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#I'm scared and lonely and i just want to talk to my friends but i can't fucking do it
dawnbreakersgaze · 2 days
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The way you phrased it I was also like, ok how funny though if those 3 men fall for the LI instead of MC. I want to see Rafayel flustered at Thomas's advances. Zayne clueless about why Greyson keeps giving him gifts and why he arranges his entire schedule to see Zayne. Jeremiah..."I saw you like a brother before but now what are we?"
Hahahahha oh my God this is amazing 🤣
I didn't even know I needed these ships in my life until this moment but also like... Greyson has this whole thing about being so scared of Zayne at first in that anecdote when hes talking to the intern but then realizing he's actually wonderful and kind and gentle and what if that's just the start of him realizing he's actually just got a huge crush on him. He starts inviting him out to lunches or coffee breaks and Zayne just thinks he's being friendly and that it's nice to have a friend because it's been a while since he lost William and he's been so lonely.
Thomas I could ABSOLUTELY see being way too into Rafayel's bitchery. I mean come on. Raf is such a tease, always making everyone work so damn hard for just a bit of his time and attention, a smidgen of his cooperation. It's basically a game at this point between them. Getting Rafayel to behave is just foreplay and if they're not aware of that yet then that is on them 👀
As for Jeremiah and Xavier- all I'm saying is if those two were to spar and then got into it and then one ended up on top of the other when they were panting and heaving and arguing I'd be SHOCKED if someone didn't lean in a little. All that 'rivalry' and banter and bickering is usually code for "we've got some shit to work through".
Nonnie my dear, whoever you are, I love you and your brain lol. Let me smooch it 💋
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uzumakisasuke · 6 months
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was totally vibing earlier today but i'm def crashing now :(
#every time i go to the farmers market i get so happy when i come home idek why lol#but i was happy and vibing and i borrowed jaime's BIL's fancy bluetooth speaker#and i was like playing club music and putting on a bunch of little outfits and dancing alone#but like in a fun way. in a happy alone but not lonely way yknow?#then i had a late lunch/pre-dinner little meal and watched some one piece#then jaime and his mom came home and she has a new car ! (her car was totalled in an accident but she had gap insurance)#anyway i eventually went back to my room and got in bed and was still kinda vibing#and then i remembered what day it was.. it's my ex-gf's birthday :(#so now i'm. yknow. thinking about things and feelin sad and shit and wondering if i ever do want to reach out to her.#when it all went down she said a huge part of her being able to break things off was telling herself it didn't have to mean that she'd#lose me from her life entirely.. that if i wanted we could stay friends.#we've talked a few times since then and i just really can't figure out what i need. or what's best for me.#she's only ever said things like i'll never lose your number and take all the time you need i'll be here when youre ready etc etc#but. on one hand while i miss her dearly and feel like a part of me is always missing i also am too scared to reach out#bc i can't let myself be vulnerable like that. because if she changed her mind and doesnt even care about me at all anymore that would hurt#and also i don't trust myself either. what if we start talking again and all my feelings come rushing back. i can't handle that#so. same old same old it is. wishing her a happy birthday psychically and hoping she's having a wonderful day.#sigh. not to mention my whole other situation that is too similar. and which i'm also still not sure how to feel about. :(#cursed to miss everything and everyone who has ever passed me by while proceeding to never do anything about any of it.#ej.txt
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navramanan · 6 months
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So tired of continuesly feeling this way I keep trying and failing time and time and time again
#i dont want to feel a profound sadness anytime anyone (especially someone i know) expresses being grateful about their group of friends#i dont want to feel this way every time i find out about them being at a social gathering or whatever together#i feel so awful so so awfully patheticly lonely i feel so stupid and i feel so horrible when admitting it#and i fall into deep worry about my situation never changing bc everyone i know has a network of friends from childhood or school#and pretty much no one from my childhood or school stayed in my life i feel so scared of my future how will i live a life this way#anytime i come across a post talking about long time friends i cannot stomach reading it#it's all so debilitating and i dont know how much longer i can keep on ranting like this#i moved countries i hoped things would change i approached people i talked i asked to hang out three years later i'm left with two#(used to be three but she seems to not care about me at all) seperate friends i'm so grateful for both#but it doesnt work out. it doesnt work this way. i cannot socialize with them since theyre not muslim n we have very different life styles#so i tried finding muslim friends i got associated with the muslim students association went to gatherings joined the book club#i met very lovely girls but nothing more came out of it#i remember the first time i took part in something it was two years ago i talked with a group#it was a group who already were friends and one girl who also had just met them#a year later i find out theyve all become friends and hang out. vallahi i dont know what it is i'm doing wrong i'm so tired and so desperate#it kills me. it's so scary to not have a social network not have friends to lean on to call when youre in need it's so isolating#i've lived my teen years this way i'm continuing to live my 20s this way and cant stop but think it has to do with me#anyways enough of that now bye#nesi rants
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mintaka-iii · 5 months
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My mental health can't possibly good if an essay on the found family trope gives me such an indescribable feeling of hollowness and yearning
#Generally I know things are bad when some media is unbearable to consume#It's weird because I'm not overtly anxious and I'm less depression paralyzed than a few months ago#But I'm so terrified and hopeless about grad school applications that it's affecting my whole psyche#Even though it's not even a problem in my current life#It's just unbearable to think about or work on and it has been for like two years#Which means it's kinda hard to make any kind of meaningful change that would make me LESS terrified and hopeless#So I don't FEEL anxious or ACT anxious but I'm scared to death and compartmentalizing it#Also I've been in this town where I know none of my friends for more than a year now and also it's so small and I'm so fucking lonely#I don't FEEL lonely like it's not acute and I'm calling and texting people really frequently#But then I never realize I miss my sister until I see her again#And I didn't know how much I missed seeing all my friends irl until I did#Exactly twice in the past year#So there's clearly multiple things fucked up in my subconscious and they're affecting me but I can't directly get a handle on them#Also I want nothing more than to get an astrophysics PhD but it's SO much more competitive than physics#Cause the programs are so small#So do I apply to what I want and increase my chances of being rejected AGAIN#Or do I try and write essays about being interested in something I'm not really#No matter which program I get into I can probably do work in the other in actuality#But I feel like I can't apply to a physics program and exclusively talk about all the faculty I want to work with one department over#And most places don't let you apply to both
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wiinterbunny · 8 months
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... 📓🖊
