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severepink · 4 months

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Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #eve hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #character study

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aromantic-pantyanarchy · 5 months

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It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

#aromantic #aro #aro positivity #reference to aphobia

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allysunny · 6 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

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

Words: 15k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

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

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

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

He was better off without such people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All but you, though.

Never you.

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

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

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

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

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

That's when he first saw you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

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

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

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

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

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

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

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

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

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

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

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

Just a random guy.

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

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

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

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

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

Just a random guy.

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

And you were funny too.

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

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

“Please, just Bruce.”

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

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

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

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

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

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

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

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

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

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

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

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

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

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

“Wait – why?”

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

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

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

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

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

“She doesn’t?”

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

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

“Oh really?”

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

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

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

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

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

“That’s impossible.”

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

“Name one thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reasons? Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

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

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

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

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

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

You pondered your choices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce shook it and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

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

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

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

Bruce nodded.

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

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

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

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

“Come on,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

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

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

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

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

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

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

“Are you alright?” he asked.

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

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

“About two hours.”

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

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

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

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

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold?” he asked.

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

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

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

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

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

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?” he murmured.

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

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

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

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

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

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

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

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

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

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

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

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

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfred shook his head.

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

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

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

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

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

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

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

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

“Is…”

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

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

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

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

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

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

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

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

So, you tried to move on with your life.

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

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

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

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

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

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

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

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

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

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

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

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

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

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

But that was it.

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

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

He was just a good friend.

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

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

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

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

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

So why were you so heartbroken?

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

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

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

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

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

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

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

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

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

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

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

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

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

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a while, you broke the silence.

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

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

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

What?

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

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

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

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

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

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

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

“But – Tom –“

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

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

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

He could give up the love of his life forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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zeezelweazel · 5 months

Note

Hope you’re doing good today! I was wondering if you’d be able to a bottom alexia fic pls? They are at a friend/family’s holiday party but alexia is very horny and her and reader end up having multiple quickies around the house

Alexia Putellas| Can't get enough of you|

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I'm trying to find more fluffy fic ideas but since my brain is empty I'll power through the smut requests first

the people asked for this and I'm not one to say no ;)

(this is very urgently proof read, please let me know if there are any mistakes)

TW: semi public sex, oral, fingering, praise, slight dumbification

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New years eve was always fun but spaniards know how to throw a proper party. Mapi and Ingrid invited the team over, with loud music and a lot of alcohol the party kicked of immediately.

You know Alexia isn't in the best of places right now, so in your opinion a party would be a great way for her to relax. Apparently that isn't the case because Alexia has been tense from the moment you got to the couple's apartment and despite your efforts she doesn't seem to lighten up.

You're sitting on the couch next to Caro and Frido with Alexia tucked firmly at your side. You didn't know if the others had noticed her behaviour but even if they did, they didn't say anything. Alexia has been squirming from the moment you sat on the couch. After she sighed for the hundredth time you had enough. You kindly smiled at the other women before getting up from your spot at the couch, Alexia's eyes stuck on you.

"Excuse me I have to go to the bathroom, the zipper on this dress is killing me and I need to fix it."

The conversation continued and you turned to Alexia and sent her a pointed look. The blonde took the hint and immediately followed you to the bathroom.

The moment you closed the door you pushed Alexia against it, the captain bitting her lip to containe a whimper. You place your hands on the side of her neck and rub your thumbs over her strong jaw. Alexia gulps and waits for you to say something.

"What's wrong baby?"

Alexia tried really hard not to roll her eyes at your obliviousness but she couldn't. Instead of trying to explain to you what she wants she simply pulled you in for a bruising kiss. You groaned and pushed back against her soft lips quickly taking control of the kiss. You're not oblivious, you understood your girlfriend and her needs perfectly. Alexia was unexplainably horny from the moment you set foot here. You're not one to deny her especially when she has so much pent up frustration. You pull back and Alexia chases after your lips desperately.

"You have to ask for what you want Alexia."

Alexia whines and pulls you back in only for you to harshly push her against the door and lean in to suck bruises on her jaw. Alexia sighed and moaned quietly at the feeling of your teeth against her flesh, her hands coming up to grab your shoulders when you moved lower to her neck. Alexia had a doumbfounded look on her face when you abruptly pulled back. You just chuckled and caressed her cheek in response.

"I won't ask you again, Alexia."

The captain whined in desperation and bit her lip. You raised your eyebrow in challenge.

"I need you to touch me, please." She finally relented with a sigh.

Your reward was immediate as you pushed her further against the door and sunk to your knees. Alexia gulped at the sight and spread her legs. Her short dress gave you easy access and you only needed to tug it a little to expose her ruined underwear.

Alexia was holding her breath, wide eyes full of lust desperately waiting for you to do something. When you pulled down her underwear, exposing her dripping slit, you couldn't help but lick your lips. If there was one thing you wouldn't trade for the world it was this. Bringing your lips forward you placed an opened mouth kiss on Alexia's pussy, pulling back to glare at the blonde when her hips stuttered forward. You wordlessly placed your hand flat on her stomach and pressed hard so her hips stay in place. You surged forward, licking her up with more vigor and urgency, tongue running up the length of her cunt. Alexia did good on her part and kept quiet. Only quiet groans and occasionally whimpers leaving her parted lips. The pressure from your hand on her lower stomach did wonders, only amplifying the pleasure she was already feeling.

You took her clit in your mouth without warning and sucked and Alexia threaded a hand in your hair as mumbled spanish please left her lips. She was close, her hips were straining against your grounding hand and her thighs were clamping against your head. You looked up to see Alexia already looking at you, her teeth biting her lip so hard she almost drew blood. It didn't take long for Alexia to come undone under your tongue. She was left panting against the bathroom door as you washed your face in the sink.

Once you approached her, you tugged her dress back into place and tried to fix her hair to make her look presentable. Alexia came to and was suddenly reminded that you're not alone in your bedroom. She cleared her throat and moved to the bathroom mirror. She looked, freshly fucked, for lack of better wording.

"Come on Ale, they must be wondering were we've been."

You spent approximately another half hour enjoying the party and having fun with your friends before Alexia tugged you away, muttering an excuse that no one really understood. But you did, of course you did when she tugged you urgently into the guest room.

"I guess we're not here to look at the paintings-"

Alexia kissed your lips, clinging into you like you're her lifeline and tugged you towards the bed. You pulled back and she whined and chased after you. You chuckled and patted her cheeks affectionately.

"Why is my girl so needy tonight, hm?"

You received nothing but more whines as Alexia helplessly pawed at your sides. You decided not to tease her more, your hands dipping in her underwear to find her even more wet than she previously was. As if you never satisfied her to begin with. You groaned and immediately pushed two fingers into her gaping hole, moving Alexia to sit on the edge of the bed. Alexia's hand went on your wrist as her eyes rolled back into her head the moment your fingers found that soft spot. She seems to have forgotten were you are, loud moans that you couldn't be bothered to quiet leaving her mouth.

"Is my baby gonna come?"

Alexia nodded and whimpered her hips now rutting against your hand. You noticed the tears pulling in her eyes and smiled, placing a chaste kiss on the edge of her mouth just to see her chase after your lips. The sounds of her loud moans were covering up the squelching of her wet pussy and you grinned as Alexia neared the edge once more. You knew Alexia wasn't going to be quiet when she came so you pulled her in for a deep kiss, your tongue drowning her scream of pleasure.

You hummed when Alexia took your fingers in her mouth abd eagerly cleaned them up. You kissed her on the lips once more and teasingly smirked at her.

After the countdown and a few more drinks you expected your girlfriend to start getting tired but the blonde was anything but. Grinding into you and kissing your neck. You aren't really surprised that Alexia is all needy again, rather it made you unbelievably horny, just how desperate she was for you.

This time it was you who tugged Alexia away from your friends for what you thought will be the last orgasm for tonight. You picked a much more open spot than the ones Alexia previously dragged you to. You couldn't be bothered with secrecy, not when your insides burned for the other woman.

You found a perfect spot on the counter and without wasting a minute you bend her over it. It was easy for your fingers to find her familiar heat from the exposed angle but it wasn't enough. You tugged her dress up once more, exposing the soft flesh of her ass. Your view was obstructed by her underwear but you could still squeeze and slap the tender flesh while your fingers quickly moved inside her.

Alexia was moaning your name, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she felt her orgasm approaching fast. You knew she wasn't going to last long given the circumstances. All it took was for you to switch the focus on her throbbing clit instead and after only a few rubs on the swollen bud Alexia was clenching hard against your fingers and shaking with the power of her orgasm.

You're impressed by how fast Alexia recovers but then again, you are still in the kitchen of her best friend's house. Alexia smiles at you, appearing positively ruined and you grin back at her. What a way to start the new year.

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#wlw #female reader #smut #bottom character #dom reader #sub character #top reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso smut #woso x reader #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #barcelona femeni

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embers-of-the-oldest-lore · 4 months

Text

@photomatt So I've noticed that you and the tumblr moderation team at large seem to view trans women as inherently sexual and in violation of the sites community guidelines by virtue of existing and before you start crawling through my side blogs and find That I do in fact have some content that is not tagged as well as it should be to remain in line with the strictest interpretation of the community guidelines on my sideblog, please know that I understand this and have come to terms with the fact that making this post will result in you taking advantage of this and removing my side blog and likely my primary blog as well.

However before you do this, I want to make sure that you have a full understanding of what you will be removing and in a grander sense what you have destroyed either through negligence or intentional malice by unfairly moderating Trans women on this website and allowing their harassers to thrive.

The girl in this picture was young and scared and trying so hard to be the man that she was supposed to be even though It meant pushing down a part of herself that was more real than anything she had ever actually lived before.

But then she found tumblr and was exposed to experiences like hers and people like her and was able to slowly become herself for the first time in her life. She had a joy and peace on this website that she would never be able to find in her real life.

It took time but eventually that joy and peace and freedom and exposure to so many other scared girls like her gave her the ability to finally admit she didn't have to or want to be the man that her family expected her to be. This is the last picture of her before she finally stopped giving up.

And it didn't happen all at once

There were problems, and stumbling blocks

But she had this site to come back to and find community and joy and she finally had herself

And now she's free and happy and full of so much joy.

She is so full of Love, and happiness, joy, and compassion for herself and the people around her

She lived and thrived and still finds so much joy in this community that saved her life.

I have found love, and kindness, and partners and friends on this hellsite. Most importantly I found a community. One that you would see destroyed. I know you don't actually care about any of this. You don't care about the unfair moderation on this site. You don't care about the trans women that are desperate for community. I don't think this is going to change your mind either. If I exist to you at all, it's only as a nuisance. You're just going to find some excuse to wipe my entire existence on this site that I have called home for twelve years away.

But i'm not really doing this for you.

I'm doing this because I hope that before you have the chance to wipe every trace of my exsistence from this website that some other girl that is just as scared as I was when I joined this community is able to see that there is hope, that things do in fact get better and that we can thrive and find family and a community. Part of me hopes desperately that Tumblr can continue to be a place for scared girls like I was and an even smaller part of me believes that this might find some place in your heart and take hold. But even if it doesn't, we will always find community. We will always find a place where we can become ourselves and find love and happiness and safety with people like us.

And to that scared girl

It gets better

I promise

: Your sister

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radfemfox5 · 10 months

Note

Hi there - I'm trans and Jewish and I'd like to share my perspective on the "trans genocide" thing. I don't think we're experiencing active genocide in the US; that's definitely an extreme and offensive statement to make regarding what's happening. However, I do think that the increasing legislation attacking trans rights and autonomy as well as an increasingly polarized public view of trans people points to the potential for a worse situation that moves closer to genocide.

Now, personally, I live in a state where no laws limiting trans rights have passed. I was able to legally begin my medical transition when I was 15, I've never experienced transphobic violence, and the majority of people around me are supportive of my transition. My experience is similar to most other trans people in my area, with varying degrees of familial support.

