hotter." You think to yourself as he places a kiss on either side of your thigh until you grip at his hair pulling him down towards your cock where he takes your cock fully inside his mouth causing you to gasp out in pure bliss, "f-fuck!" You mumble out as you slowly fall back entirely and your eyes flutter back. "M-Mhm," you whimper out as Mickey works his head up and down, making sure that his lips are suctioned around your raging hard-on, that is all because of him. Mickey continues to work away at your cock, taking every inch of your cock into his mouth without taking his eyes off of your face that is so obviously full of ecstasy. Mickey's fingers travel up the bed and into his already full mouth as he coats his two fingers in his spit. Once they're covered in his own spit, he brings them down to your already tongue-worked asshole. He gently pushes his fingers against your hole, and without a doubt, your body allowed his fingers into you, "M-MICKEY!" You sharply moan out as you feel his tongue swirl around the tip of your dick as well as his fingers curling up inside your asshole, perfectly hitting your sweet spot that you've been dreaming of having Mickey touch.

You let out a sharp whimper as his fingers directly curl against your sweet spot, and once he hit that once, he continued to hit it over and over again. Mickey milks your sweet spot, which creates a ripple effect as your cock leaks like a facet in his mouth and Mickey is loving every moment of this. You slowly begin to run through his hair, gripping in against it, gently tugging on it, which causes Mickey to throw his head back and show off his extremely sexy smirk. "I love it when you whimper." Mickey mumbles out in a breathy moan as he continues to finger fuck you except with his other free hand that was gripped against your thighs, Mickey now wraps it around your slick wet cock and he slowly begins to pump your cock. "Cum for me baby, p-please cum for me... I've never wanted anything more then to watch you explode a fat load all for me." He says in a clear sultry tone which completely sends you over the edge, "M-Mickey! F-FUCK!" You gasp out in pure orgasmic bliss as with one more swift motion of Mickey's wrist and curl of his fingers, you get sent completely over the edge. The tip of your cock pulsates and your entire cock twitches until you spill your load, completely shooting rockets of cum all over the place. Mickey sticks his tongue out as he pumps the load out of you, "Good boy!" He whispers to you as some of your cum hits his face and lands all over his tongue. Your eyes flutter back as you try to stay focused on him, but the pure blissful delight of the orgasm that Mickey has just given you has caused you to see stars. Mickey climbs up closer to you as you take deep breaths to try and cool down from what just happened. You turn over and look directly at him, and you can't help but smile. You don't even have to say a word to Mickey for him to just pull you against his body. "You're perfect." You mumble out underneath your breath, thinking about all the things you can do together in the near future, but until then, you lay there in his warm embrace listening to the sound of Mickey breathing and hearing his heart beat... for you.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived

[visionsofmagic]

day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“ 

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs. 

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now. 

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front. 

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning. 

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

[rjunhuang]

how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else. — part two.

featuring: cedric diggory, neville longbottom, blaise zabini, oliver wood, theodore nott.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic. bullying. boys are dumb. kissing. unhealthy coping mechanisms. my depiction/fanon!theo. mentions of weed, smoking & other substances. mentions of sex.

note: here's ur part two!! thank u for all the love and support for the first part. y'all had me smiling and shit. send in requests for more prompts if y'all would like that.

part one | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

cedric!  there's no doubt that cedric diggory is a people's pleaser. all in all, he has a heart of gold but he's blinded by naivety to realise the red flags of his friend group. unfortunately, their toxicity does sometimes have an affect on the said golden boy. thus how a heated and disheartened rant about how you chose roger davies over him to his friends would lead to gossip, tattletales, and undeniable amounts of insolent comments. the 'rumours' of you and davies would spread like wildfire with those chatterboxes, and especially not positive ones on the ravenclaw guy. you'd caught clear moments where cedric would be snickering along with his mates as their eyes followed the motions of your boytoy.

he'd been laying down on the fresh grass with the support of his elbow, a cheeky grin spread across his lips as his gaze switches back and forth between his friends and the couple. some goon would get the brilliant idea to throw a core of an apple at roger. cedric's cheery expression would immediately drain out of him and be replaced with one of regret — "wait, come on, you didn't have to do that." he'd even shoot you a sympathetic look when your gazes connect.

this would be a common occurrence as his friends only grew more confident with their obvious distaste towards your fling. almost every matter would result in an apology from cedric, whether verbal or not.

"my friend was being a dick so, uhm, sorry about him. truly." his voice soft and airy; it brings the same sensation as a sugar cookie.

on the other side of things, you'd begun receiving bouquets of flowers and hampers of your favourite foods — someone was definitely keeping an eye on what you sneakily snacked on during classes. it would always be signed with a beautiful doodle of a butterfly, and sometimes if you were lucky enough, a short sentence of a romantic affirmation. it would've been creepy had there not been cute attempts from your admirer to prove otherwise. every note addressed to you would always have some sort of psa in brackets like 'i'll totally stop if you want me to', 'i really hope i'm not coming off as creepy' or a silly self-deprecating joke to turn the intensity of it all down. it also couldn't be creepy given the time with cedric's friends and this secret admirer fiasco being so obviously correlated.

you knew for certain that these gifts weren't coming from roger. sure, the attention the ravenclaw gave you made you feel desired and attractive.. but he barely even cared to get to know you. dates with roger were so dang boring — it felt like an awkward, unwarranted staring contest. it was clear he was only attracted to you visually. roger would never know you the way this secret admirer (who was so obviously diggory) did. it made you feel giddy — the epitome of a high school student in love. it wouldn't be long before you dump davies.

entering his muggle studies classroom, cedric would find a note placed on the desk where he usually sits, along with a daffodil. it reads — 'i hope you like flowers, diggory, because our date's going to be at the greenhouse.' unlike him though, the note is signed with the clear letters of your name. it's safe to say cedric was having trouble focusing on the rest of his class, his head in the clouds at the thought of you returning feelings.

neville!  it's unspoken rule that you and neville longbottom were to be herbology partners no matter what. it became a habit after years of doing so. you two worked best in the partnership of each other, earning highest ranks in the subject throughout all your years. but.. that was it, really. the moment you stepped out of the greenhouse and entered to real world of hogwarts, all sense of familiarity between one another left your bodies. you always chalked it up as neville being too shy to interact with you outside of class, and vice versa. it didn't really bother you. something about those tender moments during class hours warmed you up like no other. it was special and vulnerable and if it could only be obtained between the confines of many plants and some jabbering students; so be it. 

to neville, it made sense that you guys were strangers outside of herbology. i mean, merlin, you were one of a kind. you brought a light into a room that no one could resist looking away from. like moths drawn to a flame, you gained sort of a status among popularity. there was no way a guy like neville should be seen near a person like you. or so he thought. 

it shouldn't have been a surprise that neville was one of the last to find out that you were going on dates with dean thomas of all wizards. aesthetically (and probably personally for all he knew too), dean and you were a match made in heaven. both popular enough, well-liked, and most certainly good-looking. yet despite it all, neville still couldn't help but feel so bummed. he didn't even want to think of what it meant for your upcoming lessons in herbology together. how you'd stop clutching onto his shoulder to laugh at whatever awkwardly funny thing he'd said or no longer timidly compliment his good work for the day before leaving the class. would you smile at him less? reserve them for dean instead? the thought was awful enough and neville was certain he didn't want to know the answer to these insecurities. 

when the next lesson of herbology rolled in, you were definitely surprised to see neville seated with hannah abbott instead. you tried to shrug it off, thinking of it as a one time occurrence. but, oh, were you so wrong. 

he was ignoring you. you knew by the way he'd purposefully avoided your eyes with a gulp as you'd try to catch his attention during class. he'd placed himself rows away from you, secretly admiring you with yearnful eyes. the thought of you and dean never left his mind. and if you tried to talk to him? he was straight out the door the minute class was dismissed, running away in his usual, clumsy manner.

the lack of neville's presence in your life saddened you a lot more than you expected. you found yourself drawn to the greenhouses even during odd hours, reminiscing over the memories you had spent there with the gryffindor boy among the years.

the dirt under your hands seems to ease your mind of any worries as you take it upon yourself to fix a broken potted plant. you'd be so preoccupied by the task, you fail to notice a certain boy walk in and get stunned by the sight of you in there. neville's arm flying up and almost knocking over an empty glass jar was what brings your attention to him. you have to resist the small smile creeping up the corner of your lips.  neville, on the other hand, straightens up after he gently places the jar where it supposed to be. his head is down as he mumbles, "right, sorry, i'l—" "stay." your gloved hand immediately flies over to grab his wrist, doing your best not to dirty him. "please." the pleading eyes of yours seem to work as neville makes no attempt to dash out as usual. he stays firm in his place, watching you with wide eyes. seeing that he doesn't speak up, you do the honours instead. "i've missed you. you don't seem to want to sit with me anymore." you gently start with a soft smile.  the words 'i've missed you' knock the wind right out of neville. his heart stutters and mind dizzies. "oh— i just— dean, you know? thought you wouldn't have wanted to talk to me anymore. i—i mean dean's great! perfect! you're super fit. obviously, great. who wouldn't like you? hah, i certainly do, but i didn't want to bother—" your lips are crashing against his the next second with burning cheeks. it shuts neville up from his rambling. he can only gawk at you when you pull away, his face beet red. "i think you're pretty fit yourself, nev." you manage giggle out.

blaise!  michael corner was great. those were the words you used to describe your recent date with him. those were also the words your friends, pansy parkinson and theodore nott, affirmed back to you. they, along with a silent blaise zabini, were the first to hear the news about your love life's new contender. 

sitting by the courtyard, you twiddle your thumbs nervously after revealing your budding romance with corner. pansy, the closest to you physically and personally, happens to notice your skittish demeanour — well, it's hard not to. "michael corner? the ravenclaw? that's great. he's great." her voice slightly strains and you don't know if this is her attempt to ease your nerves or if she's incapable of genuinely complimenting a man.  "oh, yeah — great." theodore adds, with a devillish grin, which earns a shove on the shoulder from the girl. they then share an odd look (well, more of a glare from pansy) together. there's a silent conversation happening which only confuses you. who knew nott and parkinson suddenly gained the ability of telepathy. dismissing their odd reactions, you take the opportunity to glance over to blaise — who has his head down, reading a potions textbook. you don't know why you yearn for blaise's approval but he remains silent, deeply entrenched in his reading. you chalk it up to him being in one of his nonverbal, introverted moods and don't try to take his lack of interest in the news too personally.

over the course of time, nothing much changed between your friend group. it still contained the dynamic of pansy and theodore bickering, whilst you and blaise mediated. though, once in a while, you jumped in on the banter yourself.

"oh, nothing better than ganging up on nott, yeah?" theodore would sarcastically chime in with the roll of his eyes.

things with michael had been going well enough, a little slow maybe. your time spent with your friends on some days got cut short due to your plans with him. sometimes, you swore you saw a twitch in blaise's jaw whenever you brought up your fling's name. but maybe that was your imagination — how could blaise be annoyed or upset if his expression remained completely neutral? had you not known him better, one might think he was bored in the company of his friends with that face of his. 

after weeks of slacking off, you decide to make this particular day a studious and productive one. given your big age, it was best to be responsible and get some extra reading done for your studies. you can't blame blaise for his similar habits — education at hogwarts seemed to be growing tougher day by day. it's why today you'd do your rare visit to the library. struggling to reach for a copy of 'magical drafts and potions', you feel yourself grow a little self-conscious by your foolish-looking predicament. however, a hand from behind startles you, saving you from the plight. you blink in surprise, craning your head to see who this mysterious helper is. blaise is looking down at you with a hint of a smirk. he's still hovering behind you, hand clutched onto the spine of your desired book. the ghost of his smirk is irresistible to look at. you feel a little shameless staring at his lips like this but, merlin, the intensity of this moment has you fully engulfed. you swear you see his smirk widen a little and blaise takes the opportunity to poke fun at your blatant staring. "still think you want corner?" blaise's voice is monotone to a deaf ear, but you can tell he's feeling a bit smug.  he gives you no chance to reply, handing the book over before walking out. you stand there baffled, bewildered and actually questioning if any other wizard could set your heart ablaze the way zabini just did.

oliver!  oliver wood loved his routines. he loved to wake up at dawn to train before the morning birds are even ready to sing. he, well, endured the classes he's forced to sit and progress through in order to keep quidditch in his life. he loved to charge back into the fields after lunch, ready for another day of practice. and surprisingly to most, he loved to hang out with you by the black lake afterwards, all sweaty and disheveled from the exhilarating sport. 

he's not oliver wood if he's breaking these habits.

so the one day he didn't show up to your cute little meeting point, you're stunned. you thought — oh godric, all those jokes you made about 'a bludger getting to him before you-know-who ever did' have finally come true. he must be dead if he's not living up to his schedule! 

but you're wrong. he's certainly not in the care of madam pomfrey or working overtime at the quidditch field as both places were definitely deserted when you came by to check. 

so where the hell was the captain? see, unbeknownst to you, oliver caught you snogging marcus flint right as he approached the lake. slytherin quidditch captain marcus flint. he found it crazy how out of all the students you could've picked to kiss, it was the one man oliver despised. they were practically enemies. and though you owed him no decision-making in your love life, oliver felt betrayed. hence, he turned his heels, making no effort to disturb the two of you as he stormed his way back to his dorm. 

the following silent treatment and petty attitude from him left you more or less disheartened. he was a close confidant, and the way he managed to drop you without a word shattered you. he'd stop talking to you overall. you even learned from a conversation with alicia spinnet that he'd started to become a lot more grumpy during practices — harder on his teammates, giving them lesser breaks, he'd brought forth a sort of 'no pain, no gain' attitude into the environment.

any time you glanced his way, you noticed the bags under his dark eyes. clearly, his nights were nothing but restless. if you thought he was obsessed with quidditch before? you'd hate to see him now. he'd never left the fields or his broom unless madam hooch or, worse, professor mcgonagall dragged him out of there by his ear themselves.

concerned would be an understatement. this man was tweaking out all because of you and flint. pretty sure he'd recovered from quidditch loses better than this. 

you're practically rushing to the hospital wing when you hear the news that wood collapsed in the middle of practice. that lack of sleep must've gotten to him because oliver is beyond exhausted. madam pomfrey has forced him into bedrest (she'd have him shackled to the beds had it not been illegal) — he can certainly lay off quidditch for a while. worry paints your features as you peer down at oliver, clutching onto the side of the bed. he can only (attempt to) glare at you as you flood him with questions about his health. "why haven't you been sleeping? have you been eating? why are you overworking yourself like this — interhouse isn't until next season." oliver scoffs, his throat a little croaky. "why do you care?" he grumbles, crossing his arms like an upset toddler in the process. "don't you have flint to fret over?"  and it hits you — after days of this trivial behaviour from wood — that this man was fucking jealous. you don't know if it's inconsiderate to laugh at this realisation, so you resist. "we ended things." is all you give him, holding back from any sort of expression. it's clear you really don't feel bummed by it. the reaction you get from him is beyond elated. he breaks out into a grin and you can practically see the confidence return to his system. he's looking at you like he wants to sweep you off your feet and kiss you. like he's just won the lottery. so bloody euphoric, all oliver can reply is "oh."

theodore!  he is a pretty codependent person in my eyes. especially since he's recovering from a weighted past. when you started hooking up with ernie macmillan, all his bad habits came crashing down. you were his anchor — he'd often vent to you about his problems with his father at home or whatever struggles he faced with his friends sometimes. he hated to know that any brewing feelings he had towards you were never going to be reciprocated. 

he started going to class high. it's so miserable to witness. he promised you before that he'd quit or at least lay off on his substance related habits a bit — that he'd only do it socially if he wanted. showing up to class with red eyes and a mind elsewhere was not smoking socially. it's a miracle professor snape had his biases towards slytherins because if another teacher as observant as the greasy haired twat were to catch theodore, he could kiss goodbye to hogwarts. thankfully, snape never noticed this change either, too busy shaming a gryffindor during his classes instead. 

soon, you were hearing rumours of nott breaking every girls heart out there. it's one game after another with them. which was all the more surprising because theodore was never really a player. most of the public saw him as one of those untouchable hot guys — he was much less likely to sleep around compared to his other slytherin companions. it was like theodore had done a full hundred and eighty. his mindset was; if you were going to be messy, why couldn't he?

your final straw would be at the news of his newfound habit of getting into fights. seeing him enter the great hall every morning with a black eye became an uncomfortably common occurrence. sporting and piling up this many wounds was a horrific sight. it seemed like even malfoy and his goons were growing concerned.

theodore had been on his way out after breakfast — probably ready to sneak into a hidden cranny or abandoned room to light himself a joint before classes were to start. only merlin knew whether he'd decide to skip a few of these classes or not today. his exit out the great hall was cut short when he passes by the hufflepuff table. in a matter out seconds, one of the boys from the house is pinned to the table, food scattered and other peers watching in horror. theodore's knuckles turn white from how hard he's clutching onto the guy's collar.  you can only helplessly shoot up from wherever you're seated. the expression theodore holds is too grim that you have no backbone to interfere. whatever he's sneering to the hufflepuff is inaudible to the rest of the students present. it's not long before one of the faculty pulls them apart — "it's far too early for such nonsense!" screeches mcgonagall in her distinguished scottish accent.

judging by whatever the hell you had witnessed earlier that morning, you knew you couldn't keep allowing theo to shut you out like this.

pacing around in circles, you wait in the moonlit courtyard for your close friend. without a doubt, he'd show up in need to escape the chaos of the slytherin dungeon. there'd been many nights where the two of you sat here together, hiding from patrolling teachers or mr. filch. the theodore with you then was boisterous, happy, healing. he felt far from the guy you were about to confront. a soft footstep against the gravel behind you is the signal that gets you to whip around. you face the dark haired man with a stern expression, walking over to him in a fierce manner. "what the fuck has been going on with you?!" you whisper-shout, frustration evident when you shove his chest back.  theo's reaction is to clench his jaw, his eyes not daring to meet yours as he looks away. he stumbles back a bit from your push. "i don't know what you're talking about." he attempts to brush you off. feigning nonchalance and disinterest, he keeps his hands stuffed into his pockets. this doesn't stop you from inquiring further. you bring up anything you can — "is it your father again?", "malfoy then?", "stress? merlin, theodore, just talk to me." the two of you bicker back and forth, each sentence spat growing more and more exasperated.  finally, theo fesses up, tired of your endless and awfully oblivious queries. "merlin— it's you!" he hisses out, running a desperate hand down his brown locks. "it's you and your loser loverboy and how my stupid heart can't fucking handle watching you be happy in the arms of another man who isn't me." you notice how the rim of his eyes begin to grow red. it startles you but you can't ignore the excitement in your heart either. "and you thought it was smarter to ignore me rather than confess?" for the first time in the argument, your tone is one of lighthearted humour with the corner of your lips itching to smile. 