#my mom has started talking abt moving...#and it is kinda ridiculous because i'll be 25 soon. and i'm still clinging onto my mother#i *want* to be independent and live on my own. but i think i'm too weak to do it.#and her just talking about moving away soon makes me feel extreme dread and fear...#(she also says i should stay in this apartment and have it on my own. she says it in a loving way tho. she wants me to grow up)#(but i dont want to.... so many parts of my childhood are missing from me. i dont think i can)#(the thought of being resonsible for rent... finding a job... fear of being without a home.. too much)#i dont want to... and if i dont live with my mother i'll have NO ONE to talk to#i'll be so lonely... for real... i will probably not talk with anyone at all. and just spend my existence on my own#my mom is the only one i have... how can i live without her???? she's also my only friend#what am i gonna do what am i gonna do... im so scared#i feel so alone :((#i dont know how im gonna fix this or what im gonna do#when i talk to my mom... she's understanding she is. but we both know i cant spend the rest of my life living with her#she also wants her own life T-T and it'd be embarrassing to stick with her thru my entire 20s... 30s.. 40s... idk#i have to be on my own but i dont want to#im also scared that with my avpd... i'll grow distant from her and never feel truly connected to her again#she doesnt understand my personality disorder. even if i try to explain she just dont get it!!!!#i'll always be alone and disconnnected from everyone. esp if i dont even have my mom...#i just wanna d1e ngl.. :(#💭​diary
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casterluci · 4 months
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the loneliness is hitting so bad 😂😂😂😂
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minimoll7 · 8 months
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Hate it when depression hits hard before bed
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allysunny · 3 months
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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
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Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
722 notes · View notes
blue-jisungs · 3 months
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heyy, how are you doing? hope life's treating you well during the last days of the year 🤚😔
I wanted to request smth but I'm not sure if I should send it here bc I didn't see a link? anyways. I was wondering how would wonwoo or scoups deal with a s/o that hasn't dated nor kissed before and therefore is scared of the commitment and all the pressure that comes with catching feelings? maybe I have a friend who's insecure about that, iykwim
thank you for taking the time<3
firsts (and hopefully, not lasts)
author’s note. hi dear anonnie!! i’m doing good, thank u for asking <3 i hope life was treating you tenderly too!! :D
++ thank u mother @l3visbby for proofreading<33
summary. having a conversation about your worries with wonwoo, who’s understanding and caring
also this turned so self indulgent like 😭😭😭 i relate to all the bitchless single ppl out there fr fr … so worry not, i getchu…. i mean, your friend >_<
word count. ~1,5k
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sometimes you wondered how did that happen. that meaning you and wonwoo dating. him, a talented and handsome idol with lots of charisma, good traits and fans. you, being a simple human with an ordinary life.
it was even quite… boring. nothing really happened in your life. highschool, then college. working and studying, an endless cycle. you were never the one to party – or get invited to parties. sure, you got along with your classmates and co-workers (or even their friends!) but you couldn’t help but feel envious when in their early 20s they already had dated, partied and had the fun of their lives.
you met wonwoo while on a vacation on jeju. for something that felt like ages, you decided to take a trip. alone. just with yourself.
while having a lonely stroll around the neighborhood, you stopped to pet a cat. it had a collar, it certainly wasn’t stray - and surely, loved belly rubs. so while you were petting the feline, wonwoo noticed you. heart warming upon seeing the simplicity and beauty of human nature, he stared for a while longer and went back to the place he stayed at.
he passed you a couple of times – on a beach, when you were secretly petting the cat, when you were riding a rented bicycle with wind blowing your hair.
you were cute and wonwoo decided that ‘screw it’ and approached you once you were reading a book under a byeonggeul tree. and the rest was history.
you’ve been dating for almost three months. yet… you haven’t kissed. wonwoo understood that, how could he not? he respected your boundaries and told you to take your time. he didn’t know the reason – that you haven’t kissed anyone, that he was the first guy you held hands with, that he was your first everything. and in moments like these, when the realization hit you like a wave crushing on rocks by the shore, you were terrified. how come you’re 27 and still a loser? bitchless loser, as many of the younger people would say. sure, wonu never made fun of you (simply because you never talked about it or mentioned it to him) but your friends, that knew you for a long time now… you felt it in your bones that they’re making fun of you.
“hey, is everything okay?” your boyfriend’s (gosh, that sounds so beautifully strange. you never thought the possibility of having a boyfriend is something that was actually possible for you) tender voice reached your ears. tearing your dozed-off eyes away from a random spot in the wall, you nodded with a shy smile.
wonwoo sat next to you, placing his warm hand over yours.
“come on, i can see something is bothering you. you’ve zoned out” he snickered and you just send him a smile “you do that a lot lately, you know? is something bothering you?”
‘you. you are the reason of my bothers’ you thought, sighing.
“well…” you started and already knew it was a mistake. wonwoo cocked an eyebrow.
“so there is something” he hummed, satisfied “you know i won’t judge, hm?”
he knew exactly what you were thinking. one would think it’s kind of creepy. actually, you found it adorable. he knew you so well, almost as if you knew each other since childhood.
“i know but… it’s silly” you mumbled and your eyes met his warm, ebony irises. wonwoo fixed his glasses with a swift flick and shook his head. you opened your mouth to say something.
communication is key, they say. you should probably tell him what’s on your mind, right?
you just sighed.
“how do you… bear with me? we… we haven’t kissed and–”
“i hate to interrupt but i’ve told you this. i don’t mind. you being comfortable it’s the most important thing to me and i would hate to lose your trust” he said, a bit sternly but you knew it was pure care speaking through him.
“i know but… i haven’t kissed, wonwoo. like, never. and actually, i’m scared. because this is my first relationship. my parents and friends have this pressure on me… and it’s so draining. ‘you didn’t even kiss yet?’, ‘when are you going to introduce him to us?’, ‘does he take you on dates?’, ‘do you live together?’, ‘are you really committed?’... ‘are you sure you like him?’... and how… how would i know? i’m scared” you burst out suddenly, words leaving your lips like water erupting from a waterfall. you see his eyes widen in shock, lips parting.
“scared of what?” wonwoo asked, blinking slowly “me…?”
“no. yes. i mean, no!” you laugh and see a wave of relief wash over him. then he frowns, so you explain “i’m scared of what you’ll think or… or where we will be in the future. i’m scared to do some things with you but also… kind of excited? i’m scared of committing but i’m also frightened of not committing! like, with all respect, how will i know i love you? do you just wake up one day and know it’s love? i’m scared i’ll get hurt or even worse, hurt you. i don’t know what to do…” your voice died in your throat.
great, you overshared. now he’ll think you’re actually insane.
you could see wonwoo was baffled. you sat in silence for five minutes, his thumb drawing circles on your hand in a soothing manner.
“that’s… a lot to process” nonu let out a small laugh and you smiled.
“i know, sorry. it’s just been on my mind lately” you mumbled. wonwoo brings his leg to the couch, then puts his other hand and grabs both of yours. looking you in the eye with seriousness, you tense a bit. uh oh.
“to be honest, baby…” your boyfriend starts (and the nickname still makes your stomach swirl with butterflies - even though you always thought it would make you cringe. surprisingly, coming from wonwoo’s lips, it doesn't) “it’s hard to answer all of these. i really like you and i truly hope our relationship will last. but human heart is really unpredictable. we don’t know what the future will bring and we can only do our best and hope, it’ll only be positive things”
you nod. you’d like that – wonwoo was a person you could never get tired of.
