Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Summary: Bruce learns some things from living with a woman for the first time.

Notes: talks about periods, so it is an afab reader. Fluff, slight NSFW, teeny bit of angst and brief mention of violence. This is post Dick, pre Jason because I like that age range for Bruce. But Dick doesn't actually make an appearance. Just making fun of Bruce and his rich bachelor boy ways. Bruce drinks his respect women juice every morning for breakfast.

Masterlist

Bruce, for all his worldly experience, has never lived with a woman. Sure, he's brought plenty of them home for a night, probably even vacationed with them, but that's different. Any woman could tell you that it's different. Any person who's lived with a woman could tell you that. But Bruce didn't know that, because he's never lived with a woman before.

This thought had never occurred to you until now. Why would it? You're not oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich playboy. You know he's experienced when it comes to women - in other realms. Not to mention he's also a father, there being plenty of unique situations that go along with that title. You know he's lived with wealth, you also know he's lived in the desert and most likely a multitude of other foreign places he hasn't told you about yet. Which is why you're staring at him blank faced right now. Because due to all of this, not once had it crossed your mind that one situation Bruce Wayne was not experienced in, was living with women. Such a simple, mundane thing that you had to laugh.

"What?" Bruce is giving you an adorable offended look, which only makes you snicker more. Clearly, his inexperience in this field is something that never crossed his mind either.

"Nothing," you soothe, "it's just, well, it's part of living with a woman, Bruce. We have a lot of hair. Have you ever owned a dog?"

"You're making fun of me, I can tell." His voice is serious but his eyebrows are raised playfully.

"No! I'm just warning you now, so that you aren't alarmed when you start finding it in your ass crack."

Bruce laughs out loud and turns away, leaving you to your business.

"I know how much you appreciate being prepared," you call after him. You can hear that he's still chuckling to himself.

"You are right about that," he replies. "And now I definitely am, thank you."

You smile to yourself, still laughing, and go back to what you were doing before Bruce came in and started questioning you. You're sitting on the floor next to the shower, pulling hair out of the drain. Judging by his concerned and slightly disgusted face when he walked in, Bruce did not in a million years expect to see his partner pulling a wad of hair and gunk out of his shower.

"Why don't you ask Alfred to pour something down and clear it out?"

"Do you see how thick this is?" You held up a chunk of hair. Bruce winced. "It's not going to dissolve that easily. Besides, I wanna take a shower now. It's clogging up the drain and I don't wanna stand in a lake."

"That's what's been clogging the drain? I thought there was a problem with the plumbing," the disgust is renewed on his face.

"You didn't think to look?"

"Why would I? I was just going to call someone to fix it."

"Oh my god."

That's when realization dawned on you. Bruce didn't have sisters, he's never had a serious girlfriend before you, he hasn't even lived with his mom since he was eight. It's been him, Alfred, and Dick. In fact, now that you think about it, both Alfred and Dick have lived longer with a woman than Bruce. The idea that a wad of girl hair could truly catch Batman off guard and also bring a look of revulsion to his face admittedly delighted you. What else could you surprise him with?

...

"What is this?" Bruce's voice reaches you from the bedroom. You're in the closet, deciding what to wear for the day.

"What is what?" You call back.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him approach and lean against the door frame. He's smirking - usually a bad sign. Bruce holds up a notebook. It's your period tracking journal. You tell him as much.

"I can see that," he continues, "but what is this." He holds the book open and points to a specific entry. Your face reddens and you snatch the book away from him.

"Have you ever heard of privacy?"

But his smirk only grows into a full grin. "You log our sex?"

"You're supposed to," you defend. "I log almost all of my activity, Bruce. It's for accuracy."

"Ohhh, accuracy. Okay." He walks towards you. "Don't worry, I know all about the scientific method. For accuracy, I'm sure you also must detail exactly which positions we used, how long it lasted, results-"

"Oh my god, stop!"

He laughs, enjoying himself way too much as he tries to grab the journal back from you.

"Do you also track satisfaction?"

You stumble towards the bed and Bruce encourages your fall by pushing you on your back and leaning over you.

"No, I don't do any of that," you pointedly say.

He frowns. "What's the point of a scientific study if no one reads your results to learn from them?"

You roll your eyes. Nevermind, you think, you don't like Bruce finding out about your womanly habits. "You're a child," you say.

Bruce smirks and kisses you. "Care to add an entry?"

...

Thud.

"Who taught you how to do that?" Bruce grunts, lying on the mat and looking up at you, confusion lacing his expression. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also notice a hint of awe, but you don’t want to get too full of yourself.

He dragged you to the cave, insisting on the importance of knowing some basic self defense. "Gotham is a dangerous city, Y/n. Especially for women." You threw him to the ground.

Of course, he'd been going easy on you to let you do such a thing, but the fact that you even knew the action is what surprised him.

"I've taken self defense classes before, Bruce" you say, giving him a hand back up.

"Why didn't I know that?" He sounds offended.

You laugh. "I don't know. I just forget to tell you, I guess."

That excuse doesn't seem to satisfy him.

"When you were a kid?"

"No, as an adult."

"What made you do that?"

You could roll your eyes at his seemingly oblivious question, but there's clearly concern in his voice.

"Just like you said, I'm a woman living in Gotham. And before I met you, I was living alone. Not that Gotham is particularly safe for anybody. But a lot of women take self defense classes, no matter where they live."

"Oh. Of course."

You were right about the concern. His demeanor shifts to something you might call disappointment. Disappointment in humanity, not you.

"Trust me, Bruce. I'm well aware of the problem. I was raised to be aware."

"I should've- " He stops mid sentence, not sure what to say. You can tell he's beating himself up for assuming you didn't already know the dangers to your own sex.

"Thank you," you stop him before he makes himself too guilty, "for the concern. I appreciate it. But... since I've already done this," you gesture to the mat, "does that mean I can go back to my book now?" You add hopefully.

