escriturasss

[escriturasss]

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear? 

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck ­– it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

[escriturasss]

Bruce inhaled. Patience, he told himself. He might start praying to God to give him patience because that's what he needs to not punch John Constantine right now.

-Wait.- He said raising a hand to stop Constantine mid sentence. -Let me get this straight. Jason found a demonic rock at the mission, brought it to you and you just...

-I discovered it had a pattern that would activate some function.-Affirmed John

-And you decided to activate it, not knowing what it was.

John tsked and rolled his eyes. Bruce prayed harder.

Sighing, he asks, -Did something happened?- Watching the doubtful face of the mage, he sighs loudly.- What happened. Tell me. Now.

-I did not activated it, it was your son. And now he condemned it all.- Concluded John.

-What do you mean all? All of us? All humanity?

-Just, all there is know to man.- answers Constantine.-But before you get cranky and kill him, i came with a solution.

- Firstly, i do not get cranky. Secondly, you better have a solution.

-Well, i came with the solution not the problem solver. We need the Wishmaster. But the thing is we dont know where they is.

Bruce Wayne knew almost every person with powers that habits the Earth. From aliens to sorcerers. He knew what the Wishmaster is: a being who can concedes whatever wished you asked for. Legends and folks story said that the Wishmaster asked for something in return, others said they will do it from its own will, and the others just believe its a myth.

Sensing his hesitation, the sorcerer comments, -I know someone who can help us. I know the Wishmaster exists and we can find it, Bruce. We only need all the help we can get.

-Leave it to me. -said Bruce before getting out of there and going to find Jason Todd.

Saying that Jason was pissed was an understatement, he was clearly furious. He didnt took that stone because it was shiny or could glow in the darkness in the cave, he wasnt stupid. He gave it to Constantine because he couldn't stop thinking about it, didn't remember when he took it from the ground and could not think about other thing but that stone. Like the one ring, he chuckled to himself.

So, after Batman cursed his ear off and set him off to find this ancient genie or whatever, he couldn't care less, Jason went to the cafe shop he always goes when he needs a break from his family and wants some peace while reading a book.

-Can i get your order?- asked the woman behind the counter.

-Oh, cmon. You should get muy order by heart since im here almost every day.- he jokes.

Rising her head, the girl in front of him smirked and, leaning towards him she whispered, -My manager is here, if i give a good impression i could get a bonus in my check this month.- Leaning back to her place and looking at him in the eyes, she repeats the same customer service question. -Can i get your order?

Shaking his head, he orderer the same drink he drinks everytime he comes here: a cappuccino.

Jason sat at a table in the back, a quiet place besides a window. He really liked that spot, he got sunlight and could watch the people passing by. Opening his book he stated reading.

-"Tales of the folklore", huh.- he thought. He better find some answers in here.

He was so absorbed in his reading that he didnt notice the chair moving in front of him. The girl from before sat across him and, eating, she asked.

-So, what is this time? Another fight with your daddy?

-Something like that- he said as he closed the book.- i kinda fucked up and now i need to find someone to fix my mess, i guess.

-Oh my my, what did our little Jason do?- she mocked him. -Who you are looking for?

Watching her eating his lunch, he wonderer if he could ask directly about the Wishmaster. He knew Medea for a while now and she knew a lot of shitty information that, perhaps, helped him.

-It doest matter- he dismissed,- Medea, you know something about the Wishmaster?

Pausing her drinking, she seemed hesitant. -Well,- she started- i know its a horror movie and an album from Nightwish, why?- seeing him shaking his head as some personal joke, she added. -I think its like Alluka, from Hunter x Hunter, ya know?

Jason couldnt stop his teasing, -So youre saying its a little girl that can concedes any wish in return of something of the same value?- He already knew this. He needed something more.

-Yes! Isnt it like that?- she frowned- Well i read about them in some fantasy books... and in a fanfiction of Rasputin.

-You what?- he laughed.

-It wasnt what you are thinking!- she exclamed fast and panicked.- My break is over, bye!

-Yeah, sure it is!- teased and waved her as she got back at the counter and flipped him off in a flushed state.

Rolling his eyes, he opened his book and got back to reading again. He better find some clues.

[escriturasss]

Counterfeit jade

[escriturasss]

Hobie Brown, Emotional Preparation, and the Art of Great Dialogue

Nearly all of Hobie's dialogue is written with his goal - protecting and preparing Miles for Miguel's abuse - in mind, even if it may not be obvious at first watch.

Here's an unhinged breakdown where I over-analyze literally every one of Hobie’s lines and explain how every sentence was written to contribute directly to Miles’ radicalization.

Hollywood. Pay your writers. (:

___________________________________________________

Hobie has around 10 minutes screentime total, but for the sake of introductions and this analysis, let's start at the end of the battle, and the beginning of the quantum hole.

Starting with his first line in the scene:

"I don't follow orders. Neither does he."

All morals considered, Hobie doesn't seem like the type to speak for someone who can speak for themselves - he's a punk after all. But here, he speaks for Miles. This line serves to tell Miles 'I don't respect them, why should you?', but funnily enough, it can also be a point to Jess, as if to say 'Miles isn't interested.' - even if he is.

"Bit much, innit?"

While, Hobie and Mile's next interaction is their exchange in the elevator, the scene leads to Mile's introduction to the Society. Miles gawks at the lobby, obviously impressed. Gwen affirms this awe, telling him 'this is just the lobby.' However, Hobie feels the need to chime in. His next dialogue 'Bit much, innit?' is a subtle nudge to Miles that the society is not a place to be in awe off. It's a spectacle, one that's a bit overdone. Knowing Miles now sees Hobie as cool, Hobie makes it known - he sees the Society as uncool.

"Gwendy, How much have you told him? About his place in all this? Maybe not enough."

'So what happened about that small elite strike-team?' - 'Most of these are part time.' This is by far one of Hobie's more interesting lines, and I wrote about it here. But in short, this is Hobie's soft but direct confrontation of Gwen. After Gwen lies to Miles in front of him, Hobie immediately asks how much Gwen has revealed to him. And when she tries to play it off, he openly says 'Maybe that's not enough.' He's not angry with Gwen, but he is disappointed, which in turn motivates him to have his discussion with Miles.

"Super humane, and not creepy."

One of my favorites, because it's hard to catch and to the point. After talking about Hobie and Gwen's mission history, they're taken to Margo and the control room. As Miles marvels at Margo and the Go-Home-Machine, and Gwen says she voted against it. However, Hobie says blatantly: 'Holy shit, Miles isn't this inhumane and weird???', validating that the Society is willing to do inhumane, hurtful stuff to those it deems 'misplaced'.

Next comes Hobie's confrontation with Miles.

Because Hobie knows this is his last movements with Miles before he meets Miguel, and this is where if final push of emotional support kicks in, before he goes quiet in front of Miguel.

And because this conversation is so well layered, I think it's best to go line by line. ______________________________

H: "Bet this doesn't even do anything." M: "Maybe it did before you ripped it out of a wall!"

Hobie has now confirmed that he'll be making an exit soon. And he begins his finally sweep of parts he needs for his watch, stocking up his pockets. He's not stealing to steal. He knows he's leaving and this is his last chance to get what he needs before he's out the door.

"Propaganda, bro! It's to distract you from the truth!"

HOLY SHIT I missed this one. Notice how in this shot, Gwen is not visible at all. Hobie notices they're out of hershot of her for the first time. And his first line is - 'Propaganda.' Their watches can take them anywhere. When Gwen needed to, she was taken to exactly where she needed in Mumbattan. But when they're heading towards HQ, Jessica makes them walk through the lobby. They could have been sent directly to Miguel's station, but instead she makes them do the whole tour, which serves as a flex of muscle. In order, Miles was shown the massive number of members in the Society, then their prisoners, then the go-home-machine. Only THEN can they see Miguel. All of which was intent to intimidate Miles on purpose. Hobie tells him directly: 'Everything you just saw was propaganda.'

M: And what's that?

"I ain't got a Scooby Doo, mate. Cause that's what they want."

One of the most iconic and notable of his quotes. Cockney aside, this line ties back in with his discussion with Gwen just a couple minutes before. They've done their tour and walk. Both Jess and Gwen have been given a chance to prime or explain to Miles anything, and both have chosen not to. So Hobie simply tells him, 'They want you in the dark. And they're sending you into a fight.'

The next line is:

H: Why do you want to be part of this lot? M: To get a watch. H: Make your own watch.

Miles sucks his teeth at Hobie.

Because of this - Hobie begins to change methods. Which I cannot stress is incredibly perceptive of him.

Miles is exasperated with him. So instead of dissuasion and making the society out to be uncool, he tries to turn Miles' attention towards his family.

"Bet you got a nice setup, huh? Nice parents?"

This line is a very well done one, with two things of notice. First, I find it interesting that the screenplay phrases this line as a question, not a sentence. Hobie is asking. He's taking a shot in the dark here. And this is backed up by his delivery; Hobie hesitates while saying this. The only line in which he does so. He may not know about Miles' mom and dad, because Gwen hadn't met them when she met Hobie. But still, Hobie asks, hoping the reminder of Miles' parents will dissuade him from continuing.