“i didn’t know i’m your first boyfriend. and… i feel very touched that you trust me enough to share it with me and be with me. if you’re scared that kissing or something will overwhelm you… i’ll do my best to guide you into everything you want. and if you don’t, i’ll understand that” he said and you suddenly feel like crying. your friends always say that men are shit. wonwoo must be a real angel, then.
“i can’t really tell you how you’ll know you love me. everyone realizes in their own time, their own way. i don’t think… i don’t think i’ve ever experienced romantic love, to be honest” the words left his lips and you stared at him in shock “we’re not so different, dear”
you melted, feeling your lower lip start to quiver.
“and… thank you for sharing your worries with me. i’m really proud, you know? you were scared of others’ opinion, what i will think… of your own emotions. and it's normal. it’s understandable, especially in your first relationship. but i’m here for you, okay?” he cooed, his lips forming into a gentle smile.
“you’re not… angry?” you asked quietly. his face morphed into confusion.
“no, why would i be?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“well, it kind of sounded like i wanted to break up. which, i don’t of course. but um… you know… a girl tells you she’s scared… i dunno…” you rambled and blew air into your cheeks.
“i’m not, of course i’m not. in fact, i’m happy. i know now how you feel, i know what’s been troubling you. and i just want you to know that… with time, it’ll become natural for you. i mean, i’d hope so” he grinned “also, for the record, i won’t judge your kisses. of course i wouldn’t but… if that makes you more comfortable, then–”
“but be honest, do you even want to kiss me?” you huffed. he giggled, shaking his head.
“duh! what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn’t want to kiss my gorgeous partner?” wonwoo asked a - obviously rhetorical - question, squeezing your hand gently. “i do. i really do. but as i said…”
you loosened your hand from his tender hold and smacked his arm jokingly. he looked at you disoriented but with an amused smile.
“take my time… blah, blah, blah. okay. i will, you know it” you said and sent him a serious look “but promise me… if i ever do something wrong, you tell me. right away. like… ‘y/n you’re being a bad partner!’”
wonwoo scoffed and seeing your serious look, he nodded.
“i will. i swear on my love for chan” he said and placed his hand on his heart with a proud smirk.
“awww- wait, what?” you laughed and wonwoo followed along, the comforting sound of your laughters merging together in a beautiful melody.
and you have a strange feeling in your heart. you’re not sure what is it but you’re certain that it’s its way of saying ‘you’re safe with him’.
masterlist <3
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth
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hg-aneh · 6 months
Note
will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?
i don't know
all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do
Vent-ish Rant downstairs
CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically
i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners
but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned
hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move
it's scary, its fucking scary
fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that
i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me
like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do
i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person
I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass
i just.
it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls
it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story
it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen
"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being
(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)
thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au
My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.
fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)
I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while
and. ugh
What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore
I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky
but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid
this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is
fuck
TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible
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astrologylunadream · 6 months
Text
Channeled Messages From Your Person💌🔥💟 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)
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Hey it's Lunadream🤗 I'm here to give you a reading on what your person want's to say to you!💖 hope you find your message🌸💫
Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)
Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🌸💞
Pile 1🎀
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Pile 2🍋
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Pile 3🍒
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Pile 4🍾
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Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡
On to the readings —> 💌
Pile 1🎀
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Sign energy: Earth, Silence, Wounds, Spirit, Concert, Leo, Cancer, Earth, Uranus, Libra, 👼😟💁‍♀️😴
💞Your person's energy: Okay my lovely pile 1's your person is very kind and compassionate, they are such a sweetheart.☺ Your person has a very pretty energy they are so creative and inspiring! Might have leo, cancer or libra placements as well as earth placements (capricorn, taurus, virgo) or aquarius as well. This could be a singer or performer or go to concerts often, they're into things like fashion and music. I'm getting a no contact situation right now, this is someone you really want to hug right now.🥺💗 A very spiritual person too, they are so unique. They make you happy and they heal you so much, but this silence between you is making you both very sad and lonely. One of you might have ghosted the other omg noo you guys are definitely not communicating the best right now. You two adore eachother and you just want to see the other smile, This person has really cute hair and they have a more feminine energy to them (even if male). They have a sparkle in their eyes that makes you feel so safe and at home, you feel like you can trust them and you're emotionally attached to your person.💓
💌Messages from your person: I'm mature now, I can't believe it, You can tell me anything, Don't show interest in me, You really think I would choose you? Close your eyes, You might get scared, I'm going to steal your heart. (Pile 1's person is romantic omg) Extra cards: Outfit, Open, Slow, 12th house, Believe, Jupiter, Venus, Libra, Cancer, 9th house (Your person wants to tell you they have so much love for you omg like they dream of you so often and you're the one for them💗 They wanna take care of you and they are accepting your love with open arms😍)
Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the bow emoji~🎀 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞
Pile 2🍋
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Sign energy: Need, Song, Myth, Sacrifice, Unheard, Juno, Gemini, Earth, South node, Uranus, 🍋💤🤭🤐
💞Your person's energy: Okay so your person is so set on you pile 2, like they are so loyal and you have a wondeful bond. This is most likely a no contact between you two like you guys really want eachother but it's complicated😫 This is someone you became close to, could be a friend situation. This connection is somewhat sporadic and unpredictable for the both of you. Your person would risk it all for you because they see you as their other half, you're like a best friend and partner to them.💓 I'm getting that this person isn't big on labeling relationships, they could have wanted to keep things casual hence the reason for this no contact period. This could be someone you used to talk to a lot but now you guys don't talk anymore, I'm getting such an awkward silence between you two. Like someone's really sleeping on this connection omg. You guys may have a past where one of you turned down the other's confession, but I only see that for some of you. Things could have gone sour between you two, and so you don't know what to say. One or both of you are the type to send playlists to the other and you may share a favorite songs and genres, one of you might have stopped replying to the other for whatever reason. They miss you so much and they need you, they worry they messed things up for you both and they keep thinking of the past.😔 You want to be with this person.