[kaheilations]

First Time

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pairing: cedric diggory x m!reader

genre: fluff, smut, romance

warnings: top!Cedric, bottom!reader, dom! Cedric, sub!reader, a lot of kissing

summary: you and your boyfriend, Cedric, sneak out of class to make out and have your first times together

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Your boyfriend drags you by the hand, racing up the moving stairs to sneak you into the Hufflepuff common room. The two of you skipped your herbology class, knowing the room would be empty, all of the other students in class.

He brings you over to his dormitory, taking off his robe, leaving him in his white button up and tie, and he sits on the bed. You take a moment to observe the space that your other half occupies when he's, unfortunately, not with you. You take note of the books on the nightstand, where his clothes lay, and the green blanket on his bed that doesn't match the Hufflepuff-colored room.

"What are you doing, babe?" he smirks out, pulling you close to him by the arm and bringing you into a quick smooch. You pull back, and, a mere inch away from his face, stare Cedric in his eyes, smiling and giggling almost like a lunatic, because you cannot believe that the Heartthrob of Hogwarts is who you - and only you - call your boyfriend.

"What's so funny?" he asks in response to your giggle, matching grin forming on his face.

"I just love you so much" you reply, pushing yourself forward to greet him in a wet, sloppy tongue kiss. Your saliva mixes, tongues collide as you press him against the window behind his headboard. It's a good thing that the common rooms are so high up, or else someone would be able to see the two of you from outside. Not that either of you would've minded that, though.

You passionately kiss for a few minutes, only stopping to breathe before you break away. Cedric looks at you with big, wet, puppy dog eyes, like he desperately needs more. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off when you begin to nape and suck on his neck, forcing a sort of moan out of the taller man. You pull back, revealing a tender, bright red hickey on your boyfriend's neck.

Turning around, you slump down and rest your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, ridiculously smiling at the fact that you've marked him for everyone to see tomorrow, when suddenly you catch Cedric adjusting the waistband of his pants.

"I saw that!" you exclaim, half-joking. "Are you seriously hard right now, you perv?"

"I, um... maybe?" He responds, turning beet red from embarrassment. "You're just so hot and so good at kissing, I can't help it..."

"Well then..." you reply, sliding your hand up his shirt to rub his toned abdominal. "Maybe," you turn your head and lightly kiss his jawline, "maybe it's time we do it... make love".

Cedric turns his body so your faces are opposite another and gently places his hands behind your head to pull you into a kiss. "Are you sure? Are you ready?"

"Of course, babe," you reply. The truth is, internally you're desperate to make this step. After almost a year of dating, the two of you had never gone past giving eachother handys in the bathroom or occasionally sucking one another off if you were ever able to sneak off for half an hour. "I'm ready if you are."

"It's just... I don't really know what to do. I've never done it with a boy. Or anyone, really." He looks down, almost ashamed, and you cup the brunette's face. "It's okay, me neither. We can figure it out together."

He smiles, and puts a hand around your neck, pulling you in to a sloppy kiss. With your eyes closed, you begin to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, mildly struggling because you've overtaken by the make-out session. Cedric grabs you by the waist, sitting you on top of his lap, without breaking the kiss, and begins to undress you from your shirt as well. The two of you, shirtless, continue making out, your tongues dancing, while you begin to grind on your boyfriend's still-clothed crotch, causing him to break away and let out a stifled moan.

"Fuck, baby," he says between moans. "I need you so bad."

"Say less," you respond, moving your kisses down his sternum, to his chest, and taking the time to kiss around his pink nipples, all the while you're unbuckling his belt. He throws his head back, wincing at the pleasure as you kiss his toned body and pull down his trousers and underpants, revealing his rock-hard cock. You grip his cock, which was around 7 inches and thick, the perfect size, at the base and lick the underside of it, circling the head with your tongue.

"Fuuuuckkkkk-" he moaned, gripping your hair but not pulling.

You felt him stiffen up more as you put his tip in your mouth and begin slowly throating his length. With every motion, you feel his balls twitch, and he whimpers at a whispering volume. You knew he was close, and were determined to egg him on as long as possible. You begin to stroke his wet, saliva-covered cock, flicking your wrist at the tip when you come across it. Cedric starts moaning heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hips thrusting into your hand. You feel his cock pulse and twitch, desperate to cum, and remove your hand, ruining his orgasm.

"Babe, fuck, I-" You cut him off. "You can't cum until you fuck me, baby." Cedric, with puppy dog eyes, pleads: "Baby can I please fuck you now?"

"Not yet," you say, crawling up to him to leave a kiss on his cheek, "I need you to prep me first." "Prep?" He asks inquisitively. "I'm not a girl, you can't just stick it in with no preparation."

"I see..." he says, grabbing you in the crevice of your armpits. "May I?" You nod and he flips you over, so you are on your back and your head is towards the foot of the bed. Cedric sucks on his fingers, coating them with clear, thick saliva. His cold fingers make contact with the outside of your hole, causing you to wince and tense up. Slowly, he pushes his middle finger inside of you, making your back arch. He romantically shoves it in and out of you before sticking another in and making a scissor motion to loosen you up. Eventually, he presses up against your g-spot, causing you to release a loud echo-y moan. "There, baby? Does that feel good?" the brunette asks seductively. Overcome by a feeling of pleasure, the most you can stifle out is a "mmmfgh, y-yes, baby, m-more..."

Cedric continues fingering you, your own cock becoming the hardest it has ever been and leaking a large amount of precum. You reach down and grip his other hand, which has been resting near the side of your body on the bed, and arch tour back as you feel your climax about to occur. But, your boyfriend pulls his fingers out before you can and slides up to your ear- "You can't cum until I fuck you, remember?"

You let out a moan as he kisses you and begins to position himself on top of you, making eye contact with you the entire time, only turning you on more.

Suddenly, you're brought back to the day he started to call you his. It was after the Triwizard Tournament, and, although Cedric had not won, he made it out alive. You had spent the duration of the tournament helping him figure out the challenges present, cheering him on when he fought the dragon, you being the one who had suggested he take a bath when he couldn't figure out the enigmatic egg. You spent time in the library trying to find a spell book that could help him figure out a way to breathe underwater, and you hyped him up before the final challenge.

A week or so following the end of the tournament, Cedric dragged you out of dinner to talk privately in the hallway.

"Is everything okay?" you said, with genuine concern in your tone. As much as you liked him, he was your friend first and you were focused on making sure he was okay, because that's what friends are for.

"Listen," he said, "ever since the tournament ended I haven't been able to- I keep having dre-" he sighs, unable to say what he wants to. "I keep thinking, what if had been you under the water during the second challenge instead of Cho?"

"It wasnt though. But what-"

"Not the point," he cuts you off. "And whenever I would think that I would get this weird feeling in my stomach and I just-" He loosens his necktie like there's something obstructing his airway. "I just realized it means-"

"What, Cedric? What are you-"

He cut you off by grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your mouth to meet his. "It means that I like you, y/n, like, a lot," he says retracting. "And I don't know what- I've just never felt this way about a boy before." His cheeks were flushed rose, Cedric clearly feeling somewhat embarrassed.

You pulled him into a warm embrace, rubbing his back. "It's okay. I like you too, like, a lot" you say, playfully mocking him.

"Really?" he said, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Does that mean... do you wanna... would you be my boyfriend?"

"Of course," you said, pulling him out from the hug. "We should head back to dinner now, people are probably starting to worry, boyfriend." You put an arm around his shoulder and walked back to the dining hall, a big toothy grin on your face, his cheeks redder than they've ever been.

And now, you two were here, you laying on your back, in his bed, your boyfriend hovering above you, his necklaces drooping over your neck, the tip of his cock poking at the entrance of your hole.

"Are you ready?" he asks, stroking the hair by your ear. "Always," you respond. He grabs the base of his cock and slides it inside of you, him letting our a satisfied grunt and you a muffled moan. Slowly but surely, he pushes himself in and out of you, hips colliding with your ass repeatedly. He lowers himself down and starts to kiss you as he fucks you, the both of you moaning into each other's mouths. His hand rests on yours and you grip it, holding eachothers hands passionately as he fucks you.

Suddenly, you let go and arch your back, as his cock pushes against your g-spot. You let out a long moan, and he begins to leave a hickey on your neck. The pleasure feels so good, you can feel your hole tighten around his big dick, making him harder. Cedric stops sucking on your neck and starts heavily breathing into your jaw, letting you know he's close. He continues pounding inside of you, brushing against your prostate while your own cock stiffens and twitches. "Cedric- I'm-" Unable to get the words out, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tap on his back to announce your climax. You let out a grunt as ropes of white cum plait your chest, your hole tirelessly convulsing and tightening, which only helps him get closer too. With one last pump, he whimpers into your ear and his cock twitches, releasing a huge, hot load inside of you.

"Holy shit, babe." He says, pulling out and laying next to you. "That was the best I've ever felt." He pulls you towards him and whispers in your ear: "I love you."

"I love you too," you say, taking it all in before the two of you eventually have to clean up and return to your daily activities.

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

a/n: hi guys i've actually developed such a huge celebrity crush on Cedric/Robert Pattinson in general it's generally starting to negatively affect me but this man is so mf FINE! i hope you enjoy this one, it's been my favorite out of all the ones i've written (incl. drafts) 😇 lmk if you like it, leave a follow, + as always suggest more fic ideas!

[annmaximoff18]

Y/N: Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to have kids, but then I see how stressed Bruce gets around Jason and Damian and that goes away.

Bruce: adopt pets, they don't give you so many problems

Jason: Are you saying that for my old man?

[kruegerspillow]

Another hollow apology (is it?) ; bruce wayne

Creators note: um I think I have a new favorite here... Haha... It's okay anyway I love my man unstable and a bit ill in the head. Here's another fic with this lovely emo bruce! I made this while I was half awake so sorry for any mistakes lmao

Warnings: cunnilungus, OBSESSIVE BRUCE, angst with little to no comfort (?), bruce doesn't know how emotions work, afab! reader, argument, bruce doesn't know how to take care of himself, NOT PROOFREAD and reader knows who batman really is.

Word count: 1k

"This is just straight up silly."

You spat your words at him with such venom, causing him to take a cautious step back. His eyes followed your figure, clearly taken aback by your outburst. And even for you, his sudden movement did not go unnoticed.

"You expect me to just sit back, relax and watch you limp back into my apartment, again and again, Bruce?" You practically growled.

The muscles beneath his armor tensed, your frustration becoming even clearer to him. The hand that once pressed against the wound on his leg had stopped applying the pressure. Your eyes burnt through his body, and he swore there was much more pain from the glare that you'd given him compared to any physical injury that he'd ever gotten.

And oh, he'd never felt so guilty in his life. For ruining someone even by his mere presence. He wished that he could mend all the pieces of you back together and act as if nothing had happened. As if he was never here, even.

God, he wanted to punch himself.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts, focusing on you and your wellbeing now. Guilt was now present in his eyes, but he knew that it couldn't fix everything. It can't fix him and get rid of his responsibilities, can it?

Meanwhile, your eyes searched for anything—any signs of him that could hint to a need to walk away, again. But you wouldn't let him walk away from you. Not anymore, and especially not now. You needed him to tell you the truth, to speak to you about his feelings and needs. To ask you for help with actual words—like how a normal human being would converse. You needed him to understand your frustration.

He suddenly struggled to find the right words—or the right thoughts. His mind was occupied by the sight of your tears that were threatening to run down your cheek, though it was gone as soon as you blinked them away.

And then, it was silent. But you couldn't bear silence, not when a man dressed up as a bat was bleeding out right in your living room, at least.

"Forget it." You dismissed quickly, the frustration still evident from your voice. "You don't listen anyway, do you?"

His free hand clenched as he watched you approach him hastily, feeling smoke coming out of your ears at his distance—both emotionally and physically. Your hands reached up to tug at his armor, and before you knew it, he was bare right in front of you.

You did not know how you got here.

"Fuck," a string of broken curses left your lips.

The gloves that were once on his hand were thrown away somewhere—though he didn't seem to care. His control had slipped, and you knew that he'd fallen into his desires. His want and his need for you, it was too much for him to bear.

His hands worked on your pants, tugging them down swiftly as he let out a huff from under his cowl. The sight of you—so vulnerable and sweet—he felt like he was in cloud nine already. His eyes shifted away from your dripping cunt to your face, watching the way you furrow your brows as he laid in front of his dessert. His arms locked around either of your legs, making sure to spread them wide enough.

"Bruce," you mewled, despising the sound of your own weak voice.

He took that as permission, leaning in as his tongue flattened against you. His pupils immediately dilated, the taste of your juices sending shivers down his spine. Your hand, though reluctantly, went to tug on his cowl—pressing him further into your cunt. You murmured his name under your breath once again, earning a pleased hum from him.

"I'm sorry." He grunted in the middle of devouring you.

Your head was too cloudy to give him a proper reply—but you caught his words. A small groan left his lips as you bucked your hips up at him.

"For leaving you," a desperate lick.

"For not being there for you," another lick.

"For not being the perfect one for you."

His thumb pressed against your bud, rubbing smooth circles to soothe you through the overwhelming feeling from his tongue. A pathetic whimper left his lips as he bucked his hips into the sofa, his cock struggling against his tight pants.

"What—" he cut you off with a suck.

You threw your head back, feeling yourself nearly tipping over the edge. His free hand caressed your thigh comfortingly, a stark contrast to his appearance.

"I'm gonna—" you choked on your own words. "Cum—need'ta cum..."

His own breath hitched at your words, feeling himself chase his own orgasm from all the times his hip snapped against the seat. He didn't care anymore—the burning sensation in his muscles from the late night patrol to the sting on his wound—all he could focus on was you.

You and your noises. You and your pleasure. You and your needs.

His mind was unhealthy, and he knew it. It was full of you. Memories of you and your voice—along with the occasional glances the both of you share during a patch up session. God, even his heart was filled with you, did you know that? You belong there with him. It's just you and him against the whole damn world. And nothing would change that—nothing's going to stand between him and you.

Before he knew it, your orgasm crashed onto you like a wave—at the sight of this, Bruce immediately cummed in his pants. Pathetically, almost.

He panted, shaking his head to get rid of the blur in his visions. His thoughts snapped back to reality. You were passed out before him, one of your arms hanging over the edge of the sofa while your head rested against the armrest. Fuck, you're perfect.

How long has he been staring at you? He's doesn't know.

But what he does knows is that he belongs to you. Every part of his body belongs to you.

And the same goes to you, right?

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work to post it around. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 11 - Westminster Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 10 Summary: An eventful night in an uneventful Skegness forces important conversations and makes you cross the line. Again. Warnings: 18+ (literally 7k of smut), swearing and a dose of existential crisis because who would I be without it. Author's Notes: *insert that gif from Titanic with Gloria Stuart, you know the one* ...hi 🙈 It took ages but it's here. And longer than anyone would've wanted at 19k (7 of which is smut lol). I suppose new hyperfixations, 40h of work a week and a variety of life's issues don't help much with hobbies. But alas. This is the final part of Skegness interval, bringing together more fun such as swing party for pensioners, renaming The Lesser Bear into The Bear and public indecency. Kind of. I definitely had fun writing this, so I hope it's as fun to read <3 A final note is that the referenced musical number in this chapter is "Sing, Sing, Sing" by Benny Goodman. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added).

While you were not quite ready to admit that the kiss and Neil’s impressive bravery had fixed anything, the admission did not remain unsaid. At least in the quiet of your head.

As soon as you woke up, squinting at the offending rays of sunlight that dared shine straight at your face through the gap in the curtains, you had been waiting for that other shoe to drop. For the awkwardness to resume, perhaps even stronger than before. Except that it didn’t.

Everything from the breakfast you prepared together to the walk along the coastline while chatting shit went without a hitch. Like nothing happened at all. Like your relationship had not blurred and changed ten times over, and you were still best friends who tended to flirt and occasionally act on that chemistry. It was astonishing. It was also dangerous because you no longer knew where the line was that you were supposed to keep yourself from crossing. If it existed.

By the evening, when you had made your way to the Embassy Theatre for the performance of The Nutcracker, as produced by the Ballet Theatre troupe, everything seemed almost perfect. Settling into the Circle seat, you glanced around the theatre, waiting for Neil to return from the bar. The stage was entirely different from what you were used to. No grandeur of the Royal Opera House was to be found in the modern architecture and stripped-back décor. Briefly, it made you wonder whether the lack of gilded details and the King’s Coat of Arms on the curtain made things easier. If maybe it removed the level of intimidation you could never escape whenever you stepped on the stage in Covent Garden. But as quickly as that thought appeared, you dismissed it. After all, stage fright was not dependent on the quality of the stage curtain. It just was.

With a sigh, you leaned back in the creaky chair and closed your eyes, soaking up the bustle of fellow theatregoers. An inexplicable layer of anxiety settled in your mind, making you question whether seeing someone else perform the parts you were rehearsing was a good move for the ever-present imposter syndrome. Would seeing someone do the job better than you ever could render you unable to do it entirely? You quickly realised that you would rather not now. But before that intrusive thought could take root and eventually lead you to run out of the theatre before the first bell, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, announcing Neil’s arrival:

“Sorry, the queue to the bar was huge” wincing against the memory, Neil took his seat by the aisle, handed you the flute with Prosecco and searched your face closely, “Everything okay?”

The downside of having someone know you so well was that nothing ever escaped their attention. No matter how hard you might have tried. It was something you frequently rued. Like now, when you had no choice but to admit your failings. Frowning, you offered Neil a wry smile:

“Yes, just wondering whether seeing-” you paused to skim through the programme and find names of your ‘competition’ and met his gaze without trying to hide the uncertainty brewing underneath, “Liz and Tara dance better than me will eradicate my confidence and make me give up completely” shrugging with a deflating sigh, you rested your head against the back of the seat and stared at the high ceiling.

But that crushed pause could not last for long. Barely ten seconds even.

“That won’t happen” the confidence in Neil’s voice was striking as he grabbed your hand on the armrest and entwined your fingers tightly.

