#holy crap did this get long

[lilydvoratrelundar]

dc is doing a little mini relaunch after the current crossover finishes and honestly thank god because literally only two of their current ongoings interest me but there's a bunch of fun looking stuff happening in november that i might actually look at. and also it's starting series for several guys who should have had ongoings this whole time like the fucking JUSTICE LEAGUE

[veradragonjedi]

@many-legged

timeline can't hurt me, they're experiencing the horrors together because i think it's fun

[allegedly-an-arsonist]

I love my hair.

It's long and soft,

And I brush it every day.

When I was a baby, my hair was blonde.

It darkened as I grew,

Dark blond and light brown and eventually, suddenly, just brown.

For so long, I've been thinking of my hair as light brown, but it isn't light anymore.

It's just beautiful and rich brown, and shines like copper in the sun.

I really love my hair.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[greenfiredragonfly]

every day I log onto tumblr.com and see some absolutely batshit takes about good omens

[tisorridalamor]

@delphictrip Hey, another Alaskan here! Yeah the Alaska Railroad is 100% for tourists - I have also traveled it exactly once when I was a kid lol (though I think only to Denali). My thoughts here are not from someone knowledgeable in trains but I am somewhat knowledgeable about AK transport. Looking at this from the perspective of Anchorage to Fairbanks, the issue here I think is that the Anchorage - Fairbanks drive is about 7 hours while the current AK Railroad ride is 12. However, a flight between the two is only a little more expensive at about $100 and only takes an hour.

At the end of the day I feel like the AK Railroad prices are something only tourists can pay and for locals not taking vacation time the trip takes far to long. And unfortunately AK does not have the population (or infrastructure) to justify something geared towards those who actually live there. Even looking at the Anchorage-Wasilla commute idk if the city/state would want to build infrastructure for that. To make a commuter train worthwhile you need to have the bodies to support it, and to have something geared towards the needs of Alaskans I think you’d have to build a new system from the ground up… though once again I don’t know enough about trains and am not sure if there’s a way to use the existing Anchorage - Fairbanks line with a faster train that could bypass the slower, tourist trains (???). Never say never, but for something on this scale I bet you’d be better off looking towards the state rather than Amtrak, and with how important flight is to travel in Alaska I’d be surprised if trains ever became a first choice (though I’d love to see it happen).

What this kind of reminds me of is the Marine Highway, which is used by both cruise ships and the AK ferry system. The ferry system though is needed by Alaskans to transport cars since obviously you can’t get to a lot of the places down there by road, but these days trips on it for only one person WITHOUT a car can cost hundreds of dollars. There’s an absolute local need for it, but due to the slow trip time and and convenience of flight there’s no way for it to get the regular demand needed to keep prices down.

So do people realize that we aren't building new train tracks when we expand the amteak network, I have multiple times seen people say that we shouldn't expand the network because it would destroy protected lands, which would be a fair criticism but Amtrak doesn't build new tracks, we use existing tracks. We are not destroying protected lands, we are using land that has already been clear for a century

[pucksandpower]

Unfinished Business

Ghost!Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you arrive in Monaco expecting a once-in-a-lifetime vacation and you certainly get one — a fairytale romance with a Monegasque Prince … from the late 19th century

The gentle hum of a luxury sedan fades as you and your three best friends step out onto the sun-drenched streets of Monaco. The air is thick with anticipation and the salty tang of the Mediterranean. Your eyes widen as they trace the elegant facade of the Palais Grimaldi, its pale stone walls gleaming in the afternoon light.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Mia breathes, her voice tinged with awe. “An all-expenses-paid trip to Monaco? It feels like a dream.”

You nod, unable to tear your gaze from the intricate architecture. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures,” you murmur.

Zoe hefts her designer luggage. “Well, ladies, shall we see if the inside is as impressive as the outside?”

As your group approaches the grand entrance, a smartly dressed concierge greets you with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Palais Grimaldi. You must be our contest winners. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“That’s us!” Olivia chirps, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’m Olivia, and these are Mia, Zoe, and Y/N.”