💌Messages from your person: Can't we just see eachother? Get it together, No one has to know what we are, I don't want to pressure you, I can feel your love, I need comfort, I made a mistake, Please don't leave me, (Aww🥺) Extra cards: Valentine, Desert, Adventure, Clothes, Accident, Sagittarius, Water, Scorpio, 9th house, Saturn
Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the lemon emoji~🍋 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞
Pile 3🍒
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Sign energy: Pleasure, Adventure, Center, Hurt, Chest, Eros, Virgo, 4th house, 12th house, 2nd house, ❌🤦‍♂️💜🤭
💞Your person's energy: Omg welcome my lovely pile 3 this one is getting interesting already.😆 So your person is really attractive to you like you just can't keep your heart rate down, especially when you're fantasizing of them~ Your person is a thrill seeking yet very comforting individual, they have this charm about them because they seem so hot and then so sweet at the same time.🥰 The color purple could be significant to you or them. This is someone you dream of, some of you get swept away fantasizeing of a happy family and stable life with this person. You think they're so sweet lol lemme tell you pile 3 your person is a riot🎉 They are so fun-loving and passionate with everything they do, and this person is also the life of the party like so many people like them. They may always be the center of attention or mostly your attention, you dream of this person a lot.💕 For signs we have virgo, cancer, pisces and taurus energy, could have virgo 4th house placement so gemini rising which makes sense because they are very charismatic and witty. Just know they turn you on really easily especially their chest area, omg this person may have inner conflict about you like they care so much about you that it scares them. You may have tried to push them and this connection away, but you still care for each other deeply. They put you first and care for your needs, and secretly want to give you pain and pleasure in the best way but they won't force you. They most likely keep this to themselves because they don't want to scare you.🥺 They would hate for things to end, because they're so emotionally attached to you.💓
💌Messages from your person: Are you in love with them? We're more than just friends, What do you think of me? You should smile more, I hate this, This is all your fault, You're my soulmate, I want to hate you, Extra cards: Feelings, Work place, Activity, Performance, Tease, Libra, 3rd house, Water, Earth, Leo
Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the cherry emoji~🍒 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞
Pile 4🍾
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Sign energy: Frozen, Future, 6th house, Libra, Neck, Eros, 6th house, Air, 7th house, 2nd house, 😚✍☔🛑
💞Your person's energy: This is a very strict energy, there's definitely a pause on their responses to you right now. This could definitely be a coworker or someone you have to remain professional with, but the awkward tension is making things harder for the both of you.😫 They have a very put together look about them, they may dress fancy or indulge in expensive care. They could come off as cold or nonresponsive at times but you guys they're putting on a poker face😚 and they are prone to overthinking.💭 Your person worries about your future with them, and they may be the type to buy your trust back to rebuild or secure your relationship. That or they might expect some sort of compensation for their time lol. They are very intelligent and mindful, while also maintaining respectful and well mannered. This could very well be a writer or that could be significant to their work. They have a beautiful way with words and how they think, almost like a poet🌷 This person could act mature for their age, could be older and the neck could be prominent. I sense your person wears turtlenecks often, very well groomed and organized. But don't think they don't get turned on by you because they do😂❤ They seem almost uninterested until you see what's in their minds. Pile 4 your person is quietly hella attracted to you and the little things you do make their nervous system overheat like an oven omg they gotta start fanning themselves because they get so nervous🥵
💌Messages from your person: I won't judge you, You owe me, I can't believe it, How could you? Is this just a game to you? You want it? I'm not on your level, The past is in the past (Omfg let it go reference anyone?? I pulled the frozen oracle card and now this??😂😂) Extra cards: Swim, Dragon, Purple, Pet, Drive, Uranus, 1st house, Mercury, Capricorn, Moon, (Omg you're their property now🙈💋🔥)
Thank you so much my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌
I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the champagne emoji~🍾 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞
Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸
Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3
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peachy-wolfhard · 22 days
Text
dating yuta okkotsu
a/n: wowzers more than one post a year??? also HAPPY BDAY YUTA LUB U BABYBOY
Warnings: swearing, sims death, yuta gets elbowed accidentally, a little angst
Word Count: 823
My literal bf
He's so in love
Heart eyes whenever someone even slightly mentions you
Yuta will be talking to someone and if they slightly mention something you like he starts rambling about how amazing you are and how much he loves you while blushing and borderline giggling and kicking his feet
He's so sticky too like anything you do he's right there like a shadow
Yuta is also really quiet when he is being your shadow so 99% of the time he ends up scaring you when you turn around 
One time after a mission, you're nerves were still on edge and Yuta just happened to walk behind you and ended up getting an elbow to the eye (Rika beat ur ass sorry)
Yuta isn't that big of a gamer himself but he LOVES to watch you play the sims, especially if you made you and him
Speaking of the Sims ! Whenever Yuta is away for missions you always update him about what's going on
hi yu! Update ab our sims…OUR SON DIED HE DIED IN A FIRE IM SO SAD!!!!!! BUT ITS OK WE CAN MAKE A NEW ONE ;) wink wink anyway we moved to a farm and ITS HAUNTED. ok bye bye baby ilysm MWAH
VOICE MESSAGES!! Yuta can't get enough of them he loves sending them to you and he loves when you send them
yuta
“Hi honey, I just saw a really cute cat that reminded me of you. I swear it looked almost one hundred percent like you, not even joking…ok i gotta go bye i love you!”
Facetimes are another thing that is pretty regular. Its either you walking around campus showing him to all your friends or him show you around wherever he is
“Yuta, look at these freaks. They’re going crazy without you here…me too honestly”
“I know I'm losing my mind not being around you guys but especially you.”
Another thing he loves is sending random pictures to each other
*picture of yuta being cute* 
y/n
OMG IM SOBBING MWAH MWAH IM GONNA EAT U I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND
*picture of you doing something*
yuta
Cries sobs screams throws up I MISS UUUUUUUUUU <333333 :333
ONE LAST THING
Yuta barely uses emojis, he's an emoticon boy :3
He always brings you presents back from wherever they send him
There's always a big dramatic reunion when he returns. Running into each other's arms, fake loud crying, one of you carrying the other (translation: you carrying Yuta) …the works
Nights after he gets home are very chill. Ordering take out and watching reality tv while just enjoying each other's company. Ending the night by cuddling each other to sleep
Yuta has a note in his notes app of EVERYTHING you like and dislike
Everytime you slightly mention something you like or dislike he makes a mental note to write it down
Even if he doesn't write something down, he memorized it. Remembers what kind of candy you like, what your favorite flowers are, your orders from take out and restaurants
While your guys relationship is lovely and amazing it does get hard sometimes with Yuta always being gone and you having missions and school
Going days without hearing from the other because the two of you are so stressed and busy then having to update each other all at once in one message then repeating the process
Trying to facetime each other but when he's in an entirely different timezone it's hard. You'll be almost asleep and his day is just starting
After a while it started to get to you, that your boyfriend was away for so long, you weren't able to see him, and when you were you had to prepare for him to leave just a few weeks after
Even though you were surrounded by your friends and teachers that love you, you felt so lonely
Finally you talked to him about it, about how all his traveling made you feel so alone and he agreed with you. That he too felt so alone (because most of the time he was) and that he just wanted to stay home for at least a year
Loves snuggling with you but only in private (Maki beat his ass)
Holds you so close at night to the point it feels like he's trying to get into your skin
Seems like the type to either wear minimal clothes to bed or pajama sets, no in between
Kicks the blankets off then curls up to you when he inevitably gets cold
Yes he's very sweet but he still likes to mess with you ESPECIALLY at night
His favorite thing to do is putting his cold hands or feet on you and asking “are my feet/hands cold”
ONE LAST THING
He 100% gets you guys those Lego roses so you can build them together
Overall he very much loves you and cant get enough of you
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poisonlove · 14 days
Text
Beauty and the Beast | w.a
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Pairing: wednesday addams x reader
Words: 15k
Warning: reader unsure about her appearance
I felt lonely, so lonely.