He seemed so self-assured that you had no choice but to sit up and look at him again. Searching for the traces of uncertainty you expected to find in his gaze. Because it must have been there. Somewhere.

No one ever believed in you without a fail like that. It just did not happen. So why should it happen now?

“How can you be so sure?” for once, you did not care about the waver in your voice or the vulnerability Neil could find in your eyes.

Because suddenly, all that mattered was hearing his opinion and reassurance. It was more important than the years of experience in your bank and the praise from mentors and teachers at the Royal Ballet. You did not want to think what that said about you.

“Because I’ve seen you dance” Neil did not need time to think about an answer as he returned your gaze with a confident look, the comforting feel of his palm in yours helping to settle your heart rate.

But it did not do the job yet. It did not silence the doubts nor quell the anxieties that you once more aimed higher than you could reach.

“And that’s enough?” without meaning to, you leaned in closer, involuntarily tightening your grip over his hand.

Up close, unable to find the doubts you felt reflected in Neil’s gaze, you could almost begin to believe it. Almost.

“More than enough” Neil shot you an affectionate smile and closed the tiny gap between your faces to kiss you on the forehead. Despite yourself, you preened at the gesture “Now, shut up, have a drink and enjoy the show” raising his champaign flute to clink against yours for a toast, Neil offered you a wide grin.

You could tell he was moving past the moment and letting you raise your guard again. By now, he knew well enough that those moments of vulnerability could never last forever. You would not let them linger.

It was the perfect opportunity to move on, to fall back on the familiar dynamics. So, you clinked your glass against his and nodded:

“Yes, sir” refraining from miming a salute, you allowed your lips to twist into a smirk.

Neil should have known that it was coming.

Except that he did not seem to anticipate it. His utter bewilderment got caught in the widening eyes and blush dusting his cheekbones. He rolled his eyes as you grinned, enjoying the moment more than you should in public.

“Was that necessary?” his fed-up tone was overshadowed by the fondness lingering in his eyes.

He still had not released your hand, the entwined palms resting comfortably on the shared armrest. Around you, the audience was filling up the seats, bustling around the rows and talking with each other. The sense of anticipation of a good performance could be felt in the atmosphere. It was something you occasionally missed when awaiting the curtain call on the other side of it. It was also why you sometimes attended ballets from other troupes on days off. Partially for inspiration but also to reexperience the same thrill that made you choose this career in the first place.

Now, however, for five minutes longer, at least, you could focus on Neil. And on the flustered look in his eyes and the hints that whatever you had tried to achieve worked on him. The simple tease did the work. So, there was nothing left to do but keep going.

“Why? Are you bothered?” innocently batting your eyelashes, you leaned in close enough to kiss him on the cheek.

Just as quickly, you backed away to meet his bothered look, inefficiently disguised with a put-on frown and a grimace. Yet still, you could see the smile lingering underneath:

“No comment” he hid the smile in the champaign flute as he took a sip.

You had no choice but to mirror his expression and turn to your glass as the first bell echoed through the theatre hallways. Without much time left, you finished the prosecco in three swigs and set the glass underneath the seat. As the lights dimmed and the first notes of the Overture began, you met Neil’s gaze in the near darkness and offered him a smile. Suddenly, you were incredibly grateful he was there with you. Still holding your hand.

***

“So? What do you think?” you took a couple of steps down the Grand Parade before you broke the silence, glancing at Neil with unhidden curiosity.

The crowd exiting the theatre carried you both down the street, mindless of where you were going. You figured that would come later. Now, you had to know his opinion.

For some reason, that was a necessity.

Neil did not seem to question your sudden interest, for he hummed thoughtfully and spoke:

“Well, firstly, as amazing as they were, you still will be better. So don’t worry” you opened your mouth to protest, but Neil did not let you, quickly following the first point with the next one. All the while smug smirk graced his beautiful face, ensuring you that every word was perfectly crafted, “Secondly, I’m pissed off at myself for not getting into ballet sooner” at this, he finally met your slightly bewildered gaze and grinned.

Before you could muster a word of reply, Neil tugged at your hand to put it in the crook of his elbow, wordlessly ensuring you were sticking close to his side.

“Maybe if you became a connoisseur sooner, I wouldn’t have been able to impress you,” finally given space to say something, you aimed for a playful note, only barely hiding the lack of conviction in his claims.

As much as seeing the ballet did not do the damage you had worried it might cause, the doubts were still there. You worried whether you could execute the choreographies with the grace it necessitated. Whether you were the right person for the job.

“Impossible” Neil pulled you imperceptibly closer as if aware of the dire thoughts and added, “It’s more likely that if I started attending the performances earlier, you’d have had number one fan sooner, too,” he grinned in the face of your utter puzzlement, increasing the belief that he had lost his mind.

Only that seemed to be a plausible explanation.

“Jesus, you’re such a flatterer” rolling your eyes in the face of such unspeakable madness, you lightly swatted his arm.

It was something you understood better each day. Neil was a charmer. The type of person to flirt with the bartenders. The type of person that chats up their ageing neighbours when they yearn for a conversation. The type of person that never leaves you aching for a compliment. Which both did wonders for your self-esteem and always left you wanting more.

“You know it” Neil’s smile remained unshaken as he slowed down to a leisurely pace and continued recounting the impressions as if the interlude never happened “And thirdly, I love how ballet is so universal. I could attend a performance in another country, and still understand everything. Not to mention the skills” he gushed, the fascinated tone only making your smile brighter “You’re fucking badass” the collective you did not weaken the praise as you felt yourself beam.

That dangerous feeling of untamable affection spread in your heart, suffocating reason and waning conviction that none of this should be happening. It was almost impossible to remember why you had tried instilling boundaries a mere weeks ago. Instead, you were awed by the man who never failed to surprise you at every turn.

“It’s nice to hear that instead of… You know, how hot we look or how gay it is for men to wear tights” the frustration with the other members of his species bled into your voice as you pushed against countless memories that inspired the anger in the first place.

You could practically write a book on the subject. On men’s misunderstanding of ballet, their inability to see you for who you were instead of what you looked like. To a degree, you almost believed them all. Perhaps that is why listening to Neil’s compliments was so hard and why you could not trust him sometimes. Because how could he be so different? How could he be the exception to every rule?

As if sensing your troubled thoughts, Neil shot you a warm smile. His steady presence at your side felt encouraging as he leaned in closer, a tentative grin foretelling a turn in the conversation:

“I’d wear the tights if you asked. I think I could pull it off” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly having no shame for saying something that ridiculous.

But it helped. Now, instead of simmering anger, you were beginning to feel something else entirely. A curiosity prompted by the image Neil had successfully planted in your brain.

Like now, when there was no point in denying what you knew to be true.

“You definitely could” without an ounce of uncertainty, you returned his smile and briefly turned your attention to the surroundings.

To the right, you could just about make out the sound of crashing waves lapping at the beach shores. You were separated from the sand strip by a city park, now darkened by the night. Further up the Grand Parade, you could see a curious building with low fortifications. It was lit up from the outside, with people standing nearby on the pavement. The sight struck your interest, so you gently pulled on Neil’s arm to signal the direction.

“What do you think?” his question interrupted the silence, making you smile at the gesture.

It was nice to have someone enquire about your thoughts with enough earnestness so you did not have to worry whether the question was genuine. You knew that it was.

With Neil – it always was.

“I liked it. It’s a little different to what we’ll have, but still true to the spirit of the story” pausing to collect your thoughts, you raked through your mind to find the right words and added, “But I think we’ll have better costumes…” admittedly, this mention had an ulterior motive.

It was a perfect hook, crafted so Neil would hear it and be intrigued. He did not disappoint. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt his gaze boring holes into the side of your head. Still, you stared forward, barely concealing a self-pleased smirk.

“About that, when am I getting a photo?” the demanding tone in his voice only sharpened your smile.

It was a familiar game. This constant back and forth between you always keeping you on your toes. Because Neil was not truly demanding you do anything, and yet not doing what he said was not even an option. You would give him all the answers he ever asked for. You would do it all, even if only to briefly make him smile.

And no, you didn’t dare try to understand what that meant.

Because it didn’t mean a thing.

“You want one?” swatting the ridiculous thoughts in the quiet of your head, you innocently posed a question and finally turned to look at Neil.

He was still staring at you. Only the nearly empty pavement ahead of you ensured that Neil did not walk into anyone as he paid zero attention to the surroundings.

“Obviously,” arching an eyebrow in what could only be described as pretend exasperation, Neil grinned.

That very familiar mischievous spark was present in his eyes. It assured that no lies were told and that Neil was very eager to receive the photos as if you had any doubts.

“Then I can promise one on Monday during the fittings” you glanced up ahead at the path to notice that you had arrived by the curious building.

Up close, you could see it was a pub of sorts aptly called Suncastle. The bright neon above the castle-esque doorway lured you in as you came to a stop. A swing sign by the stone-paved path leading to the building informed about a weekly swing dancing club for seniors (adorably called Timeless Twirls – bless them). It caught your attention sufficiently as you pulled Neil closer, inspecting the notice and quickly checking the hour to note that the event was still ongoing. Feeling his puzzled gaze move between the sign and your face, you finally turned back to him with a smile and asked:

“What do you say?” nodding your head at the ad, you made sure to throw additional fluttering eyelashes to increase the chances.

Just so he would say yes.

Neil’s eyes turned comically wide as he stared at you in utter bewilderment. You could tell he wondered at which point you had lost your sanity. You could only keep on grinning as he processed the unspoken invitation and finally found his voice again:

“…Really?” his voice cracked somewhere between the three syllables, caving under the weight of incredulity.

You did suppose he had a right to be this surprised at your suggestion. But, at the same time, it made perfect sense. So, without letting the uncertainty wean you away from the idea, you shot him a confident smile:

“Yes,” straightening your spine, you stepped away from Neil to extend your hand in a formal dance invitation and curtsey lowly, “Come and dance with me,” patiently, you met his gaze, waiting for the scepticism to disappear from his face.

Because it would. It always did.

This time, the pause did not last longer than twenty seconds, with Neil sighing deeply and rolling his eyes. He huffed, entirely not meaning the pretend petulance, and offered you a wry smile:

“It’s not like I can say no to you, anyway” with another theatrical sigh, Neil took your hand and started leading you down the paved path towards Suncastle.

That strange sense of giddiness filled your limbs as you fell into a step next to him. You decided not to dwell on it yet, instead turning to Neil with a tease ready on your tongue:

“Aren’t you worried I’ll use that knowledge to my advantage?” it did not need to be said that you were already thinking about different ways of doing that.

Because a fact of this magnitude could not fly under your radar. This was too important. It held too much weight. And potential.

Damn, what a potential.

Neil paused before reaching for the door handle and met your devilish smirk with a pointed look of his own.

“Nah, I know you will” seeing the joy undoubtedly painted all over your face, he broke into a smile and added, “That’s the difference” you could already tell there was absolutely zero resentment present at the notion.

As Neil pulled the door open and stepped aside to let you in, you could only smile. Yes, the evening was getting much better. Decidedly.

***

The sounds of saxophone, piano, bass and light drums filled the air as Neil allowed himself to be dragged into what appeared to be a lion’s den.

(Pensioners probably not included in the judgement. That part was still undecided).

Instinctively, he tightened the hold over Cupid’s hand as she entered the Suncastle, her rushed steps already making his anxiety skyrocket. In an effort not to lose his cool just yet, Neil raised his head, his gaze trailing over the high ceiling, an empty stage at the opposite end and a bar crowded into a corner of the establishment. It was a pub, with both the stage and a parquet in the middle, suggesting that oftentimes the place was used to host entertainment and larger parties. For example, when the tables were pushed up against the walls, leaving a dancefloor empty for something close to a dozen dancing couples. All looking well over sixty.

Despite himself, Neil could feel that he was gawking. His consciousness kicked back in only when Cupid stopped in front of the bar and smiled at the elderly barkeeper, chirping out the question:

“Can we have two tickets, please?” Neil stared as she offered the older man her brightest grin, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

Concern for his well-being battled endearment as he attempted to distract himself with a scan of the bar’s offerings. Apart from a few beers on the tap, there seemed to be a decent selection of spirits, which Neil hoped to explore urgently. If Cupid allowed, that is.

“Sure thing, love” the bartender did not blink twice at the request as he typed something into the electronic till and soon enough presented them with two tickets, “It’s ten quid,” a warm smile appeared on his face as he measured them both with a long look.

Despite himself, Neil did wonder what the man was seeing. They they stood out, being at least thirty years younger than the other pairs attending the event. But he also wondered if they looked like anything other than friends. Whether the concerning levels of affection for Cupid could be seen in the depths of his eyes or the twitch of his hand, still cradled in hers. Whether it was obvious to anyone else.

If asked, Neil would not know what the preferable option would be.

“Thanks!” unaware of his internal crisis, Cupid shot the barkeeper yet another blinding grin and turned away from the till to locate an empty table.

“Enjoy your evening, dears” the older man’s response carried them down the hall as she pulled Neil by the hand to the chosen table in the corner.

Only once she stopped and let go of him, Neil could take in the scene properly. He heard Cupid take a seat as the metal chair legs scratched at the worn-out floor, but his gaze stayed fixed on the dancing couples gracing the dancefloor. Despite their admittedly advanced age, they twirled across the parquet with all the poise and elegance of people who knew what they were doing. The finesse of each move made Neil freeze, with that same feeling of unease and not fitting in was pushed back to the surface.

“Damn, they’re good…” unable to keep the anxiety from boiling over, he swallowed hard and turned back towards Cupid, already dreading her knowing gaze.

As expected, she did not seem moved. Leaning back in the wooden chair, she idly played with the tassels on the edge of the blue tablecloth.

“So?” arching an eyebrow, she scanned him closely, looking for nonverbal clues.

It always tended to unnerve Neil while simultaneously filling him up with warmth. All because she seemed to see things no one ever did. All it took was one, proper look at him, and Cupid would know. She would know everything, so there was no point in lying.

With a heavy sigh, Neil collapsed into a chair opposite her and replied:

“Well, I’d rather not be humbled by a bunch of pensioners once they notice that I can’t dance” placing the necessary emphasis, his restless hands started fiddling with the fake plastic rose adorning the table in a glass vase.

Once the words were out of his mouth, Neil knew how ridiculous it sounded. Insecurity was seeping out of his system through the pathetic complaints. For a second, he contemplated taking the words back, denying their existence or perhaps blaming them on tiredness and the lingering jetlag. But Neil knew it was too late. Cupid had already seen all she needed to. He did not have to look at her to know what he would find on her face.

“You can, though” the decisiveness of her tone confirmed the suspicions as she met his denial head-on without flinching.

Somehow, Neil knew that it would be a lost battle. But still one that he needed to fight. Or attempt to.

“Nope,” petulance filled his voice as Neil attempted to strengthen the negation.

Although he knew he was lying. Or, at least, denying the actual state of things. Yes, he was capable of dancing. But not like this. Not like them. And not with an audience qualified enough to be judgmental.

And Neil knew he was certainly bad enough to ensure harsh critique.

But Cupid did not want to admit that. She did not seem capable of understanding the delicate circumstances he had found himself in.

“Yes” instead, she hooked a finger underneath his chin so he had no choice but to meet her gaze and continued the verbal sparring.

For a beat, Neil considered adding another punch to the sparring competition. Another denial. But he did not.

Lacking the inspiration, he let his eyes trail back to the dancing couples. Although the tune had changed into a slower tempo, their dynamic moves did not falter. A few pairs had undeniably grown closer, with heads resting on shoulders and hands tenderly clasped together. If Neil’s heart did soften at the adorable sight, it was no one’s business but his own. Searching for a distraction, he met Cupid’s curious stare and asked:

“How come you know how to do this?” although the subject of the question was obvious, he inclined his head at the dancefloor.

The question itself was rather stupid. Neil could admit that much. Because surely a dancer could dance. But while an assumption was the safest choice, he also wanted to know. He tried to understand everything there was to know about Cupid.

If only because he always enjoyed the way her eyes lit up when he posed a question.

“I always signed up for additional classes that were not ballet in the dance school. We had swing, ballroom, Latin, hip-hop, you name it” she counted the genres on her fingers as she took off the coat and hung it over the back of the chair.

Her eager eyes returned to the dancing couples tinted with something almost akin to longing. It was clear she wanted to join them. And that he most likely had no choice but to join along with her.

Not that dancing with Cupid was a chore. Because it wasn’t, it certainly wasn’t.

“And your favourite was?” prompted by that same, almost innate desire to know, Neil asked another question.

One that was meant to clue him towards what he already suspected.

The same thing was all but confirmed when she shot him a wolfish grin and winked.

“Take a guess, sunshine” the playful sparks in her eyes only reminded Neil why the torment was all worth it.

If only for this. For her beautiful eyes and an excited smile. And if that made him a simp, well then…

Neil leaned forward, squinting his eyes to demonstrate the extent of his focus placed solely on her. It took way too much control not to break the poker face he had attempted to stick to for the sake of the moment. Especially when her smile brightened even more, and Cupid started humming the current tune. Barely resisting the sudden desire to kiss her, Neil chanced a guess at what he already knew was true:

“… It was swing, wasn’t it?” unable to even fake annoyance, Neil allowed his lips to twist into a wry smile.

He should have seen it coming. Should have known he was expertly lured into a trap that would deprive him of his dignity. But Neil also knew that he would repeat the same mistakes and risk the incoming embarrassment if it meant making Cupid happy.  

“Bingo at the table no 7,” like now, when she raised her voice by a notch, alarming a couple at the nearest table and drawing unnecessary attention.

But then, was the attention unnecessary if it meant she would smile like this? Neil had no answers to that question. Or for the pull deep inside his chest, keeping him fixed right next to her for as long as she would allow.

“I’m fucked,” half-voicing his unspoken thoughts and half commenting on the general state of affairs, he slumped in the chair and passive-aggressively undid the top button of his dress shirt.

It did not even sting as much as it should have when Cupid snickered, clearly amused by his show of dramatics. Before his pride could end up too bruised, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her propped-up hand. The dangerous glint in her gaze foretold trouble Neil did not even want to avoid.

“You might be” dropping her voice to a lower timbre, she adorned the tease with a wink before adding, “If you’ll behave nicely” she did not have to elaborate - his imagination did it all for her.

But none of that was something Neil was eager to admit in public. Instead, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of memories. It tended to happen in the least convenient moments, and by now, he wished he could say he knew how to deal with it.