"No. It just means you're more advanced than I thought. We'll start with something harder."

You scowl. You should've known better.

...

A feeling of endearment washes over you, as you read the Daily Gotham article on your phone. No, it's more than just endearment. It's infatuation. Your heart swells with pride. That's my man, you think.

Curled on the couch, you came across an article on "Bruce Wayne's latest political statement." Commenting on politics isn't something you know Bruce to be interested in. So out of curiosity, you click on it. Turns out, a reporter had caught him alone and asked for his opinion of the latest candidate running for mayor. Bruce was not shy to share what he thought of the sexist old creep.

You mocked a gag at the reporter’s gross question.

The article continued to quote Bruce's disdain for all the other ways the new candidate had mistreated women.

"What are you smiling at?" Bruce appeared in front of you, startling you, as he was known to do. Damn him. But you just smiled more and closed your phone.

"Nothing. Come here."

Without hesitation, he sat next to you and pulled you closer to himself. Easily snuggling into his side, you planted a kiss on his jaw.

"I just love you. You're a good person," you said.

He might've been confused, but he certainly wasn't going to question it.

"I love you too."

𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 716 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

Game Night was hosted every third Friday of the month. Cramped in the new tiny apartment, 7 friends and their significant others wound up on my shitty couch shouting nonsense at each other.

The living room consisted of the old couch, my TV on top of a cardboard box I hadn't quite unpacked yet, and numerous card games.

Holding the slip in my hand, I eye the timer in front of me on the makeshift coffee table My eyes scanned the paper quickly before jumping up and snapping my fingers, "Okay okay, it's born in the water but moves onto land when older."

My friends stare at me dumbfounded, their minds elsewhere as I furrow my brows and tap my feet numerous times. "Come on guys, it's what a tadpole turns into when it's older!" I'm practically yelling now, eyes darting between my friends sitting down and the tiny timer on the table.

"A baby turtle?"

"Andddd time"

I groan in annoyance, dropping the slip of paper while walking back to the spot on the couch, and plopping down with a huff.

"A baby turtle? Seriously?' I scoff, rolling my eyes at my friends who couldn't contain their laughter at my obvious annoyance.

"Okay I'll go nex-", My friend Abby was cut short by a knock on the door. It wasn't necessarily a pound, but it definitely made all of us go silent.

We all look at each other quickly, almost mentally counting everyone to make sure it wasn't an expected visitor.

I slide off the couch, my eyebrows raised for a moment before I walk towards the door. Standing on my tiptoes, I look through the peephole to see my next-door neighbor, Lucas, standing there with an annoyed expression painted on his face. I sigh and unlock the door, poking my head out with a smile.

"Are we too loud?", I ask with innocent eyes, my bottom lip tugged into my teeth as I speak quietly. Lucas gave a friendly smile, his eyebags hidden behind his eyeglasses as he turned to point at his door, "I know it's a Friday night but I'm really busy in the studio tonight... kind of hard to concentrate when there's a bunch of girls next door squealing over....?"

I finish the sentence for him, "If tadpoles are baby turtles." I rub the back of my neck shyly, laughing almost to myself.

"Right yeah, is there any way to keep it down just a tad?"

I give him a thumbs up before we part ways- him rubbing his eyes and kicking his door shut with his bare foot and me turning around and closing it softly. My friends all huddled up behind the door, eavesdropping on our conversation, and as soon as the door shut, they all squealed quietly.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n!", My friend Abby gushing, nudging me with her shoulder harshly. "You never told me you have huge chemistry with your neighbor?"

My eyes grow wide and my hands shoot up in defense, "Oh no- Lucas? He's just a neighbor"

All of my friends' eyes were on me now, and an awkward silence fell upon us. I give a mere shrug before walking back over to the coffee table to scoop up all the cards spawled across it.

"Game night at mine next time?", Abby asks from beside me, picking up the numerous cups with mysterious liquids in them with a disgusted look on her face.

I just nod in response, shoving the cards in their rightful places before sighing softly. We said our goodbyes with platonic kisses on the cheeks and dramatic waves before I was left alone in my apartment again.

It was cold, empty, and dead silent in here- completely opposite of the neighbor beside me I'd assume. My bedroom was similar to the living room- a tiny mattress rested on the floor and my toiletries were packed away in numerous boxes I was too lazy to unbox. My head hits the stiff pillow below me and I could hear Lucas in his bedroom strumming his guitar, humming to himself lowly.

It was a little after one o'clock in the morning, but he seemed to be wide awake singing.

"some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard"

It had officially been two weeks since the game night and two weeks since he came to my door. Lucas and I would occasionally make eye contact on the way to the mailboxes or even hold the elevator for one another- but not a single word was shared between us. He was always in his own world, his head bobbing to an imaginary beat inside his head.

Every night I could hear him singing to himself softly, the wall dividing our bedrooms was as thin as paper. The occasional groan and the sound of notebooks hitting the wall distracted me on nights I needed to sleep, but I never once said anything to him. He was a musician- and a very good one to say the least. I didn't want to be the annoying next-door neighbor.

I swing my door open, looking out into the hallway and scanning each door before finally averting my eyes to his own. The wrench in one hand was held on with a tight grip while the other hand carried the TV mount at my side. I could hear the sounds of various instruments being played from behind his door, his voice clearing every few moments to restart a lyric if it didn't sound right the first time.

The hand that held the wrench swung up, knocking on his door a few times before I took a step back and awkwardly looked around the hallway once again. The sounds from behind his door abruptly stopped and I could hear his heavy footsteps making their way towards the door now. Taking one more step back, I watched as Lucas opened the door and looked down at me,

"I'm sorry, am I being too loud?", He cheekily asked, a smile painted on his lips.