But I couldn't risk anyone being scared by my appearance, I couldn't risk receiving mockery and laughter for what I hide beneath the mask. I had to protect myself and others from the horrible monster that I am.
Not even Eugenie, one of my few friends, knew my true face, and I don't think he'll find out anytime soon. Enid tried a couple of times, but after my umpteenth No she gave up, which I'm grateful for.
Why did it have to happen to me? Why do I have to feel scrutinized because of the mask I wear? Damn it, there are vampires, mermaids, and even people without mouths, and yet I'm the only strange one in Nevermore?
"Y/n, have you heard that a new student has arrived?" Eugenie smiles with all thirty-two teeth as he walks beside me, his eyes gleaming with happiness at the news. "Is it really important?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip amused by his reaction.
"An extra girl is always welcome," he sighs dreamily. "Maybe she'll even like bees, don't you think?" He asks hopefully.
I tilt my head to the side and watch Eugenie smile widely, hope in his eyes. "I…" I start, feeling a  pressure in my chest from his enthusiasm, "I guess so?" I say, chuckling timidly, not wanting to spoil my friend's good mood.
"I mean, I adore you, really," Eugenie says, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "but having one more girl in our group would be cool!" He says, analyzing me carefully.
"It's just the two of us… We're not even a trio, and you're talking about a group?" I roll my eyes at his comment, and Eugenie gives me a friendly elbow on the side.
"There's no use rolling your eyes, you know I can see you, right? I mean… besides your mouth, and the other thing that can be seen under the mask," he says sing-song, looking at my mask reluctantly.
"And anyway! We're three!" The boy pouts adorably.
"Really?" I ask in surprise, and Eugenie nods. "Enid," he says, smiling in love at the mention of the blonde werewolf.
I open my mouth ready to retort, but I just ended up sighing loudly.
"Y/n," I turn towards the sound of the voice and see Enid gesturing for me to come closer to her. I raise an eyebrow with confusion and look at Eugenie shrugging indifferently. "Go on, I'll go check on my bees," he says, giving me a pat on the shoulder and walking towards his target, humming a tune.
I approach Enid, who smiles excitedly. "Hi Enid, everything okay?" I ask with a small smile on my lips.
"Y/n! I finally found you!" Enid exclaims, "I have some great news to tell you. You see, the new student is named Wednesday Addams and she'll be my new roommate!"
I feel a knot in my stomach at the thought of facing a new acquaintance, but I try to remain calm. "Wednesday Addams?" I repeat, trying to hide the anxiety that begins to creep up inside me.
"Exactly!" Enid confirms enthusiastically, "It would be fantastic if you two could become friends. I know you're a bit reserved, but I'm sure you'll get along well together!" The blonde smiled widely, her blue eyes looking at me attentively.
I try to mask my discomfort in front of Enid's enthusiasm, but inside, I feel a growing sense of unease. It's not fear, it's just a deep reluctance to interact with new people, especially when I have to hide my true identity behind a mask.
"Are you sure it's a good idea?" I ask uncertainly, the memory of Yoko staring at me strangely still vivid in my mind, sending shivers down my spine. I look at Enid curiously, seeking reassurance.
"With Yoko, it was just a small mishap," Enid replies, laughing nervously, able to read what I was thinking during my silence. "It's not your fault if you're so different."
"Right," I mumble to myself, still troubled by the memory of the episode with Yoko.
"I think it'll be different," continues Enid, placing her hand on my arm and starting to walk towards our dorms, "Wednesday has a… special character. You might like her," she adds with a broad smile.
"Are you telling me she's strange?" I ask, feeling offended by her description. Enid looks at me sideways, trying to reassure me.
"No, I didn't mean that," Enid clarifies, "just that she's also shy, and I think you two could get along," she concludes, smiling happily.
"But do we have to go now?" I ask with a worried tone, feeling the need to mentally prepare for the impending meeting. "Of course! I talked about you when she arrived, I think she's writing now," Enid babbles thoughtfully.
"She's writing?" I ask incredulously, a small smile threatening to spread across my lips. The thought of someone actually writing seems surreal to me.
"You see? You haven't even met yet and you already have something in common," Enid says, smiling kindly and looking at me with eyes overflowing with happiness.
As we head towards Ophelia Hall, nervousness grows inside me and my hands start to sweat. My heart beats faster and faster as the moment of meeting Wednesday approaches. I don't know what to expect, and the uncertainty makes me even more agitated.
Enid opens the door and my eyes immediately fall on the room divided in half by a black ribbon, separating two opposite worlds. Enid's side, bright and colorful, contrasts sharply with the darkness of the opposite side.
"The room is… Different," I say timidly, blinking in disbelief.
"Yeah, I was mad the first time too," Enid says with a reluctant sigh, evidently annoyed by the division of the room.
"Wednesday! I want to introduce you to someone," Enid announces, turning her gaze to her roommate on the other side of the ribbon.
Wednesday, focused on the typewriter, emits a small grunt before turning towards us with a rigid and impenetrable posture.
Her dark hair is braided into two impeccable braids that fall on her shoulders with precision and order. Her face is pale, almost ethereal, but her eyes are intense, deep, and penetrating. Her posture is rigid, but she exudes a silent confidence, as if she is aware of her inner power. The air around her seems filled with mystery and fascination, and even though her gaze is cold and distant, there is something about her that attracts and fascinates. It's as if she's enveloped in an aura of darkness, yet at the same time of strength and determination.
Her black eyes scan my figure, and I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks with embarrassment. Thank goodness Wednesday can't see it. I breathe deeply, relieved.
"What is she?" Wednesday asks with sharp curiosity, analyzing me with her gaze.
"Wednesday! You need to be more polite," Enid scolds her, but Wednesday ignores her with indifference.
My heart begins to beat faster as Wednesday approaches me, nervousness growing with each step she takes. Her presence, even silent, seems to envelop me in an atmosphere of mystery and tension, making me feel as if I'm under her scrutinizing gaze.
"You're not a vampire, a werewolf… not even a mermaid…" she mutters softly, her eyes scrutinizing mine intensely.
Her gaze is piercing, full of determination and fascination. "What are you?" she repeats, her voice neutral but curiosity palpable in the air.
I feel cornered, a knot forming in my throat, tightening.
Spontaneously, Wednesday reaches out and places her hands on my face, the tips of her fingers delicately touching my mask.
"Don't," I say in a low but sharp voice, trying to dissuade her.
Wednesday tilts her head slightly, ignoring my request, and brushes her fingers against the mask, exploring its texture with curiosity. Her hand wraps around my mask, and the contact sends shivers down my spine.
My breath becomes irregular as Wednesday continues to examine my mask with care, as if she wants to unveil the secret hidden beneath it. The touch of her fingers on my skin makes me feel vulnerable, exposed to her penetrating gaze.
"Please, stop," I whisper again, trying to control the agitation in my voice.
Wednesday doesn't seem at all disturbed by my request, continuing to explore the mask with an almost scientific curiosity. Her impassive face betrays no emotion, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I feel increasingly exposed in front of her.