The concierge, whose name tag reads ‘Philippe,’ bows slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your suite.”

As you trail behind Philippe through opulent hallways adorned with priceless art and glittering chandeliers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve stepped into another world — or perhaps another time. The weight of history presses in around you, whispering secrets from centuries past.

“The Palais Grimaldi has quite a storied past,” Philippe explains as he leads you up a sweeping marble staircase. “It’s been home to Monaco’s ruling family for over 700 years.”

“700 years?” You echo, your mind reeling at the concept. “That’s incredible. Has it been a hotel for long?”

Philippe chuckles. “Oh no, mademoiselle. The palace only opened its doors to the public a few years ago. It’s still used for official state functions, but the family decided to share its beauty with the world.”

Mia leans in close, her voice low. “I bet these walls have seen some scandalous things over the centuries.”

“More than you can imagine,” Philippe says with a wink. “If these walls could talk ...”

As you reach the top of the stairs, a long corridor stretches before you, lined with ornate doors. Philippe stops before one and produces an old-fashioned key with a flourish. “Your suite, ladies.”

The door swings open, revealing a space that takes your breath away. Soaring ceilings, silk wallpaper, and antique furnishings create an atmosphere of timeless luxury.

“Holy. Crap.” Zoe’s usual composure cracks as she takes in the opulence. “This is insane.”

Olivia immediately flops onto one of the plush sofas. “I’m never leaving. You’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming when the week is up.”

You wander to one of the tall windows, mesmerized by the view of the sparkling Mediterranean. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for a whole week.”

Philippe clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Your luggage will be brought up shortly. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.”

As the door closes behind him, your friends erupt into excited chatter.

“Did you see the size of that bathroom?” Mia gushes. “The tub is practically a swimming pool!”

Zoe is already examining the ornate writing desk. “Look at this. It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment.”

You run your hand along the silk-covered walls, feeling a strange thrill as your fingers trace the intricate patterns. “It’s like stepping back in time,” you murmur.

Olivia bounces on the bed, giggling. “Well, I for one plan to enjoy every modern amenity this place has to offer. Who’s up for raiding the mini bar?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind of unpacking, exploring every nook and cranny of your suite, and planning your itinerary for the week ahead.

As evening falls, you find yourself drawn back to the window. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of pink and gold. The principality below comes alive with twinkling lights, promising endless possibilities.

“Earth to Y/N!” Mia’s voice breaks through your reverie. “We’re thinking of heading down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. You in?”

You turn from the window, smiling at your friends. “Absolutely. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

In the bathroom, you splash some water on your face and reapply your lipstick. As you study your reflection in the ornate mirror, a strange sensation washes over you — almost as if someone is watching. You shake your head, dismissing the feeling as jetlag-induced imagination.

Rejoining your friends, you make your way down to the restaurant. The maître d’ leads you to a table with a stunning view of the moonlit gardens.

“I propose a toast,” Zoe says, raising her glass of champagne. “To friendship, adventure, and a week we’ll never forget!”

You clink glasses, the bubbles tickling your nose as you sip. As your friends chatter excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, your gaze drifts to the gardens below. For a moment, you could swear you see a figure in old-fashioned dress moving among the hedges. You blink, and the apparition vanishes.

“Y/N? Hello? Anyone home?” Olivia waves her hand in front of your face.

You snap back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking what you wanted to do first tomorrow. Beach or shopping?”

You consider for a moment. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a tour of the palace. I’d love to learn more about its history.”

Mia grins. “Ooh, good call. Maybe we’ll run into a handsome prince.”

You laugh, but something in your chest flutters at the thought. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

As the evening wears on and the wine flows freely, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the palace and its centuries of secrets. By the time you return to your suite, a pleasant exhaustion has settled over you.