"No no, you're fine.", I laugh at his innocent teasing, quoting our most recent encounter. "I was actually coming over to see if you knew how to mount a TV", I poke my head around his figure and motion towards his apartment, "but seeing as you're busy-"

"I'm not busy." He corrects me, leaning inside his door to grab his keys before turning back towards me and grabbing the box from my hand. "Let me help you out, it'll take 10 minutes tops."

It didn't take 10 minutes. Hell, It didn't even take 30 minutes.

There Lucas and I both were, tools of various shapes and sizes sprawled out across my apartment floor and a cheap bottle of wine I found at the back of my fridge.

"Lucas are you sure you know how to-"

"It's Luke and yes, I know how to do this", he grumbles nonsense to himself as he flips through the instruction manual for the third time tonight. I sighed to myself slightly, trying to keep myself from laughing by taking a swig of the wine.

"Could always just use thumbtacks"

This makes Luke laugh, his eyebrows relaxing on his face and cheeks going bright red. He tosses the manual at me, and I put my hands up to defend myself.

"I'm pretty sure some thumbtacks couldnt hold a 35 pound Tv," He holds his stomach as he rolls around my floor, laughing loudly. I roll my eyes at this, groaning and tossing the screwdriver on the floor.

"Look, it's getting late. I'll just have you come over and do it another time.", I point towards the clock, which was held up with thumbtacks, that read two o'clock in the morning.

"Oh shit, sorry I totally spaced it," Luke stands up now, gathering up his tools quickly and giving me a crooked smile. "I'll swing by sometime this week to help you, I promise." I'm smiling now, shooing him out the door quickly.

"Yeah yeah see you later, rockstar", I tease and close the door abruptly, only to be stopped by a foot in the way.

"What are you doing tomorrow?", The way his eyes glimmered in the hallway light, his hair slicked back from sweat and cheeky dimples appeared as he smiled at me.

"I have finals tomorrow morning, and I'll probably be dead by the time its over- anytime after that I'm free.", I groan dramatically and push my palm into my forehead.

Luke just nods, freeing his foot from the doorway, and gives me a thumbs up, "I'll be sure to be quiet tonight so you can get your rest." I thank him kindly and give him a soft wave before closing the door behind him.

Luke was anything but quiet. I tossed and turned throughout the night, pushing the pillow closer to my ears as I heard him attempting to sing a lyric he wasn't even finished with. if there's one thing I've learned about him in the month and a half I've known him- he was a perfectionist. He sang the same things over and over countless times making sure it was absolutely perfect.

"Cause all these bodies are hoping to get addicted-"

I swing my arm up, smacking on the wall a couple times before groaning and letting it fall to my side once again. His side of the wall went silent immediately, the shuffling of papers and a small mumbled "sorry" was heard.

Luke had avoided me from that point forward: he didn't hold the elevator for me nor did he come and check his overflowing mailbox.

I found myself at his door once again, knocking in one swift movement before clearing my throat. I could hear him shuffling around his apartment, a loud thud followed by a "shit, one second!".

The door opens and a dripping-wet Luke is before me, a towel tightly wrapped around his waist. I blink a few times, holding my gaze above his shoulders out of respect.

"Why are you avoiding me", I ask in a monotone voice, cutting straight to the point. He raises his eyebrows at this now, one hand sassily on his hip.

"Who said I was avoiding you?", He chuckles lightly and opens the door wider, motioning for me to enter. My nose is filled with the smell of the oven baking something sweet mixed with his charcoal body wash. I step inside with a smile, closing the door behind me.

Luke wipes the water from his face and turns away from me, entering his bathroom for a split second, leaving me standing in his kitchen.

I glance around his living room: Pictures of his friends and family are hung up neatly on the wall, his instruments are laid out on the floor around his couch, and his bookshelf is overflowing with numerous copies of musical books.

He emerges from the bathroom once again, now clothed in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts and the towel that was once wrapped around his waist was now encased in his curls.

"I was just going to invite you over actually," He laughs again, flashing me his million-dollar smile before pointing at his dining table. It was decorated with a lace tablecloth, a small bouquet of flowers sitting in a glass-decorated vase, and a plate of steaming hot pasta was laid out. I smile to myself slightly, looking back up at him before taking my seat at the table, he rushes forward, scooting my chair in for me before taking his own seat across from me.

"What's the occasion?" I ask while picking up my fork, poking at the seafood pasta that was professionally plated. If you would've told me he hired a chef to make dinner- I would've believed you.

"I was loud on the night of your finals and I felt horrible knowing I kept you up all night", He picks up his napkin and places it neatly on his lap, "I wanted to make it up to you after I mounted your TV buttt you showed up a little early", He teases.

I take a bite of my food, groaning into the fork with a muffled giggle as my eyes look up at his. The food was amazing, and the flavor was intricately picked out to perfection.

Going back, this perfectly proved my point that Luke was a perfectionist.

We found small talk, conversing over what I was majoring in and what he was busy working on.

"So the album is almost done, I just need to finish this last song," He shrugs his shoulders and scrapes at the remains off his plate. I smile to myself, looking up now with innocent eyes, "Maybe I can help?"

He stands up abruptly, turning around and opening the oven to reveal the freshly baked brownies he had made- from scratch may I add. I groan in anticipation and rub my hands together dramatically. He grabs the brownies with oven mitts, turning around and facing me.

"If you want to help me, I'll allow it", he laughs and places the pan down gently and walks towards his living room, picking up a notebook that was previously thrown across the room.

"Here", he places it in front of me, removing my empty plate and walking

The notebook was written in barely eligible handwriting, with numerous words crossed out and mental notes scribbled on the sides.

Some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard so if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word. when the doors are all closing.....It's bound to get ?? all these bodies are hoping to get addicted to

The rest of the page was scribbled out, lyrics that never made the cut. I snatch the pen from the metal spiral holding the pages together and click it once.