M: They're fine. H: [After this line, Hobie turns black and white momentarily. Potentially a nod to the fact that this conversation is the only 'black and white' one Miles has had so far.] M: But we got into a fight. They just want what's best for me, so...

[Hobie frowns. The scene and dialogue REALLY starts to pick-up from here.]

"That's a bloody shame. Because you're not ready for everyone else."

As the scene progresses Hobie goes from behind Miles, to beside him like an ally. Then, when Gwen finally comes back into frame, Hobie crosses in front of him. When Miles mentions his parents wanting what's best for him, Hobie warns that everyone else does not want what's best for him. At the same time, visually Gwen has her back to Miles, and Hobie puts himself between Miles and Gwen, trying to block his path. The scene is set up to show that in Hobie's eyes, Gwen is turning her back on Miles. She does not have his best interest in mind. Hobie is telling Miles 'They're using propaganda on you, they're keeping you in the dark, and they do not have your best interest at mind. You're not ready for this." And he physically tries to block Miles from continuing, one last time.

Miles goes through Hobie, and now within earshot of Gwen again, this is Hobie's final chance and push to get as much information into Miles as he can - without freaking Miles out. Above all else, he needs Miles to be prepared, confident, and willing to fight back.

His voice becomes more serious, and he starts speaking more straight-forward and a lot less cryptically.

"Listen to me, bruv. The whole point of being Spider-man is your independence. Being your own boss, you don't need all this!"

I think Hobie saying this reveals a lot about his character, especially understanding the context where he's from. While many Spider-men would agree that being Spider-man is about responsibility and power - to Hobie, it is about independence, and freedom. Hobie is a freedom fighter, and one of the only Spider-men besides Noir that knows how to fight systemic threats as well as physical ones. To him, being Spiderman is about being able to free yourself and others. It's about independence and freedom, and he's trying to nail that in Miles' head one last time.

M: Then why are you here?

"Looking out for my drummer, is all."

As the scene is coming to a close, the writers chose this time to reveal some of Hobie's motivations, starting with the independence comment, and now this. Despite knowing about Gwen's deception towards Miles, he is still looking out for her - and Miles. This is the writers' and Hobie's last push to solidify himself as an ally to Miles and the viewer.

M: I want to be in a band. I want to see my friends, and I need a watch to do that. G: Guys, come on.

"Alright, Squashed. Just don't enlist until you know about who you're fighting."

I genuinely had to sit and ask myself why the writers would choose to leave Hobie's collective effort - a LOT of effort - with this line. And honestly, I think it's a perfect segway. Hobie chooses his words very clearly; He doesn't say 'what', he says 'who'. The next scene leads into Miguel's intro, and up until this point, Miles doesn't know who he is. He only knows about the Society, but never who is at the top. We know about Miguel, but all Miles knows is his name. That's why Hobie says 'who you're fighting'. Because the Society isn't really a Society, and this isn't really between Miles and the Society at all. It's a dictatorship - and the person he's enlisting to fight is Miguel. The perfect introduction and warning to the person he's about to meet. He's telling Miles, 'Don't rush into it. Wait until you meet Miguel first'. And when Miles does meet Miguel, he finally sees that this isn't the place he thought it was, just like Hobie said. ALSO EVEN MORE INTERESTINGLY - THIS is one of the lines that is changed between the two versions of spiderverse (there are two theatrical versions on release.) In the alternative he says 'Don't enlist unless you know what war you're fighting.' And I think that the fact the writers chose to publish two different versions of this line goes to show how powerful they knew this line would be in Miles' characterization. There is so much Hobie has left to say to him, but only one line - and so we get two versions. How fun!

With the scene now over, we see a change in Hobie's demeanor, and I love the writers' choice to have the shot linger on Hobie.

We see him give Miles a look that isn't exactly full of confidence, but from this point forward, Hobie chooses to hang back, no longer having any motivation to instigate. He knows his work here is done, and now all he can really do is wait for Miguel to reveal his true colors, and hope that he got through enough to Miles that he will react, and fight back.

And closing out the scene - I noticed that when Peter B. arrives Hobie pointedly says

"Oh boy, Humbling Reality Spider-man has arrived."

All I'll say about this is Hobie has to be Jamaican cause that was so mfing rude shgjfkghjgjkdfjk

Hobie has about three lines between this point and then end of his screentime - Two of which were his lines to Mayday, and his comment during the canon events.

But there is one shot of him before it all happens. And after this shot the movie begins staging Hobie in specific a very different way than anyone else.

The moment begins with Miles' line 'My Dad is about to be captain.'

The camera pans to each character. Gwen, Peter, and Jess all avert their eyes. Miguel looks at Miles. And Hobie is the only one who looks at all of them. Instead of looking down, he looks to the others, in anticipation of whats going to happen. It's also important to note that this was probably news to Hobie. He probably didn't know Miles' dad was a cop - or at the very least going to be captain. So the understanding of just how much trouble Miles is in kinda multiplies in this moment.

Then, this happens

From this point forward, every time Hobie is portrayed, he is shown as separate from the other characters, always being divided from the group - with Miles as the divider. Even as the camera moves, Hobie visually remains - quite literally - as the only person in Miles' corner. And as the scene goes on, he moves farther and farther into that corner.

Until finally the scene comes to a climax, and Hobie gets two shots to himself - delivering his final lines.

"Here we go." - "Hobie, You're not helping." - "Good."

GUYS IM GONNA CRY OKAY IM GONNA CRY

This is Hobie seeing his work pay off. This is him knowing that he got through to Miles and that it was worth it. He's proud of him.

Hobie knew what he came to do, and he used literally every line he said to Miles to the FULLEST extent. He doesn't give a fuck if he's not helping the Society. He's helping Miles. And now he knows his work is done.

Being a punk is not about being a hero, it's about empowering those who feel powerless. HE UNDERSTOOD THE MOTHERFUCKING ASSIGNMENT.

IN SHORT - HOLLYWOOD PAY YOUR FUCKING WRITERS I SWEAR TO GOD.

if you read this far let me know :) thanks bye

[escriturasss]

[JL Watchtower]

Batman: *alert, expression grave* We have an emergency.

Superman: *springing into action* Let’s go, you can tell me the details on the way –

Batman: It’s me. I’m the emergency.

Superman: *frowning, examining Batman with x-ray vision* No broken bones, no internal bleeding… what’s wrong?

Batman: I think I’m drunk.

Superman:

Superman: You don’t drink.

Batman: I had canned coffee. From the pantry. There’s crateloads of them.

Superman: *remembering Flash’s newest concoction* Oh

Batman: At first I thought I was just being affected by the sugar.

Superman: *remembering Flash mentioning that he had them specially made for his high metabolism* Oh no

Batman: You know I don’t consume much sugar, Clark. I’m not used to it. I thought it was The Sugar Rush™

Superman: How much did you drink?

Batman: I’d already drunk two cans when I read the fine print. I –

Batman: *clutching Superman’s shoulder, carefully enunciating* I imbibed two whole cans, Clark. Of metahuman-grade Irish Coffee.

Superman: *supporting Batman’s free arm, keeping him from acquainting his face with the floor* Oh no

Batman: I feel strange. I made small talk in the cafeteria. I might’ve cracked a joke at some point. I almost told Green Lantern he did a good job on the last mission.

Superman: Wow

Batman: But he didn’t do a good job, Clark.

Superman: *lips pursed, corners twitching* Mhm

Batman: My mental faculties have been compromised. I feel… bubbly.

Superman: *controlling his breathing*

Batman: I cannot be seen bubbly, Clark. I’m Batman.

Superman: *shoulders shaking, eyes glistening*

Batman: You need to get me out of here before I run around the cafeteria complimenting everyone.

Superman: Okay, just – give me a sec –

Superman: *sniffling* I’m memorizing every detail of this conversation so I can replay it forever

+

[Later, at the Batcave]

Superman: *flies in with Batman in a bridal lift*

Batkids: !!!!!!!!!

Nightwing: We received his emergency alert –

Red Hood: What the fuck happened –?

Nightwing: – he wasn’t responding –

Robin: Is Father conscious –?

Red Robin: I’m getting Alfred –

Superman: GUYS, guys, calm down

Superman: *puts Batman down on his feet* B’s just drunk.

Batman: *stands straight, dusts his shoulders, opens his arms*

Batman: Daddy’s home.

Nightwing:

Robin:

Red Robin: Okay, pause everything, I’m getting a camera *runs off*

Red Hood: *unblinking* Is this real

Batman: How are you boys this fine evenin’?

Robin: It’s 4 AM

Nightwing: Why is he speaking with a southern accent?

Superman: He’s been cycling through accents since liftoff. No idea why.

Red Robin: *returning with an 8K camera in hand* BEHOLD, the reclusive Gotham Bat in his natural habitat…

Batman: *staring at the lens, hands lifting his cape open at shoulder-height*

Batman: *fangs bared* I bid you velcome.

Red Hood: *still unblinking, unmoving* This is the best day of my entire life

[escriturasss]

You can find the video version of this comic on my tiktok @ twiddletwum as well! https://www.tiktok.com/@twiddletwum

[escriturasss]

He should have known.