"Wednesday, stop," says Enid firmly but gently, approaching us. "Y/n has her reasons for wearing that mask, and it's not right for you to force her to reveal it if she doesn't want to."
Wednesday turns to Enid, her cold and distant gaze piercing through her. "I'm not forcing anything," she replies calmly, "I'm just trying to understand."
Enid stands between me and Wednesday, shielding me with her body. "I understand, Wednesday, but there are better ways to get the answers you seek," she retorts, trying to defuse the situation.
I feel relieved by Enid's support, but at the same time anxious about how the situation will unfold.
After a moment of tense silence, Wednesday turns her back and walks away, heading towards the desk with measured steps. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I sink into a nearby chair.
"What an embarrassing moment," I say with a nervous smile, trying to break the ice.
Enid approaches and places a hand on my shoulder with an expression of solidarity. "Don't worry, Y/n. Wednesday can be a bit… intense at times," she comments with a half-smile.
"You said it," I reply with a small smile, grateful for Enid's support.
On the other side of the room, the incessant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter continues unabated, creating a constant background to our conversation. Her silent presence seems to have added a new dimension to the room, making it even more charged with mystery and tension.
"What do you say we go for a walk outside?" Enid suggests, trying to distract my mind from tumultuous thoughts.
"That sounds like a good idea," I respond with a grateful smile, happy to escape from that tense atmosphere. We rise and leave the room, leaving behind the constant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter.
She seems like an interesting girl I thought to myself
but she really doesn't give up
(…)
Weeks have passed since that first tense encounter with Wednesday, yet her obsession with uncovering what lay beneath my mask showed no signs of abating. Occasionally, during classes or in moments of break, I catch her staring at me with her piercing gaze, as if she wanted to pierce through the fabric of my mask and read my deepest thoughts.
Wednesday doesn't give up easily. She made various attempts: sending anonymous messages, appearing out of nowhere at the most unexpected times, sending Things, and even trying to remove my mask with a sudden gesture. Her questions become more frequent and casual, as if she wanted to uncover my secret through the most mundane conversation.
Flashback
During a break between classes, while I was sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, I felt a presence approaching. I looked up and saw Wednesday with her mysterious and aloof demeanor.
"May I sit here?" she asked calmly, indicating the seat across from me.
"Of course, go ahead," I replied, surprised by her sudden company.
Wednesday sat down with a fluid and silent movement, and for a moment we simply looked at each other, without saying a word. Then, without a smile or a greeting nod, she said, "How are you?"
"Quite well, thank you," I replied, trying to hide my surprise at finding her there.
That brief conversation remained imprinted in my mind for days, like an unsolved riddle. Yet, despite her seemingly insatiable interest in my mask, Wednesday did not seem at all frightened or disgusted by me. She was just… curious.
Flashback end
But then, without any warning, Wednesday stops altogether circling around me. She no longer approaches me with her questions or scrutinizing looks. I was left to wonder:
was I boring? Rude? Was I just being paranoid?
"It seems like she's gotten tired of you," Enid jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe she's finally realized that beneath that mask, it's just you, and nothing so terrifying."
Enid's joke made me smile, but it didn't completely dissipate the tension that had built up inside me. I was nervous about the various conjectures swirling in my head, and I literally asked myself too many questions that had no answer.
"Thank goodness you found something to laugh about," I remarked, trying to conceal my mood.
Enid looked at me with a sympathetic expression. "You know, Y/n, I think you're reading too much into things. Maybe Wednesday has just found something else to focus on, or maybe she's decided she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable."
I wanted to believe Enid's words, but doubt continued to nag at me. "Maybe you're right," I replied, trying to convince myself.
"I promise that if there's anything to worry about, I'll let you know," Enid said sincerely, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I felt somewhat relieved by her promise, but I knew that until I had answers to my questions, my mind would continue to race incessantly. It was frustrating not knowing what was going through Wednesday's mind, but I had to find a way to stop tormenting myself with suppositions and hypotheses.
That afternoon, I found myself in Enid's room, determined to clear things up with Wednesday. The tension in the air was palpable as I tried to gather the courage to confront the situation.
"Wednesday, can I talk to you?" I asked, trying to stay calm despite my pounding heart.
The girl looked up from the book she was reading and glanced at me with detachment. "Sure," she replied simply, showing no sign of interest. Her eyes returned to the pages of the book she was reading.
"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?" I asked, feeling my voice tremble slightly with emotion.
Wednesday didn't even look up from her book. "I can't be friends with a girl who doesn't show her face," she said coldly, as if it were obvious.
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You can't really think like that," I replied, trying to control my growing frustration. "I'm not just my mask, Wednesday. There's much more beneath it."
Wednesday remained impassive, and her indifference deeply hurt me. "You don't even listen to me," I whispered, feeling my heart breaking.
The girl didn't respond, continuing to read as if I were invisible. Frustration and anger welled up inside me, but in the end, I gave up.
With a sigh, I realized I had to accept the situation for what it was. "Maybe you're right," I admitted softly. "But you can't judge without knowing the truth." Wednesday looked up from her book, looking at me with a certain curiosity. "And what would the truth be?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"The truth… I'm afraid," I replied, feeling a lump in my throat as my hands trembled slightly. With determination, I placed them on the mask, ready to reveal what I had hidden for so long.
Damn feelings I developed for you, persistent Goth I thought bitterly.
Wednesday watched carefully, her black eyes scrutinizing my face with intense curiosity. My heart pounded in my chest, silently praying that she would accept what she was about to see.
With a deep breath, I slowly removed the mask, revealing my true face. Behind it, a hideous scar extended from my eyebrow to my cheek, thankfully sparing my eye. It was a wound I had carried for years, a witness to a painful past that I had never shared with anyone.
Wednesday remained still, her eyes fixed on my scar. Her expression was inscrutable, but I could see surprise in her eyes.
The scar was large and deep, and I couldn't help but feel vulnerable as Wednesday examined it. But there was no more room to hide the truth, and I had to accept her judgment, whatever it may be.
Wednesday closed the book and approached me slowly, her gaze still fixed on the scar adorning my face. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and shyness, as if she were unsure of what to do or say.
"Can I touch it?" she asked in a barely audible voice, and I nodded weakly, feeling my cheeks flush at her question.
With cautious movements, Wednesday came even closer, her fingers delicately touching my scarred skin. A shiver ran down my spine at the contact, but it wasn't disgust or fear. It was a feeling of calm and acceptance, as if that gesture meant something deeper than just physical contact.
I looked at her face as she examined the scar. Her eyes were full of empathy and understanding, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. It was as if I had finally found someone who truly understood me, without judging or condemning.
It was hard to believe that all this had happened because I had fallen in love with her. But now, looking at her up close like this, I realized that maybe it was worth risking my heart for someone who made me feel so alive and accepted.
"How did you get it?" Wednesday asked timidly, slightly clenching her jaw as she continued to observe the scar on my face.