"it's bound to get.... loud?" I scribble it down next to the question marks and look up at him, scratching his chin with a nod. His cheeks were red now, the wine flushing through his body.

"What rhymes with loud?"

I look up at him now, as he scoots his chair right up next to me to the point our legs are touching.

"Cloud, hmmm,"

"Sound," we both say in unison.

Luke claps his hands together and grabs the pen from my hands, opening the notebook to a new page and scribbling down the new and improved lyrics. I watch him closely, the way his eyes twinkled and dimples poked through when he was concentrating.

I was so screwed. I was falling for my next door neighbor.

I didn't see him for another two weeks, his side of the wall seemed eerily vacant and completely silent. I even knocked a few times in hopes he'd knock back in some sort of rhythm, but there was no response.

Hearing the knock on my door shot my body out of bed, sweat dripping down my neck and sides. I groan and tap on my phone to check the time, blinding myself in the process. The pounding never stopped, not until I stumbled out of bed and opened my door. My heart skipped a beat, praying that the blonde would be on the other side with that cheeky smile I adored.

"Hello?", I ask in a groggy voice whilst rubbing my eyes and squinting up at the person who disturbed my slumber- at 2 a.m. may I add.

Instead of a person, I was met with an empty cold hallway. I avert my gaze down and towards my door mat. There, set up neatly was a bouquet of flowers with a note tied to the front with white lace.

I smile at myself and crouch down, picking up the thoughtful gift and looking down the hallway one last time before kicking my door shut.

Y/n,

I'm sorry I didn't see you before I left. Our album releases at 2:30am today and I was supposed to leave at 2... I just knew I had to leave you something on my way out. I hope you like the flowers I picked out my mom helped me.

I'd have probably sent you the link to the album by the time you finish reading this note.

I'm going to be all over the world, touring and doing what I love. I can't wait to be back home and see you again, i'll make sure to facetime every change I get.

love,

your rockstar

I could hear the familiar ringtone from my bedroom, alerting me that Luke was a man of his word. I wipe a few stray tears and make my way to the bedroom, snatching my phone up with my free hand and clicking the link he had sent me.

This is the song I spent the last 3 months working on, keeping you tossing and turning until finally you perfected it.

Mp3.ifwallscouldtalk.demo

Awakening

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You experience an awakening a few days into your arranged marriage with the Viscount.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, female masturbation, slightly dom/sub (use of little one/my lord), innocence, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f).

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Request fill for Anon, HERE, about Anthony being arranged married to an innocent reader. Sorry it's taken me so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you still enjoy it, even though I changed the parameters of the request slightly. Enjoy <3

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is most perplexing. 

He is all at once both the best and the worst person you know. A providing husband, but an absent one. A polite, undisputable gentleman, but one who has barely said more than a handful of words to you, his supposed wife. An arrangement was brokered with your father, and now, merely weeks later, you are walking the halls of Aubrey Hall as the new Viscountess Bridgerton but barely feel as if you know your husband.

Sometimes I get enraged with my past self. I hate that I let so much happen! "you should've known" "you should've said something" "you should've done things differently" but then I realize that post betrayal me is talking. Post hurt me is thinking. My past self was simply doing what she could and what she knew, she wasn't trained for when people took advantage of her good heart and good intentions, she didn't have a class on betrayal to which she could study for and attain gold stars from. She just drank her coffee, read her books, lived her life and gave every little ounce of love and every fibre of her being to those she loved bc when she loves, she loves hard.

And suddenly I'm grateful that she carried me all the way here and suddenly I'm thankful for her and how strong she was. And suddenly I want to hug her

Locked Away. | G.W.

summary: dating george is her biggest secret, one she hopes her family never finds out.

word count: 2207

warnings: mentions of weight loss from traumatic situation

notes: finally rewrote this. just want to let you guys know that i am working on requests and turning the blurbs into fics. hoping to get them posted this week! i had a few exams last week so i didn't have too much time to write :)

the right girl

pairings: dbf!andy barber x fem!reader

summary: you're stuck in a motel room with only one bed with your dad's best friend andy barber and you can't sleep because you can't stop thinking about what it would feel like to touch him... thankfully for you, andy doesn't plan on keeping his hands to himself.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), age gap (reader is late 20s/early 30s, andy is late 30s/early 40s), smut, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, edging, finger sucking, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, teasing, dirty talk, dumbification, anal play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pet names (mostly sweetheart and honey), aftercare

word count: 8.3k

a/n: i spun the wheels from @georgiapeach30513's moodboard event and got andy barber, dark, only one bed and edging and the idea for this fic popped into my head so i figured i'd write it 🤷🏼‍♀️ it ended up not being very dark but maybe soft!dark-ish if you squint?? i also did make a full moodboard for this fic, which i'll post later or tomorrow. i haven't decided if i'm gonna turn this into a series, but i kinda wanna follow it up with some smutty drabbles, so if anyone has anything they'd like to see with these two, my inbox is open 😁 otherwise, please enjoy!!

-

“You’re squirming a lot over there, sweetheart,” Andy Barber said, his voice low and deep, raspy with almost-sleep as it floated to you from the other side of the bed in the dark motel room. There was a pillow separating your body from your dad’s best friend, but it apparently wasn’t going to save him from all your sleepless tossing and turning. It had been meant to stop you from thinking about him, so close but so untouchable, but it hadn’t saved you either.

Guilt and a little bit of shame slithered down into your gut as you whispered a soft, “Sorry, Mr. Barber.” Andy was a kind, steady man, and you felt awful for keeping him awake, especially when the reason was your tiny little crush on your dad’s friend. And the the big, overwhelming thoughts about what he was hiding beneath the lounge pants he’d worn to bed. You couldn’t stop thinking about reaching over the pillow and sliding your hand beneath the waist of his pants, feeling him in your hand. 