You bid your friends goodnight and curl up in your luxurious bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets cool against your skin. As you drift off to sleep, the last thing you see is the moonlight streaming through the window, casting ethereal shadows on the walls.

In your dreams, you wander the halls of the palace. Everything is hazy, like looking through frosted glass. You turn a corner and come face to face with a young man dressed in 19th-century finery. His eyes, a startling shade of green, seem to pierce right through you.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. A profound sadness radiates from him, tugging at your heart. You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but your hand passes through him like smoke.

You jolt awake, heart racing. The room is bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn light. You sit up, running a hand through your tousled hair.

“What was that?” You whisper to the empty room.

As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, you can’t shake the feeling that your dream was more than just a product of your imagination. Something about this place, about that mysterious figure, calls to you in a way you can’t explain.

You slip out of bed and pad to the window, watching as Monaco comes to life below. Whatever secrets the Palais Grimaldi holds, you’re determined to uncover them. Little do you know, this is just the beginning of an adventure that will change your life forever.

***

The Monégasque sun beats down relentlessly as you and your friends lounge by the hotel’s exclusive rooftop pool. The glittering Mediterranean stretches out before you, a canvas of blue punctuated by gleaming white yachts.

“Now this is what I call a vacation,” Mia sighs contentedly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

Zoe nods in agreement, not looking up from her book. “I could get used to this kind of luxury.”

You smile and close your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of the sun and the gentle lapping of the pool water. But there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake off.

Olivia notices your furrowed brow. “Y/N, what’s up? You look like you’re solving world hunger over there.”

You hesitate, unsure how to explain the strange occurrences of the past few days. “It’s nothing, really. I just ... have you guys noticed anything weird happening in the palace?”

Mia perks up, always ready for gossip. “Weird how?”

“Well ...” you start, then falter. How can you describe the way your hairbrush moved across the dresser on its own? Or the whispers you heard in the empty library? “It’s going to sound crazy, but I think there might be something ... supernatural going on.”

There’s a moment of silence before Olivia bursts out laughing. “Supernatural? Come on, Y/N. I know you’ve always been into that ghost hunter stuff, but this is a five-star hotel, not a haunted house.”

Zoe looks up from her book, her expression skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just jet-lagged? Or maybe it’s all that rich food we’ve been eating.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I know how it sounds, but I swear, strange things keep happening. Last night, I saw a man’s reflection in the mirror, but when I turned around, no one was there.”

Mia sits up, suddenly interested. “Ooh, was he hot?”

“Mia!” Zoe admonishes, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

You sigh, realizing how ridiculous you must sound. “Never mind. You’re probably right, it’s just my imagination running wild.”

But as the day wears on, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Every shadow seems to hold a secret, every creaking floorboard a whispered message.

That night, as your friends snore softly in their beds, you find yourself wide awake, staring at the ornate ceiling. The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts eerie shadows on the walls, and the silence of the night seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Unable to bear it any longer, you slip out of bed and into a robe. Your bare feet are silent on the plush carpet as you make your way to the door. You pause, hand on the doorknob, heart racing. Are you really going to do this?

Taking a deep breath, you step out into the dimly lit hallway. The palace is different at night, the opulence muted, shadows deepening the corners. You walk aimlessly, letting your instincts guide you through the maze-like corridors.

As you round a corner, a chill runs down your spine. At the end of the hallway, you see a figure. It’s only for a split second before it vanishes around the next bend, but you’re certain it was the same man you saw in the mirror.

“Wait!” You call out, breaking into a run. You turn the corner, but the hallway is empty.

Breathing heavily, you lean against the wall. “I’m losing my mind,” you mutter to yourself.

“I can assure you, mademoiselle, that your mind is quite intact.”

You whirl around, heart leaping into your throat. There, standing before you, is the man from your dreams and glimpses.

He’s of average height, with wavy dark hair and piercing green eyes. His clothes are old-fashioned — a tailored suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the late 19th century. But the most shocking thing is that you can see right through him to the painting on the wall behind.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The ghost — because what else could he be — holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Please, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

His voice is gentle, with a slight accent you can’t quite place. Despite your terror, you find yourself oddly calmed by his presence.