My voice trembled slightly. "It was done by my father," I confessed, feeling the lump in my throat tighten. "He was drunk and one night he lost control."
My voice broke slightly as I remembered those painful moments, the fear and despair I had felt. But I knew I had to share the truth with Wednesday, even if it hurt to revisit those memories.
Wednesday gently caressed my cheek, the touch of her fingers on my scarred skin sending a slight shiver down my spine. "Why did you keep it hidden?" she asked with curiosity, her gaze still full of compassion.
"It's horrible…" I replied softly, feeling the weight of my words. "When everyone looked at me strangely or laughed, I decided to cover it up."
Wednesday's finger brushed against the scar on my eyebrow and a shiver ran down my spine. It was as if that simple gesture was breaking down the barriers I had built around me for years.
"It makes you strong," said Wednesday, tilting her head to the side as she looked at me intently. "And you're… Beautiful all the same."
Her words struck me deeply, and I felt my cheeks blush slightly at her unexpected compliment. It was hard to believe that someone could find beauty in that ugly scar, but with Wednesday beside me, I began to see myself with different eyes.
"Thank you," I replied sincerely, my heart filled with gratitude for her kindness. It was a moment of intimacy and sharing that I would never forget.
"Does Enid know?" Wednesday asked with curiosity, and I shook my head.
"No," I replied, feeling a shiver of nervousness run through my body.
"Are you afraid of her reaction?" she asked timidly, and I nodded slowly.
"If she says something, I'll kill her," said Wednesday with a serious tone, and I couldn't help but smile, feeling for the first time confident and beautiful for myself.
And beautiful for Wednesday.
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thewritersaddictions · 5 months
Text
Day Twenty-Nine: Karl Heisenberg + BreathPlay
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You were constantly reaching out for Karl's hand. Enjoying the rough feeling of his cussed-covered fingers against your much softer hands.
Karl didn't seem to mind either after the initial shock that someone was touching him. Wantingly touching. You walked hand in hand to meet with the family and sat side by side. Pressed into his side, but continuously your fingers were interlocked.
Hand in hand when you walked around in town, and as much as Karl hated the idea of being around less intelligent people than him. He allowed you to drag him down to the middle of town and walk around the shops before returning to the factory after a long day out.
That was not the only time you wished that you could hold his touch. You yearned for a hand to run smoothly down your back and sometimes rest at the bottom of your spine. You longed for the soft touch of his rough hand.
You are the exact opposite of Karl. You yearn for the touch of another, and Karl yearns to not be touched. Karl is okay with his lonely life before you came along, and he's just as content with living it how it is now.
Yes, you are confused because when you look at Karl, you don't see just a friend, someone to talk to when the nights are quiet, and the factory is slow. No, Karl is something else for you. A bright light at the end of the tunnel. He's what you yearn for.
So when the touch you yearn for splits and turns into a need that you have to fill, something twists within your mind. You start to stare off more. Staring at Karl's hands as he works on bits of metal together, or how he tightness things together on a soldat.
The one that as you biting your tongue and squeezing your thigh together is when his hands stretch out, his metal hammer flying into his hand. It's attractive all on its own. The bludge of his veins, the girth of his fingers, it all has you in a haze.
"Y/n? Are you even paying attention to what I'm talking about?" Karl's booming voice pulls you from your naughty thoughts of his hands. "Huh." You say a bit too loud, and he rolls his eyes, "Earth to Y/n, what's got you being a space cadet today?" He asks, intrigued by your glazed-over eyes and gap mouth.
Karl has never seen you like this, and he's seen you in many ways. Blood smeared across your cheeks. A mixture of your own and others, your shirt half tore due to lycans desperately in need of stitches. Bare skin that makes his heart race every time he catches a glimpse. Y/n had been off, and Karl had taken notice. Take notice of how your gaze drifted from his face, down his arms, and then finally landed on his hands.
"I'm just… it's all fine." You say to Karl, trying to push away the fact that you not only got caught but also have no idea you were spacing out. His stare is deathly; you're an open book for him to read as much as he likes.
"No… I don't believe you. I think you were off dreaming…" You shake your head, trying to push him away from the right path he's already on. "Don't shake your head at me now, buttercup. Better if you just fess up to what you were thinkin' about." You feel like a deer in headlights. Wide-eyed and easily scared off.
The silence is unsettling, "Oh, buttercup, you want me to guess instead." Smirking up a storm, you think that's rather a good idea, and then it's a bad idea. But there's nothing else you can do. If you say the words, then it's all too real, but if he guesses it, then it means Karl already knows.
"I think…" He says, getting up from the side of the table, heavy boots on the ground beneath you. "you have been very naughty…" With each punch of the words that fall from his mouth, his hands graze up your back like you've always wished for. "thinkin' about me, and my hands." You breathe in quickly. If it's due to his touch or his words, you'll never know.
"I bet you've thought up a bunch of dirty things." He whispers into your ear. His voice was rough and scratchy. "I bet you would love it if I just wrapped my hand around your throat and kept you right on the edge all night long." You moan as you feel his hand reach the base of the back of your neck. "Let me just sink my fat cock into your tight pussy, hmm, squeeze your throat so you stars." You whimper as you clench your thighs tightly, willing the ache to go away.
Then just like that, Karl is gone, walking back over to his side of the table. You're left like a puppy following its owner. Shock is written all over your face. "Oh, what do you want more buttercup." He mutters as he walks off and towards the direction of the bedroom.
You follow like a lovesick puppy would.
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Completed on: 08/20/23
Posted on: 10/28/23
Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays
Resident Evil Master List // House Heisenberg Master List // Kinktober '23
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rowretro · 2 months
Text
𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓟𝓮𝓽
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✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, violence, (I'll turn this into a lil series or at least do a part 2 for this if u want, tell me if u do want it, coz I think this one shot needs a part 2, )
✧synopsis: Yandere Sunoo, is a young teacher at y/n's high school, the 2 only having a 3-4 year gap. He's so in love with her. She's sweet, cute, loving and sensitive, she's a goddamn pushover and she needs him. Sunoo watches you, he knows everything about you, where you live, what you like, how you feel. You're pretty lonely, no matter how many friends you make, or who ever you talk to, the feeling just always sticks to you... Which just makes you falling for him an easy job.
✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧
Y/n walked down the hallway, earphones in as she opened her locker. Taking the necessary books, she walked to class. "I'm telling you girl. Mr Kim definitely has a thing for Lee y/n, have you seen the way he treats her? the way he looks at her, heck he even tutors her after class..." Yena exclaimed as the girls all nod in agreement.
"Oh my god what if they actually are dating?... and those after school "tutoring sessions" aren't tutoring sessions?" Leiko snickerred, at this point, the whole class was chiming in. "Think about it, she's pretty, he's fine as hell, and they're both so energetic and lively-" Yena pointed out. "LEE Y/N IS SLEEPING WITH A TEAHCER!!!" One of the boys scream, and just at that time, Sunoo walked in.