But nation wide, we have seen an increase of trans people being murdered, and a massive increase in anti-trans legislation. This legislation aims to strip trans people of their autonomy and privacy. It seeks to put trans children in danger, remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access, and enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

Most of this is happening because right wing politicians can capitalize on moral outrage and fear to win votes. They're scapegoating trans people instead of trying to improve the lives of their constituents. This is kind of politician's thing, so it's not surprising in any way. However, when those policies successfully do win these politicians support, they'll have to make them more extreme. They'll want to make it illegal to exist as a trans person in public.

Now I'm not saying that that's genocide. I think we're an awfully long way off from trans people being mass arrested for being trans, and then murdered by the state. But we are in a rising climate of fear, and I don't think the trans people calling this the seventh stage of genocide are doing so out of bad faith. I think they're doing that because they are terrified of having their right to take life-saving medication, or have protection in the workplace, or be able to use a bathroom, or have children, or wear what they want to wear taken away. And they're terrified of those things because the bills on the table in states across the country put those rights in jeopardy. And if calling this a genocide makes people pay attention? I'm not super mad about it.

Hi, thank you for sharing your perspective on this. I appreciate it.

Your fear is primarily based on sensationalist headlines and interpretations of the law that are unfounded. I can assure you, you are not even in the early stages of a genocide.

But nation wide, we have seen an increase of trans people being murdered

In 2021, the Human Rights Campaign recorded 50 deaths of trans, nonbinary and GNC people.

In 2022, the HRC recorded 38 deaths (source). So. If we take these numbers at face value, that's a decrease of nearly 25% in one year, in a growing section of the population.

Taking these numbers and the size of the transgender population in the US (1.6 million), in 2021, trans people had a death rate of 3.1/100k, and in 2022, this dropped to 2.4. Again, the numbers provided by the HRC include nonbinary and GNC people, and accidental deaths.

Some of these aren't even murders or intentional homicides. They just say they were killed. I wouldn't consider these numbers reliable whatsoever, but they're the only estimate we have for now. There are so few trans deaths that they can fit on a single Wikipedia page, along with a little blurb about their life and who they were. It would be impossible to do something similar with victims of femicide, since there are too many to count. This page lists victims of femicide, only in Canada, only in 2022, and it is nearly as long as the Wikipedia page I listed above.

This is a perfect segue to my next point, which is to compare trans genocide to femicide, which is actually real. Women are killed so often that the UN has to categorize female murder victims as either killings (unnatural deaths), intentional homicides or gender-related killings (hate crimes, therefore considered in femicide statistics).

The intentional homicide rate for female victims in the US is 2.9/100k (data from 2021), and it is steadily increasing after having been on the decline since the mid-90s.

That only includes the pink and red circles shown in the UN's chart, not accidental deaths or unknown deaths like the HRC includes in their counts. Some countries have as many as 10.6/100k women die a year.

TL;DR: The murder rate for trans people in the US is not increasing, it is decreasing. This isn't indicative of a trans genocide in the slightest.

But nation wide, we have seen [...] a massive increase in anti-trans legislation.

As I was saying earlier, this idea stems from sensationalist headlines. It's concerning to me how widespread the misinformation about anti trans legislation really is, when house bills are publicly available online. You can literally do a quick Google search and find that most of these bills are nothing burgers.

Unfortunately, it's easier for you to just go on a website like translegislation.com and have them tell you what these bills say. I'll do some of the work for you and go through how these sites lie to you.

Alabama imposing criminal penalties on providers of trans healthcare? Sounds scary. Let's see what the source they linked, the HRC, has to say.

Ah. So it's specifically regarding transgender youth. As in, minors. This is after going through an insanely long title detailing how bad the bill is. The trans legislation tracker essentially lies by omission, implying that all trans healthcare is being criminalized.

Going to the bill in question, AL SB184, we can see that it actually acknowledges the existence of dysphoria in children.

However, they also acknowledge that this feeling may be fleeting, and that making permanent changes to a child's body solely on account of the child's personal sense of identity is unwise.

I won't go through every single bill here, as this post is already very long, but you get the idea. Feel free to send another ask if you would like me to look at specific bills.

Back to your ask: the way you speak of these bills shows that you've never read them for yourself or know how legislation works, since you're acting like it's the beginning of Armageddon.

This legislation aims to strip trans people of their autonomy and privacy. It seeks to put trans children in danger, remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access, and enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

I'm assuming by autonomy and privacy, you mean the choice to undergo medical transition and the bathroom/locker room/women's sports issue respectively.

Bills limiting "gender-affirming" care are focused on children, since puberty blockers like Lupron are now known to have very negative and permanent effects. The bills don't ban adults from choosing to take HRT. It's extremely profitable for doctors to continue to prescribe HRT and for surgeons to continue to recommend expensive plastic surgeries. Legislation won't go that route unless there's a massive shift in public perception.

The "Save Women's Sports Act" literally just limits participation in women's school sports to females only. That's it. The trans legislation tracker even acknowledges this.

Most of these bills are copy pasted from eachother, which is why they're all dubbed as "Save Women's Sports." Here's a snippet from HB61 in Ohio:

If someone's sex is brought into question, a simple blood test is all that's needed. Contrary to what the media may have led you to believe, there are no forcible genital inspections. No trans person is being forced to undress for this. Only 6 trans "girls" are affected by this in Ohio, out of 400k total athletes in girl's sports. So I'm not sure why this feels like a precursor to genocide to you.

remove information about what it is to be trans or queer from children's access,

Personally, I don't think children should be aware that medical transition is even a remote possibility unless they are in extreme psychological distress related to their sex. Even then, therapy is usually the best solution. I don't think the "Gender Unicorn," a surprisingly complex graphic created in part by an alleged violent rapist and groomer, should be used in classrooms to teach children about gender ideology. Gender ideology should be taught to college students who are better equipped to form their own opinion, not children who barely know how to read.

There are better, more useful things to push in our education curriculum, like compulsory comprehensive sex ed. That way, young men don't learn about sex through violent pornography, and young girls don't accidentally get pregnant without knowing what it means. This would also be a good time to teach them about sexual orientation. Leaving it up to the parents or focusing on abstinence evidently doesn't work.

enforce archaic ideas about what it means to be a man or woman.

The lack of self-awareness here is pretty astounding. The trans movement actively enforces these archaic ideas of gender by telling tomboys that they might actually be a boy. This implies that femininity is what makes womanhood, which is objectively untrue.

By telling masculine women that they are men and feminine men that they are women, you're literally enforcing the gender roles you say you're destroying.

They'll want to make it illegal to exist as a trans person in public.

You can speculate about this all you want, but you can't see laws limiting child transition and keeping sports sex-segregated as writing on the wall. We're not even close to that.

Now I'm not saying that that's genocide. I think we're an awfully long way off from trans people being mass arrested for being trans, and then murdered by the state.

I'm glad to hear you are moderately sane.

But we are in a rising climate of fear,

Your phrasing reminds me of US politics in the wake of 9/11. When people act out of fear, decisions are made in haste, and wars are started over made-up WMDs. Being fearful clouds your judgement.

Look around you. You're safe and accepted. The trans flag is flown almost everywhere in June. A trans woman won the NCAA National Champion title just last year. For International Women's Day, multiple companies featured trans women. Time Magazine featured many trans women as Women of the Year. Language is now inclusive, so women don't actually exist anymore. We're just uterus havers. This is all to cater to trans people.

Yeah. It's getting to be a bit much, isn't it? Don't you expect the least bit of pushback, especially from women? We aren't living in fear of some invisible boogeyman. We are angry at how rapidly our hard work has been undone.

We're pissed that after decades of feminist progress, we've regressed to being considered non-men once again.

and I don't think the trans people calling this the seventh stage of genocide are doing so out of bad faith. I think they're doing that because they are terrified of having their right to take life-saving medication, or have protection in the workplace, or be able to use a bathroom, or have children, or wear what they want to wear taken away.

Puberty blockers and HRT do not save lives. They actually haven't been proven to have a substantial enough effect on mental health to consider them an adequate treatment for gender dysphoria.

2. Trans people have the same basic human rights as any other human being.

3. Many places are adding gender-neutral bathrooms in order to accommodate the growing trans population. No one is checking your genitals at the door of a bathroom, no one cares that much. I care about girls being assaulted at school by boys in skirts and the school boards covering it up in the name of trans acceptance (x).

4. Trans people remove their own ability to have children by going on puberty blockers, HRT and even eventually physically castrating themselves. If you mean the ability to adopt or foster children, I don't know. Gay and lesbian couples still have a hard time adopting to this day, so progress can be made in that department.

To conclude this hodgepodge of various facts, screenshots and links, I'll leave you with this:

I fundamentally disagree with you that crying "genocide" is in any way helpful for your community. It's not. Most of Western society might have forgotten what genocide looks like or doesn't even know what the word means anymore, but you should know better as a Jew.

The attention trans people get from saying that they're going through a genocide is overwhelmingly negative from people on both ends of the political spectrum at this point. People are annoyed at trans people for making shit up, which ruins your movement's credibility.

When you have to lie to get someone's attention, you've already lost.

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bunny-yan · 5 months

Note

I love reading all your works and although I miss giant man heavily- THIS DUKE GUY IS SERIOUSLY MAKING ME QUESTION MY SANITY 0_0!! I just really want to know more about this story, it sounds so interesting and I can't deny I want the reader to either escape this situation entirely or find a way to survive in these awful conditions ;-; I need to know what's the king's deal with his brother and I do hope that when reader gets out of their confinement they can go back to being distant and aloof to their abusers (I mean, in that same air of "I'm technically not doing anything wrong to our agreement, so you can't be mad at me for just doing my "job""), they can do what they're told (unwillingly) but Duke better not expect some lovey dovey treatment anymore-

Being the masochist I am I would even go as far as to say that reader would barely acknowledge the duke's presence after this betrayal, but the second the King is said to be coming inside their home for a "friendly family visit", reader actually express an immense amount of fear and stress- It's the only time they're able to express genuine emotions without faking politeness and serenity for their sake of their "dear" husband.

SORRY I'M JUST CRYING AND VOMITING AND BARKING, DROOLING, GOING ABSOLUTE BONKERS-

i think it would be interesting to write a story where the darling is absolutely horrified whenever the King plan to visit and the duke is distressed between making you stay and subjecting you to his brother's attention or allowing you to leave, knowing that he'd have to go to his in-law's house to drag you back. but his relationship with his brother is what i want to dive in headfirst

TW: mentions non-con, pretty tame overall, general angst

—

He was intimately familiar with his brother’s things.

Things he couldn’t touch. Things he couldn’t imagine would ever become his own because he was the second son and second sons had to pave their own path since they weren’t meant to take over and couldn’t be given away as easily as daughters.

His brother was used to receiving everything he could never have.

His parent’s love and affection, their time, the teacher’s unimpaired praise, the latest toys when they were younger, the best clothes growing up, and he even had his pick of the most beautiful women from all of nobility.

When his accomplished brother eventually succeeded in something no other ducal household had done, rising to become the monarch of the kingdom, the position he could only dream of having was given to him as a consolation prize. There was no pride in having attained the duke’s title. It was simply another of his brother’s hand me downs that had been sapped of all gratification and sentimentality. There was nothing he’d experienced that his brother hadn’t already conquered.

Until he met you.

Unimpressive you.

Hailing from one of the diminished baron families that only had a title to separate them from everyday commoners, his brother, his king thought it prudent to choose a partner that would keep his brother humble considering his newfound status.

There really was no point in resisting. No one piqued his interest enough to fight for and he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine a life with someone that could ever gain him recognition significant enough to stand by his brother’s side.

Getting engaged without his say in the matter was simply a reminder of where he stood, a reminder that wasn’t needed considering his apathetic stance on the direction his life went. But after meeting you, for the first time he’d actually been grateful to his brother.

Timid reluctance on your first meeting quickly changed to hopeful curiosity after a surprisingly passionate wedding night. You began to seek him out, interested in getting to know your husband. Interested in getting to know him.

Not the second son.

Not the King’s younger brother.