“Who ... what are you?” You manage to whisper.

The ghost bows slightly. “I am Prince Charles of Monaco, at your service. Or at least, I was Prince Charles. Now, I’m not entirely sure what I am.”

You blink, trying to process this information. “Prince Charles? But that’s impossible. The current Prince of Monaco is Albert.”

Charles smiles sadly. “You are correct. I’m afraid my time as prince was cut rather short. I died in 1894.”

“1894,” you repeat, feeling light-headed. “So you’re ... a ghost?”

“It would appear so, yes.” Charles looks down at his translucent hands. “Though I prefer to think of myself as ... temporarily disembodied.”

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you feel a laugh bubbling up in your chest. “Temporarily disembodied? That’s one way to put it.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with amusement. “I find a touch of humor helps in most situations, even death.”

You shake your head, still struggling to believe what’s happening. “Why can I see you? Why now?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles admits. “I’ve been bound to this palace since my death, unable to move on. Most of the time, I’m invisible to the living. But occasionally, someone comes along who can perceive me. You, mon chérie, seem to be one of those rare individuals.”

You take a step closer, fascinated despite your lingering fear. “So all those strange things that have been happening ...”

“My apologies,” Charles says, looking sheepish. “I’m afraid I got a bit ... overeager when I realized you could sense me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well, mission not accomplished,” you say dryly. “I’ve been terrified for days.”

Charles’ expression turns contrite. “I am truly sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to interact with anyone. I forgot how alarming it might be.”

You study him closely. Now that the initial shock has worn off, you’re struck by how young he looks — no older than his mid-twenties. And there’s a sadness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“How did you die?” You ask softly.

Charles’ face clouds over. “That, I’m afraid, is a rather long and complicated story. One that I’m not entirely sure I understand myself.”

You’re about to press further when a noise down the hallway makes you jump. Charles holds a finger to his lips and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to a hidden door behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow servants’ staircase.

“Quick, in here,” he whispers.

You hesitate for a moment before ducking into the passageway. Charles follows, closing the door behind you. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall, you can barely make out his ghostly form.

“Why are we hiding?” You whisper.

“The night guards,” Charles explains. “They wouldn’t take kindly to a guest wandering the halls at this hour. And I’d rather not have to explain why you’re talking to thin air.”

You nod, seeing the logic. “So ... what now?”

Charles gives you a mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, since you’re already up and about, how would you like a private tour of the palace? I can show you things no living guide knows about.”

The sensible part of your brain is screaming that this is insane. You should go back to your room, crawl into bed, and pretend this was all a vivid dream. But the adventurous part of you, the part that’s always longed for magic and mystery, is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Lead the way, Your Highness,” you say with a grin.

Charles’ smile widens. “Please, call me Charles. I think we’re a bit beyond titles at this point.”

He starts up the narrow staircase, and you follow close behind. As you climb, Charles begins to speak in a low, melodious voice.

“This palace has been the heart of Monaco for centuries. Every stone, every timber holds a piece of history. There are secret passages like this one crisscrossing the entire building — escape routes, trysting spots for illicit lovers, hiding places for treasures.”

You emerge from the staircase into a small, circular room at the top of one of the palace towers. The view of Monaco at night is breathtaking, the city a glittering jewel box beneath a canopy of stars.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, moving to the window.

Charles stands beside you, his presence cool but not unpleasant. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Even after all these years, it still takes my breath away. Well, metaphorically speaking.”

You turn to look at him, struck by the wistfulness in his voice. “It must be hard, watching the world change around you while you stay the same.”

Charles nods slowly. “It is ... challenging. But it has its compensations. I’ve witnessed history unfold, seen my beloved Monaco grow and flourish. And occasionally, I get to meet fascinating people like yourself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and are grateful for the darkness. “I’m hardly fascinating compared to a ghost prince.”