He meant, like, when you dont know some things about some people but when you, um, discover that things it totally makes sense.

Like the fucking mansion where Steve fucking Harrington fucking lives. Its surrounded by fucking trees, it has a fucking beautiful scenery, and a fucking large pool and fucking garage and... EVEN A FUCKING GAP WHERE YOU CAN FUCKING SEE THE FUCKING STARS.

Fuck Steve Harrington. Fuck his gigantic and gorgeous house. Fuck his hair. Fuck him.

Yeah fuck him.

Please fuck him. Oh god he should stop.

Eddie arrived at Steve's gathering to 'welcome him from the dead', which is funny, because he is turning into a vampire. And theyre dead. Ha ha.

He stood in the doorway not knowing wheter to knock, ring, applaude, throw a rock to a window, shout, sing a serenade... Actually, thats not bad, he should do it. Once at least. Its hilarious.

He is laughing when Steve opened the door, looking at him oddly. He stopped laughing immediatly.

-What.

-Wattcha laughing at?

-Your face when i throw a rock at the window.

Steve furrowed his brows looking confused, -but you didnt throw a rock.

Eddie smirked,- yet.

-Sure, i thought you were Robin.

-Do i look like i have boobs, Steve?

-You look like you want to die.

-Ha ha, very funny. Robins not here, then? Why? Arent you like siameses or something?

-You sure are insuffereable. She got off work some minutes ago.

Mocking him, Eddie shoved Steve to the side and... Bumped with an invisible... almost wall... thingy.

-Now what?

-I cant come inside.

Worried, Steve walked past him and tried to push Eddie towards him. Confused, he went behind him and pushed him to his house.

-OW OW OW! IT HURTS STOPSTOPSTOP.

Steve stopped. And glared at him.

-Im sorry i cant enter your mansion-He exclamed and smiling said-Steve. But i think i know the reason.

-Which is...

Widing his eyes, Eddie laughed at Steve.

-Aw, cmon man. Its easy.

-No, its not. I actually dont know.

-Havent you watched Dracula movies?

-No, i dont like Terror.

-Dracula is not scary- commented Eddie taken aback.- i mean, yeah, it has weird scenes and a ton lot of blood. But not scary at all.

-yeah, yeah. Whatever man. Why cant you come inside. DONT SAY ANYTHING WEIRD.

Eddie dropped his smile and tsked. He couldnt even tell a joke, what a life indeed.

-To enter a building, vampires need the permit of those who owns the buildings.

-A permit? What im supposed to do, write 'Steve lets Eddie into his house at whatever time and day. Except 6pm from tuesdays to thursdays'?

-Why that exception tho? And no, you can say 'yes please enter to my fucking mansion' dude you gave a giant pool. It can contain a fucking dragon there.

-For nap time and yeah, i threw a lot of parties there. Were amazing.

-Yeah i dont doubt it. So can i come or not. Should i tell you in sign language?

Steve laughed, grabbed his stomach and asked -You know fucking sign language? Thats cool, man.

Eddie puffed his chest, -Yeah, and braille too. You cant know when blind or deaf people wanna join your D&D group. One should always be prepared.

Steve wheezed. Eddie watched him endeared and smiled, blushing.

-Thats so nerd of you. God i thought you were a genious of, like, idioms.- Said Steve after he recovered.

-I am, i can speak english, deaf, blind and elvish.

-Stop. I dont want to hear your nerdiness yet.

-Aw, cmon man. Its kinda sexy you know.

Steve laughed again. God, Eddie was gonna fall for this man, and fall hard he will.

Steve let him enter his house with a 'Please enter my humble abode, Eddie the Count'

Humble abode my ass.

Fuck rich people who didnt need to count every single dollar to survive.

-The count has arrived!- saluted Eddie doing a bow, reciting his new title given by Steve, smiling when Nancy rolled her eyes. Reciprocating every greeting, he scanned the room.

A livingroom spacious enough to be his kitchen and entry combined. Dustin and another kid (Will Byers, he recalled) seemed to be discussing something on the sofá; Nancy, Steve and Byers not-kid (Jonathan, Nancys boyfriend) talking and laughing at the laters stories of California, Mike and Eleven (the girl with superpowers) talking while watching something in the tv with Max and Lucas.

Such a great group. He felt standing out.

Eleven noticed him from the corner of her eye and, excusing herself from the conversation, went towards Eddie and offered him a smile.

-How are you doing?

-Im...good.- answered him.

-Thats good- nodded Eleven.

-Yeah, it is.-imitated her nod-Thanks for... You know, getting me somewhere safe.

-Youre welcome.

They stood there in an akward atmosphere, though probably Eddie is just feeling like this. Eleven is scanning his face and body and abdomen. Is he blushing? So pathetic god dammit, fucking kid.

-Youre feeling odd somewhere?

Eddie arched a brow. Why he would feel odd somewhere? He meant, he does. But does she know something he doesnt? Maybe she had all the answers all along, maybe he can ask about the blood type and garlic and turning into..

-No. A little exhausted perhaps.

Eleven nodded again, returning to her place besides Mike, showing how their conversation had finished.

Thank God, he couldnt stop thinking. It was tiring his brain.

Now, what should he do?

[escriturasss]

-Do you think he's alive?

-Of course he is. Cant you hear the beap sound of his heart?

The what?

Oh. Yeah.

He can hear it.

-Well i mean with the experience he had, i dont blame him to take a long nap. Auch!

Heh. Someone been slaped.

-Did he smile!?!?

-Shut up, Dustin. Till a minute you thought he was dead.

-I DIDNT.

-YES YOU DID.

-Yeah you did.

-EDDIE!!!

Eddie opened his eyes and squinted at the light above him. He turned to the left, noticing the wires and monitors showing his heart beats and pulse presure. Continuing scanning his room, he could see Dustin and Robin.

-Where... Am i?- God his throat felt so dry.

-EDDIE OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

-DUSTIN STOP. -Robin grabes him by his arm and janked him off to his chair. -You are in the hospital. Here, some water.

-IM GONNA CALL THE NURSE.

Eddie snorted and turned his gaze to Robin.

-So... How much time i was in here?

-Like a week or so.

-How did i end up here?

-Eleven brought you. You were floating and everything.

Eddie nodded. He remembered being eaten by bloody bats, Dustin crying, his speech of not running away... God that was so embarrasing. Why did he even do that? The adrenaline? To be a fucking hero? God that was so...

-STUPID. THAT WAS STUPID.

-Steve! Stop!

Steve entered the room looking furious. Dustin and Max were trying to (and failing) to calm him down.

-What was stupid, Harrington?

Steves head snapped towards him, eyes wide and mouth hanging a little bit open. He could see the exact moment his tense shoulders relaxed and his gaze showed relief and content.

-Oh thank god youre alive.-exclamed while engulfing him in a hug. Or whatever thing he was doing.

-Me too, Steve. Me too.

-WHAT, DID YOU THINK 'oh no! I always run away from my issues so maybe i can play the hero slash decoy and save my friends!' i want to smack you so bad in the head but youre in the hospital and i...

Eddie smiled and teased -you can punch me when i get out of here, if you want.

Steve scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows- if there was an exact moment you needed to run, IT WAS THAT!

He rolled his eyes, he just woke up for gods sake. His body hurted, breathing hurted, moving hurted, existing hurted. Thankfully, Robin caught upon that and grabed Steve by his collar and tuged him off.

-Alright, dingus. For someone so worried and sleep deprived, you sure have a lot to say.

-But...

-TO SLEEP.

Sighing in defeat, Steve got off the room threatening Eddie with a glare and mouthing 'ill kill you'.

Damn he could kill him whenever.

Anyways.

He is hungry.

-i want ravioli.

Dustin snorted.

-Ill get the nurse.

-Thank you my sweety pooh.

-Dont ever call me that again.

-Yes, sir.

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

Ravioli was his favourite food. Its, actually. It really is! But something about this meal is ticking him off. The colour of the sauce, the smell, the flavor, the weird squared shaped pasta...

He started eating.

Fucking gross.

He began to cough and narrowed his eyes. God it hurted so much. He accepted the glass of water Dustin offered.

-Are you okay?

Eddie nodded.

He was weirdly okay.

-I think my body is rejecting it.

The nurse, who was tyding the room, eyed him and began to check him.

-Sometimes, after a big trauma for the body, it goes thru a healing process and cant digest some things. But you have nothing wrong. Actually, you are healing very fast. Must be your awesome inmune system.

Ok, Eddie didnt have an 'awesome inmune system', he gets sick every minimum climate change. A cold morning and a warm evening? A cold. He goes outside in a windy day? He gets fever.

So why the fuck does he have an 'awesome inmune system'?

-How... how did you know that?

The nurses face perked up, smiled and started to explain to him that, due to his worrying blood loss they had to do a blood analisis(?) and study it for helping on the recovery.

-Who could have thought you are AB+? You made our job easier. Anyways im gonna get you some cherry gelatin.

He... He is not ab positive.

-Eddie, is everything alright?

-Dustin im, im not ab positive- his friend looked at him like he grown another head.

-Dude de test was clinic i thing you are.