Blowing out a quiet, frustrated breath, you rolled onto your back as silently as possible and stayed as still as you could, only your chest rising and falling as you stared up at the ceiling.

you, forever —❦ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x ex! reader

description: y/n seems to be finally over luke, but what does she do when he shows up declaring his love for her in the pouring rain? this was requested with the prompts #4 "Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry” & #2 “Don’t do this to me” from my prompt list.

warnings: luke being a shitty boyfriend, a break up. angst. slight mentions of insomnia and disordered eating. cursing. a happy ending.

word count: 3,5k.

a/n: now that i am happy with this fic, it's time to publish it! the beginning of this story was heavily inspired by the song ‘moment i knew’ by taylor swift. i hope you like this one! ❤️‍🩹

The broken promises, the events unattended. His lame excuses. They grew a dagger in your heart, which stung time and time again. Your 23rd birthday was no exception. 

You hosted a party to celebrate your birthday. You never threw any parties, they weren’t really your scene. Luke was supposed to be there with you, his hands around your waist, wishing you a happy birthday. Against your wishes and his promises, he wasn’t there. Not on time, anyway.  Somehow you thought it’d be different this time. Did he even love you like he claimed he did? Did he even care about you? Hell, you even wondered if he was sleeping with someone behind your back. 

You tried to have fun, you really did. But as the night dragged on and you chugged down way too many tequilas, you bursted into tears in your bathroom. How could someone, your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, make you feel like this on your god-damn birthday?

It was 4am when Luke showed up behind your front door, and you foolishly opened the door for him. The party was over, and you couldn’t even bear to look him in the eye. It was the same old story, I am so sorry baby, we had to work around a few things in the studio. I love you, let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll do better next time. 

You didn’t say a single thing to him as you let him in. Luke went to the bathroom, and as soon as he was out of your sight, tears began streaming down your face. You stood in your kitchen, and looked around. The alcohol-stained balloons, empty beer cans and the remains of confetti reminded you of your relationship with Luke. Sad, broken, bruised.

You sobbed and sobbed, hard enough not to notice Luke walking next to you.

"Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry”, he offered you his embrace, which you swore once was warm. And which was something you once wanted more than anything in the world. 

You sobbed against his chest. This was the last straw, you promised yourself. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You had turned a blind eye to his mistakes, always holding onto some tiny glimmer of hope he would change. You defended him time and time again to your friends and family. You loved him more than you loved yourself, and that seemed to be your greatest mistake. 

“Don’t do this to me”, you whimpered under his touch, still feeling the endless rivers building up in your eyes.  “Do what?”, he proposed the question as if he didn’t have a clue what was going on. His eyebrows frowned, and he bit his bottom lip. You couldn’t believe it really had come to this. You receded from his embrace, breaking the skin contact. 

“Pretend everything’s fine. Pretend we’ll be okay”, you swept your tears away, and saw the mascara stains on your hands. You swept them away with the helm of your dress, and wondered what was going through Luke’s mind. Did he even feel bad for missing your birthday party? Did he even understand how terribly he treated you?

“Y/N…”., he enunciated your name as if it was a warning, if there was some line you couldn’t cross.

“You knew this was doomed from the start. You played me along, Luke. I mean, fuck! I thought everything would change. I thought you loved me enough not to miss my own fuckin’ birthday!”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it”.

“I’m sorry too”, you avoided direct eye contact with him, and left the kitchen with nothing but disappointment and anger. He didn’t even bother to come after you. 

And that was the moment you knew. 

—❦

The morning approached, and you executed your usual morning routines, only this time with a quicker pace. You could do this, you told yourself. You’ll be okay.

Luke was still sleeping, and you gathered his things from your apartment. The spare t-shirts and underwear. His toothbrush, his Vespa mug. Everything. You wanted to make this as smooth as possible. Not necessarily for him, but for you. You didn’t want him to stay around any longer than necessary. Sleeping with him last night was a mistake, even if you took all the anger into bed with you. You hated and loved him at the same time.

So, when you heard him shuffling in bed, you entered the room and leant against the door with a coffee mug in your hand. 

“Hey darling”, he smirked. The man had no idea. You forced a smile, and waited until he was decent and in his Pink Floyd t-shirt and black sweatpants. 

“Luke?”.

“Hmmm?”.

“I packed up your things, they are waitin’ for you in the hallway. I want you gone. Out of my life”.

—❦ 

The beginning was the hardest. The silent screams in the pillow, the loss of appetite. Your sobs echoed through every room in your apartment. There was no escaping him. His eyes, the prettiest blue eyes you had ever witnessed, haunted you wherever you went. Even the god-damn Rainbow Krispies yelled out his name. 

You carried his silent optimism with you, his voice reminding you everything would work out just fine. You begged the voice to stop time and time again, but it persisted, clung onto you tightly. 

For the first three months you couldn’t even say his name out loud, yet alone hear it coming from someone else’s mouth. It sounded wrong, the way they said it. Luke was supposed to come from your mouth, with your accent, with your tone of voice.

Slowly but surely, you started to see the world through realism-infused glasses. You didn’t think about him the first thing in the morning and the last thing before going to bed. You were okay. You didn’t need his love. Instead, you needed your own. A glimpse of hope was staring at you, you just hadn’t seen it before. 

—❦ 

The past few years had treated you well, and you had gotten the job of your dreams. Everything was moving smoothly, and you were excited for what the future held for you. You were still living in the same apartment, but you had renovated it to look more like you. The white living room walls were now replaced with the beautiful shade of juniper, and your decor had shifted from a Scandinavian style to a more earthly and antique-appreciating English countryside.

You had stayed out of relationships. Sure, you had gone to a few dates, but you never wanted to build anything serious with them. You considered them more like irregular hook-ups, not official dates. You decided to be on your own. You had everything you needed; friends, family and a job you enjoyed.