It was hard to wrap his head around at first, but the more he received this attention that he’d never gotten the chance to receive before, the more he’d crave it. Irritation quickly turned into easy intrigue when you would visit him simply to ask how his day was going. How he felt. If he was interested in discussing the duchy’s current issues. If he wanted to vent about anything and everything. So great was your interest in his worries. It caught him off guard for someone to be so concerned about his wellbeing.

It was unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to the bleeding concern that would fill your eyes whenever he was injured during training and though it happened rarely, a part of him felt a sense of urgency, wanting to behave a little more reckless just to see that look in your eyes. To feel your soft comfort and care.

Even more surprising was the way he could completely let his guard down around you.

Taking off the constant edge, he often found himself lying in your lap, arms encircling your waist as you caressed his hair or allowed a thumb to brush against his cheek when you weren’t carelessly messing with his ears or tracing the shape of his face with your fingers. It was an intimacy he could've never hoped to imagine. To dream about and yet he did. He’d often drift off in moments like these, waking when you’d shake his shoulder to rouse him from his dreary state and if you’d managed to fall asleep as well he was overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t describe at the sight of your peaceful face, sleeping beside him.

It was easy to fall in such a tranquil rhythm, living while being needed. Wanted by someone who had no obligation to be with you. He remembered just before your engagement was finalized, his brother offered him the opportunity to divorce if the relationship didn’t last. It would’ve been a huge blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be stuck with someone he couldn’t stand to be around. He tried to treat you indifferently, refusing to allow you to become a stain on his perfect record, but you blew through his defenses so easily. It could’ve been your easygoing personality or the fact that his walls would’ve crumbled at a touch, had someone cared enough to destroy them and now that you had crossed to the other side he didn’t want to return to that emotionally destitute solitude, knowing what genuine companionship felt like.

You’d changed him.

From a man alone, seemingly content in his sole authority, to one that smiled on occasion with eyes that warmed to the things you said, grateful to have someone treat the rare laughter that’d erupt from his lips as a sacred treasure.

You changed him… And the King noticed too.

The Duke shouldn’t have been surprised. It never took his brother long to pick up on things like this. He was partly to blame for making it so obvious that he wanted to return to his manor, to return to you. And anything that interested the King’s younger brother was sure to pique the King’s interest.

He felt at odds when the King raised the proposition.

On one hand, he hated the idea. The thought of allowing him to touch you in the same manner that he had was repulsive. It aroused every rebellious instinct the Duke possessed which was surprising considering he never once thought to deny his brother anything. It wasn’t the second son’s place to deny the eldest what he wanted. He’d been reminded of that time and time again regardless of what it was. Even the gifts he’d received for his birthday, his favorite model cars that his older brother had no interest in would be snatched away if he spared them even a glance. The young Duke, scolded if he protested.

On the other, he didn’t want to appear as a greedy child who couldn’t share. His brother often showed an interest in the things that he liked, but if he pretended they didn’t really matter, that interest would wane to the point of nonexistence. So he’d play nice and share. No matter what his brother did, he was sure you wouldn’t develop an interest in him. You wouldn’t stroke his hair like you did his or whisper sweet nothings in his brother’s ear. These things were parts of you that were reserved for him and knowing this only gave him a sense of pride that grew when he noticed the signs of irritation on his brother’s face. For once, he relished in the fact that he had something that his brother never would.

He’d forgotten how much his brother didn’t like to lose.

The Duke sensed that things had changed after his brother’s visit.

You’d looked at him with sad, eerie eyes, mouth opening to say something you couldn’t quite put into words. Something you dared not to voice.

But you didn’t have to explain. He knew everything.

Petting you, he held you tight before going to handle his business as usual. Except you usually interrupted his work to bring him a snack or force him into a conversation over tea. Neither of which happened that day. Or the next. Or the day after that.

Concerned, he asked if you were okay and to his surprise you began to cry. You tried to explain to him what happened, but he shook his head, confused as to why you were bringing it up. You’d done your part and the King was sure to lose interest now that his curiosity had been satisfied.

The Duke didn’t understand the look of betrayal in your eyes.

He didn’t understand why you no longer invited him on trips to walk around the garden that he’d filled with flowers that reminded him of you. A section with his and your birth flowers tangled together where the two of you would linger felt distant. It felt strange being there by himself as he traveled in search of you, wondering why it was so hard to catch a glimpse of you these days.

You had dinner in your room, not the one the two of you shared. The bedroom, that you’d all but lived in since your wedding, felt empty and unused whenever he set foot in there now.

You went out, sometimes earlier than he woke up and you didn’t come back until the sky was dark and the only sound that greeted him in the pounding silence were cicadas and the sound of a pen attempting to scratch away the dread, the worry that built after not seeing you, the concern that this wasn’t something that would simply go away.

You couldn’t look at him, let alone touch him when he did manage to track you down and he couldn’t bear that disgustingly familiar sting he felt whenever you’d move away from his outstretched hand, avoiding the touch he’d attempted to share. Balling his fist, he’d pull away and attempt to convince himself that you needed space. It was normal to have hiccups in a relationship and space was something, along with time, that helped.

But with every passing day, every moment, the distance between the two of you seemed to get larger. Any attempt he made to bridge the gap only seemed to push you farther away and he hated the smug look on his brother’s face as he poked and prodded his brother on how married life was going.

As if he’d known this would happen.

Finally having enough of this, he asked you. What was wrong? Why had you changed? How could he get you back to how you were before, is the question he didn’t get a chance to ask because, to his surprise, you’d gotten angry.

You’d never been angry with him. Frustrated with his nonchalant behavior or confused with his hard to read moods, always. But never angry.

At least not like this.

You looked at him as if you were searching for something and something surged in his lungs when you drew away, unable to find whatever it is you were looking for. It felt like he had failed, recognizing those eyes that plagued him his entire childhood, and he couldn’t even be certain of what.

He couldn’t understand why you were claiming that you were leaving him!

You’d become an irreplaceable existence in his life and yet you were so ready to rip that away from him. To leave, abandon him to the crushing loneliness he didn’t realize he endured before. Now that he’d gotten a taste of happiness, he was hesitant to let it go.

More than hesitant.

The thought of you being anywhere but by his side felt appalling to even imagine, an incomprehensible idea.

He couldn’t let you go. Not if it meant returning to that time. But why is it that the words he’d been desperate to express, words that became harder and harder to say as soft pudgy hands became calloused and hard, were impossible to tell you?

Don’t leave me.

“You have a duty to this duchy.”

I don’t want to be alone.

“A responsibility to uphold.”

Please.

“If you’re so willing to view what happened as a shameful act regardless of my permission, then maintain it as a personal defect and don’t let it interfere with your obligations.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Hold me. Touch me like you did before. Look at me as if I’m the only one, the only one, the only one.

He couldn’t bear to imagine you on the arm of another. To think of you looking at anyone else the way you did when you were happy, concerned, in love.

He grabbed at his chest, begging for something, for anything to alleviate this torment, for someone to tell him what he’d done wrong.

“So, how is married life?”

His brother wore an easy grin, calmly laid back with a woman on his lap and a man at his side.

Ever the pious ruler.

He’d rather die than admit that things weren’t going well. The Duke couldn’t bear to see his brother’s smug grin.

“You were so excited to show them off to me, I couldn’t help but be curious. But they’re rather boring aren’t they?”

The Duke stilled himself.

“Even in bed they seemed content to just lie there and it was hard maintaining an ere-”

“Please excuse me, Your highness. I have matters to attend to at home.”

He got up and began to walk out, not having to turn around to see the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. The look of superiority as if he’d always be below him.

“Oh, baby brother. When will you ever learn?”

Those words stayed with him. Even as he pulled out the key to unlock the door to your shared bedroom. It was relieving not having to search the entire manor to find you, but you had become quiet. Despondent to his words or touch. Even now as you sat on the bed, you didn’t move when he sat next to you. You didn’t spare a glance in his direction when he placed a hand on the small of your back and you said nothing when he asked you to speak to him.

He should’ve known.

In their younger days, his brother couldn’t bear to see him have anything that he hadn’t already played with.

How could he forget that his brother only lost interest in those model cars that he’d been so proud of, that he shined everyday, that he treated more preciously than himself, after he’d pulled the wheels off of them?

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yandere duke

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russellsppttemplates · 6 months

Text

It's like we won't even be there (Lewis Hamilton)

Mercedes has three power couples

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time, I'm finally posting this request.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions gender inequality, misogynistic ideals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Everyone on social media has an inkling that you're bringing someone to the race. Is it your belle, Mr. Hamilton?", you teased your boyfriend as he got ready for bed.

You had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few hours earlier, caught a cab to the hotel where your boyfriend had been resting before media day.

"Is that so?", he wondered, "I haven't told anyone outside the team. And even them, I told them you would be joining as my guest, only a few people actually know about us", he assured.

"I don't mind it, we'll have to be public at some time. Three years dating outside of the public eye, plus another year of what the kids call soft launching, whatever happens this weekend, happens", you tranquilized him.

This had been an ongoing conversation for you for as long as you've dated. His lifestyle came with many implications, particularly not always being home and public eye. You also spent a lot of time focused on your job, building the company now associated to your name to the people in the finance business, so the latter question was the biggest one. While you were successful, it hardly impacted your life when it came to the public eye or social media. You had your accounts, sure, but they were private and they never got in the way of your job.

"I just don't want people to lash out on you", he replied, sitting next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing shapes in your hand, "I've seen how brutal they can be, I've felt how brutal they can be, and I don't want that for you. They'll gossip because that's how things work, but I don't want them breaking the respect line.", Lewis stated.

"Lew, I understand and appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I have you, our families, our friends, I'm going to be just fine. I don't know how they'll react, so I'll work with whatever happens", you smiled, snuggling into him as he caressed your face.

"Good morning, Y/N! How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long!", Carmen said as she hugged you once you arrived in the hospitality, Lewis kissing your cheek briefly before he headed for his meeting.

"Hello, gorgeous girl! I've been good, and you?", you greeted her with a kiss on each cheek after saying goodbye to Lewis.

"Same old, busy but managed to come and support G this weekend. You, however, seem to finally let it out", she smirked, walking with you to the coffee station and serving yourselves, sitting in the balcony as you overlooked the track.

"There's no point in keeping it a secret, I guess. We did it for a while, and this past year we both realised that we want to be able to go out and not be worried someone will see us and whatever consequences it could bring. We're adults who hope other adults will behave like such", you smiled.

"A hard thing to do sometimes, for them at least", you heard a female voice coming closer to you, "I don't believe we've met before, but Toto said you were hanging out here", the blonde woman said.

Suzie Wolff had been someone you looked up to since you were little, so this was a proper fangirl moment, "sit, sit! This is Y/N!", Carmen introduced after giving her a brief introduction.

"I keep missing you whenever you join us for the races!", she said, "the pandemic didn't help, and lately I've been so busy with the F1 Academy that I've hardly been to races myself", she reasoned, beginning the start of a conversation that was only interrupted for lunchtime.

"Press usually have a field day with powerful women related to this sport. You should be able to get away with it because you don't work for racing, but they love going on and on about how we got to where we are because of who we date", Suzie shook her head.

"Absolutely, because George is very interested in Family Offices and he got me my job", Carmen rolled her eyes, "you try and give that guy math stuff and you see how it turns out! Besides, not many people actually knew who he was, they're not very into motorsport, only a couple of them!", she teased.

"Agreed! The only way I was able to have my own company was because I name dropped Lewis, who I didn't know at the time. He doesn't know his numbers all that well. It's so easy for them to point fingers, but it's really just because they hate to see a powerful woman get the job done", you offered, seeing your partners arrive to the table along Laura.

"Social media is going crazy about you, Y/N!", Laura, one of the team's social media managers said while you had lunch, "there's people who spent the whole morning trying to find out who you were and they were faling to find your accounts. Apparently, they were looking in model agencies and such until someone pointed out you studied at the same university as them, and it's pointed them in the right direction I'd say?", she shrugged her shoulders, showing you her phone as she scrolled through media, "they're still trying to find out more, but they only have a few articles from your company and a picture of you when you graduated that is on the university's Wall of Fame!", she made you giggle, fondly looking at the wall of pictures you saw everyday on your way to lectures.