Except that he didn’t. All he could do was pretend the thoughts did not appear, painfully aware of Cupid’s all-seeing gaze, reading him like an open book. But was it his fault sex with her was probably the best thing that had happened to him? Surely not.

Impatiently, Neil smothered the dangerous thoughts that had the capability of making him hard in the middle of a room filled with pensioners (read: the worst place for that sort of thing) and attempted to reign in his brain, focusing on Cupid:

“And if I won’t?” admittedly, the question was far from safe.

But it had to be asked. Partially because his ingrained masochism did seem like a fixed thing by now. But also because Neil wanted to know. As always.

Even if at the end of the day, Cupid still would keep to her boundaries and refuse to give in to the electricity crinkling between them. Neil could deal with that. Certainly. But hopes were there, especially after last night and seeing how much the kiss seemed to have fixed things. At least to some extent.

Shrugging noncommittally, Cupid only broke the poker face with a cheeky grin, easing the uncertainty long before it could settle in his heart. And deciding for him that, soon, Neil would be asking her to dance. Because she wants to. And so, he does too. Simple.

It was twenty minutes and half a pint of Guinness later that Neil finally gathered the courage to act on it. As his brain identified the first notes of Glenn Miller and his certified bop “In the Mood”, he stood up from the chair and extended his hand towards Cupid. The shocked look on her face was worth the spike in anxiety.

“Come on, I know you want to” breaking sudden tension between them with an attempt at a light encouragement, Neil waggled his fingers in her direction and shot her a smirk.

And if his heart rate matched the fast percussion tempo of the music, then that was his business only.

“Do you want to?” bewilderment spilt out from her wide eyes as Cupid stared at him in surprise.

Apparently, this was an unexpected move on his part. Whether that should be an insult or a praise was uncertain. Instead of processing that, Neil only strengthened the statement by leaning closer to her and whispering the answer for her ears only:

“With you – yes,” meeting her beautiful eyes, he added, “Always” there was no doubt towards the fact that she could see the affection written all over his face.

But it was alright. It was more than fine for the moment Cupid broke into a wide smile and leapt up from the chair, taking his proffered hand nothing else remained but the rhythm of the timeless tune and her hand in his. She laced up their right hands tightly and placed her left arm on his shoulder, instantly adapting the ballroom dancing close position. Neil allowed the instincts to take over as he drew her closer with his hand on the small of her back and started following the music.

The cheeky sax led their movements as they twirled across the floor, perfectly matched. Whenever it felt like doubts might kick back in, Neil lowered his gaze to meet hers and always found her right there, staring back at him with fondness in her eyes. Squeezing his hand in reassurance, Cupid grinned, the joy on her face prompting Neil to break the hold and twirl her twice quickly. The resulting laugh was more than a worthy prize. As she tumbled back into his arms, the song finale resounded through the room with the sound of brass and drums. Despite the exertion burning through his legs and a constant sense of being judged, Neil could not get rid of the smile on his face. It seemed fixed as Cupid let go of his hand and dropped into a cheeky courtesy.

“Mr Can’t Dance, my ass actually,” her off-hand comment broke the pause, instantly making Neil break into laughter.

It was a simple reaction that could not and should not be viable to overthinking. It was just another side-effect of her existence, it seemed. Undeterred by the teasing, Neil opened his mouth to offer a riposte when Cupid froze, her eyes opening wide as the music from the speakers changed again. A glimmer of recognition enlightened her face as she slowly smiled, clearly more than pleased by the next playlist position. For a beat, Neil considered taking her hand and resuming the dance. But then he looked into her eyes, sparkling in the warm lights, and he had a better idea. One that really should have needed no thinking at all. Taking one step back from her, he noted the slight surprise in her gaze as he spoke:

“Come on, Cupid, the stage is yours,” vaguely gesturing towards the emptying floor (it seemed like most couples took that exact moment to recharge and trailed back to the tables), Neil offered her a grin.

As though woken up from a dream, she looked up then, meeting his gaze with a confused look.

“What?” a question, half-whispered with copious amounts of consternation, only made her appear lovelier.

But maybe that was to be blamed on Neil’s general insanity.

“You don’t need me for this one” shrugging with what he could only hope was a self-explanatory intent, Neil took the remaining steps back to their table.

All without ever letting his eyes leave her. For another second, Cupid seemed to process his words and the invitation. But then she smiled – a bright and stunning thing that might have just about made his heart cease beating.

In the next moment, Neil was glad he had managed to sit his ass down on the small chair before she started moving. Before she allowed the music to permeate every cell in her body and started dancing. Once his eyes laid down on her, so perfectly in her element and letting the remaining inhibitions go to do what she did best, Neil could not look away. He barely remembered that a thing called ‘breathing’ was crucial to his existence.

He stared as Cupid followed the drums and brass sections as they flew through the space, transporting everyone present to some distant place in time. Her confidence was almost blinding as she twirled, conquering every section of the floor with grace and charm. Then, as the music switched to another sax-driven motif, Cupid paused, evidently heaving from the exertion. But before Neil could even begin questioning whether she would stop entirely, a wicked smile replaced the concentration on her face as she began tapping out the rhythm on the wooden parquet. With his face split into a proud grin, Neil leaned forward as though willing to see her better. To process the artistry of her every single move and poise that he could not even begin to understand. Pulse rushed in his ears as he watched, barely aware of the company or the passage of time.

Only when he felt a light tap on his shoulder Neil tore his eyes away from Cupid with effort and met the gaze of an older woman standing by his side:

“Your girl is a gem, dear” her friendly smile lit up the wrinkled face as the woman measured him with a knowing look.

For a second, Neil considered correcting her. He thought about letting the stranger know it was not like that between them. That this was nothing but friendship (and maybe (definitely) a dose of crush on his side). But then his eyes ventured back to Cupid. To the way she seemed to shine. And he decided that letting himself have that one would not hurt anybody.

“Yes, she is” nodding decisively, he offered the woman a small smile.

All while knowing that there was no point in masking the affection in his eyes. The woman had already seen all she needed to reach the apt conclusions.

His suspicions were confirmed the very next moment when she squeezed his shoulder and leaned down to whisper words of advice:

“Don’t let her get away” the rightness of her encouragement burned through his chest with an inexplicable kind of warmth.

One that both felt like the comfort of a homely fire but also like getting burned at a stake. Neil knew the woman was right. That what he should do would be to never let Cupid go. But he also knew that that was not his choice to make.

But unpacking all of that on the conscience of a stranger was not something he could or should do. So, instead, Neil only offered the woman another amiable smile and repeated the nod.

“I’ll try” without waiting for her to leave his side, Neil turned back towards Cupid, just in time to catch the finale of the piece.

Something sounding like a cowbell rung out between the drum beats as the brass section picked up again, returning to the same tempo as in the beginning. Cupid was a flurry of activity, almost chaotic in how she threw herself around the dancefloor. But if one looked closely enough, it was easy to see her moves were anything but disorganized. She burned like the sun, perfect and too beautiful to ever look away. So, Neil did not look away.

Not until the music stopped, and she stilled, having just completed a final pirouette. Her chest was heaving as she took a greedy inhale with her head still bowed and staring at the floor. Before Neil could force himself to move, to do anything else but continue staring, applause broke the silence. The thunderous sound filled the domed space as Cupid raised her head and met his smile with an awed look. Slowly, her lips quirked into a tentative grin as her gaze roamed over the faces of the pensioners attending the evening. Even from a distance, Neil could see the gratitude shining in her eyes as she lowered herself into a perfect plie.

Once her gaze returned to find him, Neil knew the evening was far from over. For as long as possible, he would do anything to keep her smiling like this.

***

When a low whisper straight into your ear broke through the heavy cover of your sleep, the darkness outside the window almost made you dismiss the sound as something you had dreamt of. But then you felt a tender, careful touch running over your temple and down the cheek. Muffling an incoherent groan into the pillow, you closed your eyes again in the hopes of being allowed to keep on sleeping, but it was not meant to be.

“Cupid, sweetheart, wake up” relentless in his attempts, Neil kneeled by the edge of your bed and repeated the caress with his fingers threading through your tangled hair.

At any other time of the day (or night, really), you would have probably melted at the nickname, whispered so sweetly and affectionately. But there was not much tenderness left in your heart before dawn. (Or before a morning coffee, if you were honest). So, instead of reacting to the pet name, you just rolled on your back to glare at the darkened ceiling lit up only by a weak bedside table lamp and asked the only question worth opening your mouth for:

“Why?” you winced at the croaky sound of your voice after hours of disuse and forced yourself not to grace Neil with a look just yet.

He had to work for that. As in give you viable reasons for abandoning the bed at an ungodly hour. But even without gracing him with your gaze, you knew he was smiling.

“Because we’ve got a stunning starry sky, and I thought you might want to see” the sheer earnestness of the response made you pause, breaking through the sulky mood with the strength of a bulldozer.

It was the last thing you expected. But it also made perfect sense for Neil. It completed the picture to have the man with stars in his eyes be interested in astronomy. And want to share that with you.

Despite the stubbornness rebelling in your system, you turned on your side to face him and asked the second question worth inquiring after:

“Is it worth it?” squinting into his joyful face to ensure he understood none of this was something you wanted (which was a lie), you added, “Because if not, and you woke me up for no reason… there will be consequences” trailing off into the silence to emphasize that you meant business, you finally allowed your eyes to roam over his face.

It might have been only hours since you bid each other goodnight and retired to your respective beds after talking over a bottle of wine in the living room. But it hardly mattered. Neil was still a sight for your sleepy eyes with his blonde hair tousled and that 2-day stubble covering the sharp angles of his jawline. The view only improved when Neil’s lips quirked into a smirk, proceeding the quip you should have seen coming:

“What? You’ll bite me?” complementing the retort with a flash of his pink tongue running along his teeth, Neil leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the edge of your bed.

The shift moved him close enough you could kiss him if you wanted.

There was hardly an ‘if’ about it if you were to be honest. Which you weren’t. Not at this hour.

“Maybe,” ignoring the tempting proximity, you feigned indifference and forced yourself to throw back the quilt to let your body adjust to the coldness of the room.

It was the first step of the whole ‘getting up’ business you had to venture upon. Perhaps the most difficult step. But before you could attempt sitting up and advancing past the bed, Neil seized one of your hands and raised it to his lips. Your mouth parted in a silent gasp as he pressed a lingering kiss on your pulse point and just as quickly let go of you.

“Well then, you should know I like it” sending you a mischievous wink, Neil stood up from his post and threw a look at the darkness outside the window, “And yes, it’s worth it, so get dressed,” stopping at the threshold of the bedroom, he leaned against the doorframe, as if unwilling to leave just yet.

Before you could allow the traitorous softness to invade your heart, you sat up in the bed and threw your legs over the edge to place them on the floor. Hissing at the freezing floor, you sent Neil another pained look before saluting lazily:

“Yes, sir” you stood up with another heavy sigh, fully aware of his hawk-like gaze trailing your every move.

That pleasant, appraising look was never easy to shake off. But then, was there even a point in shrugging it off? You were slowly coming to terms with the fact that your feeble attempts at distancing were beyond fucked. So much so that you had actively stopped trying. Talk about a lack of restraint. Or something.

You got as far as fishing a warmer set of joggers and leg warmers from the bag set by the bed before Neil reminded you of his constant presence with an uncalled-for comment:

“Good girl,” the low register of his voice completed the picture, making you freeze with your mouth agape.

The outrage quickly replaced the stupor as you whirled around to face him, throwing the clothes onto the bedding. But no amount of annoyance on your face could mask the way arousal flooded your body. Barely able to stop yourself from giving away that fact by doing something stupid like clenching your thighs and gasping, you wagged your finger in his direction with what you hoped was a strict look on your face:

“Don’t,” the warning contained by the two syllables fell between you with finality.

Yet still, you knew it was not as firm as it should have been. The word was softened by the slight breathlessness in your voice. It was weakened by the longing in your eyes.

So, it was not really a surprise that Neil did not take your chiding too seriously. Or at all.

“Why? It’s only fair” offering you a noncommittal shrug, he winked in the face of your frustration and finally turned away towards the corridor with a final encouragement, “Come on, love,”

Before you could do as much as exhale, he disappeared into the dimness of the apartment. Half battling the base instinct in your brain that demanded you march after Neil and drag him back to your bed, you let out a suffering sigh and focused on putting on enough additional clothing so you would not freeze outside. As soon as you had an inkling of faith that you would survive the 7 degrees Celsius, you marched out of the bedroom and straight into the living room with its terrace doors slid half-open. Neil was waiting, a cheeky smile still gracing his face and a blanket folded in his arms. Without another word, he gave you an appraising look and opened the door wider, inviting you outside with a grand gesture. All you could do was step forward, zipping up the jacket in one motion.

As the cold wind hit your face, you briefly cursed his charming existence and turned your head to the side to voice part of the cusses building in your chest. But the moment your eyes adjusted to the darkness outside and you caught a glimpse of the sky, all the words got stuck in your throat, resulting in a gasp. The inky sky was filled with countless stars, all shimmering on the firmament. Nearer to the southern edge, you could see the full Moon lighting up her portion of the sky. A halo so bright around her edge that you squinted at the sight. Before you could find any words to fill the sudden silence, Neil closed the distance between you, placed a warm hand on the small of your back and pushed you toward the blanket already laid out on the grass.

You eyed the spot apprehensively, praying that the blanket would be thick enough to hold off the chill and dew, but still, you sat down on the cover and slowly reclined in the spot so that you could have an unobstructed view of the sky. A quiet huff proceeded Neil joining you on the grass as he straightened out his legs and propped himself up on his elbows. Throwing his head back to stare at the stars, he asked:

“What’s the verdict?” the cheeky undertone in his voice made you smile despite wishing you could not be bothered.

But then, despite the sleepiness in your bones and the cold seeping into the marrow, you were grateful he woke you up. This sight was not something you wanted to miss.

“Definitely worth getting up for,” the grin crept into your voice as you turned your head towards Neil and waited for him to meet your gaze to add, “Thank you,” affection shone through your eyes as you exchanged a gentle smile.

Without thinking, you tugged on his arm to make Neil lie down next to you and huddled closer to him. The meagre gap between you was there for pretence purposes. Or for however long it would take you to decide resistance was futile.

“No problem. I knew FOMO would kill you otherwise” Neil relaxed his posture with one arm behind your head.

You did not have to look at him to know the smirk you adored was there.

“Hilarious,” the feigned offence tinted the comment as you took a long breath and focused your attention on the twinkling firmament, “So… tell me, what are we looking at?” your eyes darted between the stars, trying to make sense of the picture.

But the few astronomy lessons in school, which mostly covered the order of the planets within the solar system and how the phases of the Moon influence the ocean tides, did nothing to clear your confusion.

“Well… That’s the Moon” barely concealing the laughter in his voice, Neil lazily pointed at the giant Earth’s satellite, evidently enjoying himself too much.

Not too harshly, you swatted his extended arm and huffed:

“No shit, Sherlock” the presented ire reflected only a quarter of your actual feelings.

The rest was hidden in the giggle you stifled, covering your mouth with a hand. You had a feeling that Neil was aware of it, for you felt his soft gaze linger on your face before he continued:

“But right next to it, you can see the Jupiter. That’s the conjunction between them” he pointed at the brighter object near the Moon, and you squinted your eyes to see the planet better. Contrasting with the larger body, it appeared infinitesimally smaller but still easy to find with the naked eye, “And I’m not an astrology freak, so I can’t tell you what that means. Sorry to disappoint,” Neil whispered, leaning further into your side.

His warmth contrasted with the coldness of the air and made you shiver as you raked your head for an apt quip. Something to distract you from the way everything felt in this moment. Too good and too real.

“That’s a pity. I would’ve asked you to tell me whether Jupiter and Moon’s conjunction is a good time to have sex” the crudeness of the joke would have fallen flat with anyone else.

You knew that. You also knew that if Sigmund Freud was alive, and for some terrifying reason here with you, he would have had a field day with a slip of the tongue of this magnitude. It was sure a way to express what you wanted. And not a smooth one, either.

But Neil did not scoff at the ridiculousness of your confession. Instead, he only turned his head to glance at you and asked:

“Why? You’ve got a hot date coming up?” even in the spare light of the Moon, you could see Neil wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

For a split second, you considered jumping straight into the convenience of denial. But then you met his eyes, still somehow shining in the dark with the vastness of what could be, and you nodded.

“Sure do,” shrugging one shoulder, you turned your head back towards the skies and found a constellation that looked interesting enough to capture your attention, “What about this one?” you pointed at the three bright stars in a row to the left of the Moon.

It looked familiar, but you could not identify the image with your sparse knowledge.

“That’s the Orion’s Belt. If you looked closely with good equipment, you could probably see that it’s got a little different light. Kinda blueish white because of the star temperatures,” Neil answered the question without hesitation, dropping into a business tone you had only heard once before.

Back in the turnstile room at Tenet. During that terrifying moment you still could not quite process despite the time and space. Except that now, in the darkness of the night, the expanse of his knowledge and intelligence lured you in like bait. All because it was sexy. Enticing as fuck.

And you no longer knew why you should not let it be known.

“God, you’re so smart” dropping your voice just a notch so that Neil would know you meant it, you stole another glance at him, bathed in the moonlight.

And it was not just his beauty that stole your breath. It was everything. The moment itself - fragile yet tangible enough to make you think it could be repeated. A fond memory to look back on, if nothing else. When everything went to shit like it would probably would. When the time came to say goodbye.

You shook your head against the sudden melancholy and forced yourself to focus on the present. On what was here instead of what would be gone one day.

“Nah, I’m just a nerd” chuckling at the notion with dismissal, Neil gently picked up your hand from the blanket and extended it alongside his to point at the sky, “If we look upwards from the Orion, and then to the right from that brighter star there, you’ll find Perseus next to his Andromeda” swiftly, he moved your joined hands in the direction of the two constellations. Where Perseus looked like a three-legged spider, Andromeda reminded you of the Great Bear. Both shone brightly now that you could make out their shapes from the seemingly random scattering of celestial bodies against the inky canvas, “If I remember correctly, Perseus saved her from the Medusa, and they became one of the greatest love matches in mythology” the wistfulness crept into his voice as Neil trailed off into sudden silence.

You could not stop your body from jolting at the idea, almost as though your soul tried to make her desires known. But those were the desires you were never supposed to have. And you didn’t.