“I beg to differ,” Charles says softly. “You saw me when no one else could. You followed me up here without hesitation. That takes a special kind of courage and openness to the extraordinary.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his intense gaze. Then you remember that he’s, well, dead, and clear your throat awkwardly. “So, um, what else can you show me?”

Charles seems to shake himself out of a reverie. “Ah, yes. Follow me. There’s so much to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of hidden rooms, secret passages, and Charles’ stories. He tells you about the palace’s construction, about the triumphs and tragedies of the Grimaldi family, about the small, everyday moments that history books never record.

As the sky begins to lighten with the first hints of dawn, you find yourself back in the hallway near your suite. You’re exhausted but exhilarated, your mind whirling with everything you’ve seen and learned.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, a note of reluctance in his voice.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. My friends will be wondering where I am if I’m not there when they wake up.”

Charles nods, then hesitates. “I ... I hope this won’t be our last conversation. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Of course not. I still have so many questions. Like how you ended up ... you know.”

“Another time,” Charles promises. “For now, sleep well, Y/N.”

As you watch, his form begins to fade. Just before he disappears completely, you could swear you see him wink.

You slip back into your room, your mind racing. As you crawl into bed, you wonder how on earth you’re going to explain any of this to your friends. But one thing’s for certain — your vacation in Monaco just got a whole lot more interesting.

***

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. You stand on the balcony of your suite, outwardly admiring the view, but your mind is elsewhere. Your friends’ voices drift out from the room behind you.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mia calls. “Are you coming to dinner or what?”

You turn, plastering on a smile. “Actually, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I’m not feeling very hungry.”

Zoe frowns, concern etching her features. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all week.”

“I’m fine,” you assure her quickly. “Just ... taking in all the history of this place, you know?”

Olivia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Only you would come to Monaco and spend all your time geeking out over old buildings instead of hitting the beach.”

You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

As your friends file out of the room, Mia lingers behind. “Seriously, Y/N, is everything alright? You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

For a moment, you’re tempted to spill everything. But how could you possibly explain Charles? “I’m fine, really,” you insist. “Go enjoy dinner. I’ll see you later.”

Once they’re gone, you wait a few minutes to ensure the coast is clear. Then you slip out into the hallway, your heart racing with anticipation.

You make your way to the library, which has become your usual meeting spot. As you enter, you see Charles materializing near the fireplace, a warm smile lighting up his translucent features.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greets you, his voice as smooth and rich as aged whiskey. “I trust you’re well?”

You can’t help but smile back. “Better now,” you admit, then immediately feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, you know, because ... history and stuff.”

Charles chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah yes, the fascinating history and stuff. Shall we delve into more of it tonight?”

You nod eagerly. “What do you have in store for me this time?”

“I thought we might explore the east wing tonight,” Charles says, moving towards one of the bookshelves. “There’s a passage behind this Voltaire that leads to some rather interesting places.”

As he speaks, Charles reaches for the book, his hand passing right through it. A flicker of frustration crosses his face.

“Allow me,” you say softly, stepping forward to pull the book. The shelf swings open, revealing a narrow passageway.

Charles bows slightly. “After you, mademoiselle.”

You enter the passage, Charles’ cool presence right behind you. As you walk, he begins to speak, his voice low and melodious in the confined space.

“This passage was built during the reign of Prince Charles III — my grandfather,” he explains. “It was meant as an escape route in case of invasion. Monaco’s sovereignty was often threatened in those days.”

“But not anymore?” You ask, ducking under a low-hanging beam.

Charles sighs. “Monaco’s position is more secure now, but it wasn’t always so. In my time, we were constantly navigating a delicate balance between France and Italy, trying to maintain our independence.”

You emerge into a small, octagonal room with windows overlooking the sea. Moonlight streams in, casting everything in a silvery glow.

“This was my private study,” Charles says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “I spent many hours here, dreaming of what Monaco could become.”

You turn to him, curious. “What kind of dreams?”