"Are you on the Wall of Fame and didn't tell us, Y/N?", Carmen exclaimed at the new information, "it's barely anything, I'm still there probably because someone forgot to remove the picture", you blushed, suddenly feeling like the table's attention was on you.

"Why would they take out the picture of the most beautiful woman with the most achievements?", Lewis charmed, holding your hand in his as he smiled.

"Are you guys ready for the race? If all goes well, we can get back to the points!", Suzie cheered as she handed you and Carmen your bottles of water.

"Lew has been beating himself up a lot lately, hopefully everything works in their favour", you held your hands together after setting the water bottle on the counter.

It was very touch and go, but the boys ended up with good results given the position they started in.

"Congrats, my love!", you said in Lewis' ear as he squeezed your torso over the barrier, delighting the sight of everyone who was watching and seeing the happy couple, "couldn't have done it without you, gorgeous girl", he yelled back, stealing a kiss before running to the mechanics.

"I'm just going to check where Suzie is and then we can go for dinner, guys", Toto stated, squeezing George's and Lewis' shoulders before checking is phone to see if his wife had seen the text he sent about said dinner.

"The F1 Academy paddock is closed, you can see it from here that nobody is there", George pointed out as his boss frowned.

"I would help you, but I have to go and look for Carmen, too", George scratched his cheek as they walked along the corridor, seeing Lewis open his driver's room door and slumping his shoulders slightly, "Y/N is not here either".

"Where have the Mercedes missus gone...?", Toto muttered.

It didn't take then long to hear the mix of your three giggles coming from the lounging area, the three of you sat in the smaller sofas around a coffee table, hot drinks in your hands as you discussed something avidly but in a relaxing way still.

"Are the three of you willing to have dinner with the three of us? We'll still let you speak between yourselves, okay? It's like we won't even be there!", Toto joked.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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jewish-vents · 1 month

Note

I am about ready to scream at goyim going "imagine if a country that was mostly one religion committed genocide other than Israel! imagine any other country being that awful!" I AM JEWISH AND CHOCTAW. My people have been massacred, forced off our land, raped, beaten, killed, death marched down to Oklahoma, forced into residential schools, been denied tribal membership and access to the reservation (and our own fucking culture) for being too light-skinned, Christians came in and beat and killed and raped everyone trying to practice our ancestral religion, Christian charity was contingent on you being willing to go along with Christianity, the government that has its' boot on our neck to this day is Christian, and goyim really want to act like NO ONE religious has ever done anything bad other than (((some people)))?! Choctaw women are STILL raped and beaten by police at four times the rate of white people and you know what the dominant religion in the state it's being done is? Hint, it's not Judaism!

Do you know why my ancestors converted, goyim? It's because the only people who ever offered them any kindness or support who weren't asking them to give up their language, culture and way of life were Jewish. The only people who agreed being forced off of your land and death marched to Oklahoma was fucked up were Jewish people. The only one who would let my great-great-great-great grandfather work for an honest day's pay and pay him the same amount they would a white person was a Jewish man. When white people wanted to take my great-great-great grandfather and his sister and put them in an Evangelical school to indoctrinate and mistreat them, it was a Jewish woman who straight up lied to them and went, "oh they're not Native, they're my kids, actually! no need to take them anywhere, they're not Native, they're white, the father of my bastards is just tan from working outside a lot!" and thus kept them out of there. They converted because they saw the love of G-d and it sure as shit wasn't from Christians!

And people see me and they think, "oh, he's not white, so he must not be Jewish. I can say antisemitic shit in front of him" and it makes me want to go fucking feral. Do they think I just forgot why my ass is in Oklahoma and why I can speak English and Yiddish and not fluent Choctaw? Do they think I forgot who gave my family a plot of land to live on when my ancestors were declared too light skinned to be allowed to live on the reservation while also not being able to return home because white Christians had built a town atop the ruins of my people's land? Because it wasn't you, Karen. You would have been saying Native kids were better off at a residential school and we both know it! We know it because you're fine hating a minority if you just have something you can spin into an excuse and you're fine dehumanizing people if the opportunity presents itself. "Imagine if any other religion-" I don't have to imagine. I'm in Okla-fucking-homa, Karen!

I've been observant all my life but this has switched it from 'lazily observant' to 'digging my heels in and being as Jewish as humanly possible' for the same reason I work my ass off learning Choctaw despite the obstacles: white goyim do not own me and I do not owe it to them to conform to their culture and expectations.

Am Yisrael Chai Akostininchi li Yisrael

(yes I know how to say it in Choctaw, my parents embedded that in my psyche, even if the rest of our knowledge of the language is spotty)

#jewish vents #antisemitism #genocide tw #american his #anti-native racism #Choctaw

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darkuselesssomebody · 4 months

Text

𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖'𝕤 - dark!raider!joel miller x reader

complete masterlist

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader wants a valentine's gift, but Joel's not exactly her boyfriend

a/n || i'm so shocked i haven't written dark!joel before?? i love him, your honor. also, for the raider!joel concept, though overall popular for fanfic, i was personally super inspired by @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark. they both have fantastic raider!joel content, please check them out!!

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider, please heed them, this may be triggering content!

➵ technically ooc to joel in the show, but his dark past is hinted at so yeah

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ !! reader is held captive and is experiencing stockholm syndrome. other women to which the same this is occurring are mentioned !!

➵ dubcon sex

➵ unprotected sex

➵ manhandling

➵ controlling dynamics

➵ slight degradation

“you have to do something for her.”

joel wonders how, as his younger brother, tommy always seemed to be nagging him, instead of the other way around. his face pinches in a scowl.

"the fuck i look like? cupid?" he growls back at his brother, rifle sagging on one of his shoulders, forcing him to readjust. tommy rolls his eyes.

"ya even have john and michael doin' somethin' special for their girls." he reminds joel how the other men in the group, with their own souvenirs, at least showed their consideration of the humanity of these girls on valentine's.

"she probably don't even know." joel grumbles, and tommy snorts.

"oh, she knows what valentine's is. the other girls told her. said she'd have liked some clothes."

"the fuck she need clothes for, ya sayin' i can't dress my girl?" joel, ever defensive, hates being talked down to by his little brother.

he hates more the fact that she seems to tell tommy so much more about herself than she does joel.

"y'can dress her, joel." tommy sighs. "but it won't hurt if she wears somethin' other than yer crusty flannels once in a while."

joel rolls his eyes, but he, luckily, doesn't have to entertain the rest of the conversation. a deer rustles the branches of a tree in the distance. joel's a better shot than his brother, always has been. but he's also less agile. as he's about to shoot, his foot crunches on a stick.

the shot still hits the deer's back, but it's a far cry from the headshot he was aiming for. he swears under his breath, but him and tommy are both already stalking the wounded prey, the same glow of determination and predation in their eyes.

they were still family, after all.

she used to never be able to sit still. pre-apocalypse, that meant she was always either fiddling with something, reading a book, or talking but... in the past few years, it meant a lot more silent stimulation. it was okay, she got by counting petals of flowers to herself or tracing the veins of leaves with her fingers to keep her mind occupied.

but the one thing she'd never given up was company. she'd had family, or friends, in every walk of this horrible turn of events, until 6 months ago.

when she was snatched away from her cruel life by an even crueler man. stripping her of autonomy and privacy were mild in comparison to her loss of company. the only other people in the house leered or jeered in her presence.

she was usually locked away from them anyways. in a tall tower she couldn't even use her hair to escape from; kept captive for the satisfaction and pleasure of a bad, bad man.

that's what made her head spin, though. because he wasn't always. yes, he was always sullen, and scowling, rough around the edges and calloused in his touch. but he wasn't always bad.

he'd fixed the bathtub of the house they were squatting in so she could revel in warmth if he wasn't around.

he risked his life for a new pack of cards and even a few books so she could keep her occupied.

and he would sometimes press gentle kisses to her forehead when he slept beside her, unbeknownst to himself, and without realizing the effect he had on her.

when the other men had started getting antsy about her being the only girl around (with her obvious off-limits status), joel relented and let them bring back their own. it was to avoid mutiny and maintain control, sure, but... it gave her company, too. and that was important to her.

the women would confide in her. first, of their fears and then, of their growing affections for their own men. it made her happy, vindicated.

she wasn't alone in her stockholm syndrome.

she's looking at the flowers that michael got for jessica. it's almost comical, with that kinda man and their kinda relationship. but jess liked it - really liked it - and that's all that mattered. john had promised anna something too, which she was talking about as the front door opened.

a dead deer was carried in by the miller brothers, and then some of the other men helped bring it out back to the shed, where they'd scavenge enough to feed the group for the week. as she always does, she approaches and stands in front of joel, greeting him in a low voice. he regards her with a once over, nodding, before his head tilts incrementally up, signalling to his bedroom.

she nods shyly, retreating to the room on the upper floor as joel delegates some tasks, before coming up to join her. she's looking out the window - barred, 'for her protection'- and he finally speaks up.

"what did ya do?" he asks gruffly, referring to the events in his absence.

"played some cards." she smiles softly as she faces him, "talked to anna and jessica." that makes him grimace a little, and she's confused.

"what about?" she shrugs.

"stuff. john and michael are gettin' them things, i guess?" she says it unsurely, "they say it's for 'valentines'?" she says the word curiously, as if wondering if it was something the 4 had made up, or if it was a real celebration. his grimace worsens: he hates when tommy's right. feigning innocence, he continues,

"what's that, then?" she looks at the floor shyly.

"like... a celebration? of... relationships, partners, that sorta thing." it's vague, but it's all she knows.

"huh." joel doesn't continue it further, and he goes silent, as he looks around the room to change out of his dirty clothes.

she sits on the bed, watching him move around, and with every passing moment of silence, her worry grows. did she say something wrong? was he mad? what happened?

when he finally goes to join her, he manhandles her to face away from him. that only makes her more upset, and she feels the prickle of tears in her eyes, as she lays down, and he joins her a moment later.

laying behind her as she feels a tear roll down her cheek, he doesn't realize how upset he's made her: he'd only asked her to turn around so he could fall asleep with the scent of her hair.

she wakes up after he's already left.

she sighs, rubbing her eyes, that always ended up a little inflamed after she cried. there's a little wetness on her pillow, and she flips it so joel doesn't see.

tommy's downstairs, having saved a fruit for her breakfast. she takes it gratefully, cutting it up and fiddling with the bite-sized pieces.

there's something on her mind - tommy, he notices these things. he wished his brother would, too.

"he's getting supplies." he assures her, knowing what was agitating her. she snaps out of it.

"hmm?" she pops a piece in her mouth, sweetness exploding on her tastebuds as she bites into it, "oh. right, yeah." she realizes what he's saying, "didn't he just get some?" tommy shrugs.

"he likes to go out to the abandoned mall - it clears his head." that makes her squirm.

"is he mad?" she mumbles, and tommy pats her shoulder.

"at you? never."

it wasn't exactly true, she thought. he's gotten mad before: if she talks too much to the others, when she doesn't listen to him, or when she finds herself in danger.

tommy knows joel's not mad in those moments. he's just terrified of what could possibly happen to his girl.

after finishing her fruit, she curls up under the blanket upstairs, wanting some time to herself. humming a melody - she thinks it's one that the guys will sing in an off-key fashion when they get particularly drunk - she tries to occupy herself by counting each of the little plaster bumps in the ceiling, and then all the small flowers on the dingy wallpaper of the room.

she gets to 78 when the door swings open. jolting awake, she makes eye contact with joel, who's looking down at her form under the covers.

"somethin' happen?" his voice is less gruff than usual, and she shakes her head.

"nope. just waiting." she gives him a weak, shaky smile. he doesn't return, but he doesn't click his tongue in annoyance, either. it's a win in her books.

he's got a backpack, and it looks pretty full. she wants to ask what's inside, but she knows he'll tell her if he wants to. he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. she scoots over so he has space.