Yet again, you swallowed hard against what felt like a constant whiplash ruining your brain and body and sighed, voicing a fraction of what could be said:

“Good for her,” and you meant it; deep inside, you knew that you did, “I suppose I should be the raging feminist here and say that she didn’t need a man to save her, but… Well, it’s nice to be saved sometimes” shutting up your mouth before saying too much, you tangled your joined hands loosely and let them fall between you.

A smarter person would have let go. But you were never particularly smart when it counted. And it did not surprise you to know Neil saw right through the things you left unsaid.

“I think it’s not as much about saving as it is about being cared for” you could feel his gaze on the side of your head, evidently trying to peer into your deepest thoughts.

You sent out thanks to the universe that such a thing was impossible and made an internal vow not to break and look at him. That would only make things worse. And there was so much that could be worse than hearing a sentence that spoke right into your heart’s desires and fighting against the wish to do something about it.

Like asking Neil if he cared about you enough to save you from the loneliness waiting in the future. But you could not do that. Not now, not ever. So, instead, you grasped onto the convenient denial and broke the silence with a dry question:

“Are we still talking about the stars?” the tinge of awkwardness made itself known in your tone as you let go of Neil’s hand.

Despite the desire to get up and hide from his all-seeing gaze, you forced yourself to relax your body yet again and stay present. Because as much as you begrudged the turn in conversation, there was nowhere else you would rather be. Not without him right by your side, with his warmth seeping into your bloodstream and making it impossible to think straight.

“That depends on you, Cupid,” Neil relentlessly bore holes into the side of your head, his quiet voice reaching just the right parts of your brain to make you understand the meaning.

You were the one in charge here. You were choosing the conversation course and deciding when to stick to the familiar peripheries of your comfort zone. And when to step over them.

Now was not the moment when you were ready to make that move. Not yet. Your eyes darted from star to star, trying to find a conversation starter to pull back the focus from the uncharted waters. When you finally found what you were looking for by the Northern horizon, you hurriedly pointed your hand at the familiar constellation and broke the uncomfortable silence:

“I know that one up there” swallowing past the lingering awkwardness, you carried on speaking, announcing the obvious if only to fill the gap, “That’s the Lesser Bear” before Neil could open his mouth, you allowed your scattered brain cells to take the reins, spewing nonsense like they tended to “Although I always felt that it’s offensive to call him lesser when he’s the one connected to the Polaris,” Neil’s quite snicker by your shoulder added the dose of validation you did not even know you wanted, so you concluded the idiotic tirade with an impassioned question, “What’s more major than that?” the exclamation pierced the nightly veil with almost too much gusto.

So much so that you briefly considered getting up from the blanket and marching inside without speaking another word. Just to process the embarrassment in the quiet of your company. But before you could make any rushed decisions, Neil chuckled and turned his head back to look at you with affection in his eyes:

“You should email the Cambridge Astronomy Institute about this” the sheer joy in his voice made up for the fading mortification, “I’d support the petition to rename him as the Greater Bear” this time, you did not fear turning on your side to meet his gaze and find Neil smiling as though he could not have been more pleased with the ridiculousness of the conversation.

A beat passed before you found your voice again, almost too lost in his eyes to care about anything else. In the back of your mind, you could see the tides of change washing out the lines drawn in the sand. Getting rid of any attempts to hold back from what you wanted. Because what was even the point?

“And the other one?” cautiously, you allowed your hand to breach the gap between your bodies and placed it atop his waiting palm on the blanket.

The warmth of the skin-on-skin contact kindled to the fire burning in your soul as you stared back at Neil, the stars almost forgotten already.

“He can be just The Bear” shrugging one shoulder, Neil waited for you to process the joke and dissolve into anticipated laughter before his smile broke through the attempted poker face.

Following a mind of their own, your hands tangled together yet again, tightening the hold over each other with single-minded forwardness.

“You’re an idiot” only once you had calmed enough to speak, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly and attempted a quip that never had a chance of having an impact.

If only because the bite was softened by the fond look in your eyes and the steady hold over his hand. At this point, the constant back-and-forth was more of a ritual than something you meant. It flowed between you effortlessly, astonishing you at every turn.

And it only made everything more complicated, too. Because how could you ever deny yourself the pleasure now that you knew how it tasted?

“Yeah, but you’re here with me” merciless towards your inner conflict, Neil shot you another blinding smile before his expression shifted to something more sombre. A flash of nerves travelled through your body as you awaited the penny to drop, “Can I ask you something?”

And when it did drop via a tentative question that did nothing to clear your mind, you could only offer a tight smile and an encouragement:

“Shoot,” all because there was no world in which you could brush him off.

Least of all now, lost in his blue eyes and utterly incapable of being reasonable.

It was, all in all, a sacrificial move on your part. Not that you were counting.

“When you say that you don’t believe in love… Do you mean that you don’t believe anyone could love you or that the feeling, in general, doesn’t exist?” as soon as Neil voiced the question, you knew it was a mistake to ever open before him enough so this would be possible.

Enough so that he wanted to know. Because that was a first. The first time anyone has ever wanted to understand.

The thought terrified you, but at the same time, it almost felt like a chance. A chance to voice that which had never been put into words before. And, if you were lucky (or unlucky), then maybe saying the words would make them real. A final way of ending the delusional thoughts with the only counterargument that would work – the truth.

The cruelty of the approach was not something you were willing to discuss. Even with yourself. There was nothing else to it but answering the question. You shifted onto your back and trained your gaze on the constellations, searching for courage in the shimmering stars.

“It’s a mixture of both, really” with your voice barely reaching the timbre of a whisper, you felt Neil move closer, “I think that love is overrated since it’s just a mix of chemistry, sexual attraction and too much hassle than it’s worth” it should not have been surprising, that releasing the words that had long been on your mind, felt like a relief. Except that it was a shock, the palpable respite coursing through your body and drifting outwards on a weary sigh. But it was not over yet. Not until you added the punchline to the joke, “And so I don’t think I’m worth all that fuss,” ensuring the inherent sadness did not creep into the perfectly constructed sentence, you added a lilting tone to the last word and curled your lips into a parody of a smile.

Not that Neil would ever be fooled by something like that. Even without looking at him, you could tell he was frowning as he processed what you disclosed. Whatever faint hopes you had that he would not ask a follow-up question dissipated within the next second:

“Why?” the worst part was that you knew he still needed to understand.

The question was not motivated by nicety or the rules of conversation but by the innate desire to know. To know you. As you were – utterly imperfect and permanently fucked up. Or something along those lines.

“Because I’m not worth getting a heart broken for” the desperation trickled into your voice, eager to put the point across, “I’m just… me” you heard his sharp inhale, and it prompted you to keep going lest you were about to be interrupted “I can give you a good time, I think I’m a good friend and listener, but that’s about it” placing it out there, for the world (one person) to consume and take apart felt like taking a plunge into the deep. Like jumping into the deep end without knowing if you were to drown. But it had to be done if only because Neil asked, “Putting more effort sounds like a recipe for disaster” you concluded the answer with another weary sigh and refused to meet his probing gaze.

That would not do. You could already hear the protests prompted by the fact that Neil did not live his life with the same principles. You admired that about him, but it did not change a thing. A fact was still a fact. Love was still overrated and not something you wanted to have. Or could have, for that matter.

“I don’t think I agree,” as if on cue, you heard Neil’s sharp inhale followed by the most diplomatic reply.

The type that made you want to shake him to receive something better. Something wilder, less polite. But that sort of a move was hard to achieve when your hand was still cradled in his, and you found no desire to fight. No strength to create tension with the only person who seemed worth talking to. So, faced with the evident conclusion that more arguments towards why you were wrong would follow shortly, you decided to cut the tension and turned back on your side to face him:

“You’re a romantic, Neil. It’s not in your nature to disparage love,” derisive notes crept into your voice as you felt the frustration seep out in waves. It wasn’t his fault. But still. Fighting the desire to close your eyes against the sympathy on his face, you decided to take another leap. To say something he both should hear, and you should never say, “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be very easy to love” you hoped he knew how much you meant it.

It was nothing but the truth. Another fact born out of stopping the denial and facing what was obvious. But for the very same reasons, perhaps it should not be shared. It revealed too much.

You knew it the moment Neil’s eyes widened as he took in the meaning and importance of your statement. As a last resort, you tried to tug your hand out of his grasp to create an illusion of distance, but he did not let you. Instead, Neil raised your joined hands to his mouth and placed a lingering kiss on your knuckles. A thank you in the only way you would allow it.

And then, a pivot. You could see it in the sudden spark in his gaze as Neil lowered your hands to the blanket and propped himself on the elbow for a better look at your face. Before you could comprehend what was going to happen, he asked a question:

“Do you know why I love looking at the stars?” on the surface, the question seemed entirely separated from everything that happened within the past half hour. But you knew it had an ulterior motive, driving Neil to change the approach when you were immune to the traditional arguments. Speechless, you only shook your head in answer, “I find it inspiring that we’re all partially celestial beings. Humans and our galaxy share about 97% of the same kind of atoms” there was something meaningful in the gaze Neil trained on you and in the words he whispered with certainty, without faltering once. Unable to tear your eyes away, you just stared as his gaze roamed over your face with something akin to wonder. As the remains of your sanity drew back, you knew that whatever would happen next would change things forever. For better or worse, “We’re made of stardust” mindless of your internal turmoil, Neil leaned over your body as his hand let go of your palm to trace a featherlight line up your sleeve, caressing your chilled skin with precision.

A shiver was inescapable as you opened your lips to ask the only question that came to mind.

“Me too?” your voice sounded small to your ears, timid in ways you did not understand.

A wave of embarrassment rose in your chest, but it was soon stifled by the sheer magnitude of other feelings. Feelings like astonishment and uncertainty. All because no one has ever called you that. No one had ever used compliments of this depth to describe your soul. You could not remain unmoved if you tried.

As though aware that you were currently waiting for that final reason to jump off the ledge, Neil met your wide gaze with a soft smile and an unwavering affection in his eyes:

“You shine brighter than the Northern star” as his hand stilted the caresses, you knew it was over.

You were done for. No reason stood a chance after something like that. Without letting your brain voice its concerns, you tugged at Neil’s jacket to pull him closer and used the leverage to raise your head enough so you could claim his mouth. He put no resistance as his forearms bracketed your head, and Neil instantly opened his lips for your perusal. This time, you did not even try pretending the kiss was anything other than passion-igniting the flame that had always been there between you.

Your teeth tugged at his bottom lip, eliciting an involuntary gasp before you slipped your tongue inside the warmth of his mouth, swallowing his groan. The rightness of the moment travelled alongside your nerve endings, sparking a fire that would be impossible to put out. At least not until you had him. The burn in your lungs was the sole reason you eventually retreated, yet you kept the tight hold over his jacket – the material bunched in your fist. Taking a greedy inhale of the cold air, you opened your eyes, only to find Neil staring right back from the mere inches of space you allowed him to have. Even in the darkness, you could tell that his eyes were glazed with want as he blinked repeatedly and finally opened his mouth to speak:

“Are you sure?” the weighty question was hung in the heavy silence with all the importance those three words could ever have.

You knew what Neil was asking. What he needed to know before you proceeded any further. And you could not blame him for it.

The question served as an internal check-in for you, as well. Except that there was nothing left to decide. No brain cells were present to analyse the pros and cons of getting under him again. You could only give him the truth before offering everything he could want. You raised your idle hand to cup his face and brushed your thumb over his kiss-bruised lips. Upon his questioning look, you nodded and finally found your voice:

“More than” offering a tentative smile, you let your hand trail down Neil’s chin and the warm skin of his neck, fingers lightly pressing his pulse point. This time, you knew what to say, “I can’t give you my heart, but you can have everything else. For as long as you want” with each word spoken, your conviction grew to the point where once you finished, you knew it was the right call.

He could have everything if he wanted. And from the look in his eyes, darkened with desire and focused on committing every detail of your face to memory, you could tell Neil wanted you. The understanding fuelled the fire as you dropped your hand back to the blanket and opened the floor for his next move.

From then on, everything was almost too easy. Neil shot you an affectionate yet still mischievous smile and breached the gap between your faces with a kiss. But before you could deepen the contact by opening your mouth over his, Neil moved his lips to the corner of your jaw and then lower still. Helpless against the avalanche of feelings and sensations, you whined as he left a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck. With each kiss, his hunger seemed to grow, indicated by how he nibbled and teased your skin with the sharpness of his teeth. You could envision a row of pinkish marks that would mar your skin come morning. Entirely at his mercy, you could only gasp and fight back the moans that would soon be impossible to stifle.

He had to work a little harder for that.

As if reading your mind, Neil allowed his free hand to wander, trailing a hot path over your thigh and hip to disappear underneath your jacket. As his fingers teased the sliver of bare skin beneath your shirt, your body jerked at the sudden sensation. Without meaning to give him the satisfaction, you attempted to maintain a modicum of composure (as though being actively devoured on a blanket underneath the starry skies was a setting in which one could remain composed), but that failed as soon as Neil abruptly stopped whatever he was doing and met your hazed gaze with a satisfied smirk. Contemplating a slap across his face, you finally released his jacket and glared at that outrageously confident face.

Despite the sudden frustration, the steady progression of your arousal was making itself known. Trying to relieve the pressure between your thighs, you squeezed your legs together, all the while knowing it was pointless. Nothing would do the trick except Neil and his damn skilled hands. The trouble was you would rather not ask. But there seemed to be no other way. Swallowing the remains of your pride, you met his questioning gaze:

“Touch me” it was as plain a request as it could be, but still, it was met with a cheeky grin.

“Where?” Neil had the guile to lay another teasing peck on your lips and resume his caress, with his hand drifting up your shirt to cup your breast, currently unobstructed by a bra you had decided to ditch.

This time, a whole-body shiver was inescapable as his thumb brushed over your nipple. Catching onto the reaction, Neil repeated the motion. Using all your might to pull the scattered brain cells into a resemblance of coherence, you opened your mouth to offer an answer:

“You know where,” biting out the sentence, you tugged at his hand to direct him where you needed him to go.

Patience was an art you currently did not possess. Not when you could feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your drenched core. Not when the emptiness inside you was slowly driving you insane. Before you could go mad, Neil decided to spare you. You saw one last smug smile as he allowed your hand to guide his to the waistline of your trousers. Once you felt his fingers undo the two buttons and the zipper, you let go with the anticipation already at its peak.

Resting your head back on the blanket, you put your hand on his neck to pull him closer, touching your forehead to his and staring into his eyes as Neil finally slipped his hand down your pants. As if aware of the gravity of the situation, so to speak, he did not tease you. Instead, Neil kept a steady eye contact as his fingers delved inside your panties and parted the slit without a dose of hesitation. Only then his eyes widened as he took in the exact state of your desperation.

Unable to help yourself, you let out a quiet moan as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and parted your legs a little bit more. Even that first exploratory touch, gathering and spreading your arousal without touching the clit, was hard to comprehend. But Neil did not stop there. He met your bewildered gaze with a curious look and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before finally letting his finger delve inside you. Your body jerked as if undergoing an electric shock, and your mouth opened on a breathless moan.

Unsurprisingly, by now, Neil knew how to play you. His fingers skillfully teased your clit, alternating between tight circles and rapid taps, drawing gasps and curses out of your mouth. When he did choose to start stretching your core with two fingers, you could only offer an incoherent attempt at saying his name and close your eyes. Waves of pleasure kept on building, smothering your existence till all that remained was his warmth and the sweet sensation of being stretched open with rhythmical strokes and alternating twists. You could hear yourself as if from a distance, rivalling the sounds of the countryside at night with a symphony of broken moans and whimpers, only increasing in volume despite your sincere attempts to shut the fuck up.

Except that was impossible as Neil continued to bring you closer to the edge with perfectly coordinated moves, now reaching that sweet spot inside you that made specks of white explode behind your eyelids. As if aware of your impending fall, Neil covered your mouth with his in an all-consuming kiss as the tempo of his fingers increased, now pumping out of you with merciless speed. Just before you tumbled off the precipice, you broke the kiss to meet his intense gaze and uttered a word of warning:

“Neil, I’m going to-” you did not know the purpose of this, except that you had to say something lest you would later spill words that were not meant to be said.

Like the fact that everything about this felt right. Like the truth that no sexual act had ever felt this complete except for when you were with Neil. Only he could make you feel connected to the moment and happy to stay present. It was not only about the act of taking and giving, succumbing to the pleasure. It was the fact that you were with him.

But none of that was supposed to be said, so you allowed another whimper to take over the sentence and let go. And letting go was too easy when you felt the tell-tale signs of impending orgasm with your inner muscles clenching around Neil’s fingers with increasing frequency. Closing your eyes against the sight that could easily undo you within seconds – Neil’s hungry eyes as he brought you to the edge and then over it as if it was nothing – you got as far as opening your mouth on a silent scream before you lost the remains of awareness. Your body tumbled straight into the awaiting nothingness of a blissful pleasure as the world metaphorically exploded behind your closed eyelids.

On the edges of your consciousness, you could feel Neil’s comforting presence, shielding you from the cold night with soothing kisses pressed to your neck. He was there as you rode the high for a little longer, your body trembling through the aftermath. As your brain started catching up with the reality and the feelings you had been actively pushing aside, you noticed that as much as you would have denied it, nothing could compare to sharing a moment this intimate with someone who cared for you. Someone not afraid to admit it. And it was a terrifying awakening to have, somehow already aware that one day, when you were no longer with Neil, you would compare him to everyone that came after. Knowing they would all fall short.

Unwilling to let those thoughts consume you whole, you finally opened your eyes to find Neil exactly where you expected him to be. Mere centimetres away from your face, with the intense gaze still fixed on yours and chest heaving from exertion, betraying the exact state of his arousal. The state which you desperately wanted to test out yourself, barely able to stop yourself from placing your hand on his length and seeing just how hard you had made him. But before you could follow that base instinct, Neil broke the silence with a question:

“Alright?” it was a simple question that did not even have to be asked.

But you appreciated him asking anyway. Because an earth-shattering orgasm could be an event hard to process. You could feel it still in the dizziness at the edges of your vision and the weakness in your limbs, feeling lucky that you did not have to do anything but lie there for a moment longer. But the want was still there, making itself known through the aching emptiness at your core, begging to be filled.

But first, Neil needed an answer. You reigned in the remaining sanity to piece together a sentence or something as close to it as possible:

“Yes. Perfect, even” a giddy grin was unavoidable as you took another deep breath and allowed yourself a long look over his face.