-I received a lot of transfussion due to me getting sick when i was yourger. I think i know what blood type i am. I am O negative. I can done to everyone but receive O negative.

Eddie felt a pang in his chest, Dustin didnt believe him. His friend noticed and reassured he, in fact, believed him.

-Okay, listen. We were joking when you were in a coma. We theorized that maybe you could become a vampire, you know, being bitten by bloodthirsty bats and surviving and everything. But what if...

-What if i really start to become a vampire?- Eddie finished his train of thoughts- thats, actually imposible right?

-I dont know, man. After fighting monsters from another dimension and they cassualy fits D&D bosses... Maybe...

Eddie glanced nervously at Dustin, watching his gears working in his mind. God he felt so useless, he is a Dungeon Master god dammit! He knows every character in the game. But he cant think straight. He just, cant.

-EDDIE!- Dustin suddenly called, as if he werent in a fucking bed in front of him. -Appart from your blood type? Do you have another thing you think is weird?

-Um, i dont know?- How the fuck would he know? He didnt make a list about weird symptons that started after a woke up from a coma induced by being eaten by interdimensional bats: number one, his change on blood type; number two - I COULDNT EAT MY RAVIOLI. I LOVE RAVIOLI.

Dustin widdened his eyes and shouted- I ASKED THEM TO PUT A LOT OF GARLIC AND CHEESE IN IT. GARLIC, EDDIE.

-MY STOMACHS FEELS WEIRDLY OKAY.

He got the covers off of his body and started lifting his hospital clothes.

-Ew! Dude! Warn a guy next time- Dustin covered his eyes and turned away. He smiled.

-That wasnt what he said.

-Oh my god!

He lifted his gown to reveal his abdomen.

He.

He almost didnt have any scars.

-Dustin?

The boy turned at him after hearing the horror in Eddies voice.

-I dont have any scars.

Running to him, Dustin traced his fingers thru his abdomen and sides. Drawing every scar with his fingers and whispering 'this cant be real' 'oh my gods' and 'another shit to deal' 'give me a break'.

-Ok so, youre the smart one, tell me another thing we can do to prove im converting to a vampire.

-To what are you converting into?

Both Dustin and Eddie turned their heads towards the open door, Steve leaning in.

-STEVE, MATE. You woke up!

-Yeah, yeah. Answer. Now.

-We think Eddie is turning into a vampire.

Eddie blushed embarrased. For fucks sake, what is he? A schoolgirl?

Well, tecnicaly he IS in school. So.

-A vampire-repeated Steve arching an eyebrow.

-Yes.-Confirmed Dustin.

-Like, Dracula vampire.

-Yes.

Nodding and grabbing his hair, he let out a deep sigh-Alright man, have you ever been to my house?

-Um, no.

-STEVE YOU ARE A GENIUS.- Yelled Dustin that went to hug him.

-Im pretty smart actually. All of you are smartest than me and probably all of Hawkins.- Steve turned his gaze to Eddie and with a smile said-When you get out of here, we can trow a welcome gathering, all upside down survivors, y'know. And we can prove Dustins weird theory.

-Its not a theory!

-Alright, alright- said Steve with his hands in the air, showing defeat. -Wattcha say?

-Yeah, sure. Why not?

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

[escriturasss]

You know, after saving the world for a reasonable amount of times, you would think you can win against whatever. And if you save the world from interdimensional bloodthirsty monsters, one of them killing with his mind, then you think nothing surprises you anymore.

-But how Maedhros got to be there, wasnt his hand cuffed to a montain?-

Eddie whines and, covering his face with his hands, responds- YOU ARE NOT LISTENING STEVE. FINGON SAVED HIM BY CHOPPING HIS HAND OFF.

-oh!- Steve nodded absentmindly- auch that gotta hurt.

Eddie gives him an indifferent gaze.

They were hanging out in Steves house, the kids and part of his older friends. Nancy and Robin couldnt come because of job, but Eddie said he made time to come with Dustin. But the he got trapped between them and their stupid Tolkien obssesion. In reality, Steve couldnt give two shits bout what The Silmarillion was about. But Eddie and Dustin keep doing this weird, rare, funny for them, alegories or metaphores that he does not understand.

He hates not understanding.

Eddie keeps talking moving the plot 'And then Luthien just wins the battle with her awesome song, beating Sauron... Harrington are you even listening.

-Yeah yeah of course, she was going after that stone.- Honestly? He isnt even listening. Watching Eddie explaining and talking something he is passionate about is art in itself. The voices, the expressions his face makes, how his hands keep doing this gestures he couldnt keep his eyes off, everything is far more interesting than whatever is speaking.

-ITS NOT A STONE ITS A SILMARIL. -Eddie lets a frustrated sigh and sits back on the couch.

-Dude youre not gonna make him listen to anything. He is just, like, fucking boring- comments Dustin who is in front of them.

-Okay, rude.

Ruffling his hair with his hand, Eddie lets a 'tch' out ouf his mouth and groans.

-Im sorry if i dont find the Lord of the Rings very appeling.

Dustin and Eddie turn they heads to watch at him with wide eyes as if Steve grew another head.

-ITS THE SILMARILLION- shouts Dustin and Steve slaps his tight while exclaming:

-So thats why you didnt mention Frodo.

Dustin watches horrorized as Steve lains back on the couch with a grin. He turns to glare at Eddie, who is with his mouth shut in a thin line, crearly trying to not slap Steves face.

-Listen, The Silmarillion its about all the first age, the creation of the Earth, the lands, the riots between the Elves, the rules and Melkor, the curse of the silmarils and the story behind them that follows Feanor sons and...

-Dude, dude! Slow down!- interrupts Steve amused at Eddie with his mouth hanging open from being talked over.

Dustins agonizes passing a hand through his face and, with a monotonous voice explains -The Lord of the Rings is a battle between races to destroy the one ring. The Silmarillion is about cursed and powerful stones that glow.

Looking at Eddie with a sly grin, Steves says- That wasnt difficult to do. right, Munson?

-Alright, im done.

Eddie gets up and storms off the living room, clearly pissed. Steve follows him.

-Aw cmon Munson! Im joking, of course i know what The Silmarillion is about. Ive listened.

-Prove it.- defies Eddie while opening a beer, not even looking at him.

-Ok so you have these three stones that are very pretty and Feanor, their creator, is weirdly obssesed with- Steve looks at Eddie trying to get a reaction out of him, disappointed when he dont find any, he is not even looking at him. -And like Feanor defies Aule and...

-Manwe- the other corrects him.

-Yeah, Manwe, and says his rules are pretty stupid. So he gathers all elves, his sons, nieces and brothers to go to find a land for themselves. Actually im with Nerdanel in this one, thats pretty fucking stupid.

Eddie eyes perk up at his opinion and gestures him to continue.

-I mean, you have all this fucking glorious land with fucking parties and pretty people and everyone adores you and you have lived all your life and like there are like fucking gods and trees that glow and you decide to go and comit fucking arson because you dont want to SHARE YOUR STONES!

Eddie lets of a laugh, amused at Steves lashing.

-That actually didnt happen like that but its ok. You were listening, Harrington. I give you that.- and Eddie toast his can of beer to the air and chugs a sip from it.

-Well, now that i proved it to you that im a great listener i think i deserve something in return.

At this, Eddie sounds surprised. He laids back on the kitchen counter and, smiling at him comments:

-Do you want a fucking prize for being a listener?

-A listener for your hobbies.

-oh wow thats actually amazing, thanks for being a decent person.

-Aw, cmon. It does not have to be something grand.

Eddie watches him with a sly grin and shouted:

-Yo! Dustin! Steve says he wants a prize for being a good listener!

Steve can hear the wheeze that Dustin makes.

-THATS SO LAME.

Eddia can see how Steve pouts at Dustins response and murmurs -i can give you a kiss if you want...

Steve flips his head so fast it makes him dizzy but what the fuck did he just heard.

-what???

-EW EW EW- Says Dustin while pretending to gag.

Eddie blushes and cusses- WHAT do you have like a supersonic hearing??? This is something you adquired in the upside down??? Do you upgrade your habilites after some trauma??

Hearing this, Dustin laughs while Steve points an acussative finger to him, screaming something like dont change the subject. Eddie holds his hands in the air in surrender, smirking.

-DUSTIN GET YOUR ASS RIGHT HERE!

Dustin groans and goes straight to the living room again, trying to find Mike who is calling him.

While glancing around, Steve leans onto Eddies personal space and, hugging him from his waist, smiles.

-So, do you think they know?

At Eddies snort, he grins even wider.

-Yeah, no shit. After the flirting you pulled over there i think they do.

-Does that mean i can claim my prize?

Eddie smirk, -No. You have to tell me all the Lord of the Rings Lore- He grins watching Steve whines and complain.

Yeah, maybe he can give him all the prizes in the world.

[escriturasss]

¿Habrá algo más lindo que Paris de noche?

La Torre Eiffel iluminada, las avenidas que parecen un pequeño cielo estrellado con las luces de los autos moviéndose para llegar a sus destinos, el sonido de las conversaciones dentro de los restaurantes, madres cantandole a sus niños canciones de cunas, padres contandole cuentos a sus hijas...