"let me see you." he instructs, and she sits up, crawling out of the covers. sure enough, she's wearing one of his flannels for warmth, and had slipped into a pair of his boxers instead of her otherwise nonexistent pajama shorts. he's silent for a long moment, before he brings his fingers to examine the material. goddamn, was it old, frayed almost everywhere, and the chest pocket had a hole. he sighs, finally speaking, "comfy?"

she blinks, confused, "huh?"

"'re ya comf'rtable?" he repeats, voice gruffer. she lets out a nervous exhale. was it a trick?

"ye-yes. yeah, i'm comfy." she assure, and he hums.

"heard ya want somethin' new." he finally looks her in the eyes, something he doesn't do all that often. she shuts her eyes, cheeks heating in embarrassment and worry. dammit, tommy, she thinks, knowing the younger man had told joel about her offhand comment on clothes.

"it's fine, i'm happy with this." she splutters out quickly, hoping she won't upset him. he sees right though it though.

"yeah, yeah." he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand, as he gets up. her heart clenches, wondering if he was really angry, when he reaches for the backpack, throwing it at her.

it's not an aggressive throw, and lands on the mattress beside her.

"open it." he instructs, and she swallows thickly, unsure what to expect. the zipper is a little worn, but she eases it open... only to find not only clean but colorful clothes inside. she looks up at him in confusion.

"what...?" and for the first time in a while, there's just a hint of a smirk curling at his lips.

"go try 'em on." he encourages. giddily, she beams as she gets up, taking the bag of clothes into the cropped bedroom. he slumps back on the bed, trying to will away his fatigue. it'd been a hassle to collect all the clothes - more so, to find clean one he thought she'd like - so he leans back, waiting for her to return.

she lays out the clothes on the cramped sink counter space, starting with a simple pair of slightly flared jeans, pairing it with a light blue cropped cardigan. she goes out to show him, an obvious pep in her step.

he looks up as she enters, eyes trailing up and down her body, including the way the outfit fits her curves, and the slight glimpse of midriff.

"don't you look pretty?" he drawls, and, though it almost sounds sarcastic with his hard features, a light smile plays on her lips. she tries on 4 other outfits she could make out of the 10 articles of clothing he got her, and he seems to like each one even better. sure, he'd taken the initiative to ensure all of them were a little revealing - he deserved an eyeful for his hard work, after all - but she seemed genuinely happy, and the bright smile on her face almost rivals the cleavage that she shows off in some of the outfits.

when she shows him the final outfit, he pats the space on the bed next to him, and she obliges, sitting beside him.

"happy?" he finally murmurs, pulling her closer by the hem of her pants, and she nods excitedly.

"very." she assures, softening, "thank you." she doesn't need to clarify her sincerity, as it pours out in her tone. he caresses her cheek with his calloused thumb.

"good girl. you make sure to tell the girls." she almost laughs, knowing she'd show off the gift in the same way jess and anna have been with theirs. he wanted it to be known that fucking michael and john couldn't treat a better than he could, "got one more thing f'r you." he pulls her so she's standing, procuring two more pieces of small fabric from his pockets.

she inspects them, eyes widening a little when she realizes it's lingerie. he glances back at him, and he has a brazen and unashamed glint in his eyes. she's about to make a joke that this one seems more a gift for him than for her, but refrains, obliging with a small nod of her head, and taking it to the bathroom.

she strips out of her clothes, pulling up the lace fabric. the panties are practically a thong, shaping her ass nicely, while the bra enhances and perfects the curve of her tits, a small, red bow in between the cups, matching the bow on the hem of her panties.

she looks hot, and damn, is his taste good.

going back outside, a noise escapes his throat - like a guttural growl. he signals her to turn, and she does, giving her an ample view of her ass. he grabs her by the hips as she does, and she squeaks, as he pushes her down on the bed.

"oh!" she gasps, trying to sit up, but he's on top of her in a moment, mouthing at her neck roguishly, a sloppy trail left in his wake.

her skin erupts in goosebumps, but she knows better than to touch him when he gets like this - his need for dominance forbidding it. her hands grip the covers to ground herself, as his lips trail downwards, cheekily biting the bow of her bra, and taking a nip of her skin along with it. she moans, jolting, and he slaps her thigh - but gently. he's not meaning to hurt her - and trust her, she can tell when he is.

"stay still." he hisses, finally parting from her torso to marvel at her, "good lord, gonna fuck you in all this, sweetheart." he mumbles, more to himself than anything else, as his hands cup her breasts framed in the bra, squeezing softly so as to not damage the material.

usually, he'd revel in pushing her down to choke on his cock, and, when he was feeling more generous, he'd go down on her like a ravenous man.

but he was a simple man, who had been generous enough tonight. and he wasn't putting her in a position where he can't see her in the whole get-up, so the blowjob was out too.

fuck it, he thinks, reaching for the belt of his pants, i need her.

she gets up to help him undo his pants, but he forces her back into laying down, "wanna see you." he grumbles, finally undoing his pants. already hard, he palms his cock, eyes rolling back, "fuck."

he lowers again to shift the slit of the panties to the side, exposing her arousal, swiping his fingers through her mess, making her bite her lip. he wipes it gently on her cheek - a wholesome act, with a backdrop of degradation and depravity. he presses a soft hiss to the bow on her panties, making her shiver, before rising to his full length.

"you want it?" he grunts, as he strokes his cock, adjusting so it's lined up. she whimpers, as he's prolonging both of their suffering just to highlight her need for him. pathetically, she nods, and he laughs - barking and cold. "i can't hear you."

"yes!" she gasps out, unable to hold back anymore. he smirks in satisfaction, shifting his hips forward to bottom out in one stroke.

she cries out, eyes rolling back and head lolling onto the mattress, trying desperately to adjust to the stretch. he doesn't have that same decency, animalistically beginning to move his hips.

a squeal gets caught in her throat, and she cave to her instincts, gripping the wrist of the hand he's holding her waist with, squeezing as an indication of not her pain, but her pleasure.

thankfully, the adjustment was quick, and her surprised squeaks morph into pleasured moans, as he grunts on top of her, eyes raking the way that her tits try to bounce in the confinement of the bra. unusually, he's not annoyed by her touch, and it only makes him move more aggressively, as he can tell what makes her pleasure increase - as she'll squeeze his wrist harder.

"who's making ya feel this good?" he growls, "who takes care f'ya, sweetheart?" she chokes, garbled, broken moans escaping her.

"y-you!" she manages to gasp out, "o-only you, no one else, you - you take care of - of - oh, fuck!" she squeaks, feeling the pressure of her orgasm, "gonna - can i please - please-?!" she begs nonsensically, but he understands her - of course he does. she's his girl, after all.

"cum, sweetheart." he assures through gritted teeth, "who's making you cum?"

"y-you-" she cuts herself off with a cry as she cums, body stilling and legs trembling, as he continues to thrust and she rides out the orgasm.

he follows right after her, the squeeze of her cunt around sending his body into overdrive. collapsing on the bed beside her, the two remain silent for a minute to catch their breath.

finally, he clears his throat, getting up, and pulling her up, too. "go, clean up." he instructs, voice less gruff and softer, asking her to do something for her own good as opposed to his, "then change. don't think i can do another round right now." he knows that if he sees her in the outfit for longer, he'd get hard again.

with a woozy head, she does as he says. when she changes, though, she decides against the clothes that he bought her. she loves them, of course, but their either too coarse or flashy for night-time wear.

besides, they don't provide the precise comfort of stability that the flannel and boxers she puts on again does. though she tells herself she's not sure why joel's clothes seem more comforting than the new clothes, she's lying.

she feels more comfy in them because they smell and feel like him.

he's already knocked out when she exits, sleeping on his side, having evidently left the perfect amount of space for her to curl into his side, pulling his arm over to cradle her.

she knew he would always take care of her.

#joel miller #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #valentines 2024

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theshinazugawaslut · 22 days

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Which girl is suitable for Sanemi, in your opinion? And what kind of character or goals in life?

a/n: my genuine apologies for not being able to finish this sooner!

disclaimer: I will be mentioning things that Sanemi wouldn't be looking for in a partner but this is not to be taken personally.

To start off, I interpret Sanemi as a family-oriented man who would not be interesting in things like partying or hooking-up; he'd date to marry, and would only have sex if he loved you very dearly and trusted you with his life. I say this because Sanemi is a man who isolates himself from everyone he loves but also has a deep respect for women, he wouldn't wish to be like his father (and even without the idea of his abusive father, Sanemi would disagree with ideas like being a fuckboy or making bad decisions). This is not to hate on anyone who does do these sort of things, this is just how I imagine Sanemi to be and what makes most sense regarding his character.

I'm going to split this into little mini-sections with little examples and explanations as well: What Sanemi wouldn't like and what Sanemi would like.

What Sanemi Would Like/Need:

Someone of unshakeable character and a strong moral compass; meaning that the person should be resilient and strong-minded, not easily swayed by others.

Someone family-oriented; this would be incredibly important to Sanemi. He is someone who places great importance on his own mother and siblings hence he'd wish for someone who holds the same importance on their own family as well. This would also play into the fact that Sanemi would want children, so he'd unconsciously want someone who is good with kids and would also want children.

Someone humble, down-to-earth, and simple. Spoiled brats and stuck-up people would make Sanemi strangle someone.

Someone kind-hearted and patient; the most ideal sort of kindness would be someone who is Tanjiro-level. Someone who could calm him down, help him rationalise himself, or help him figure out his emotions during tough times. He'd like someone who is selfless and tender.

Emotionally intelligent. He'd unconsciously need this in a partner due to the fact he is usually unable to express and verbalise his feels so having someone understand him would mean the whole world to him.

Due to his pessimistic nature/thoughts, he'd need someone who can see good in people/things. He's not looking for an overly optimistic, happy person who believes all is good in the world but instead he's looking for someone who can separate right from wrong, acknowledge the darkness of the world and still choose to make and see the best.

Goals-wise — someone ambitious or determined. He doesn't care if your goal is to crochet the world's best handbag or have three kids or open a florist shop, as long as you love it! Someone who rambles a lot would be endearing to him since he likes to just listen.

Feminine. By this, I don't mean someone who looks feminine but someone who acts feminine, someone overall gentle and nurturing, someone he could trust to slice his heart open gently and kiss him so fucking sweet after.

What Sanemi Wouldn't Like/Want:

Somebody who is too social. This isn't to say he wants you cooped up inside the house all the time with no one around you but Sanemi wouldn't be very big on placing a lot of emphasis on friends; he'd rather you and him hang out together all the time so if you dislike clinginess in the sense he will go with you to the gym, shops, salon, your family, then you and Sanemi are definitely not made for each other. So if you're someone who constantly wants to have friends over and go out with friends, he'd most likely find himself bored and slightly irritated even if he won't say anything. He doesn't understand why some people care about their friends so much; if you were hanging out with siblings or parents, he's totally up for it, but he's more iffy about friends. To add to this, Sanemi would really appreciate someone who gets along with family and he'll definitely get along for yours.

People who go partying/clubbing. Sanemi would dislike this because he thinks there are much better ways to spend his time and he overall dislikes the idea of drinking. He probably thinks bars and clubs are immature and a waste of time. He thinks if you can't have fun sober, then you're no fun at all. Overall, he doesn't like the things associated with partying/clubbing culture, and he feels like it's not an overall good place to be. He won't judge people who do it but he definitely wouldn't like it in his own partner.

Hook-up/one-night-stands; Sanemi would never partake in this sort of culture in the first place and I don't think he'd ever go with someone who does. He has different values and beliefs that don't really align with that sort of culture, so I think it'd be very unlike he date/marry someone who partook in it. This isn't for people to get offended but he'd rather someone chaste like himself.

Someone who is always angry. I see this trope in fanfictions a lot but I don't think Sanemi would pair very well with someone who is snappish/brutish like him; he doesn't want you to be a whimpering, pathetic mess, but I don't think he's ever going to fall for someone like himself, he prefers serenity in his partners.

Argumentative. You'll both just end up heartbroken and in a very badly chaotic relationship. It would never work out.

If you don't want kids. He wants kids, he loves them and really wants his own, and you'd probably find a problem later in your life with him if you really don't want kids. He'd never force you or try to push it on to you but he'd feel really sad on the inside.