You were returning from work, and it was pouring rain. You held an umbrella over your head whilst Bon Iver was blasting through your AirPods. Thankfully it was a short walk to your apartment from the metro station.

A figure of a man, supposedly, sat in front of your apartment complex. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he forgot his keys inside. Maybe he was a creep. Shit. You grabbed your umbrella tighter as you reached him. 

And then you understood. Dark pants. A worn out leather jacket. Converse. Light, curly hair. A beautiful face, sculpted by the gods, was staring at you. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be.

Luke.

It really was him.

You glared at him, and took your earphones off in shock, placing them in their case. Luke got up from the staircase, and you both stared at each other for a while. 

The rain was pouring down, and the man hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella with him. He pulled his soaking wet hair back with his hands and you couldn't understand why your ex-boyfriend was voluntarily hanging out in front of your apartment complex, in a weather like this.

“What are you doing here?”, you quivered and held your bag tightly against your body.

“I’m here to get my girl back”, he shoved his hands into his leather jacket pockets, and studied your face with a somewhat melancholic smile on his face.

“What are you talkin’ about?”, you asked, your tone nonchalant.

“I’m here to get you back. Or attempt it, I don’t know. I fucked up, Y/N, big time. And many times. And-”

Didn't he think it was a bit too late for that? “Luke, stop”, you interrupted him. You didn’t want to hear it, he had smashed your heart into pieces. He didn’t get to apologize to you. You didn’t want him to have any power over you. And it wasn’t fair how he showed up and reminded of his existence, just now when you were finally ready to open your heart to someone new. 

“Y/N, please? Hear me out”.

“Fuck you”, you cursed at him, and pondered walking away from him. But you stood in your place, hoping he could see the hurt on your face. 

“Okay, I deserved that. Is there more?”, he tilted his head slightly, and his eyes bored into yours.

“What do you mean?”, you gritted your teeth.

“Just fuckin’ yell at me, get it out of your system. Curse at me, tell me the things you hate about me”.

“If you came here for this, leave…please”, you begged. 

“No, no, no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Shit. Uh…just give me a second, hear me out”.

“Okay”. You’d hear what he had to say, and then you’d leave him in the pouring rain. And you wouldn’t see him ever again. That was the plan.

“I, I know this might not mean anything to you, after I treated you, but it has always been you, Y/N. After all these years, you are the only one I have ever truly loved. Hell, I still love you. I still remember your favorite songs and the way you like your tea. How you like your eggs in the morning, and how you hate almond milk…And shit, I just, I need to get this off my chest. I am, still, so foolishly in love with you it’s unbearable. I want you, I want us back”.

You looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. When you tried to say something, the words escaped your lips, leaving you powerless.

As tumultuous your and Luke’s relationship was and despite the times you convinced yourself you hated him, you still caught yourself missing him and the relationship sometimes. But this…this felt a bit too much for you to handle right now.

“Say something, please….Anything”.

“I don’t know Luke. I mean, you hurt me. Time and time again. I don’t know if I want to go through that pain again”.

“I know”, he sighed. “Do you still love me?”.

“Despite everything, yes”, you sighed.

“So isn’t it obvious? If you love me, and I love you? Doesn’t that mean we should give it another go?”.

“But sometimes love isn’t enough, Luke. Love doesn’t fix everything, I thought you knew that”.

“I know you are cautious, and I don’t blame you. I put you through hell, I know. And if this makes me sound like a broken record, so be it… I fuckin’ love you, Y/N. I have always loved you. Just you. Nothing will change that. Not even the years in between that I haven’t seen you. Not even the fact that I am not the same person who I was those years ago, when I treated you like shit. When I made you cry every night. I remember it well, Y/N, I haven’t forgotten. It seems you are impossible to forget”.

“I think you are impossible to forget too, Luke”, you sighed again. “I just….I don’t really know what to say to you. I don’t even know what’s going inside my head right now. I…I need a moment to figure everything out”.

“I’ll wait for you”, he promised.

You took quick glances at each other in the rain, and a small smile crept upon Luke’s lips. You were soaking wet, and wanted to go inside. Against all your instincts, you invited him into your apartment.

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah”.

“Really?”.

“Come on in before I change my mind”.

—❦

Luke hadn't been in your apartment in three years, and his sudden presence in your own space felt a bit nerve-wracking. Only if he saw that you had kept the mugs he once bought you. And his Blink-182 shirt that you never bothered to give him back. And the necklace hanging on the bathroom shelf that he had bought you on your 2nd anniversary.

You had changed to a dry set of clothes, and offered Luke a towel to dry himself up.

Luke sat next to you on your living room couch, as far as he could on the limited space of the two-seater. The silence was unbearable, it was eating you up. You had rehearsed every little thing you would say to him when you’d see him, but now it felt like the thoughts you once had escaped you the very moment you tried to reach them. 

You had offered him tea, and were drinking some chamomile tea yourself. A few candles were burning on the top of your coffee table, next to a pile of books and the coffee mug you had left there this morning. 

Would you really go through this with him again? Was it worth the try? Was it foolish that a small part of you thought it could work out this time? Did he really mean everything he said? Could he support his words with his actions?

“When you said you aren’t the same person you were before, did you mean it?”, you asked, and blew the tea slightly before drinking it. 

“I did”.

“What did you mean by it?”, you placed the tea mug at the top of the coffee table. You looked at the candle burning beside it whilst Luke talked.

“That I’ve grown. I am not a stupid 24 year old anymore, Y/N. I know what’s important in life. I know what kind of man I want to be, and I am trying to reach that everyday”, he explained with a certain softness in his voice. This Luke was patient, calm; not like the passive-aggressive Luke you once knew.