The uncertainty in his eyes had transformed into the smugness you anticipated. It lit up his face from within as the corner of his lips quirked into a smirk, and Neil leaned back on his side, propping his head on his hand to look at you freely. Whatever quip he had prepared was sure to hit exactly where he intended. But you no longer felt even an ounce of desire to hide the effects his ministrations have had on you. It was too late; Neil had heard and seen it all.

“Blimey. I didn’t realise I’m that good” the barely concealed pride in his voice shone through the attempt at nonchalance neither of you believed in.

Neil knew he was that good. You knew it too, probably from the moment he had first licked a hot stripe over your wet folds and showed you that there was no body count limit to getting a first groundbreaking type of orgasm. It could happen even after way too many one-night stands and unmemorable nights.

Yet still, with your soul recovering from another reminder of the extent of Neil’s skills, you did not have that much fight left in you to try wiping that pleased smirk off his face. Instead, you chose to get straight to the point.

“Sure thing, love” having gained back enough strength in your arm to raise it and stroke his cheek, you swiftly changed the topic to a more pressing matter, “I think we should go inside,” seeing the flash of confusion in Neil’s eyes you decided to cut the torture short, explaining without any room for misunderstandings “As much as having sex underneath the stars sounds cool, I’d rather not catch a cold” as the understanding dawned in his blue eyes, you only shrugged.

The cards had been laid out on the table for him to pick up. The only thing you could do was wait patiently.

Or not so patiently, considering the incessant caress you could not deny yourself. After what felt like ages, Neil swallowed hard as though trying to compose his thoughts and spoke:

“Yes, but we don’t have to-” as soon as you understood what he was about to say and heard the desperation breaking through the remaining inhibitions in his voice, you moved your hand from his cheek to press it against his lips, shutting him up.

That was enough denial for the moment, thank you very much.

“I know, but I want to” shooting him a confident smile, you paused just long enough so the words would gain the necessary levity and added the final punch to the line, “And I think that you do too,” forcing him to meet your searching gaze, you arched your eyebrow in a silent question.

A plea to prove you wrong and be done with this if he so desired. But you knew that it would not happen. The desire was plain to see in his gaze, painted across the blown-out pupils and ragged breath, holding him back from what you both wanted. It was just a matter of seconds before his resolve snapped, tarnishing the remains of composure as Neil took your hand in his and squeezed it.

“I want to,” the whispered confirmation was almost redundant as Neil closed the gap between you to seal the words with another deep kiss.

The words reverberated through your chest as you picked yourself up from the blanket and let him pull you up. They ignited the fire in your veins as you waited for Neil to pick up the blanket and lead you back inside. Despite your most desperate attempts at getting rid of the emotions, you could not help but acknowledge that being chosen made a difference in the world where you were used to being a convenience. It mattered that Neil met your gaze and still took your hand, actively deciding to be with you. Even if only for a moment.

Those thoughts swirled through your mind as you entered the holiday house and waited for Neil to lock the terrace door for the night. The sudden spike of nerves was hard to push aside as you hovered, unable to do anything but stare as he put down the blanket on the unmade sofa bed and slowly turned to you with an uncharacteristic slowness in his limbs. You did not need to possess a mind-reading superpower to know you shared another feeling apart from the desire for each other. Fear. As inexplicable and as real as it can be.

But that would not do.

Deciding to be the braver one, you strengthened your spine and breached the gap with an extended hand. Meeting Neil’s gaze, you awaited a reaction with a smile that you hoped would convey all – fear, uncertainty, hope, and the want you could never get rid of. Not where he was concerned. Neil only needed a second to respond, waking up from the stupor to take your hand in his and entwine your fingers. The answering smile mirrored your feelings and was what you needed to take the next step.

Without waiting for more doubts to kick in, you led him down the short corridor to the bedroom. Inside, you sent a short thanksgiving prayer to your past self for leaving the bed mess-free and the bedside lamp turned on. With the moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtains and the soft, warm light bathing the space in an almost ethereal glow, you felt confident enough to let go of his hand and meet his questioning gaze head-on. There was no more need for stalling. Well, maybe apart from a final question:

“Alright?” an easy callback that Neil instantly understood, judging by the recollection in his eyes and the spark burning there.

His mouth quirked into a grin, but beneath the layer of cheek, you could see the gratitude for the check-in. The sight warmed up the centre of your chest, slowly washing out any other feeling except curiosity and desire.

“Yes, come here” Neil nodded, already taking another step in your direction and beckoning you to get rid of the space between your bodies.

He needn’t ask twice.

As you collided in another well-practised embrace with your hands already knowing what to do, you felt another pang of ache at how right it felt. How effortless it was to fall into him and tangle your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, kissing him with all your might. How easy it was to give in to his wandering hands, still chilled from the air outside, as they unzipped your jumper and dove underneath the shirt like before. You broke the endless kiss to sigh in pleasure as Neil cupped your breast with his hand and pressed the length of his body against yours.

Rising on your toes to get closer to him, you captured his mouth with another kiss, lightly tugging at his lower lip till you achieved the desired effect – a broken groan from his mouth and a falter in his moves. It was the perfect opportunity to slide your hand down his chest until you were able to unzip his pullover and push it off his shoulders to remove at least one more barrier between you. The unspoken demand got through the haze between you as Neil took a tiny step back and helped you take off his jacket. He did not waste the chance to return the gesture, hastily taking off your jumper and tugging at the shirt with just one silent question in his eyes. It needed no answer except a nod and your helping hands, taking over the task from him.

When the cold air hit your naked skin, you felt brave enough to meet his gaze again with no choice but to be present with it all. The ugly and the divine. The uncertain and the obvious. Like the fact this was not the first time, yet it still felt like it. A shiver ran through your body as Neil’s eyes wandered over your naked torso, tracing the paths his hands had already followed tonight. There was something new in his gaze now, revealed by the faint light in the room and unhidden from view. Yes, hunger was there like you knew it would be, but it was joined by reverence that you did not believe you could inspire. At least not like this. Not unless you were on the stage, doing what you did best. But it was there in his eyes all the same. Undeterred by your disbelief. There was no choice but to step close to him again, letting Neil put his hands on you and satisfy even a little bit of your ache.

Soon, your broken gasps and sighs were all that could be heard as Neil’s thumb rubbed your hardened nipple, and his tongue laved at your other breast. He unravelled you bit by bit until pawning at his shirt was not enough, and you forcefully removed yourself from his all-consuming embrace to tug at the offending article of clothing. His smug grin was an acceptable casualty as you gathered your remaining wits to ask what you wanted from him:

“May I?” for an unknown reason, Neil taking off his shirt was not the same as you doing it for him. No, you didn’t understand either. Still, you were equally pleased when he nodded, letting you fulfil your wish and drop the shirt on the floor with an uncalled-for confession slipping through the gaps in your brain filter, “That’s practically my favourite part” your hungry gaze consumed every inch of his chest as you revealed it.

You could not help it. Truly. Neil was beautiful in that perfectly imperfect way that always drove you crazy. Blissfully unaware of the humour in his gaze, you allowed your eager hands to wander, running them over the plains of his shoulders, through the patch of hair in the centre and down the firm muscles of his abdomen, revelling in the warmth and familiarity of his skin. The only thing that could wake you from the daze was Neil’s question:

“Really? Not me actually inside you?” laughter dripped from his words as Neil barely held back the giggle.

You could hardly blame him. Shrugging off the question while still trying not to burst out into laughter that tickled your throat, you attempted to answer:

“That too, obviously. But I mean… you’re gorgeous” punctuating your compliment with another caress of his firm body, you rose onto your toes to press an experimental kiss on his left pec.

It was merely a shadow of touch, nothing worth the reaction it received in the form of Neil’s groan as he shuddered and pulled you closer with his hands on your waist. There was nothing to do but repeat the motion, littering the planes of his chest with kisses and licks until Neil was reduced to a gasping mess. He did not seem to notice that you had expertly steered him towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you pushed him down to sit. The dazed, gaping look was worth the effort.

You grinned at his dumbfounded expression and less elegantly plopped on his lap, bracketing his thighs with your legs. Despite the frustrating layers of fabric separating you from what you wanted, the new vantage point was still thrilling. Like this, with your heights levelled, you could kiss your path from the corner of his mouth to the slope of his throat, eliciting more of those fascinating sounds and making Neil’s hips bump into yours into what was clearly an involuntary reaction.

Yet when the firmness of his crotch touched the apex of your thighs, you could do nothing but gasp and capture his mouth in a deep kiss. As your tongue tangled with his, the mind free of anything except that raging fire, you found that there was a strange peace to be found in being so close to another. Peace that was not achievable anywhere else.

It was that thought that prompted action, that inspired your hands to reach for his belt buckle. There was only one thing better than this current state. It was what awaited you in the next moment. What was just around the corner, available at the reach of your hand. You could hardly wait any longer.

You made that known when Neil broke another chain of kisses to meet your gaze with a new question in his eyes:

“I need you” there was no need to pretend anymore.

No need to brush off the desire to seem unfazed. Not when your glazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips told a much different story.

Yet, still, Neil appeared unconvinced. He lowered his head slightly to catch your wavering gaze and asked:

“Are you sure?” even within those three words, you could hear his breaking resolve, the threads so close to snapping now that you were in his reach.

The understanding only kindled the fire. Tangling your fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, you pulled slightly to expose his throat for your perusal (and to make Neil whimper), and you placed a lingering kiss on his pulse point, whispering the answer into the crook of his neck.

“Beyond that now” using the natural pause to scrape your teeth over his sensitive skin, hoping to leave a light mark, you raised your head to utter the only word that needed saying now, “Please,” and if the desperation in your voice nearly bordered on embarrassing, then you hoped Neil would not hold it against you.

The world seemed almost suspended in the silence between your plea and his reply. You were almost certain Neil could hear the thundering beat of your heart and the pulse drumming in your ears. Just as you were about to open your mouth and give another frenzied overture that would surely haunt you with shame for days to come, Neil finally broke the silence:

“Well, I can’t say no to that” his signature, devilish smirk was just as welcome as it was outrageous.

His wandering hands restarted their journey up from your hips to undo the button on your jeans and tease the sensitive skin below your waistline. Involuntarily shuddering from something that insignificant, you chose to hide your face in his neck instead of facing that humiliation. By now, his intoxicating scent was a comfort you were not willing to give up all too eagerly. And definitely not now. Not yet.

Unwilling to be all too docile and waiting for his mercy, you decided to convince him further by trailing your hand down the warm, solid planes of his chest and over the undone belt to rest on the firmness of his crotch. As soon as your hand has touched him, Neil gasped and shivered:

“You can’t. Especially when we consider this…” squeezing him lightly, just to push the point forward, you allowed your teeth to scrape against the sensitive skin over his collarbone.

His loud groan was a rewarding answer for your efforts. As was the possessive grip over your hips, nearly leaving bruises in the wake of his touch. A wild grin bloomed on your face, impossible to be stifled yet not unwanted. It tasted like hope and satisfaction, like easing the ache once and for all.

“A low blow,” the chiding in Neil’s voice was countered by the tender kiss he pressed to your temple as he traced the hemline of your panties, driving you closer to madness.

There was no point in dragging this much longer. No purpose in the torture. So, you decided to tell him as much:

“Shut up and just take off your trousers” leaving your hiding place to meet his impassioned gaze, you slid off his lap to kneel on the bed and make the task doable for Neil.

This time, he did not prolong the suffering. Shooting you another cheeky grin, Neil stood up from the bed and started shedding off the layers with only one comment to spare your way:

“As you wish,” once he had dropped the jeans on the floor and straightened up, showing you the entirety of his admirable body. Apart from what interested you the most currently, covered by black boxers and teasing you mercilessly despite you knowing what to expect. But before you could begin to stare at every inch of him, Neil settled his eyes back on you and motioned for you to move with a simple suggestion, “Only you should do the same, darling” arching an eyebrow, he waited for you to get up before tugging off the only remaining article of clothing on his body.

The uncontrolled gasp was an answer you could not take back as your cheeks flooded with warmth, and you had no choice but to hastily take off the trousers and underwear with shaking hands and an unspoken sense of anticipation burning in your veins. Only once your naked body began getting accustomed to the chilled room, you dared raise your head to meet his hungry gaze. You knew it would be there already, devouring

you whole without a single touch of hand. As soon as you met his blue eyes, Neil’s smirk turned almost predatory, with his gaze travelling south down your curves and valleys. Admiration visible there was mixing with lust and adoration, making you shiver with need. On reflex, you allowed your gaze to do the same, tracing familiar pathways over his body till you reached his firm length. The impressive sight never failed to make you even wetter somehow, and as you attempted to squeeze your thighs together in what would be a failed attempt at easing the pressure in your core, Neil seemed to have lost the remains of his composure.

The only apt word of description would be to say that he pounced on you - gracefully and without wasting a second. You could not do as much as blink before Neil’s hands were on your body, sliding hotly over every centimetre of the revealed skin and claiming what was already his to take. You shuddered as his hands cupped your breasts and quickly moved down your stomach to delve between your thighs. With no choice but to latch onto his shoulders, you closed your eyes against the sensation as his dexterous fingers deftly parted your slit, checking just how fucked you were. You knew what he would find, and the resulting groan Neil let out as his fingers spread your arousal and dipped inside was an expected reaction. Still, the lustful sound made you shiver, with your core somehow getting even more wet.

You did not need to check that fact yourself – the flash of surprise in Neil’s eyes was enough. Slowly, too slowly, he began preparing you again, stretching you with his expert fingers and stroking your sensitive walls till you were a panting mess, hanging onto his shoulders to keep yourself from toppling over. Only then, Neil leaned back to study your fevered face, offering brief respite. But you were not given much time, for he must have found what he was looking for as he nodded once, filled with unfamiliar resolution and took your hand in his to lead you back to the bed.

There was no time or sanity left to think as you settled atop the fluffy covers and pulled Neil close, desperate for the weight of his body on yours. Your hips bracketed his, his hard length pressed against your thigh, so close to where you wanted him. But not close enough. Sighing impatiently, you pulled him closer with an arm around his shoulders and a leg thrown over his hip, searching for that buzz of feeling his skin on yours. Your mouth blindly found his, deepening the kiss in an instant and tangling your tongue with his as your hands claimed his body as yours. You raked your nails over his back, selfishly hoping you would leave a mark. It was not a thought you were willing to dwell upon. Now or ever. It was just a fact like the joy of tasting him on your tongue and the calm you felt when you pressed your hand against his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart.

When Neil broke the kiss and met your gaze, you nodded, answering the unasked question and opening your legs even wider to help him push inside in one breathtaking move. Your gasp mixed with his groan as Neil dropped his forehead to rest in the crook of your neck and stilted, his laboured breath fanning your skin. Even despite your near-constant state of arousal for the past hour and the meticulous prep on his side, the stretch still offered a delicious sort of pleasure. You allowed your body to accommodate it, feeling the muscles relax as you cradled Neil closely, breathing in his calming scent. While it should have been terrifying to feel this right joined in the most intimate of embraces with someone who would never belong to you fully, you could not find it within you to care. At least not yet.

It took you another second to brush away the hair from his forehead, drawing his attention to give him another nod, allowing Neil to move. The relief glimmered in his blue eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled back enough so to thrust forward again, rolling his hips in a move that had you moaning within seconds. The sounds you were making had spurred him on, making Neil quickly build a steady tempo. One that you had tried to match as you crossed your legs over his backside, pushing him that little bit deeper. The resulting moan torn out of his throat felt like a victory as you slowly began meeting his thrusts, mirroring his moves to compliment your dance.

You let your hands wander, trailing paths across his broad shoulders and down the chest, feeling the patch of hair underneath your fingertips. Further down, your fingers followed the curve of his narrow waist and latched onto his side, leaving imprints on his tanned skin from the force of your grip. But Neil did not seem to mind as he picked up the pace by a notch and covered your mouth with his in a deep kiss. You did not need to be asked twice to open your mouth underneath his prodding tongue and let him swallow your pathetic whimpers and curses.

With no mind left to think or fear what would come afterwards, you could only feel him. Feel his lips on yours and his tongue plundering the inside of your mouth so that you were sure to taste only him for hours to come. Feel his hard length filling you to the brim, satisfying the ache inside you like no one ever could. See the want and reverence in his eyes always trained on you through every shared moment. You had no choice but to look back and let yourself be seen. Exactly as you were – vulnerable, open, and his to take for however long he would want you.

Terrified of the notion, you tangled your fingers in his hair to pull Neil closer, hoping to drown in him. Hoping he could stop the frightening thoughts and bring you the bliss that seemed just outside your reach. As though aware of your internal crisis, Neil went willingly, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes and released a rush of air against your parted mouth. The coil in your lower stomach tightened as Neil picked up the pace, thrusting into you with a relentless tempo. One that had you whimpering and moaning like a woman possessed. And, in a way, you supposed you were possessed.

There was no other way to explain why you kept torturing yourself with the striking knowledge that something like this would never be possible with anyone else. That only Neil could make you feel that much. Christ. Tightening the hold over his hair (and relishing in the groan bordering on a growl the move elicited), you flung your arm around his shoulders, ensuring no space between your bodies. He was everywhere, filling every sense and atom of your being. And it still did not seem to be enough. Unbidden words rose and died in your throat as you tried to prevent yourself from saying something you could not take back.

Like the confession that he was the only one capable of seeing you for who you were. The only one worth showing yourself to. In fact, the only one who mattered in the whole world. But you could not say that, burdened by the knowledge that this would never last. Neil, a self-anointed hopeless romantic who searched for love, deserved better than this. Better than someone who was not worth much more than a few nights of fun and a couple of mind-blowing orgasms. So, you did not tell him that. You did not speak at all, choosing to let your body follow the motions it was so familiar with.

Until that blazing fire in your veins was almost too much to bear. Until you could not keep looking into his eyes and getting lost in the world you could see there. And the reflected feelings, as confusing as they were. The waves of pleasure kept building in your system, making your inner muscles contract around Neil and elicit his moans as he rested his forehead against yours and lightly bumped his nose into yours. The tenderness of the gesture was nearly your outdoing as you squeezed his bicep to direct his attention to the only thing that mattered now:

“Neil, please, I-” with your brain only capable of piecing together a half-formed plea, you moved your hand to cup his cheek and enforce the meaning.