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #kny #sanemi x you #esha answers your questions #husband sanemi #sanemi headcanons #anime and manga #kny sanemi #sanemi

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molkolsdal · 10 days

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Badeshi: Only three people speak this 'extinct' language

By Zafar Syed, February 2018

Would you like to learn a few words of a language only three people in the world speak?

Badeshi used to be spoken widely in a remote snow-clad valley, deep in the mountains of northern Pakistan.

But it is now considered extinct.

Ethnologue, which lists all of the world's languages, says it has had no known speakers for three or more generations.

But in the Bishigram Valley, we found three old men who can still speak in Badeshi (you can hear them in the video at the link).

"A generation ago, Badeshi was spoken in the entire village", says Rahim Gul. He doesn't know how old he is, but looks over 70.

"But then we brought women from other villages [for marriage] who spoke Torwali language. Their children spoke in their mother tongue, so our language started dying out."

Torwali is the dominant language in the area, which is itself under pressure from Pashto, but has pushed Badeshi to the brink in this valley.

"Now our children and their children speak Torwali," said Said Gul, Rahim Gul's first cousin. "So who should we speak our own language with?"

Said Gul also doesn't know his own age. When he said he was 40, somebody corrected him. "It's more like 80!" Said Gul quickly shot back, "No, may be 50, but not 80!"

There are no job opportunities in the area, so these men have spent a lot of time in touristy Swat District, where they have picked up the Pashto language, and that is mainly how they communicate.

Because of a lack of opportunities to use Badeshi, over the decades even these three men have started forgetting the language.

While they were talking in Badeshi, Rahim Gul and Said Gul regularly forgot a word or two, and could only remember after prodding from the others.

Rahim Gul has a son, who has five children of his own, but all of them speak Torwali.

"My mother was a Torwali speaker, so my parents didn't speak any Badeshi in the house. I didn't get a chance to pick it up in childhood. I know a few words, but don't know the language. All my children speak Torwali.

"I do regret it, but now that I'm 32 there is no chance I can learn Badeshi. I'm very sad at the prospect that this language will die out with my father."

Sagar Zaman is a linguist affiliated with the Forum for Language Initiative, a non-governmental organisation dedicated to the promotion and preservation of endangered languages of Pakistan.

"I travelled to this valley three times, but the inhabitants were reluctant to speak this language in front of me," he says.

"Other linguists and I were able to collect a hundred or so words which suggested that this language belongs to Indo-Aryan sub family of languages."

Zaman Sagar says Torwali and Pashto speakers look down upon Badeshi, so there is a stigma attached to speaking it.

Perhaps it's too late to save Badeshi, but at the very least, you can learn a few words to keep the memory of the language alive:

Meen naao Rahim Gul thi - My name is Rahim Gul

Meen Badeshi jibe aasa - I speak Badeshi

Theen haal khale thi? - How do you do?

May grot khekti - I have eaten

Ishu kaale heem kam ikthi - There is not much snowfall this year

#long post #Badeshi #language #endangered #zafar syed #Pakistan #Bishigram Valley #stigma #minority

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marymary-diva17 · 2 months

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When someone insult you

One way to cause tension and trouble for someone on Pandora will be by insulting one of their family members. As it will show, you disrespect someone you love and care about and think nothing bad will happen to them after saying hurtful words. These hurtful words can have any effect or consequences on anyone involved.

Jake x reader x Neytiri

evil demon women

It was a sunny and hot day you had taken the kids out for a swim near the water for some fun, and relaxation as there was no task for the day. Your spouse had been gone of the day so you were just with the kids today, but you are still enjoying your time with them. Some other families had arrived as it seems like, they all had the same idea as well.

tuk " mama can I have some fruit please I'm hungry"

y/n " sure sweetie" you had take out some fruit and cut in half give some to tuk, as she smiled and eat some of the fruit.

tuk " thank you mama" tuk soon hugged you before she ran off back towards the water.

navi women " look at her that dreamwalker has found a way to infect our clan"

navi women 2 " she acts all high and might just because she mates with neytiri and Jake sully"

navi wonen 3 " she just some evil demon women" you had become sue to everyone words and gossip towards you, as some of them hated the idea that you are with two heroes of the clan. At the moment you are avoid conflict as you didn't wish for any trouble with them.

????? " hey" a voice had been heard getting everyone attention, you soon looked up and saw your eldest son neteyam.

neteyam “ you will not speak to my mom in that behavior”

y/n “ neteyam”

neteyam “ no mama they are being rude and I … we won’t stand for it”

Kiri “ yes they are being rude mama and it should be addressed”

loak “ we not let anyone be rude to our family”

y/n “ kids”

Tuk “ mama says if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say it at all” the group of ladies looked taken back of what the kids had said to them. As you had stood there looking at them as the women seem to be regretting what they had said towards you.

y/n " come on kids lets go home right now we can spend the rest of the day together there"

neteyam " oh yes our dad and mom will be learning of this whole situation, lets hope to has a good outcome for you all"

y/n " come on neteyam"

neteyam " coming mom" the kids had soon walked home with you and you had embraced them into a group hug, proud of them standing up for family.

lo'ak " so are we in trouble"

y/n " no it all good no one is in trouble now come on lets get home, and maybe I can make a very sweet snack for my wonderful kids"

kids " yes" you and the kids had soon gone home as it soon started raining, the kids had been able to keep themselves entertained while you made them snacks. Later on in the day Jake and neytiri will find out the truth of what happened, and they were not happy Jake had to hold back neytiri. The ladies had been order to stay away from you until any other word given from your mates and you.

Jake x tsu'tey x reader x neytiri

Demon

It had started off a peaceful and good morning for you, as you had been working out of the humans bases. You are also enjoying the sun hitting you skin it seems like it was going to be a good day. Now there was only the wait for your kids and mates to get here, as they promised to come over and have morning meal with you.

y/n " they will be here soon should I make some juice for us or maybe pick some fruit ... it can do anything to help with some of the meal" you had decided to pick some fruit and make into juice for the family, as you were picking some fruit you were humming a song.

????? " what is that sound"

???? " I don't know but it coming from over there" you had soon heard movement coming towards you, and soon saw some navi from the clan.

y/n " good morning"

navi women " oh it just you"

y/n " yes it just me good morning as well let hope, the great mother blesses us with a good day"

navi man " she will not need blessing from a demon like you"

y/n " excuse me"

navi women " you heard us you and your demon kind have wormed your way into omadtikayaia clan and have ruined them, by become mates with them and having half navi children"

y/n " I know we have hard time getting along with other navi ...."

navi man " no matter what you do demon you will never be one of us and mostly the demon child you have as well"

y/n " we are not demons"

navi women " yes you are demon and we will make sure no more clan get effected by the likes of you" the demon soon had shoved you to the ground, she was about to grab you again.

???? " mama" tuk soon came running and soon held tight onto you, as the three other kids had came and started hissing at the two adults.

neteyam " how dare you touch my mother and hurt her"

lo'ak " you messed up big time never mess with a sully"

kiri " mama are you okay" kiri and tuk had helped you onto you feet as you soon look, at the two adults.

navi women " looked what we have here two sure born navi and two demon blooded kids"

y/n " you can insult me all your want but leave my kids out of this"

navi women " what are you going to do about demon" the women had hissed at you but she was not acting all pride, when she soon had been take to the floor.

neytiri " how dare you insult my wife and kids"

navi man " hey we were just teaching her and those demons a lesson" the man had soon been punched hard in the face by no other then Jake, and soon someone tossed him towards the women and that was Tsu’tey.

Jake " no you dare speaking to my wife like that ever again, or we will have more trouble here"

Tsu’tey " you two don't have any rights to come near y/n and our kids"

navi women " we were just voice how other feels"

neytiri " then your parents have failed you two on teaching you two to bid your manners, our y/n has done more then you will ever do"

Tsu’tey " no leave and stay out of straight and ear shot if we see you again near here, with our a good reason and causing trouble it will not be good for anyone" the pair had gotten up quickly and soon ran off leaving the family alone.

neytiri " ma y/n are you okay"

y/n " I'm fine neytiri no need to worry thank you all for standing up, for me it makes me feel good"

neytiri " if that women ever come back here again tell me and I will deal with her"

Jake " yes and I and Tsu’tey can deal with her buddy over there"

Tsu’tey " yes we will make them play"

y/n " thank you all but for now more violence at the moment, let go have some breakfast"

tuk " yeah we were able to save mama and now we get breakfast"

y/n " yes we do"

neytiri " we brought some stuff over to cook with as well"

y/n " good now come along" the group soon followed you home, the situation of this morning had soon speed the rest of the clan. it say no one was happy will be a understatement as, everyone was upset about the words that were spoken towards you and the clan. The duo had been made to say sorry by their clan leader and promised to keep their distance from the clan until notice,

Tonowari x reader x ronal

false navi

It a good day in the village a very funny and warm day and the clan was going on with their day. The same could be said about you and the kids, as you are with them near the shoreline collect materials while the kids goofed off here and there. Making you laugh as you had looked at them being kids and making sure to have fun today.

rotox " ahh aonung no fair" aonung and shoved his brother into the water soon, gaining your attention as you look at the two boys.

aonung " oh come on I'm just playing around"

tsireya " you two are so childish" the two boys soon looked at each other and soon smirked, when they looked to their sister and before trsireya could do anything. They had tackled her into the water getting a scream from her and laughs from her brother.

tsireya " hey"

rotxo " oh come on baby sister you should of seen that coming" tsireya soon started a water fight with her brother as you stood there laugh and looking at them.

kids " mama"

y/n " be nice all three of you and not hurting each other please"

kids " yes mama" the kids had went deeper into the water having their battles still going on, as you stood there watching them. You had been standing there for a while before you had waked off.

navi women "excuse me y/n"

y/n " hello how may I help you ladies"

navi women 2 " well us and some of the clan were wondering if you are true navi or false navi"

y/n " excuse me"

navi women 3 " yes after ing the olo'eythan you have failed time to time again, to have a kids with him while ronal has three kids ... are we sure you are actually navi or just some unwanted child the great mother gave your childish parents"

y/n " that is none of your business the great mother will bless me with a child, when the time right"

navi women 4 " are we sure because if you are false navi maybe it time, to have someone become the perfect mate and perfect navi to our clan"

navi women " you have these kids call you mama when you are no a mom to them"

y/n " I will not waste me time with you all anymore good day" you were about to walk away from the women, when big splash of water, had hit the women.

navi female " ahh"

navi women " who did that"

????? " it was me" the group of women and you had looked and saw it was aonung on his IIu.

Aonung " how dare you insult my mother like that"

navi women " mind your manners young man"

aonung " you should mind your manners when you are speaking to my mother, a very import women in the clan"

navi women 2 " we are speaking to her that all"

rotxo " you are being rude toward her and we heard everything you had said"

tisreya " yes and we will make sure to tell our parents about what you said, I wonder what they will think about how you all acted" a crowd had form due to all the fighting that was going on right now.

y/n " kids"

tsireya " you will start showing our mom respect"

???? " what going on here" tonowari and ronal soon had arrived, they soon walked towards you and the kids.

ronal " ma y/n and children what has happened"

aonung " these women were insulting mama mom they called her a false navi"

ronal " false navi"

aonung " yes they said she was a false navi because she failed to give father a child"

ronal " you dare insult my wife like that"

navi women " we had been speaking what is true she has failed to have a child with the olo'eythan"

tonowaro " how dare you speak to y/n like that after everything she has done for the clan, you all make me sick and not only insulting her you insult my whole family"

ronal " my family as well" ronal had gotten closer to the women and hissed at them, making them step back from her as ronal was very mad and so is tonowari.

tonowari " ma y/n are you okay"

y/n " I'm good now"

ronal " you are hear by not allowed to come near her or the children until I and tonowari deem to far enough, and your words and actions today might reflect your families and mates as well"

navi wonen 3 " wait no please"

tonowari " enough the tshaik has spoken I will decide on the offers I was going to give your mates, but for now leave before you all do anything else ... if anyone thinks the same speak now so we can deal with you all" no one dare to speak right now as it bad idea, the women had been escorted away getting glares some everyone else. Your mates and kids had taken you home as they comfort you about the whole matter.

tonowari " dont pay them any mind ma y/n you are the perfect mate, perfect mom, and perfect navi"

ronal " yes and one day you will be blessed with a kid"

y/n " yes I know the day will come"

tsireya " we love you mama"

y/n " thank you kids and my wonderful mates" the family had spent the rest of the day together, having a good time along with making sure you are okay as well. Tonowari and ronal had made sure the group of women stayed far away from you, and the kids their mates had apologized to you and were able not to be affected of what happened that day. You knew the day will come when you will be blessed with the another child in your life and family.