Cosas que a él le hubiesen gustado que fueran normales. Recuerda a su madre arroparlo luego de un día de juegos y a su padre mirar cariñosamente la escena desde la puerta, ¿En qué momento todo eso terminó? Ah, claro. Cuando su madre desapareció.

Desde ese trágico evento su padre nunca fue el mismo, encerrandolo en su hogar y convirtiendo su lugar mas seguro en una prisión de la cual, a veces, esta tan desesperado por escapar.

Quizá Paris no es tan lindo de noche. O quizá la noche no es tan linda.

Chat sigue saltando techo tras techo, admirando el paisaje a su alrededor y disfrutando del viento en la cara. ¿Qué hora sería? Esperaba que no fuese tan tarde ya que al dia siguiente se tenia que levantar relativamente más temprano de lo usual pues tenía una sesión de fotos la cual realizar. Por más que le disgustara estar siempre tan ocupado al punto de no poder salir con sus amigos, la moda y la curiosidad de saber cómo lo iban a vestir, le gustaba. Esa sensación de adivinar y sorprenderse, de desafiarse a si mismo tratando de entrar en el mundo de los conceptos. ¿Seria, esta vez, un look elegante o quizá mas urbano?

Sus pensamientos se vieron interrumpidos al identificar un pequeño cuerpo rojo a la lejania. Chat cambió su rumbo dirigiéndose a Notre Dame, feliz de poder ver a su compañera de aventuras, confidente de sus secretos y, por sobre todas las cosas, mejor amiga.

-Bonsoir, My Lady. Diría qué bonita noche hay en París hoy pero, luego de verte de nuevo, puedo afirmar que lo más lindo aquí eres tú- dice Chat Noir saludando a su amiga con un beso en la mano y un comentario coqueto.

-Bonsoir, Chatton- responde Ladybug su saludo sonriendo y retirando su mano para reposar su cabeza en el hombro de su compañero que se sentó a su lado.

-¿Todo bien, Ladybug?- pregunta Chat con el ceño fruncido. Hace algunos minutos que habia llegado y ella no comenzó a quejarse de su dia. La misma levanto su cabeza desde donde estaba apoyada, dejando que una sonrisa se apodere de sus labios.

-¿Por qué. Es porque no me quejé de cómo mis compañeros de clase volvieron a ignorar mis consejos, como he predicho sucede lo imaginable y volvieron a mi como un perro con la cola metida?- Ladybug sonrie al escuchar la risa de Chat.

-No es eso, my lady. Solo siento que estas un poco apagada esta noche.

La joven lo miró a los ojos por primera vez en toda la noche y suspiro.

-Estuve pensando en como fui injusta contigo- Chat quiso refutarla pero Ladybug alzó una mano para indicarle que haga silencio mientras ella continua hablando.- Lo fui, Chat. Hemos sido compañeros por casi un año y, sin embargo, parece que pasó muchisimo más tiempo desde que nos conocimos y comenzamos a luchar espalda con espalda.

Chat la interrumpió - al pasar por situaciones de vida o muerte creo que uno se conecta más profundamente con el otro.

Ladybug asiente -puede ser, pero no quiero entrar en detalle con eso.- se detiene un momento para organizar sus ideas y en cómo decir lo que quiere expresar. -me di cuenta que como guardiana, es mi deber el conocer las identidades de todos los portadores para poder contactarlos en caso de urgencia, y que debería saber la tuya tambien.

Chat observa como la heroína se intenta acomodar todo el tiempo en su lugar, jugando con sus manos, mordiendo sus labios y apartando la mirada constantemente de èl. Un sentimiento de angustia comenzó a formarse en su pecho al no comprender a dónde iba la conversación y al ver lo incomoda que está ella. Pero antes de poder decir alguna palabra Ladybug siguió hablando.

-No sé como decirlo de manera...elegante ponele. Yo quiero que conozcamos nuestras identidades y saber que quizá, en un parque por ejemplo, nos crucemos y tengo la seguridad que estás ahí para París. De que estás bien, disfrutando de la vida a pesar de todos los acontecimientos que atravesamos en las misiones o mismo en las patrullas diarias.

Ladybug sintió como un nudo se iba formando en su garganta y suspirando trató de continuar. Intentar justificar una situacion en base a un trauma nunca es facil, ¿Le creería. Seria suficiente para que entienda el por qué es peligroso el conocer sus identidades? Sintió un poco de consuelo al ver que Chat tenia toda su atención y se estaba tomando la situacion muy en serio, dejándole hablar y aportar cuándo crea necesario. Mon Dieu, ¿por qué no hizo esto antes?

-My Lady.- el sonido de su voz hizo que Ladybug girara la cabeza hacia él- no tienes porqué forzarte a explicar la razon por la cual nuestras identidades deben permanecer secreto. Sé que es peligroso teniendo en cuenta que Hawk Moth esta todo el tiempo pendiente de nosotros y, personalmente mi vida no es la más feliz del mundo como para que no aproveche a akumatizarme.

Marinette se sorprendió al escuchar la ultima parte, ¿Chat no era feliz y alegre en su vida civil como lo es con el traje puesto? Aunque sinceramente era algo que venía sospechando al observar muy de vez en cuando están a punto de partir caminos despues de terminar una lucha. Pero, escucharlo de su boca, era totalmente otra cosa, un miedo confirmado que puso en duda su decisión de contarle todo lo que tenia planeado a Chat Noir.

-No quiero que esa pequeña confesión evite que me cuentes tus problemas. No quiero que minimices tus situaciones por el simple hecho de que sufro en mi vida civil. Tus problemas e inseguridades tambien son validas y, quien sabe, quiza nos podemos ayudar mutuamente a mejorar.

Al escuchar eso Ladybug rompio a llorar mientras abrazaba a su compañero.

-¿¡Ladybug!?- exclamá Chat sorprendido mientras corresponde el abrazo de ella, tratando de consolarla y calmarla haciéndole círculos en la espalda con sus manos.

-Fue mi culpa! Fue mi culpa y no pude hacer nada! No se porque soy Ladybug si ni siquiera puedo ayudar a mi ser mas querido! Destruyó todo el planeta y se quedó completamente solo!- Lloraba y gemía mientras agarraba el traje de Chat Noir sintiendo que, si lo soltaba, desaparecería.

-Hey, hey! Respira conmigo. Inhala. Exhala. Inhala. Exhala- El joven de desordenados cabellos dorados intentó ayudar y calmar a su amiga que comenzaba a presentar signos de un ataque de pánico. De repente siente como ella se aparta bruscamente de el.

-Perdon. Perdon, me desborde.

-No pasa nada, ¿Estas mejor?

Ladybug asiente y corresponde la sonrisa que su compañero de aventuras le brindó. Suspiró y, habiendo pasado el momento de angustia, comenzo a explicar.

-Un dia, por motivos secretos que no pienso revelar porque me da mucha verguenza, Bunnyx me llevó a un futuro donde la linea de tiempo estaba... No se como describirlo, era una alteracion espacio-temporal de nuestra realidad.

-Otra dimension- observó Chat.

Ladybug asintió- exacto. Puede ser. Algo así... El mundo estaba destruido Chat. París en ruinas, la Luna en pedazos, el olor a muerte se extendia por cada rincon de lo que quedaba de la ciudad. Caminando por las ruinas de lo que era Paris encontre dos estatuas de dos personas muy conocidas. Eran Hawkmoth y yo, Chatton. Cenizas que se iban deshaciendo con el pasar del viento. Estaba demasiado asustada y, tratando de encontrarte, descubri quien era el akuma que realizo todo ese desastre.

Chat sentia escalofrios recorrer su cuerpo, imaginarse todo eso le brindaba cierta sensacion de angustia infinita. Encontrar tu propio cadaver en medio de la ciudad debe traer traumas. Pero habia algo que no estaba encajando en su relato, la forma en que lo estaba contando daba la sensacion que habia algo aun mas grande por venir.

-El akuma mas hermoso alguna vez visto, el mas triste y el mas poderoso a la vez.- suspirando y armandose de valor, Marinette miro a su compañero a los ojos y en una exhalacion dijo: -eras tu. Chat Blanc.

El tiempo se detuvo. El mundo se paralizo. Chat Noir no entendia donde estaba parado ¿Qué fue lo que dijo Ladybug? Intentaba procesarlo. La razón por la cual la heroína poseía un trauma hasta el punto de no querer saber nada sobre su identidad.

-Chat! Chat Noir!- Ladybug sacudía desesperada a su compañero que, al verlo paralizado, se asustó.

-¿Eh?- reaccionó el joven y su compañera exhaló un suspiró de alivio.

-Chat. Sé lo que dije pero no eres tú ¿Ok? Chat. Chatton, ¡CHAT NOIR!

-NO, NO, NO. QUÉ ME DIJISTE!?- Ladybug se sobresaltó cuando el joven se paró de golpe.- ¿Cómo es eso de que destruí el mundo solo por ser akumatizado? Ladybug qué... Te asesiné. Te lastimé. Te herí. Te convertí en piedra a causa de un mega cataclismo...OH NO! PLAGG! QUÉ PASÓ CON PLAGG.