“So growing up has changed you, huh?”, you frowned your eyebrows, and studied his hair, which had been bleached. You liked this look on him, he looked refreshed. And more mature.

“And losing you”.

Your lips parted slightly at the comment and you noticed how he was fiddling with his ring that adorned his left index finger. He still did that. 

“Luke…”, he looked up to you as he heard his name, and you continued, “why didn’t you fight for me?”.

The narrative in your head that you had created through the years was that he didn’t love or care about you enough. That he had lied to you every time you went to bed, when he whispered those three little words to you. 

“Because I knew you deserved something better. It was the right thing for me to do'', he offered you a sad smile.

You swallowed loudly, his words getting a hold of you. You were fighting off the tears, not wanting to show Luke how much it was still hurting. 

“But now, I know, or fuckin’ desperately hope I am the man you deserve”.

“Do you really think it could work out this time? Us?”.

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”.

“‘Cause I am a stupidly huge hopeless romantic, I suppose”, he let out a small chuckle. Your lips curved into a smile, “And let me guess, you’re stupidly, hopelessly in love with me?”.

“You took the words out of my mouth”, he chuckled as you chuckled along with him. You had missed this. Hearing his adorable laughter. And laughing with him, hearing the sounds of your laughter blending in together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“If we do this, hypothetically, of course, we should take it slow. Like extra slow?”.

”Yeah, of course. We wouldn’t want to rush a good thing, would we?”.

You smiled at his words, pleased with the fact he was on the same page as you. You would have never guessed, not even in a million years, that you’d discuss rekindling your old flame with the man that once tore up your heart. And that something inside you told you to trust him this time around. 

”Luke?”.

”Tell me”.

”I’ve missed you”, you confessed as if it was a sin, something you shouldn’t say out loud. Something that you could be punished for. 

”I’ve missed you too, Y/N”.

Something in you, some unimaginable force, wanted to throw yourself into his arms, and kiss him like you had never been apart. 

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes, and as you looked how soft and angelic Luke looked next to you, the tears began to stream down your face.

”Hey, hey… what’s going on, sweetheart?”, he inched towards you, and like a magnetic pull, you closed the gap between you. The proximity didn’t make you nervous, it felt like something that was bound to happen.

”I just..uh, fuck… I don’t know”, you managed to answer through the tears, ”Can you… hold me?”. He nodded, opened his arms and you placed your head against his beating chest. He wrapped his arms around you and your sobs grew more silent. He fondled your arm with his other hand, and you felt his face squished against your shoulder.

”Feeling better?”.

”Yeah. I’m sorry, I was just a bit overwhelmed, I guess”.

”Don’t worry about it. I get it”, he still stroked your arm gently, comforting you just the way you needed.

It all started to make sense. His light stubble against your bare shoulder, your black tank top perfectly matching with his, your steadily beating heart. 

You backed away from his embrace, the sides of your legs still touching one another. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, your fingers playing along with his, until Luke cleared his throat. 

”My mom asked about you the other day, by the way. Well, she didn’t really ask, I suppose, but she wished you were doing good. She loves you, y’know. You always knew how to make her laugh. And she loved how you used to watch The Bachelor with her, now no one wants to do it. And gosh, she never stops complaining about that, I mean -”

You pressed your tear-infused lips on Luke’s, and it took him a while to figure out what hell was going on, and when did, he brushed his lips softly against yours. His hands moved to hold your face and you placed your own behind the back of his neck. You started to grin into the kiss, you couldn’t help it, and soon realized Luke was doing the same as your teeth clashed along with his. A few giggles escaped both of your mouths, and you could practically feel the blood rushing through your veins. Luke closed the small gap between your lips, and for a while, you sat there in each other’s proximity.

”I want to try again, Luke”, you looked deeply into his baby blue eyes and found a sense of comfort in them.

”I want to do that too.. not like it was obvious or something”, he giggled. You loved his sudden nervousness, it was adorable. A large grin spread across your face, and faded as soon as you remembered the reality of your and Luke’s situation. Like you said it yourself, love doesn’t fix anything, not on its own. Did you and Luke have what it takes to make your relationship work again?

”How do we do… this?”.

”I don’t think there’s a manual for this, but we’ll figure it out together”, he kissed your temple.

So you promised each other you’d do everything in your power to make your relationship work again. That night you made up for the lost time, and talked about everything that had been going on in each other’s lives. You babbled about your work, and he listened to you like your voice was his favorite sound. He showed you his tattoos which he had gotten, and the lotus quickly became your favorite. You shared your traveling stories, and he told you what it was like to be on tour. And when you got emotional about missing him for so long, he got emotional too. And suddenly you were sobbing against each other, your legs entangled with his and his lips brushing over yours.

And when you woke up the next morning, with Luke’s arm hanging around your torso, you knew you had made the right choice.

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

A Perfect Match

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 19 Prompt: "What if we're wrong?"

Summary: Anthony and Y/N have been dancing around each other for far too long. Benedict and Colin decide to do something about that.

Word Count: 1,726

Category: Fluff, minor angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Someone to Love Me

Part 2

Previous part Part Three

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary:

You flinched, gaze flying back to Rhett as your mouth opened and closed, as if you wasn’t sure what to say. He had never seen you so uncertain, and for a second, Rhett wanted to take it back. Take everything he had done and said from the moment you walked into the bar tonight back. Wanted to throw himself into your arms and never let go. Wanted to find that future that he thought y’all had and wrap himself in it.

But it had been too long, too much left unsaid, and too much hurt on both sides to do any of that. So Rhett just nodded, and made one last ditch attempt to snatch the keys out of your hands so that he could leave first this time.

Warnings: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Anxiety, Missing Family members, physical and mental abuse

When he was younger, Rhett used to love the feeling of slinging his leg over the chute. He had loved the exhilaration that came in the seconds before he nodded his head, when the world went quiet, and it was just him and the bull. He had lived for the feeling of hearing the crowd screaming as the announcer rattled off his score.