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observeowl · 5 months

Text

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 1 - Not the best first meeting

Series Masterlist

"I don't want to marry that cripple, Marcus. I want to be with you." Your sister, Stephanie complained as she got intimate with him. "Don't be afraid baby, I won't give you to anyone." He said it so softly that it touched her heart. They have been hiding around for so long that they have started to lose their patience.

"Marcus!" You slammed the door open and caught them under the sheets together. "Stephanie! Marcus is my fiancé! You guys... How can you guys..." You shook your head, they weren't even trying to defend their actions. You've known them for the longest time, having met Marcus in high school, for them to betray you like this was unimaginable. Stephanie reached out and held your arm, "Y/N, I'm sorry. Marcus and I love each other dearly."

Out of a sudden, Marcus pulled her back further from you and held her close to him. "From the beginning to end, I only have Stephanie in my heart. Don't flatter yourself." He has never spoken so harshly to you and looked at you like a stranger. "Please, Y/N, I beg you. The woman is next door tonight if only you-"

"You want me to allow you guys... Dream on!" If your anger was boiling a second ago, it was vaporising now. You raised your arm ready to slap her, but were stopped by Marcus. "Y/N Y/L/N! You have no choice! If you won't marry, then who will? I can't bear to see Stephanie suffer."

"Marc-" He sprayed your face with an unknown substance causing you to lose consciousness.

Y/N, don't blame us... If you want to blame someone then blame it on your fate...

===

You woke up the next morning still feeling very groggy until you remembered what happened yesterday. You sat up in shock when you realised you were undressed and a woman was sharing your bed.

Last night was not a dream...

You got up in a hurry and rushed to put on all your clothes when your father, Mike opened the door without knocking. "Y/N Y/L/N! You unfaithful daughter!" He ordered you to come out once you're properly dressed.

He held nothing back when he slapped you in front of your family. "This is the woman your sister wants to get married to! How could you..." He chastised you in front of everyone. Stephanie came out from behind your father and said, "Y/N... Is it because Marcus wants to tell you about the regret of the marriage? That's why you want to take revenge?" She tried to act sympathising.

"Stephanie Y/L/N! Do you dare to speak of what you said last night again!"

"Y/N, what are you talking about? Last night... last night..." She suddenly acted like the victim and shed some crocodile tears. "You asked me to go inside your room and coaxed me to drink... I fainted and I..."

"Y/N Y/L/N! Kneel and apologise to your sister immediately!" Your father came to her rescue. You could no longer bear the extreme favouritism and lashed out. "WHY?" You screamed at your father. "You still dare to talk back."

"Enough!" Finally, the women spoke. With just a single word, she was able to take control of the situation. "Bring the car over." She said into the phone. "Natasha, this is all Y/N's fault, she's too playful..."

"Did I allow you to call me by my first name?" Each time she opened her mouth, the room got colder. "Natasha, I hope you can..."

"I don't like to repeat myself!"

"Dad, I'm okay. Please don't blame Y/N. Maybe she's too sad about the breakup with Marcus so she did that." She was still putting up an act and wiping her tears. "Or maybe... she likes Natasha Romanoff. I can give her up for her. Anyway, they already had an affair. I don't think Romanoff will refuse her?" She glanced at you as she tried persuading her father. You clenched your jaws seeing how fake she was. "I will never get married. What happened last night were Stephanie and-"

"Enough!" Stephanie shouted. "Y/N, I'm your sister! If you like Romanoff, I will give her up for you. Why do you have to do this to me?" She acted as if she was the better, bigger person, the one getting the short end of the stick. "Y/N, you think there are still people who believe you? You must marry Natasha Romanoff! Furthermore..." She leaned closer to you and whispered, "One of you is shameless, the other is handicapped. Most suitable."

"Stephanie Y/L/N!"

"Don't believe me? You just wait and see." She pushed herself against you and acted as if she was being pushed by you. "I didn't push her..."

Marcus immediately went to her side and made sure she was okay. "Y/N Y/L/N, you're too much!"

"I didn't push her.." But no one would take your side. "Romanoff..." Mike said, as she appeared and wheeled herself to the door.

She was so capable but became different because of the accident. Although you were framed, she won't seek justice for you.

"Come with me." She spoke. "But, what happened last night was Stephanie... Okay..." You relented when you realised she wouldn't take no for an answer and kept wheeling away. "I'll go with you."

Outside your estate, a man was waiting outside by the car. Without introducing himself, he asked you to enter after making sure that Romanoff got in okay. "It's fine. I can walk." You rejected the offer. "I'm not done with you, get in." She said. In the end, you got in at the back of the car with Romanoff.

"Don't worry, I will not care what happened yesterday." You started. "You want to repudiate after sleeping?" You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but she beat you to it. "I'm not an irresponsible person. It is better to marry you then marry Stephanie. And you already belong to me. So it doesn't matter if you deny it."

"You.. you're shameless! We don't have any feelings for each other. Why will I marry you."

"Y/L/N, do you think your dad will believe you? I will give you a chance to think about it." She was very confident as she folded her arms in front of her. "Dream on! I won't marry you!"

"Stop!" Romanoff ordered and the driver immediately stopped the car. "Miss Y/L/N, please." He opened the door, hinting for you to step out. "I can wait for your reply. However, I'm not sure if your family can wait that long." She said as she handed her name card to you. And you were left on the sidewalk to walk the rest of your journey yourself. Your phone rang and it was Stephanie calling. Not in the mood to entertain her, you declined her call but she was persistent and sent you a text.

(Y/N Y/L/N, if you don't want the whole world to know what happened last night. You come home immediately!)

"Hey Stephanie Y/L/N! What are you trying to do?" You called her back. "Y/N Y/L/N, I told you already even if you don't want to get married. You have no choice about it! I've recorded what you guys did last night If you don't want people to see it. You'd better listen to me!"

"Stephanie Y/L/N!" You screamed into the phone. "If you don't want to get married, so be it. Anyhow, Dad already contacted President Zhang of the Far East Bank. To sacrifice one's happiness to a disabled person, or you want to be with a 50-year-old man. Go think about it!" She cut off the phone.

You clutched the name card in your hand tightly. Making up your mind, you dialled the number on the card. "Natasha Romanoff, I agree to marry you." All within a few steps from where you were dropped off.

===

Within the next month, you walked down the aisle and exchanged vows with Natasha Romanoff, your wife. The wedding was grand, Romanoff and your dad invited a lot of people. As you went around with Romanoff, you came across Marcus and Stephanie.

"Y/N, congratulations," Stephanie said as she came closer to you. "Got what you want."

"Same as you. When are you getting married? Don't forget to let me know. I will surely prepare a big gift for you."

"Y/N Y/L/N, you can only be proud now. Don't forget about the video. Bitch." She whispered into your ears but Romanoff heard it clearly. She reached out for your hand and said, "Bitch? Miss Y/L/N, who are you referring to with that word?" Intimidated by her gaze, she stepped back a little. "Nothing... that was a misunderstanding."

"Y/N, don't make trouble. Stephanie is not that kind of person!" Marcus held her tenderly. "I don't care what your relationship and aim are." Romanoff wheeled herself to be between you and them. "In my eyes, you are nothing. In my eyes, There is only my wife, Y/N Romanoff.

You once wished that Marcus would say it to her.

"Y/N, she is your sister, what else do you want?" Naturally, he went on her side and you could only sigh internally. "I don't want anything. I just need her to stop bothering me." You started to push Romanoff away from this toxic crowd when your father called for you again. "Mr Y/L/N, stop bothering Y/N. She is now a member of the Romanoff family. No longer Miss Y/L/N."

"Miss Romanoff, we are a family after all, you don't have to say it that way." He made an awkward smile. "If you treat her like a family, then I will naturally treat you the same way." She replied without even looking at them.

In your memory, no one has ever protected you this way...

Series Masterlist

@natsxwife @franfineashell @dvrkhcld @reginassweetheart

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #my writing #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #unwanted marriage #mcu x reader #avengers

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cosmic-crybaby · 4 months

Text

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 3

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returned from France, he came back a completely different man.

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining, betrayal, emotional manipulation, emotional whiplash.

It was 1919. Over a year since she left Thomas and the betting shop behind. [Name] was stuck in solitude for days, and each day her mother comforted her, easing her daughters cries until she slept. The first person to reach out to her since she had left, was Ada.

"Please talk to me [Name]," She had asked her friend, sitting across from her at the small dining table.

"There is nothing to say, Ada...I can't go back, not now," She picked at her nails anxiously, the deep burgundy lacquer slowly chipping away.

"Believe it or not, it hasn't gone completely to shit, but Aunt Pol is having a hard time finding reliable people to do your job-"

"That's not my job anymore," [Name] reminded her. "Listen I'm sorry...I really am,"

"Where will you go now?" Ada asked. The girl opposite to her thought for a moment, she could be a barmaid but the chances of running into the Peaky boys were high. Jobs for women were scarce now that the men are back. So she just opted to respond with a shrug.

"No idea, Ada..."

Over a year later and she managed to get a job at the local library. It was quiet, of course, but at the very least she was able to put some of her knowledge to good use. It paid well enough for her to live comfortably and it kept her hidden away from running into the Shelby Family. She was just glad she didn't have to resort to becoming a prostitute. Her mother would have a heart attack is that was the case. With the exception of Ada and Polly, who would often drop in to have tea with her and her mother or bring treats and gifts. Sometimes [Name] felt they only offered these gifts as peace offerings, of behalf of what Thomas had done. It was as if they still couldn't forgive him, and they would understand if she couldn't either.

Because in the last year, she had changed.

Physically and mentally. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, the stress of illegal betting and horseracing, the stress of Thomas Shelby had left her life, which in turn rewarded her to grow even more. In only a year, she begun to finally get noticed by the other young bachelors of Birmingham. Little did she know, she had them turning their heads all this time, she was busy with her eyes on someone else.

It was one afternoon when she met her current suitor. His name was Daniel and he was the sweetest man she had ever met. Considering she had only surrounded herself with the three Shelby men and the Peaky boys, that was a big change. While she was working at the front desk of the Library, he requested some aid in retrieving a couple of maps of the world. She didn't pay any mind to Daniel at first until the third and fourth week he had come in, still asking for her help.

"I remember you, I would assume you knew where the maps were by now," She quietly cut him off. This caught him off guard, making him flustered as he tried to search for his words. [Name] only smiled as she watched the dark auburn haired man blush more and more.

"I-I am sorry miss...I just," He cleared his throat. She arched her brow at him for a moment. He was at a loss for words as he admired her beauty. That day he had asked if she'd like to accompany him to some dinner in London, to get to know each other more.

It had been a very peaceful and cherishing month with Daniel, she found that he was a traveling business man and was looking to expand his company in America. But, like all good things it came to an end when Thomas Shelby came into the picture once again. While in London with Daniel, he took her to the shops to buy a new dress to meet his family one night. She had broken away from him as he spoke to the salesman about the dress he was about to purchase. Stepping outside to look at the lightly clouded sky, examining the different shops on the street.

"[Name]?" The voice sent shivers down her spine. She quickly turns at the mention of her name towards the deep voice.

"Thomas?" She asked, surprised to see him.

Seeing the man that broke her heart and betrayed her trust right in front of her eyes was like a whirlwind of emotions. She didn't know if she should stay, run, or beat him until he was blue and on his knees begging for her forgiveness.