The affection was not something you could explain if asked. It was just an instinct, a way to show Neil just how good it felt and how much you cared. How desperately you needed to tumble head-on into the bliss you could feel within your reach. Almost there. Except that-

You did not need to tell Neil what you were missing. You did not need to open your eyes to know that he understood. You felt it in the way he deepened the movement, despite his control barely held in place and revealed by the frenzied moans pulled out from his chest. You felt it in how he did not need to be asked to put his hand in between your thighs and start circling your clit in those tight circles that always finished the job. This time was not any different. A string of curses broke through the lewd sounds created by your entwined bodies as you dug your fingernails into his shoulders and felt yourself toe the edge.

Sparks erupted underneath your eyelids as you felt your muscles clench around him in the tell-tale sign that you were coming undone. With the remains of your conscience, you could feel Neil’s rhythm waning and stuttering, confirming the suspicions that he was not far behind you. But before you could try to say something, anything at all, he broke the silence with a simple reassurance:

“I’ve got you” you did not know it would be the trigger before the words were spoken. Afterwards, it made perfect sense, “Let go” the edges of your sanity caught the addition, whispered reverently against your temple, mindless of the sweat and your frazzled hair.

You could only let out a scream as you tumbled into blissful oblivion with his name on your lips and his essence everywhere around and inside you. In every damn way. Later, you could recall that Neil followed you less than a second behind, the warmth of him spilling inside you only adding to the feeling. You could remember how he shivered, his body trembling as it held to your limp frame. The rightness of it all did not fade as you rode out the orgasm, finally able to breathe.

With the awareness slowly returning, you allowed your hand to wander, smoothing the tense muscles of his back and the erratic beat of his heart. You did not open your eyes yet, unwilling to face reality for another precious moment. You knew that once you met his gaze, everything would be over. You would have to move, shake off the impeding awkwardness that always appeared.

So, you kept your eyes closed, listening to Neil’s breath settle as he caressed every inch of your skin within his reach. It was an embrace without a motive or a destination in mind, one that was only initiated because Neil wanted it to be. While complicating your internal resolution to cut this illusion of bliss soon, you had to admit it soothed the parts of your soul that were rarely comforted. And never by anyone that was not Neil.

After another beat, filling him stir as Neil shifted onto his side right next to you, you let out a deep sigh and opened your eyes. At first, you were only brave enough to look at the ceiling, the shadows bathed in moonlight, and the warm bedside lamp painting fascinating pictures to your dazed mind. But you could already feel Neil’s gaze on the side of your head. Wasting even more time could only make everything worse. With another bracing sigh, you turned onto your side to look at him and asked the only question that seemed to make sense:

“Alright?” as the word left your mouth, your eyes scanned his face, searching for the first signs of anything that could reveal his mood before the answer.

But even your gaze, traitorous as it were, got caught on the less important details, like the blush on his cheeks, lips swollen from kisses, and his bruised neck, bearing the evident signs of your zeal.

Before you could try to reign back the focus, Neil replied:

“Yes. Brilliant. I needed that” an awkward chuckle attached itself to the comment as his nervous eyes strayed from your face to stare somewhere at the wall behind your head. Now, you knew how complicated things could get if you did not act fast enough. You did not have to wait long for the crux of the issue to be presented before your shaky hands, “Are we- Is everything okay? Between us, I mean,” his voice shook as Neil stumbled through the question before his eyes met yours again.

Now, with the question out in the open, nothing distracted you from noticing the uncertainty on his face. The furrowed brows and troubled eyes told the story you had foreseen, even if you wished to deny its existence. There was no time to waste in quelling his nerves.

Because as much as you could not shake the feeling that this thing between you would lead to your heartbreak and ruin you for anyone else, you could not hold back from it. There was no point in trying, as the previous weeks had shown.

Gently, you reached out to smooth out the frown between his eyebrows and trailed your finger down the slope of his nose, hoping the affection would do its magic. Neil closed his eyes and nuzzled into your palm, quietly sighing.

“Of course,” brushing your thumb over his cheek, you took a deep breath before voicing what needed to be said and what Neil deserved to hear, “I’m sorry that I was holding back from this the last couple of weeks. I think the whole inversion business fucked me up” while it was an understatement, it was all you felt capable of confessing.

The moment Neil opened his eyes after hearing your admission, you knew it would be enough. The doubt seemed to have cleared, even if it still lingered. You had half the mind to be proud that this once, you had said the right thing. This once, you had not fucked it up. Yet.

“I’d be more concerned if you were fine with it” the corner of his mouth curled into a tiny smile before he breached the small gap between you by putting his arm around your naked waist. You tried not to shiver at the touch (unsuccessfully), “But you could’ve talked to me” his eyes softened as Neil pulled you closer.

The problem was that normally, this would not be allowed with any other hookup. It would be a line you could never cross. Up there with waking up together after a night spent in the same bed. But with Neil, you could not bring yourself to care.

Instead, you greedily soaked up the affection and the gentle touch. You did not deserve it, but that did not mean you were brave enough to admit it.

“I know. I’m sorry” shaking off the sombre thoughts, you hesitantly burrowed yourself into his side and whispered another word of reassurance, “But it’s alright now”.

As the words left your mouth, you began hoping you were right. For however long it lasted. For however long Neil wanted it to last.

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

a lover’s ruse — c.d. [1]

Summary: Your agonizing courtship and Cedric’s need to spite his ex are both ailments that have a very simple cure: a fake relationship, obviously.

⤷ [1] - in which prefect patrols end with a haphazard agreement being reached.

Requested: read the request here

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!gryffindor!reader

Word Count: 3.9K

A/N: I'm so sorry guys. This has been such a long time coming, I'm not sure people are even waiting for this anymore. But this is the first part and I'm thinking of turning it into a full-fledged series. Second part of the fic WILL be out as soon as I'm done exams.

—

The first few dates were bearable enough  — if you squinted hard and counted the silence as a virtue. 

The next few were nothing short of painstakingly harrowing. And that’s being kind.

This one, however? It made you seriously contemplate lunging over the walls of the Astronomy Tower and meeting Death, himself, halfway. Little else could offer greater reprieve, in your mind, from this. 

The setting should’ve been romantic, in theory. The night was still, but not stiflingly so, and the moonlight danced around the top of the Tower teasingly, doing little to illuminate the dark. If he stepped into a crevice where the light didn’t reach his face and you tuned him out just enough, you might even call the view beautiful. But, you soon found out – only a few dates in – no view could be described as such when you have Trevor Selwyn standing next to you.

Trevor Selwyn should’ve been a perfect match, in theory. An avid member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight –  there was little else that could prove more pertinent to families, like yours, with snobby ideals of purity and the measures necessary to maintain it, generation after generation – a Slytherin, an athlete (he doesn’t like mentioning that he’s a substitute player, on his best days), and a prefect. And, as you soon found out – only one date in – he’s also an utter and complete idiot.

So, you should’ve said no, in theory. Kicked and flailed your arms like a petulant child, screamed and wailed and protested when your parents proposed a courtship between the two of you. You should’ve told Trevor himself that he possessed the tact of a Cornish Pixie and the wit of the dimmest of trolls. But, as you soon found out (after the wailing episode) – absolutely zero dates in – Trevor is nothing but persistent and your parents anything but unwavering in their resolve. 

“I’ve met the Minister once,” he remarks out of nowhere as he looks off, off of the edge of the tower with all the regality of an acclaimed emperor. 

You hum in response. You haven’t said a word all night and he hasn’t noticed a thing.

“Granted, I was only two but I recall the Minister telling my father –”

“I think I should head back, actually,” you interrupt before the anecdote can truly begin. There are a few things you’ve learned about Trevor so far but none of them are as glaringly consequential as this: if he starts talking about his father, he won’t be able to stop. Escapades from Uagadou, his adventures in Egypt warding off curses and serpents and the magical scrolls of Machu Picchu –

“Oh,” he furrows his brow as if deep in thought and you almost laugh. That boy has never had a thought in his life. 

“I don’t want to be late for prefect patrols is all,” a faux sweet lilt to your voice doesn’t do much to subdue the frown on his face. 

He nods curtly. “I’ll walk you back.”

Your refusal is automatic. “I think I’ll mana–”

“It’s no problem,” he starts walking towards the stairs and you’re left with no choice but to follow.

On any other occasion, the walk would’ve taken mere minutes. The hallways would’ve been something theatrical, a soft fusion of candlelight and the streaming moonlight at this time of night. With Selwyn by your side, however, the minutes seemed like hours, and the candlelit corridors, usually golden and warm, felt like the dull glow of a waiting room. Your shoulders ached from how stiffly you held herself as each step echoed louder than the last, as if the castle itself was sighing in disappointment and disdain.

“I had an enjoyable time tonight,” Trevor started when you finally reached and you tried your utter best to hide the discomfort when his clammy hand reached for yours. He brought it to his lips and pressed a single kiss on it before you gave him a tight-lipped smile. You expect him to then turn and go, to walk back down to his own common room but he stays standing there, his face blank. 

“Me too,” you smile, in hopes that this was the confirmation he was after. Another lesson you’ve learned about the boy has been this: nothing else pleases him as much as validation does. 

He gives some semblance of a smile back. You blink. The next thing you know he has started to lean in and his eyes are fluttering shut and his slightly puckered lips are mere inches from yours now and the ridiculousness of it all proves too much to bear – you guffaw in the most obnoxious way possible. A mixture of anger and hurt crosses his face before he retreats and you’re unsure of how to recover.

“I’m so sorry,” you cover your mouth and try to stop the laughter. “I– I just thought of a funny joke. I’m so–”

“Fix your hair, would you? It looked atrocious today,” he quips quickly to gain control of the situation back. The last thing you’ve learned about the enigma that Selwyn is is this: his superiority cannot be challenged. If it is, he will try to establish it again – by insulting you in the most seemingly hurtful manner. 

It doesn’t quite have the desired effect. You snort at his attempt and suddenly the laughter has returned. He exhales once out of his nose as he turns to go but not before calling out, “I will pick you up at the same time tomorrow night. Don’t be late.” 

The laughter dwindles at the thought of enduring this again. “I’m busy tomorrow!” 

“Don’t be late,” he calls again. 

“Charming,” you hear someone call from behind you and you can tell who it is without having to turn and look at his annoyingly perfect face. His clever quips usually carry the extraordinary ability to irk you to no end but after the night you’ve had, they seem especially akin to knives on a chalkboard. 

You can picture Cedric Diggory’s earnest yet irritating smile he seems to wear at all times, the kind that makes his honey-coloured eyes crinkle in the slightest way at the edges with no difficulty. You can picture his perfectly ironed robes, clad with pins and awards he has won over the years and his hair that falls in place like dominoes. There’s only ever one way to describe him: pristine. Always. 

Though you’d never cared much to exalt him to the status of an academic rival, it’d be foolish to call him anything else. He had a way about him that reeked of complete and utter competence at everything, which indubitably invited a certain degree of resentment from everyone. You were no exception.

And not only did the universe seem keen on making an already-horrible night worse by scheduling him as your prefect patrols partner tonight, it also seemed quite keen on wanting to humiliate you in front of him. 

“The gossip that you are, Diggory,” you huff with biting sarcasm as you finally turn to face him. “Using your patrols as a way to spy on unsuspecting young lovers. Classy.” The break of his grin is almost blinding and you have to avert your gaze to avoid damage to your visual field.

“Nothing else entertains me these days as much as your courtship, I’m afraid,” he jests, slipping an easy hand into his pocket. “If you need more time together, I understand. I’m perfectly capable of completing the patrols on my own tonight.”

With your face aflame, you shoot him a look and begrudgingly start walking beside him, arms crossed tightly over your chest like a shield and footsteps hitting stone a bit too sharply. 

“How kind of you.” You say curtly and make it a point to walk a few steps ahead of him. He doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by it: he follows a few steps behind you, but the smugness radiating off of him envelops you nonetheless. 

“You can laugh, you know,” you say again after a moment of silence. You have long-since learned that the best way to avoid embarrassment is to submit to it. You’ve been courting Selwyn long enough to know it – sheepish smiles exchanged with classmates when he pecks you on the cheek in the hallways, mortified but apologetic grimaces whenever he tries to clasp your hand in his as he walks you to your common room after supper. Judgment – if it must be served – is best served plainly. Overtly. 

He shakes his head in amusement as he finally catches up and walks in step with you. “Now, why would I laugh? That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“That was humiliating,” you mutter under your breath before you can stop yourself. 

Cedric’s amused smile wavers as he glances at you with something you hope isn’t sympathy. And as much as you hate to say it, it wouldn’t be something you would put above him – for all the determined rebuttals and rivalries in class, Cedric has only ever been infuriatingly kind. “I think Selwyn might be a tad bit more humiliated than you, [Y/L/N].”

“Good. If he ever tries to kiss me again, I might hex him into oblivion and end up as a headline in the Daily Prophet.” 

His amusement returns and you’re glad. You’re not sure how to interact with him beyond the usual teasing remarks. “Would it be in bad taste to say that I'd quite want to see that?” His smile only grows when you roll your eyes. “Will you be doing that tomorrow night then? Shall I call the reporters?” 

You make a face. “You won’t be grinning that wide when I send a dementor after you from Azkaban, Diggory.”

“Send one after Selwyn. He’s in need of a good kiss.”

Your lips twitch at the joke and Cedric notices the slight movement. You press them together before a full-fledged smile can appear on your face and Cedric revels in it. “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I’m sure Selwyn’s funnier,” Cedric teases. 

“Still not funny.” You take a few quicker steps to walk in front of him again, having had enough of his teasing for the night. 

He catches up again and has no particular difficulties keeping up, no matter how much you try to hasten your steps. “Forgive me for prying –”

“I won’t.”

“But, why Selwyn?” The question’s sincerity catches you off-guard.

“What?”

“I just mean – I find it hard to believe that you’re… devoid of options. So…why him?” He picks his words carefully, as if he’s weighing them in his mouth before letting them fall out. And perhaps it was due to the late hour or the undeniable warmth that Cedric’s eyes perpetually hold, but you actually considered giving him a sincere answer. 

“He’s–” you pause as you vow to yourself this would be the last display of vulnerability Cedric would be getting from you tonight. Your voice drops despite yourself, and you find your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Something about Cedric’s quiet attention makes the truth feel heavier than usual. “He’s my parents’ choice. They want me to graduate with a prospect secured.”

His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “If a courtship is what you’re after, I’m sure you’d find better prospects in – pardon my bluntness – anyone else.” His teasing cadence has dropped altogether now and you wrinkle your own eyebrows in confusion as you consider the notion that Cedric might actually be trying to help you. 

“It doesn’t matter who–” you pause again. “I don’t plan on marrying him, Cedric.”

Cedric frowns. 

You go on, “I’m only ‘courting’ him until graduation to subdue my parents. I won’t marry him so it doesn’t matter who it is.” You squirm in guilt as Cedric stays frowning. “And I realize it’s cruel to string him along – I do – I just – I don’t know what else to do.” 

Cedric nods after a while – a slow, courteous nod that indicates he understands but wholly disagrees with whatever you’re saying. It’s a nod you’ve seen from him when he proposes a rebuttal to whatever alternate answer you’ve proposed in class, an alternate solution to a problem and admittedly, a much more pragmatic one.  He opens his mouth to voice it before the sound of giggles fill the empty hallways from around the corner.

You both exchange a prefectly look with each other, acknowledging the obvious student out of bed, awaiting a scolding for being out past curfew. Before you two can approach to see who it is, they turn the corner themselves.

“Evelyn,” Cedric breathes out in surprise as your gaze lands on the familiar brunette-haired girl in your year, her hands firmly clasped in Damien Avery’s, matching love-sick grins plastered on both faces and lipstick stains on the latter’s neck. With their hair dishevelled and robes askew, they blink in stunned silence.

You purse your lips as you look between the two, realization cresting at once. Though Cedric’s dating life was never a particular topic of interest, you immediately recognized the girl as his girlfriend, Evelyn Waters. 

Well, ex-girlfriend as of two weeks ago. 

“Ced,” his name falls from her smudged, lipstick-stained mouth softly, her eyes widening slightly. She hastily straightens out her robe and runs a hand through her hair. “I–”

Cedric clears his throat awkwardly as he shoots Avery a lingering glare. “It’s an hour past curfew–” He manages to get out, his voice unbelievably even. He keeps his eyes on Avery, not sparing Evelyn another glance. 

“I’m a prefect, Diggory. I think we’re fine,” Avery dismisses, stepping around him. He tugs at Evelyn’s hand.

Cedric steps in front of him again, towering over the shorter boy with ease. “Forty points from Slytherin,” he says simply, his eyes uncharacteristically stoic.

Avery scoffs and looks at Cedric in disbelief. “Yeah?” He sneers. “Are you going to take another forty for theft?” 

Cedric exhales heavily through his nose at the implication. The night air has suddenly chilled and the tension is so thick, it makes it hard to breathe.

“You know… considering…everything.” Avery smirks, gesturing subtly to Evelyn’s hand he still has clasped within his own. Evelyn watches the exchange silently.

“Considering everything, Avery,” you finally find your voice in the uncomfortable silence and step forward. “I’ll be taking another hundred points away from Slytherin for your misuse of prefect privileges. Expect to hear from Professor Snape tomorrow when I formally file a complaint.”

Avery turns to you, his goblin-green eyes staring into yours for a minute before he narrows them. “This isn’t your fight, [Y/L/N]. Stay out of it.”

“I think you,” you jab a hard finger at his chest, pushing him away slightly, “should stay out of the hallways after curfew. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” You grab Cedric’s arm and tear him away from the pair. 

He doesn’t protest when you begin to lead him down a random set of stairs to get away from the scene of the stiff confrontation. Cedric walks a few steps behind you wordlessly as you chance periodic glances to make sure he’s still following. After a few moments, you slow your gait so he can catch up with you.

“Hey,” you jostle him out of his thoughts which seemed to have permanently etched a furrow in his brows as he shuffled his feet across the stone floor.

He sighs, running a quick hand over his face and then stuffing it back into his pocket. “You didn’t have to enjoy that quite so much.”

You frown. “Enjoy what?”

“Do you not normally enjoy my humiliation?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice, but the humour stops short of his eyes. You can tell his mind is still stuck elsewhere, replaying that scene over and over. 

“I’m not a sadist like you,” you quip. 

He offers you a quick smile as if to confirm receipt of your well-intentioned humour, but doesn’t say much else. You walk in uneasy silence once again. 