Chat Noir se encontraba en un estado de pánico. Le costaba asimilar lo que había sucedido en aquella realidad alterna. Siempre termina dañando a sus seres queridos. Plagg, Ladybug, sus amigos, incluso el mundo entero que fue (es) tan amable con él. Al final siempre tuvo razón. No merece el miraculous, no merece ser Chat Noir, ni a Plagg, ni ser un superhéroe, ni ser el compañero de Ladybug, tan milagrosa que ella es. Trae mala suerte. Siempre la trajo. Debería entregar el miraculous a la guardiana. Pero ya lo ha hecho anteriormente. Quizá si lo coloca en otro lado y le da un juego de pistas podrá...

-NI SE TE OCURRA SEGUIR ESE PENSAMIENTO.

Adrien saltó del susto que le dió el grito de Ladybug. Ella al saber que captó la atención de su compañero comenzó a decir:

-No. No estabas pensando en voz alta. Siempre que sucede algo donde haces algo que hiere a alguien te da miedo continuar, escapas de tus errores en vez de intentar resolverlo y estoy harta. Harta de toda esta situación de secretos, de mentiras, de correr de situaciones que te terminan alcanzando. Basta, Chat. Pasamos por mucho y tenemos más que solucionar. Es por eso que te estoy contando todo esto: para que podamos conocernos más y reparar los errores del pasado. Ni siquiera eras tú, era una versión interdimensional en la cual pasabas por otra historia y otro contexto y otras situaciones que te llevaron a eso.

-Ladybug... Perdón -caminando hacia ella tomó sus manos y las comenzó a acariciar con los pulgares.- El saber que puede haber una posibilidad donde te lastime, me mata. Me mata tener que imaginarte sufriendo sabiendo que no estoy para ti porque soy el que te hiere. Si hay algún Dios y me dijera que tengo que renunciar a lo unico que me brinda alegria en esta vida, lo haria sin dudar con el solo hecho de garantizar tu seguridad. Nada me haría más feliz que verte siendo Ladybug, la heroína de París, la que brinda paz a todos nosotros que, a veces, luchamos una pelea cada día.

-Chat...Sigues sin entender lo que estoy tratando de decir- Marinette corre su cara para que no vea las lagrimas formandose, a la vez que se aleja y suelta las manos de Chat Noir. Abrazandose continúa -este tipo de cero integridad fisica que tienes me pone nerviosa. No puedo estar siempre con el corazón en la boca, con la duda si te vas a ir y nunca volver o si vas a lanzarte a la boca del lobo en medio de la pelea. Quiero que reconozcas eso y lo dejes de hacer porque me hace mal. Yo se que me amas, Chatton. Yo tambien lo hago y aceptar eso significa aceptar todos los errores que cometí y tener que decirte los tuyos a pesar de que te duela. Quiero que comencemos algo juntos y podamos caminar a la par. Pero para eso tenemos que esforzarnos.

-Por más que me sienta feliz y sea una oportunidad que no pienso dejar pasar, me alegra saber que te estas disculpando por herirme estos últimos días pero no entiendo qué tiene que ver con que me acumatizaron en otra dimensión.

Marinette, acariciándose las sienes, suspiró, ¿Cuantas veces suspiró en lo que va la conversación. En qué momento de desvió todo?

-Chat. Me gustas. Quiero empezar una relacion con vos tanto con nuestros alter egos como civicamente. Invitarte a comer. Que me coquetees y me hagas chistes todo el tiempo y poder estar contigo sin miedo. Pero la razón por la cual negaba mis sentimientos es por el trauma de Chat Blanc (que lo sigo teniendo), y decidí hablarlo con vos porque uno: sos el protagonista y dos: es algo que podemos resolver juntos.

Ladybug levantó la cabeza para encontrarse la conflictica de Chat y sonrió. Tomando su mano exclamó:

-No tiene porqué ser ahora. Podemos conocernos e ir de a poco, ver qué onda. Desarrollar nuestra mejor versión...

Chat sonrió de forma que le dolían las mejillas y asintiendo abrazo fuertemente a su compañera, amiga, futura (quizá. Ojalá. Dios oiga.) novia.

-Ahora... si querés podemos decirnos nuestras identidades secretas.

-Um...yo...-Chat retrocedió dos pasos para mantener distancia entre ellos. Pero al ver la cara de Ladybug se justificó rapidamente. -No es que no quiera sino que... No me juzgues porque me da verguenza.

Ladybug sonrió -jamás.

Ambos, como si lo hubieran acordado muchisimo antes, se colocaron espalda con espalda y a la cuenta de tres retiraron su transformación.

-Dios mio no terminaba más la situación.

-Plagg no seas insensible.

-Pero mira los problemas mortales que tienen entre ellos, no sé que era tan complicado.

-Plagg, callate y deja que sean los adolescentes que quieran ser y experimenten el amor.

-Chat?- llamó a su compañero y siguió hablando cuando escucho la confirmación del mismo- a la cuenta de tres, ok? Uno...dos...

-MARINETTE?

-DIJE HASTA LA CUENTA DE... ADRIEN??? NO PUEDE SER QUÉ.

-MARINETTE?

-CHAT NOIR ES ADRIEN AGRESTE? TE REVOLIÉ DESDE LA TORRE EIFFEL MILES DE VECES.

-MARINETTE?

-RECHACE TUS CONFECIONES MILES DE VECES A LA VEZ QUE YO ME INTENTABA CONFESAR.

-MARINETTE?

-DEJA DE DECIR MARINETTE.

-PERDÓN ES QUE SIEMPRE QUISE QUE SEAS VOS. Es como un sueño hecho realidad. Tenía un dilema porque me gustabas vos y Ladybug y resulta que SON LA MISMA PERSONA.

Marinette se ríe con el comentario de su futuro (quizá. Ojalá. Dios oiga) novio. Y carcajeó al ser levantada en el aire por los fuertes brazos de Adrien.

-Si hubieses hecho dos mas dos te daba cuatro.

-Plagg- dijo Adrien mirandolo a los ojos fijamente. -Me enseñaron a modelar no a sumar.

Adrien bajó a Marinette pero mantuvo un brazo sobre sus hombros.

Ella, armandose de valor, se colocó de puntitas de pie y le robó un pequeño beso a su amante. Sonriendo cuando notó el rubor sobre sus mejillas.

-Por un futuro donde estemos juntos en las buenas y en las malas.

Marinette sonrió.

Quizá, solo quizá puedan ver el amanecer. Eso sí, si no caen durmiendo en la cima de Notre Dame, el único testigo del comienzo de su amor.

[escriturasss]

'...so i do wanna dye my hair but after the blond i dont wanna keep damaging it so i dont really know...'

Kai kept scrolling the vlive chat as he was talking, after a while he smiled.

'where's geegee? You want her to come in?' Kai chuckled as he saw comments suddlenly overflowinf the chat.

Yes pls tell her to come see us >.<

Im dying to meet her!!

Is she as gorgeous as i remember???

OMG YESYESYES MISSED HER

Pls MOAs keep voting for MAMAs Loser=Lover 0x1 soty

Omg hyuka wanna suck your dick

Wheres beomgyu?

'Yes shes still gorgeous. Gonna call her'

'What do you want' Eunji said as soon she picked up the call.

'Yes baby im good im glad you too.'

' *kissing noises* babe did you start the vlive yet??'

'no why?'he kept a laugh

'thank god. i want to watch it but my phone has no credit or signal idk'

'no signal?? Babe where are you?'

'what do you mean where are you?? I told you i was gonna drop off to cook you this new dish i learned'

'oh sorry i forgot'

'you forgot??'

'mhm'

'i even bought dessert'

'yeah my bad'

Kai was silently laughing waiting for her response when he heard a noise.

'yah what are you doing?'

'turning back home'

'NO WHY?'

'CLEARLY YOU DONT WANT ME THERE BYE.'

'NO WAIT WAIT MOAS ARE ASKING FOR YOU?'

'OMG THEY ARE??' wait. YOU LIED TO ME'

'IM SORRY THEY WANTED TO SEE YOUR REACTION'

'REACTION TO WHAT. TO MY BOYFRIEND LYING TO ME??'

'IM NOT'

'MOAS, MOAS ARE YOU LISTENING??? THIS IS HOW HE TREATS ME'

'I DO NOT'

'YEAH YOU DO'

'STOP YELLING AT ME'

'YOU STOP YELLING AT ME'

'stop babe i miss you get over here'

'omg you miss me?'

'yes baby so please can you-' Kai was interrupted when he heard a screeching noise'BABE???'

'IM COMIIIIIING'

'BE- safe. Well MOAs, what should we do once geegee gets here???'

The screen is showing a hundred comments per second and him, impacient as he is, is trying to understand and find a decent answer or an activity he can do with Eunji. Luckily, the door was being pounded over and over. He smiles and open up to find his girlfriend.

'BABY!' greeted Eunji looking at him with a wide smile. His heart squeezed and he hugged her.

'Come in, i found something interesting to do'

Eunji sat across the tablet and started reading the comments.

'Hi MOAs' she greeted shyly. While she was reading some questions, she spoke'yes im fine! I already ate...oh! Yeah about that, its the lunch for tomorrow. For tonight i brought cake!' she laughed at a comment 'yes i saw it! It was both hilarious and marvelous, im still amazed.