He was fucking mad. however no one could see that The class went silent, as Sunoo went to his teacher's desk "Is this a classroom or a park? students go back to your seats!" Sunoo simply said as he arranged his stuffs. A few minutes passed and more students come in, including y/n. "Y/n why are you late?" Sunoo asked coldly. His Icy tone gave you the chills, heck the whole classroom got the chills.
He was usually a smiley, sweet teacher. "S-sorry si-" "No. detention after school. 1 hour don't make it 2." Sunoo harshly said as Y/n stared in shock. Everyone was shocked. he wasn't just cold to all the students, but you. The one student everyone swore was the teachers pet. "Kay sir..." the girl bowed before sitting in her seat, which was right in front of Sunoo where she's in his eyeline.
Eventually, break time rolled around, and y/n were the last to leave her classroom. she didn't really feel like socializing so she kept her earphones in as she scrolled through tik tok, which means she didn't hear a single thing the students were saying behind her back. "Do you think Mr Kim is being harsh on her because the boys yelled she's sleeping with A teacher, but didn't specify who?" Yena asked as the the girls shrugged.
"She's not all that you know... what does Mr Kim see in her?..." Leiko questioned as the other girl's shrugged. Seeing her alone, A dear classmate of hers, Jungwon, decided to join her. Yena audibly gasped seeing the male approach y/n. "What the fuck?!" She said as Leiko scratched her head awkwardly. Yena had been trying to catch the attention of Yang Jungwon her whole time in school.
Of course she was never successful because the only times Jungwon ever saw her, was when she was bullying someone or being a bitch to fuel her own self-esteem. However, Yena wasn't the only one who was mad to see y/n laughing with Jungwon. Sunoo was. Fuck he ices her once and she runs to another male?! Detention is going to be a treat...
The day went by pretty quickly. You were stuck in detention with Sunoo. Just the 2 of you alone. "Drink this." He simply said as you frowned. "Huh?" you ask, a little taken aback "Drink. this." he demanded, his eyes telling you not to fuck with him. Hesitant, you took a few sips of the drink and boy did you regret it, blacking out only minutes later.
You woke up in a much more comfortable environment, the sound of a musical humming, and the smell of Sunoo's perfume being the first senses that his you, you frown waking up in what you assumed to be his bed. Scared, you looked under the blanket, you were still in your uniform and not even an inch of pain. "What? you thought I'd stoop that low?! I'm only taking you so I can protect you darling... do you know what those students say behind your back sweetheart?..." he asked as you hugged the blanket.
"Mr Kim-" "Uh- no no, just Sunoo, or babe would do... I'm your boyfriend now sweetheart, but the school doesn't need to know" Sunoo said with an endearing smile, the smile that made you feel warm and cared for, now gave you the creeps. "This isn't right! I don't like you like that Mr Ki- Sunoo!" the girl tried to explain as Sunoo twirled her hair.
"Oh baby, you're just in denial you're no teacher's pet, you're the teacher's girlfriend... you deserve special princess treat meant." Sunoo said tilting his head as the girl whimperred. "Oh baby don't pretend you don't love this. Not even your daddy loved you and nor did your mommy have time for you... you fucking love this. You love that a man is willing to kidnap and keep you just so he can love and care for you." Sunoo added with a smirk as he crashed his lips ont yours, not once caring about your cries or little pushes.
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imrllytootiredforthis · 9 months
Note
More on sub bully yandere pretty plz 🥺🙏
i'm gonna do gyu again just bc sub bully=beomgyu (kinda a part two to this)
afterwards he just gets meaner and meaner. for a multitude of reasons-
one being that you humiliated him in front of the entire school, and now he needs to get back at you,
and the other being that he's head over fucking heels in love with you now and has zero idea how to talk to a crush other than bullying them
so he continues to fight with you. threaten you, insult you, release compromising photos of you taken by his own hand (which he also uses on lonely pent up nights)
he's an asshole. who doesn't know when to quit.
you don't exactly make it easy for him though.
every time he's harassing you, you're there with a blank face, arms crossed. giving nothing away, and taking every ounce of satisfaction away from him. knowing entirely that if his group of friends weren't standing there backing him up you could do whatever you wanted to him-and he'd let you.
but you don't.
because unlike him, you pride yourself of being a decent human being.
that somehow just makes him angrier though. makes him try harder to piss you off.
spilling your food all over your clothing, laughing as he lets out an "oops, sorry, i didn't mean to." all while cackling with his friends.
egging your car and writing on it with spray paint, causing damage he knows you don't have the money to fix.
he wants you to be angry. he wants you to be so pissed at him, at everything he's done to you that you just can't hold it in anymore. he wants you to finally snap and grab him by the neck. kiss him until he's breathless and dumb (his very first kiss) and then fuck him to oblivion and back (his very first fuck).
beomgyu wants you to put him in his place, unlike so many other people in his life that don't care as he walks all over them.
and it only takes a single thing for you to snap.
him loudly talking to you in the middle of class, taunting the fact that you somehow got a lower mark than him. leaning across the isle to get up into your face, smirking his dumb smirk.
you simply ignore him, preferring not to add to the scene until the teacher zeroes in on the two of you, looking unimpressed as she sends the both of you to detention.
--
"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! what the hell is wrong with you?"
nothing. he only smiles back sweetly.
"i have shit that i need to do, places i have to be! records that i need to keep! i don't need to spend my time in detention with your sorry ass!"
nothing.
"you're so annoying, you hear me?"
infuriating fucking prick. absolutely nothing.
"a fucking brat who doesn't know how to man up and be a normal person. instead you're acting like a pussy, too scared to ask me out hmm? a pathetic loser virgin."
something.
his cheeks are flushed red, his face so close your noses are practically touching, his hands gripping onto the desk.
"yeah, is that what you are? a brat and a pathetic loser virgin?"
your hands on either side of his shoulders against the chair, trapping him in place. he's painfully hard in the confines of his pants.
the room around is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. the teacher had left awhile ago, not that she was supposed to, she just did and told you guys to behave.
the detention class was completely silent now. just the sound of your heavy breathing, his shallow pants and his heart beating so fast it seems as if it's about to leap out of his chest.
"say it."
his mouth feels dry, his body feels hot.
"say that you're a pathetic loser virgin and then maybe i'll take care of that for you, okay?"
his eyebrows knot together as you press a hand against him, biting his lip to hold back a moan. "i-..."
you nod, prompting him to continue.
"i'm a...pathetic virgin loser!" his eyes squeeze shut as he breathes it out, whining lowly under his breath. "i'm sorry! all i wanted was your attention!"
when he opens his eyes again, you're smiling.
"okay then. you have my attention now." you sit back against your own chair again. "come here."
he begins to stand up. "on your knees, beomgyu." face burning in shame, dick throbbing with humiliation, he shuffles towards you on his hands and knees until he sits between your legs.
"good boy." he shivers. "now, if you wanna take care of that, you're going to have to get off on my leg."
he looks at you as if you've grown a second head, as if you're crazy. he searches your face for any sign that you might be joking. "go on you mutt."
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