It had been a long time since Rhett had felt like that.

Swinging his leg over the same chute that had landed him in the hospital a year ago, Rhett tried to call up that emotion, that excitement, the frantic energy that allowed him to stay center on the back of a thousand pound animal.

But he couldn’t, hadn’t been able to in a while, and he didn’t think that he ever would again. For months now, he had been relying on muscle memory and skill, not the love, the drive that he used to carry for riding. But those things could only get him so far in a sport like this. Where every ride carried you closer to your last.

rhett abbott + lazy sundays

The sun would peak through the curtains and splay across Rhett’s back in the early hours, slowly moving to the space on the floor just before the bed as the morning went on. On days you woke up early enough to admire the sun on his back you’d find yourself tracing words and letters onto the skin, poking each freckle, and scratching his back just lightly enough to elicit a groan.

“You're up early.” His voice was husky, throat dry from the mouth breathing he’d done all night.

His hair stood up in every direction, it was a miracle any amount of gel could keep it tamed. He’d turn his head in your direction and just look at you, the corners of his mouth turning into the biggest smile Rhett Abbott could muster this early in morning.

“Sun woke me up, just wanted to love on you.” Your voice barely above a whisper, smoothing some of his hairs down but ultimately failing as they shot right back up.

“Mmmm, you can love on me all you want.” He moved just close enough to you that he could give you a sweet kiss without having to get up. It was a lazy Sunday after all.

You’d spend the next few hours talking in whispers about anything and everything. Who he was going to ride against this week, your work schedule and how it was frustrating you this time, if you were up for aunt and uncle duties with Amy or not. After, and only after, you talked about everything under the sun did the two of you get up for the day. It was slow and took about thirty minutes, by the time the two of you were actually out of bed the sun had found its spot on the floor just above the bed.

He’d find a random pair of plaid pajama pants and slip them on, scratching his chest with a yawn as he made his way into the kitchen to start some coffee and breakfast. You slipped into the nearest robe and padded down to the kitchen to hug him from behind, kiss his back before laying your head against him and sighing. You could die happy just like this. He’d chuckle and squeeze the hand on his stomach before continuing breakfast, talking you through every step of what he was doing. He did it every time. You’d never get tired of hearing it.

Sundays always meant breakfast on the couch, some random cartoon that wasn’t nearly as good as the ones you grew up on playing in the back. You’d praise his cooking, as you always did, and savor the sweet peacefulness in front of you. After you ate, he’d take the dishes and wash them. You’d watch from the couch and think about how lucky you were to have a man that cooked and cleaned with no complaints. He’d come back and lay his head in your lap, your fingers playing with his hair and twirling it around your fingers. Sundays were your favorite day of the week.

ticking all the boxers | rhett abbott x plus size!reader

summary: when rhett notices something about your nighttime attire, it leads to a unexpected and tender conversation about the things you love about one another.

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: some brief discussions about negative body image (this is for my bigger girlies who love rhett abbott and his slutty little waist), cursing, me being on my usual saccharine bullshit, rhett referring to the reader as ‘my girl’

PS: obvs my straight sized lovelies are more than welcome to read this but reader is specified as being bigger than rhett, so! just a heads up.

a/n: i absolutely love the trope of stealing your partners clothes, but as a plus size gal myself, that option becomes limited, if available at all. i was feeling mushy about rhett and thus my first full length story since fucking february was born lol! hope you enjoy <3 PPS: i was gonna have this turn into smut but i figured i’d save that for a part two if anyone wants it!

You’re lounging in your bed, covers flipped back in wait while Rhett washes up in the bathroom. The quiet hiss of the shower has you blinking back sleep, but when you hear the water turn off, you smile, ready to curl up beside him for a good night’s rest. You don’t know what you’re expecting when your boyfriend saunters back in, but it certainly isn’t him towel drying his hair, buck-ass naked. Something in the back of your heart warms at the domesticity of it, that he’s comfortable enough in your space to walk around completely bare–– but you’re more than a little distracted at the sight of him. After all, you’re only human; you can’t help but stare. It’s ridiculous, really, the way he inspires fondness and lust in equal measure. He catches you looking and grins like he wasn’t expecting it.

Keep reading

don’t be mad

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: none

summary: you damage Bob’s wings and get worried he’ll be mad at you.

word count: .6k

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon. You were cleaning the kitchen and Bob was fixing the shelf in the bathroom that had been broken for almost a month. The Floyd household was getting things done. You were sure your mistake was going to go unnoticed for at least a day.

“Hey, honey?” Bob called.

“Yeah?” You called back, heading to the bedroom where you heard his voice coming from. You stepped through the doorway to see him looking through his dresser.

“Did you see my wings when you washed my uniform? I can’t find them,” he said. Your expression fell when you heard him. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m so sorry, Bobby,” you said.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice staying soft. You crossed to your bedside table and pulled out the bent wings, holding them out to him.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

“Do you think they’re gonna get too hot?” Bob asks, concern carving his voice into a pitched utterance. “Like--you know, is the sun too much? Should we just take ‘em home?” 

Humming from beside Bob, settled onto the old sheets you have laid out across the sand, you just sigh with a fond smile tugging on your lips. 

Of course he’s concerned about the babies in this heat--he’s a good father, one that never has to be told what to do or when to do it, one that literally leaps out of bed in the night to change diapers. 

 He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover. 

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman 

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader 

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother’s leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, “Aren’t you just a shy young thing!” before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

Timeless - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Literally my first attempt at a fic in forever so bare with me, but I had this idea and I couldn't not do it. Also definitely inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift in a way so don't mind me.

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: no warnings, extra cute Bob. mutual pining. lots of fluff. mild angst if you squint.

word count: 2612