“She’s an idiot,” you say finally. “Just– for the record.”

“Hm.” He smiles wryly again but his eyes hold a heaviness that you don’t like. You can tell the breakup took a greater toll on him than he has let on the past few weeks. And you’re not exactly sure why that weighs down on your heart.

“Seriously, Diggory,” you sigh. “She’s an idiot for breaking up with you and she’s an idiot for getting with Avery.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Yeah.” 

The heaviness still hung in the air despite your attempts at trying to provide Cedric an outlet to let out his frustration. You scoff internally at his staunch unwillingness to talk ill of anyone – not even his ex-girlfriend who moved on from him in a blink of an eye. You think again of Cedric’s genuine interest in your ‘Selwynian’ plight. You sigh once before shaking your head. Were you really about to help Cedric Diggory?

“You know what? You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Acting like it doesn’t bother you,” you hit him lightly on the arm. “It bothers you, right?”

He holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Suppose it does.” He admits quietly.

“Do you want her back?” 

He frowns at the question. “What–”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes out after a while and looks away, as if embarrassed at the confession. You can tell he’s fidgeting with his pockets nervously. 

“Then, make her jealous,” you say. “I saw how she was looking at you. She knows she made a mistake. But she won’t admit it because that’s not how it works. Make her jealous and she’ll have to admit it. It’ll get it out of her.”

He looks at you in amusement. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to help me or sabotage me.”

You scoff. “Accept the generosity before I change my mind.”

He shakes his head with a bitter smile, clicking his tongue against his teeth quietly. “That won’t work, anyway.”

“It will,” you assert. “Trust me, Diggory. It will.” 

He shakes his head again. “I don’t even know how to–”

“Date someone else,” you supply easily.

“I don’t like anyone else.”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “No shit. We already established that you still like Evelyn.”

“So, I ask out a girl I’m not actually interested in?” He asks in disbelief, discomfort evident on his face. 

“Yeah,” you shrug. 

He frowns and pauses, glancing at you with confusion. “That’s cruel beyond belief, [Y/L/N].”

His admonition makes you pause, too. The familiarity of the proposal strikes you at once. It was exactly what you were doing – stringing along a clueless Selwyn until graduation and then breaking his heart without a second thought. The cruelty of it all had always been a nagging thought – but its noise had been distant and dull. It was now ringing in your ears however, your skewed perception of morality hitting you at once.

“It’s not– cruel.” You try to tell yourself, more than him. “It–”

“It’s heartless,” he says again, matter-of-factly. “This, and what you’re doing to Selwyn, by the way.” 

You sigh at his moral policing. You knew he was right, but Selwyn was a problem for another night. 

“Fine,” you relent. “How about a girl who agrees to be your fake girlfriend?” 

He scoffs lightly. “If that were so easy to find, wouldn’t you have gotten a fake boyfriend already?”

You both stop walking at the same time, your footsteps coming to a screeching halt simultaneously. It was almost as if Cedric’s words had materialized and turned into physical roadblocks. His gaze slowly turns to you, honey-brown eyes landing on yours, but you’re already watching him in stunned realization. 

“[Y/L/N] –” he begins thoughtfully.

“No. No. Absolutely not.” That look in his eyes — the one like he’s already decided. Like he’s already seen this through to the end. It makes you nervous in a way you can’t name. You start walking ahead of him rather quickly but he catches up to you with no difficulty once again. His long strides match your pace perfectly.

“This was your idea–” He tries to reason again, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing off the walls as he chases after you with a walking stride.

“My idea– was not for us to do that–” you huff out as you keep up the pace, unrelenting.

He finally catches up to you and reaches for your arm, his hand closing gently around your elbow. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting your steps more effectively than his words ever could. “It makes sense.”

You blink, momentarily thrown. “No–” 

“You won’t have to be needlessly cruel just to keep a prospect around–”

“Cedric.”

“And I won’t have to heartlessly pretend to like a girl who doesn’t know I’m pretending,” his hands find your shoulders. “It makes sense. You know it does.”

“I won’t–”

“And no more nightly dates with Selwyn,” he interrupts. “No more dodging his kisses.” 

That finally shuts you up. You shake your head though you can’t find the words to protest anymore. Cedric decides to sweeten the deal further.

“No life sentence in Azkaban, either.”

“Shut up.”

His lips tug upwards slightly and your eyes can’t help but catch on the movement. You let your eyes roam over his face — annoyingly symmetrical, irritatingly warm — and suddenly it hits you how easy it would be to fall into this lie. How dangerously tempting it is to pretend.

“No one would even believe it,” you say weakly. “We hate each other.”

“You mean you hate me?” He smiles dryly. “Because I don’t recall ever hating you.”

You avert your eyes before you start tracing his smile lines again with your gaze. “I just mean– we’re always at each other’s throats.” 

“That makes it more believable, don’t you think?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes. “It’s a bad idea–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before a familiar owl flies overhead and perches itself on the ledge next to you, clutching a letter. It doesn’t take long for you to realize who it’s from – the intricate green envelope and Selwyn family crest catching your eye immediately.

Cedric raises an eyebrow as he holds back a smirk. You grumble under your breath before plucking the letter from the owl begrudgingly. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He questions as he stifles a smile.

“No,” you huff in annoyance. “He … sends these every night. A ‘goodnight poem’, he calls them.”

Cedric doesn’t say anything, his grin already revealing he knows what your next words will be. 

You glance at the letter again — Selwyn’s cursive looping like a snake about to bite. What were you even doing?

You sigh, knowing exactly what this meant. “Fine. Let’s do it.” You cast the ignition spell, watching the green wax seal curl into smoke. “Let’s date.”

He blinks. “Wait — really?”

 “Don’t make me change my mind.”

 His grin returns, slow and lopsided. “Pretend to date,” he corrects.

“What?”

“We’re pretending,” he says cheekily, your cheeks aflame at his teasing cadence. "Don’t fall in love with me, [Y/L/N].”  

With a determined roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel. “As if, Diggory.”

Second part coming soon!

[queenbrucewayne]

You’re Not Me

A/n: I don’t think this is necessarily personality accurate for Bruce, but I had the idea in my head for awhile.

Bruce could see Alfred out of the corner of his eye. He had been standing there staring for 5 minutes, not saying a single word. Bruce had a feeling it was about Y/n, especially since Alfred was giving him a stern look.

“Are you going to say something?” Bruce finally spoke up.

“She’s been cooking all day.” Alfred said.

“And?” He questioned.

Alfred sighed, walking closer to be right behind him now. “She’s been stress cooking sir. Not normal cooking.”

Bruce already knew what he was talking about. He hasn’t seen her since last night, and she had been avoiding him too.

“Something I need to become aware about master Bruce? Something happen last night perhaps?” Alfred said it like he already knew the answer. Which maybe he did, but he didn’t know the full story.

“Last night didn’t go as planned… and well we didn’t really discuss much more of it.” He was being vague, and Alfred hated that. “She just needs space…”

Suddenly Bruce felt a hard smack on the back of his head. “Hey!” He protested.

Alfred just looked at him disapprovingly. “Space, is the last thing she needs, and I advise you go upstairs and talk this out before she continues to run through everything in the kitchen.”

Bruce sighed, he knew Alfred was right. This couldn’t wait.. Standing up, he loosened his tie and undid a couple of buttons. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Alfred nodded, taking his blazer from him as he proceeded to walk upstairs. Turning back around to face him, Bruce smiled knowingly. “Do you always have to smack me when something happens with her and I?”

Alfred grinned proudly. “I only smack you for her.”

Bruce nodded, proceeding to go upstairs. When he got to the main hallway he could already hear noises coming from the kitchen.

Stopping at the arch doorway, he leaned against it as he watched her.

Her back was to him, and she was very loudly chopping carrots. Looking around the rest of the kitchen, he noticed a few other dishes were on the counter, probably from her. When Alfred said she was cooking all day, he meant literally…

“Hey.” He finally made himself known.

Suddenly she stopped chopping and stood there for a moment. Turning her head slightly to the side to take notice of him, she quickly went back to chopping.

Bruce frowned, he had a guess as to why she might be upset from last night, but normally if she was mad at him, she would just tell him why, not avoid him completely…

The only time she was avoidant is if she thought he was upset with her, although he couldn’t really think of a reason why she would think that.

The mission last night didn’t go as planned, in fact it went off the rails pretty quickly. Robin was put in a bad situation and the assailant they were dealing with had him pinned.

There was a moment, even for a split second that both of them thought they wouldn’t have a way to get him out. A short moment in time that both of them looked at each other, wondering if ether had a plan, if ether was going to make a move. Then just for a moment Bruce saw it, he saw it in her eyes… she wanted to do it.

She was willing to break his one rule, the one rule he kept by for so long. She was willing to do it… and he knew she would.

Before anything could happen, an opportunity opened up for Robin. He quickly got out, and Bruce took over the situation and put everything to an end.

The car ride home was silent, both him and Robin sensed the tension coming from her. He tried to crack a few jokes here and there and even asked for help with his homework. He never needed help with his homework…

Once arriving to the Batcave and getting everything patched up. Y/n had given a kiss to Robins forehead, and headed straight upstairs.

Both of them looked at each other, it didn’t seem ether of them had a clue what was going on with her. Even though Robin remarked it was probably Bruce’s fault.

Now here they were in the kitchen alone, she was chopping and he was watching….

Bruce walked over to her side, taking a quick glance at all the food on the table. “You cooked.”

“Yes.” She responded, still chopping.

“You cooked a lot.” He kept going.

“I did.” She stated.

“Why?”

Suddenly she stopped chopping and set down the knife with a light smack, but not letting it go from her grip.

“Is there something wrong with me being in the kitchen?” She turned to face him.

“No, but all day-“ Bruce stopped himself when she just scoffed at him and turned back around to continue chopping.

“I haven’t been here all day. I cooked breakfast, then I went to the garden, then I made lunch, and a snack, and now I’m making dinner.” She proceeded to move the chopped onions to one of the pots on the stove, stirring it together.

“What time did you start this morning?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know, maybe around 9AM.” She guessed.

“And what time is it now?” He continued.

“8PM.”

“Midnight…” Bruce corrected.

She suddenly stopped stirring to look at him. “What?”

“It’s midnight Y/n, you’ve been in here for hours. Alfred got worried.” He looked at her closely. Her eyes were dark underneath, and it looked like she hadn’t even changed out of her night wear. “Is this about last night?”

Y/n eyes widened, she quickly turned back around to hide her face. “Why would you bring up last night?”

“It’s obviously bothering you…” He stated.

“And it’s not bothering you?” She questioned.

Bruce was confused even more now. “Should it?”

Y/n sighed, she stopped stirring, leaning up against the counter she crossed her arms. “You didn’t say anything about last night.”

“Neither did you.” He quickly replied.

She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing this wasn’t gonna be easy to bring up again. “Do you want me to say it?”

He looked at her questioningly, he wasn’t trying to make this hard for her, but right now he needed her to be blunt with him since nothing was clicking for him.

When he didn’t respond, she shifted back and forth in place. “I was gonna do it Bruce- I would’ve done it.”

“Done it?”

“Broke your one rule… THE rule.” She turned back around, taking her index finger she slowly started moving the spoon she was stirring with previously.

Bruce finally understood now, it was clear she thought he was upset with her. Especially if he hadn’t discussed what happened about Robin yesterday. She must have thought he was disappointed in her…

“Y/n-“

“I wanted to…ya know.” She muttered. “I wanted to do it. If it meant he would be alive, if he got to live, I would’ve picked our son over him. I wouldn’t have even hesitated…”

Bruce didn’t say anything. She sounded defeated, as if he was going against her the whole time, and she was tired of it.

“I’m not you… I can’t be you, I can’t find it in myself to be as good as you to not cross that line… in that moment, when I saw that there might not have been a way out, I was going to do it, I was going to kill him…I wanted to kill him..” Y/n didn’t look at him, she couldn’t, it was too hard to imagine the face he was probably making.

Y/n stopped messing with the spoon. She turned back around, but she didn’t dare look up at him, she just kept her gaze to the floor. She glanced down at the wedding ring on her finger, messing with it nervously. “You probably didn’t think you were gonna be married to someone who would disappoint you when it came down to it.” She quietly whispered.

Suddenly Bruce grabbed her left hand, swiftly pulling it towards him right next to his face to be held up.

The quick motion almost made her lose her balance, but he used his other hand to steady her by her waist. When she looked up at him, his expression was hard, he looked angry, but not furious… more like a sad angry.

“Do you actually think I married you because you were like me?” Bruce gritted his teeth, seeming to get more frustrated.

“But-“ Y/n stammered for a moment, but he continued.

“That I married you because you follow what I do? That you would obey me? I wasn’t trying to marry myself- I wasn’t- damn it Y/n…” He struggled for a moment. Taking a deep breathe, he closed his eyes for few seconds.

When he opened them, he took the hand that was holding hers and brought it to rest against his cheek. Instinctively, Y/n started to rub her thumb against his cheekbone. He hummed at the gesture.

“I know you would’ve done whatever it took to protect him.” Bruce said.

She shook her head, just about to pull her hand away, but he gripped it firmly to keep it in place.

“Whatever. It. Took.” He said each word slowly and stern.

He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “Just like I make the choice you can’t, you make the choice I can’t… I married you for so many reasons, but not one of those reasons was because I thought you would be exactly like me, that you would ever disappoint me…”

Bruce wiped a few stray tears that had fallen down her face, leaning down he brought his lips to hers, feeling some of those tears hit his mouth.

He felt himself relax when she started to kiss him back, bringing his hand that was holding hers down to her waist. He lifted her up gently so she was now sitting on the counter top, her legs instantly wrapped around his waist to pull him closer.

Still while kissing her he reached over to turn off the stove. Quickly bringing that hand back to her face, he stroked her cheek in a circular motion. His other hand was gripped on her thigh moving up and down. When he stopped it in place and gripped it he heard a moan escape her. He smirked, moving his kiss down to her neck now.

“You know for as many rooms as this mansion has, why is it always in the kitchen?”

Suddenly both of you jumped, pulling away quickly as you both turned to see Alfred standing in the archway with a disapproving look.

Y/n looked anywhere but at Alfred, while Bruce just smiled proudly. “Sorry.” He said. Although his tone didn’t sound sorry.

Pulling back from her, Bruce held his hand out to help her off the counter. Then proceeding to interlock her fingers with his, he started to pull her behind him away from the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Y/n quickly asked.

“Alfred is right, we have plenty of rooms in this mansion, so let’s go find one..” He glanced behind her smiling.

Laughing on the way out, Alfred shook his head, but couldn’t help the small grin on his face when he went to finish dinner…

Tags

@christianbalefanatic

[billysgun]

woven

edward cullen x fem!reader |edward sneaks into your bedroom like always. but this time, you ask him to hold you|

your body is tense as you curl around your woven sheets, the sudden cool air settling in the room as the corner of your mattress dips

you feel his heavy hand trace over your leg and you couldn't help the smile that was pulled from your lips

you turn over to see him and his golden eyes seem to soften as your arms open wide for him

"come and hold me, please"

he nods and you notice how his chest stops moving as he moves on top of the blanket, pulling your warm body to his cold one

you dig your nose into the sheets as his hands reaches over your body to hold yours, thumb brushing against your palm softly, putting you into a trance

the wind that drifts from the open window isn't nearly as cold as your boyfriend, but the goosebumps that lay upon your skin tingle with each stroke from him, igniting your insides from his love.

your body goes limp and your eyes roll back as sleep completely takes you, as relaxed as can be while he watches you fondly.

an: hehe trying something new. tell me if you guys like it! I'm still posting billy content don't worry!

[soulofapatrick]

I Like Your Mind - Edward Cullen x female reader

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

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have me.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

[boypied]

we can't be friends (wait for your love)

[short fic] bruce wayne x male reader

summary: while you go over to wayne manor for a late night "booty-call," you decide to confess that you want more in this backwards and forward relationship, but bruce isn't sure if he is ready for a real commitment.

wc: 500+

notes: MDNI, FDNI, arguing.

You wait outside of Wayne Manor in the pouring rain, feeling your body get drenched. Your eyes linger upwards to the glow from a window high up at Wayne Manor. You've been here so many times you know exactly what room that glow is coming from... Bruce's room. You ring the buzzer again, and still no answer. Your frustration was going to be the death of you, "B-BRUCE!" You shout out, hoping he'll hear you, but it is extremely likely that he won't hear you. You cross your arms over as your t-shirt clings to your body. You're about to walk away until you hear an older gentleman's voice echo out of the speaker keypad. "Sorry about the wait... Come in," he says in a soft, gentle voice and hearing that you immediately know that it's Alfred. He always liked you. You watch as the large metal gate opens up and allows you in.

You continue walking through the courtyard, and your eyes watch as the rain hits the floor and practically bounces off the floor. You swiftly make your way across the courtyard and up to the front door where you push it open, feeling the warmth of his home surround your soaked body. "Bruce?" You call out with slight annoyance in your tone as you hear no reply other than your echo. Your eyes wander around the foyer until they stop and focus on Bruce as he slowly walks down the stairs, "Hey baby boy." he coos out as he steps down, your eyes once filled with love and lust now filled with annoyance and rage.

"What the hell was that, Bruce?" You mumble out as your voice shakes. Bruce's eyes stare at you with confusion. "What do you mean?" He grunts out in his regular low voice, not entirely understanding what happened or why you're annoyed. "You call me over to fuck and then you leave me outside!" You grunt out in anger, "why would you do that?!" As you continue talking your voice becomes louder and louder until you just stop realising that you need to calm down. "Let's just go upstairs.." Bruce says to you as he tries taking your hand, but you pull away. "We aren't gonna fuck...okay!" You say to him sternly as you step back slightly separating the distance between the both of you, your feet squelch ever so slightly. "Bruce...we can't just keep fucking and have that be it." You say as you rub your eyes trying to stop the tears from running out of your eyes.

"If we aren't going to become anything, then I don't want to see you anymore.." You blurt out to him, causing his eyes to widen and for him to become startled, "w-wait!" Bruce practically whimpers out as he steps closer to you, closing the distance that you created. You step back away from him, going closer to the door. "You only ever call me round... for sex Bruce. When you're ready for something real, call me." You mumble out as tears begin to stream down your face as you step out of Wanyne Manor for the final time before leaving for good. You hear Bruce call out after you, but you ignore him and continue walking in the pouring rain just like you were moments prior except this time you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

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