Kai smirked with a love gaze, watching her girlfriend being accepted by his fans always brought joy to his heart.

'Kai! They want us to do the couple tag!' He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of her voice.

'Hmm?' he sat besides her 'then send us some questions and we'll see'

How did you two met?

'OH HOHO'

'dont'

'I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. TURN IT UP'

'babe'

'we went to the same school since childhood. But we MET IN HIGH SCHOOL'

'she already started'

Look at hyukas face

Omg is it bad is it bad??

Tell us tell us

Spill the tea bestie

Why are you here? We want kai not you

Yeah bitch get out who do you think you are??!?!?

Kais face ahahshshshs

High school???

'we are in the same year and like... him, as an idol, has a different management of time as me. So we met like a couple of times before, even we were in the SAME class. Ugh the life of a ALMOST DROPOUT' she shushed her boyfriend when he whined' So, one day we had to do this super difficult essay and.'

'again, i was desparated'

'shut up dont interrupt me'

'damn girl'

Ahahaha

I missed her attitud

Yes queen stand for yourself!

Dont kneel to no man!

Who does this bitch think she is???

How dare she make him shut up??

Hahahaha let him give his opinion, geegee!!

'And like he comes to class and sits behind me, right? So our professor sees him and gives him the task to collect all of our essays, since he never does anything. I give it to him bla bla the days passed and'

'oh my gooood stop dissing me!'

Ahahaha hes getting frustrated

I bet she is making all this up

'The teacher hands over the essays and i see a 10, which im proud of, and she gives me a smile and im like daaamn i did a god job'

'babe'

'TURNS OUT'

'Eunji'

'I DIDNT DO THE ESSAY BY MYSELF'

'Ugh'

'THIS MAN RIGHT HERE WROTE HIS NAME AS A PARTNER! I did the essay with someone and i didnt knew!'

Kai tsked and smiled.

'She looked at me SO mad! She was SO MAD OH MY GOD HAHAHAHAHA'

'Yeah and i was yelling at him and he looked so smug, ugh i fucking hate you'

'Yeah you were so tiny back then'

'im still the same height you know'

'SO TINY AND CUTE' Kai said squeeshing her cheeks and babying her.

'Yeah, well, youre so fucking tall. So, where did i left?'

'i looked so smug'

'oh yeah and then you flirted with me for twenty seconds and i became obssesed with you forever'

Kai leaned in and retreated back rapidly, he wanted to kiss her but the live was still on. He looked over the comments again and frowned as they kept to insult and report his girlfriend. He tried to focus on the game.

How did you two started going out?

'I want to answer this!'

'yeah i want you too'

'I realized i fancied her when she sent me a video screaming i know i love you'

'it took you that long to realize that?'

'shhh its only the beginning'

'No but really thats like this year and i fancied you since year 1'

'THAT LONG?'

'yeah.'

'YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING'

'WELL DID I HAVE TO???'

'YES MAYBE I HAD REALIZED MY FEELINGS SOONER??'

Eunji looked at the camera, looked at the comments and sighed.

'this is the bullshit i put up to everyday'

'THATS SO MEAN'

'thits si min shut up'

'i hate you'

'HOW DID WE END UP TOGHETER'

'YES SORRY SO she sent me a video singing and laughind and i was like "i want to kiss her so bad" and Taehyun was like ummm do it then? And i was like did i say that out loud? And he was like yes? And i was like OMG I LIKE EUNJI?? And Tyun was like umm did you just figured it out?? And'

'We had a discussion one day because a guy asked me out and he got jealous and i accepted, he didnt like it we argued and then i said something like THEN ASK ME OUT YOURSELF and we kinda confessed and then i kissed him and run away he followed me and kissed me under the cherryblossoms uwu'

HueningKai glared at her

'what?'

'I WAS TELLING THE STORY'

'YOU WERE TELLING IT FROM THE BEGGINING AND THAT WASNT EVEN THE QUESTION'

'I WAS TRYING TO GET MOAS CONTEXTUALIZED'

'DOES THAT WORD EVEN EXIST???'

'I DONT KNOW SHUT UP'

'NO YOU SHUT UP'

'IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS'

'YOU??? IM LIKE TWO HEADS SHORTER THAN YOU. IM GONNA TELL JIWOO YOURE MEAN'

'no more kisses then'

'what???'

'NO MORE KISSES'

'KAI'

'NO. MORE. KISSES.'

'BABE'

'CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP WE DONT FUCKING CARE IF YOU KISS MAKE OUT OR DO WHATEVER. SHUT. UP'

They looked at each other and laughed

'So um yeonjun got mad at us'

'understandable'

'so um moving on... Thats how we end up together any questions left??'

'Someones asking about the photos of you with BEOMGYU????

'oh right. That.

'THAT?? GEEGE? WHAT PHOTOS???

The ones with beomgyu!!

The ones they look soooo close

Lovey-dovey mwah mwah

SHE IS CHEETING ON YOU I KNEW IT

STOP THEYRE JUST FRIENDS

'STOP LAUGHING AT ME' Eunji looked at the camera and said 'Were just friends, that day we went to buy a gift for my boyfies bday. He was helping me'

'SUSPICIOUS YOU NEVER BOUGHT ME A GIFT'

Eunji glared at him and leant on to whisper something in his ear.

'Oh right... That was the gift i forgot'

'GROSS, EW, EW WTF WTF'

Both of them turned to the door with wide eyes and saw the later mentioned, Beomgyu, staring at the couple with a disgusting face

'DUDE!'

'Do you ALWAYS have to sneek in others peoples BUSSINES??'

'IM SORRY EUNJI BUT I HEARD THE WORD CAKE AND CAME IMMEADIATLY. I DIDNT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT... THAT'

'Get out or you wont eat cake'

'But im hungry'

'Im gonna make you eat my FIST'

'WHY DO YOU ALWAYS THREATEN ME??'

'GET OUT'

'BYE IM SORRY OK'

'i hate this dorm. The only one i respect is Soobin'

'What about me?'

'Oh i love you and all but.. ñeh'

'Oh shut up. Another question??'

'Oh hyuka id gladly stay here but i had a long day and i want to get some sleep before tomorrow'

Tomorrow??

What about tomorrow?

Are you going somewhere???

Kaikaikaikai

Pls MOAs keep voting for MAMAs Loser=Lover 0x1 soty

'Were going on a date!' She exclaimed so brightly it made HueningKai blush and smile at her.

'Yeah we do. Moas i hope you had a good time and maybe in a couple of months we do a vlive specially for this.'

'BYEEEEE'

'Bye love you all!!

'Hey babe do you think is best to make tomato sauce or pink sauce'

'Beomgyu hates tomatoes'

'Yeah but he will not know~'

*End of Vlive*

[escriturasss]

Tic. Tac.

The clock strikes 5 o'clock.

'and with this concludes the class. Thank you for coming, in the next one will be practice from beginning' says Eunji wipping her damp face with a towel while the trainees stretch, rest and go out the salon.

'Bye teach!' Eunji responds every salute as the trainees say goodbye.

Sighing she starts to clean the classroom: wiping the mirrors, sweeping the floor, turning the lights out, when suddenly she gets startled by a figure.

'La concha de tu madre, Yeonjun'

'I guess i scared you' laughs the older one.

'yeah, no shit. A heads up will be welcome next time you dimwit' spats Eunji. 'Why are you here? Isnt your day off?'

'Yeah but i wanted to talk to you.'

Eunji looks at the young man through the mirror, standing shyly besides the door. She smiled knowing what was coming up. She left the rag on a chair next to her desk in the left corner of the room.

'yeah sure' says turning to confront him. She notices how his hands are gripping the sides of his pants, showing his nervousness.

'so um... You know how i like girls and... Well theyre actually really pretty with how they dress or style their make up and you are beutiful and...'

Trying to ease him she decides to tease him a little.

'Are you confesing to me? Jun you know i like someone else.'

'What? No!'' he blushes 'i dont like you!'

'Damn are you saying im not likeable?' she archs an eyebrow

'No! Its just youre not my type' he reddens.

'So im ugly.' she frowns trying to contain her smile.

'No!' yells Yeonjun.

Eunji cracked a laugh and saw how her friend and student relaxes and shows a smile at her.

'Im just teasing dear. I know what you are gonna say' she reaches him.

Yeonjun gapes with questioning eyes. 'do you?'

'Yeah!' she beams a smile. 'You want to bang and be banged!

'HAHAHA WHAT?'

Eunji watches with a fond look at Yeonjun who is wheezing in front of her.

'You cant be serious' He wipes a tear. 'what- who said that?'

'Oh, you know' She waves her hand with a proud look. 'An old saying we say in my country: queres ponerla y que te la pongan.

Yeonjun laughed again.

'You know its okay, right' Eunji smiled at him. Yeonjun smiled sadly and nodded. 'I mean, yeah, Korea its a pretty conservative country and me, as a foreigner who lives in a place where gay marriage is allowed... Well my advices wont be much of help.'

'But youre listening, and accepting me. Thats a lot, really.'