But, she was better than that. She was with a man who actually loved her.

"It's nice to see you again," Thomas told her, stepping closer. She subtly takes a step back, clearing her throat as her eyes dart to the shop entrance, praying to God that Daniel will emerge soon so the two can leave the awkward interaction and never turn back.

"Yeah, sure, Thomas..." She nods slightly. Thomas Shelby didn't forget what happened between them over a year ago, but he was perplexed that she would still treat him like a stranger, even after all these years of being as close as they once were. Within that year of missing her by his side, he refrained from showing up at her home to see her, refraining from asking Ada and Polly to tell him what they had discussed when they visited her. Part of him hoped that her and her mother still took those evening walks in Uncle Charlies' yard after dinner. Thomas often found himself at Charlies' yard nearly every night, hoping he would run into her.

But that's exactly what she had avoided. [Name] did everything in her power to avoid every little place and thing Tommy knew about her. IT seemed to work, until this very moment.

"What brings you here?" She asked curiously. Hoping she didn't have to put her favorite dress shop in London on a list of places to avoid Thomas Shelby.

"Just...doing some business in London as it seems...until I saw you leaving the dress shop...thought I would come and say hello," He shrugged. [Name] looked down at her gloved hands, pondering her next words.

"I see...well, goodbye Thomas," She nods once, still avoided his eyes, afraid that once she sees his eyes again, it will start all over again. The warmth he gave her, the butterflies in her stomach, the cure to all of her hardships. She makes hasty steps past him, but his hand reaches out to grab her arm...it was gentle but firm as to not hurt her. He always knew how to be gentle with her.

"[Name], please..." He said quietly. She felt the tears brim her eyes as she slowly turned to him again. Slowly lifting her gaze to his eyes. Once he saw her tears, it was like everything around them had stopped. It was just them two together and no one else.

"What Thomas? What could you possibly want from me now?...After all this time, when I am finally happy you come into my life again, why?" She asked, sniffling as the small tears rolled down her high cheekbones and onto her chin. Her skin blushed, and her eyes were red with salty tears. He was at a loss for words at first.

He gently spoke her name again, reaching down to pick up her hand in his, testing the waters to see just how much she will accept from him. Her hand twitched and nearly jerked away as he slipped her glove off. Feeling the warmth of his skin made her comply. His hands were rough now, from the years of digging tunnels and fighting. She had no doubt that his hands and mind were both distressed.

"I...I'm sorry for how things ended between us...frankly I can't stop thinking about you," He told her regretfully. Her eyes were shining in the dim light of the London sun, the tears glistening as they roll. Each one looking like diamonds.

"You're sorry...After a year you're finally sorry," She almost laughed. Thomas only sighed.

"Yes of course! and...and I regret everything I said, I can't live my life without you, [name],"

"You should have thought about that before you asked me to marry you!" Her voice raised just a bit, before realizing that she was still in public, as to not bring attention to herself. For once, Tommy didn't know what to say next. His eyes darted across her face. Her cheeks were red, her brows were furrowed in frustration, and her lips... Oh those lips he had always wanted to kiss deeper each night upon his return, they were downcast in a frown. He released a sigh when he realized her eyes had not left his this entire time. He knew she still loved him deep down. She just couldn't bear it. His thumb ran over the top of her hand gently.

"I hurt you, I know that now and...There is nothing else I can say other than I am immensely sorry, give me another chance [name], I can prove it to you that I am a new man, as friends or more I need you in my life,"

His words made her lips tremble as she closed her eyes to think and steady her breath. She opened her eyes first before she opened her mouth to speak.

"[Name]?" A voice called, and suddenly the bubble bursts. It was like the busy street surrounding them suddenly became clear again. It wasn't just the two of them in the world anymore. She turned her head from Thomas to Daniel. The man she adored more than anything, as he searched for her. Thomas also managed to sneak a glance at the stranger, and his cold heart sunk a little deeper into the pit, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a clenched jaw. She looked back at Thomas.

"Think about it," He whispered before walking off.

[Name] stood in her place in stillness as she tried to process what just happened to her. Daniel approached her, smiling widely as he informed her that he purchased the dress and reassuring her that it will look lovely on her for the dinner party with his family. She gave him a small smile before it quickly faded when he looked away from her.

The days leading up to the dinner party, she had thought of Thomas. It was like he himself had infected her mind as she had no more room to think clearly of anything else besides him and the words he spoke to her. But could she really trust him again?

Should she trust him again?

Every day and every night she had spent with Daniel, she tried her best to reciprocate the love he had for her, but somehow something was wrong. She didn't love him the way she loved Thomas. The night of the dinner party, she waited for Daniel to pick her up. Wearing the dress he had bought her, the jewelry she borrowed from her mother, and the hair and makeup she spent hours perfecting just to impress his family.

"What's wring, dear? Your hands are shaking," Her mother pointed out as she helped her daughter prepare.

"I...I don't think I can do this," She swallowed thickly. But before her mother could even ask, there was a ring at the door. [Name's] stomach was in knots and her blood ran cold. Her mothers words of encouragement were drowned out by her own raging heartbeat. When she opened the door, her mouth was agape. Expecting to see Daniel, instead Thomas stood at the front door.

Out of breath and panting. No words were exchanged as they stared at each other. She nearly leaps into his arms as she engulfs him in a tight embrace. It felt right, being in his arms again. Like they were kids again.

The following days, she kept her distance from Daniel, much to her mothers dismay. She had written him a letter.

To my Darling Daniel, I am sorry things had to happen this way. You had shown me the love no man has ever shown me before. But I am afraid I do not deserve it. Our time together was more than I could ask for, but I simply cannot keep loving you the way you want me to. I will forever cherish our memories together in my heart, as you were the only man to treat me a way a woman should be treated. I hope you find love again, and the next woman you find love in will be a very lucky to have you. I will always have you in my heart. [Name].

With the letter, she returned the dress he had bought her, she thought it would be ill-mannered to keep it. She hadn't heard from him after that. Not even a letter back, but she knew why. She would never hold that against him.

The following week, [Name] had began showing her face around the betting shop again. Here and there popping in to talk to Ada and Polly, slipping away into Tommy's office to speak with him when he wasn't busy. It was a but of a shock to the Shelby women when they saw her. They thought she was crazy for showing up again, but she had reassured them that everything was fine.

For months on end, [Name] and Thomas would spend their time together. Hand in hand as they drunkenly walked along the streets after visiting a pub on the weekends. Dancing to records in her home, holding each other close as they slow danced in the fire-place lit room. One night they went to the old hill, the same hill they used to go to when they were kids. Laying beside each other, drinking a bottle of cheap wine as they star-gazed. It was the only place where the sky wasn't absolutely covered by the smoke and smog of the city.

"I forgot how beautiful the sky was at night," She spoke softly as she sat up, eyes scanning the sky.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He asked, leaning his shoulder against hers. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly with a nod, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Thomas?" She asked. He hums.

"I missed you,"

"I missed you too, [Name]," He spoke truthfully. That night, they shared a kiss.

A week later, she approached him in his office.

"Pol said you were going to the derby..."

"We are...It's an important matter of business, [Name],"

The girl sighs. "I know that...I also told you I would go with you if you needed me to,"

"No..."

"Uh- no?" She asked, perplexed.

"Absolutely not, Kimber is a dangerous man, you're not coming with us," He argued. She aggressively rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air before putting them on her hips.

"I was hoping to come talk to you without being interrupted-" She mumbled.

"And I was hoping you would know better than to ask to join on this mission-"

"Then who are you taking?" She interrupted him, crossing her arms. Thomas sighs, shaking his head in disbelief at her childish attitude.

"The barmaid,"

"The barmaid? Why the fuck would you take the barmaid?" She asked. He widened his eyes at her for a moment. She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for his response.

"It's all a part of the plan, please trust me," He stood as he slowly walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her mind. She pursed her lips, a solemn look on her face.

"I don't care who goes with you to the derby, I just can't sit here and hope you'll come out alive one of these days...I-" She pauses. "I adore you too much, Thomas,"

He pulls her into a tight hug, his hand caressing her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Everything will be okay," He reminded her. Lifting her chin to slowly look at him. Her eyes, as alluring as they were. His lips attack hers in a rough kiss. Pushing [Name] against the wall as her fingers pull at the fabric of his white shirt, his body pressing against hers. She could practically feel his heart beating against her chest. His hands slipping down her body, her waist to her hips to the roundness of her ass. His strong hands gripping every curve of her as he started pulling at her dress with his hands. Pulling away to catch their breath, but before she would dive in for another kiss Finn had burst through the door, inquiring that their Aunt Polly needed to speak to Thomas at once.

Begrudgingly letting him handle his business, she was left alone in his office, blushing and fanning herself with her hands as the heat began to rise, biting her lip in bafflement.

She wanted to see him again and ask about the kisses they had started. What they meant, what would have happened if they weren't interrupted. But Thomas too involved with conspiring against Billy Kimber. Fucking Billy Kimber. Hearing his name made her clench her jaw. He had been the talk of every family meeting since he found his way into Birmingham just weeks ago. But Thomas was just too busy. Too busy to talk to her. Eventually, too busy to even see her as frequently.

She recognized the pattern. It was what happened to her before he left for France. If only she could just read his mind, find out exactly what was going on in that head of his. From seeing him and his eyes, his smile every day, to seeing him at least once a week. This time he would still act the same with her. Kind, gentle, caring, but somehow she knew it was different. He wouldn't touch her, or kiss her like he used to. [Name] thought that maybe, just maybe, if she told him how she felt everything will go back to normal. Perfect even.

She just had to wait for the right moment.

When Thomas had come to her home for an evening tea with her and her mother, she decided that she would tell him then. The tea was nice, the conversations went well. [Name] was eager to finish, to get it all over with, waiting for their moment alone. Later that night, after her mother excused herself to bed, the two sat on the couch, sharing a whiskey as they talked. She sat her glass down when he called her name to get her attention.

"I need to tell you something,"

Her ears and cheeks grew warm as she looked at him, eyes brighter than ever.

"I actually need to tell you something too...but please go first," She smiled. Thomas turned his body slightly towards her, seemingly less enthusiastic as her. Thomas clears his throat before he spoke.

"I want to start off by apologizing for not seeing you as much these past few months, but I promise everything is going to work out for the better in the end, not just for my family, but for yours as well..." He paused, holding one of her hands in his.

"Thomas," She glances at their interlocked hands before looking up at him again. His blue eyes didn't look as bright in the dim lighting of the room.

"You have been with my family since the beginning, and you helped us out when we needed you the most, when everything takes off, I want you by my side through it all, promise me that you will do that for me [Name]," He requested. The young woman stares into his eyes once more and nods silently.

"I can't imagine leaving your side...ever," She stated quietly. Thomas looked down again, smiling slightly. As far as she knew he rarely smiled now...the only time she saw him smile was when he was with her.

"There was another thing I wanted to talk about," He started. She nods, urging him to continue. "There's a woman,"

His voice dropped low, the way he said 'woman' rumbled as her cheeks flushed. At the drop of a pin, her lively face slowly dropped at his words.

"A woman?"

She sank into the sofa as he spoke, but his words fell upon deaf ears. Her mind went numb, buzzing as she blankly stared off into the shadows of the room. He loved her, convinced her to leave Daniel, kissed her, treated her like she was the only woman for him...almost married her. All those years together, meant nothing to him. Once again. She should have known better than to get attached to a man like him.

A man only out for his own good.

"[Name]...You're crying," He pointed out, stopping mid-explanation to wipe the tear. She wanted to tell him. Tell him she loved him, that she wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of their lives. She looks at him and smiles.

[Name] shook her head and sniffled, chuckling and looking away to wipe the tear.

"I'm just...really happy for you Thomas...She seems like a nice woman," She didn't hear a word he said about her. The mystery woman that had stolen his heart.

'If only you knew what I felt'

After Thomas had left that night, she went to her room, sobbing in her bed. The heaviness in her chest weighted her down as she was held into place by rocks. The agony she felt, not only for herself but for hurting the only man that loved her. All for nothing. It was too late to go back now.

---

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