'Oh my god, you bitch. Youre gonna make me tear up' she started hitting his arm as they sat besides each other looking at themselves in the mirror. 'I like how you dont state anything but dont deny it either.'

Yeonjun smiled softly 'Yeah, i want to keep some things private. I mean, i love MOAs and im really thankful to them, they made us TXT the recogniced Boy Group' he chuckled. She listened. 'But im not Yeonjun 4th gen it boy, older one of Tomorrow by Together, im Choi Yeonjun a boy who wants to be loved.'

'Yeonjun... Oh dear, come here' she gathered him in her arms an gave him a hug. He gripped tightly and let his worries scape trough the form of tears. Eunji whispered 'Everything is gonna be fine, okay? Thank you for telling me this, you are so brave. You dont have anything to worry about. If you start doubting just come to me, were gonna figure something out'.

He let go of his grip on her and smiled a little. 'That sounds like a confession.'

'Oh dont worry i wont be confessing to someone who thinks im not his type' she teased.

'That wasnt it!' Whined Yeonjun. 'Do you think i should come out to the boys?'

'I think you should do as you please, if you want them to know go for it and if you want to wait its okay too. They will understand.'

'Thanks, Eunji' Yeonjun looked at his teacher fondly.

'Enough with this sapoy shit, god you have to be BISEXUAL.'

He laughed 'Whats wrong with it'

'THEYRE FULL OF SAPPY SHIT WTF YEONJUN WE ARE EARTH SIGNS. Damn leave this to Beomgyu.' she yelled frustrated.

'Why???'

'HE IS A PISCES'

'I cant stand you, bye.'

'No, no. Listen, Yeonjun. As a pisces he will have the need to-'

'Goodbye.' he interrumpted.

'Wait!' She watches as he leaves the salon. Approaching the door she says, looking at the figure walking dowb the hallway. 'Im not done and you know im right.'

He waves at her not looking back.

'Bitch' she murmured to herself content.

[escriturasss]

We keep winning

the "marichat stans are clowns" joke ain't funny anymore when you remember all ladrien stans got this season is adrien turning into a pigeon in front of ladybug and ladybug kicking his ad in a fit of feralness, while they got a full on episode straight up taken out of their wildest fanfiction dream

#ladrien #ml spoilers #psychomedian #glaciator 2 #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir

[escriturasss]

What does MF mean? Main fucker?

I KNEW YOU'D BE ALIVE MF!!! NOW GO BE A GOOD DADDY TO OUR BABY!!!

[escriturasss]

Txt como scouts

Yeonjun:

Empezó desde caminantes porque los scouts eran de maricón.

Se amigó con soobin y lo llevó

Lw gusto xq hacen mate con don satur tremendo

Se sabe todos los nudos

No entiende las claves jajajaa re tarado

Fiel amante de las pistas

El boludo q hace las empresas

"Dale Kai contesta los mensajes"

Un kpo se chamuya a todas en los distritales

Se pelea por lo menos 1 dia en los anuales

Le salen tremendos sketches

No te viene con ninguna danza x eso amante del tallarin

Un kpo medio olor a culo en la carpa

Soobin

Entro de lobato

Un amor seguro es representante juvenil

Se lleva con todo el distrito

Los diris lo aman

Engancho a YJ en caminantes

Se sabe el llano nada mas

Guardian de leyenda

"Bueno chicos tenemos que elegir presidente de asamblea"

Es el secretario xq nadie se postula

No entiende las pistas

Fan de la clave morse alto crack

Fue a la asamblea nacional una vez no le gusto mucha gente

Intenta poner orden en el anual

El q se confunde los pasos en el fecas

Beomgyu

Mi aamorcito te amo bb

Está desde unidad fue guia de patrulla

Alto gil siemore mete chistes cuando no van

Propone todas las salidas para el ciclo de programa

El q trae las don satur

Se sabe todos los nudos y amarres alto crack

Es el creativo q hace todos los parches de los campamentos

Es el que se pelea con yeonjun en el anual

Detesta a soobin x cagarles el 1er lugar en el fecas

"Jajaja como no te va a salir el ESCOTA"

Se lleva con el distrito pero hasta ahi

Hace sketches con yj

El moredador de asamblea

Taehyun

Esta de lobatos con soobin

Subguia de beomgyu. Nunca mas

Propone las tematicas de los campamentos

Se sabe todas las pistas y claves

Se sabe todos los nudos menos el escota

Siempre revienta a beomgyu

El fit del equipo

"Siii subamos ese cerro mañana"

No se lleva con distrito

Sabe hacer el fogon alto crack

Es el presidente de asamblea

"Nadie hizo nada como siempre"

Planifica los proyectos grupales con Beomgyu

Bestie de Kai son culo y calzon se pierde uno se perdieron los dos

Intermediador de peleas en anuales

Huening Kai

Esta desde ultimo año de unidad

El fogonero

El q pone casa para las jodas despues de scout

Todos los sabados se trae el mate

Mate dulce lover

Se lleva con su grupo nada mas xq es timido

Le gustan las salidas a capital

El q le trae regalos de anuales a sus amigos un amor

No se sabe una mierda 20 años al pedo

Nunca contesta los mensajes

Nunca sabe a q hs hay q ir

Vive a 3 cuadras del grupo

Abanderado de la nacional x alguna razon

El q hace enojar a yeonjun en el anual

[escriturasss]

The feralnette au is the best thing that ever happened to me

prompt: bad weather

I JUST… missed drawing them gfhdfhfgh there’s definitely like… an episode in time where Marinette and Felix aren’t quite friends but they’re not enemies but they can’t stand each other but they admire each other

#feralnette au #felinette #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng

[escriturasss]

Of all the things that Jiwoo thought could happen in her life, Kang Taehyun waiting for her in front of her house down the puring rain definitely wasnt one of them.

'Taehyun what the fuck'

Said boy looked up and met her eyes. Jiwoo couldnt tell if his eyes were glistering because of tears or the weather.

'Hey hey' Jiwoo ran up to where he was standing and embraced him 'are you ok? What happened?'

When he started sobbing Jiwoo hugged him.

'Ok it doesnt matter, come in ill make you some tea'.

They entered the house. Taehyun wiped his tears as he sat down in the kitchen. He was watching his phone when a steaming cup caught his attention.

'Sorry i dont have tea, Eunji only drinks matecocido, no se de donde los saca' she said. 'Is it good?'

Taehyun nodded.

'Do you want to talk about what happened?'

Taehyung refused.

'Alright. I will acompany you with some studying i have to do. You know coming here to Korea has its downs too'

At that sentence, Taehyun started to cry again.

'Taehyun!!??'

'Im sorry its just. I dont want you to leave'

'Im literally going to my room?'

'From Korea'

'Oh' Jiwoo sighed and grabbed Taehyuns hands.

'I came to Korea with a Visa that allowed me to study some things for a mastering im doing about politics and... about my career. I was allowed to do this for four years ok? And this is our third year too.'

'Eunji is gonna leave too. What about Beomgyu what about our choreos?'

'Taehyun. You realize that we leave to end our studies and we can come back whenever we want right?'

Jiwoo stared at him. Taehyun stared at her. He started laughing.

'I cant believe i made this drama for nothing'

'Sometimes i forget that youre younger than me.'

'And after you leave how much time will pass till you come again'

'Like 2-3 years maybe less maybe more'

Taehyun began to tear up 'THREE YEARS I THOUGHT A MONTH'

'WHAT DO YOU EXPECTED I HAVE TO SUBMIT THIS FOUR YEAR LONG PROYECT'

'THEN DONT SUBMIT IT'

'WTF IS LIKE ASKING YOU TO NOT SING ANYMORE?'

'I cant do that'

'Im glad we are on the same page. God this is stressful' Murmured the young woman while rubbing her temples.

'Then if you have only a year...'

'Im listening'

'Lets date'

Jiwoo laughed but, when she looked at his friends eyes she knew he was being serious.

'Did you take me on a date?'

'No but...' Jiwoo interrupted him.

'Then no.'

'But i like you!'

'And i like you too but what? Do you want me to date someone for a year and then break up?'

'No! We can keep dating even from distance!'

'I know youre a smart boy, Tae. Its not that i dont like you, im being rational. Its not gonna work out'

'If you liked me enough then you would accept'

'Ok first of all, rude. Second, i literally live on the other side of the world, our schedules wont match, hell even the time wont match. Youre an idol, a worldwide idol, and you think it will be easy to both of us to not say anything?'

'I get your point but if we try hard enough...' Jiwoo calmed down a little when she saw how the boy she liked was almost begging and grabbed her temples.

'Listen. We cant and end of discussion.'

'Why!? I like you i want to spend time with you and go to dates and take photos and sing with you and show...' Jiwoo cracked a laugh.

'Show?? Show who exactly? Do you think moas will ever like me and dont say hateful comments to me? This wont work out unless i stay here for a long time.'

'You know what? Fine do whatever you want' Taehyun said while going towards the door.

'Hey, wait. Taehyun'

She whimpered after a loud bang.

Taehyun leaved her house.

And she went to bed.

She better start to work on that damn writing.

She wondered if Eunji had the same problem.

Probably not.

Ugh what a mess.