Charles’ eyes light up with passion. “I wanted to modernize Monaco, to bring it into the new century. We were so dependent on the casino for revenue — I wanted to diversify our economy, improve education, and implement new technologies.”

“That sounds incredibly progressive for the time,” you say, impressed.

Charles nods. “Some thought too progressive. There were those who resisted change, who wanted to cling to the old ways. But I believed — I still believe — that progress is essential for survival.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in by his enthusiasm, his intelligence. This isn’t just some stuffy old royal — this is a man with vision, with dreams that were cut short far too soon.

“What stopped you?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression clouds over. “Ah, well, dying tends to put a damper on one’s plans.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Charles interrupts gently. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

An awkward silence falls. You move to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. “It must be hard,” you say eventually. “Watching the world change around you, unable to participate.”

You feel Charles move closer, his presence cool at your side. “It has its challenges,” he admits. “But it also has its joys. I’ve seen Monaco grow and flourish in ways I never could have imagined. And now ...” He trails off.

You turn to look at him. “And now?”

Charles’ gaze is intense, making your heart race. “And now I have the pleasure of sharing it all with you.”

You swallow hard, acutely aware of how close he is, ghost or not. “I ... I’m glad,” you manage to say. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Charles.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Nor I you, Y/N. In life or in death.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotions. Then Charles clears his throat (do ghosts need to clear their throats?) and steps back.

“Come,” he says, his tone lighter. “There’s much more to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a whirlwind of secret rooms and hidden treasures. Charles shows you a concealed vault where the crown jewels were once kept, a forgotten ballroom with faded frescoes on the ceiling, even the old dungeons deep beneath the palace.

Throughout it all, Charles regales you with stories — some historical, some personal. You learn about the political intrigues of 19th century Monaco, about Charles’ childhood pranks, about the hopes and fears he had for his country’s future.

As dawn begins to break, you find yourself back in the library, reluctant for the night to end.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, echoing his words from your first meeting.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. But I don’t want to go.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Nor do I want you to. But your friends will worry if you’re not there when they wake.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here,” Charles promises. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

As you watch him fade away, you’re struck by a realization that both thrills and terrifies you. You’re falling in love with a ghost.

The next few days pass in a blur. During the day, you go through the motions with your friends, trying to show enthusiasm for the beaches, the shops, the nightlife. But your mind is always elsewhere, counting down the hours until you can see Charles again.

Your friends notice, of course. How could they not?

“Okay, spill,” Mia demands one afternoon as you all lounge by the pool. “Who is he?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What? Who’s who?”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re obviously sneaking out to meet every night. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you coming back to the room at dawn.”

“I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammer.

Zoe puts a hand on your arm. “Y/N, we’re your friends. You can tell us anything. We’re just worried about you.”

You look at their concerned faces and feel a pang of guilt. You hate lying to them, but how can you possibly explain the truth?

“It’s not ... it’s not what you think,” you say finally. “I’ve just been exploring the palace at night. It’s quieter then, easier to imagine what it was like in the past.”

Your friends exchange skeptical looks.

“Right,” Mia says slowly. “And this has nothing to do with the ‘supernatural occurrences’ you were going on about earlier?”

You force a laugh. “Of course not. That was just my imagination running wild. I’ve just been ... really into the history of this place, that’s all.”

Olivia shakes her head. “If you say so. But Y/N, this is supposed to be a fun vacation. Don’t spend the whole time with your nose in a history book, okay?”

You nod, grateful they’re not pushing further. “You’re right. I’ll try to be more present.”

But that night, as your friends sleep, you find yourself slipping out once again, drawn to Charles like a moth to a flame.

He’s waiting for you in the library, a book hovering open in front of him. As you enter, he looks up with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Ah, Y/N,” he says warmly. “I was just refreshing my memory on some of Monaco’s more obscure laws. Did you know it’s technically illegal to wear stiletto heels in the palace?”

You laugh, some of the tension from earlier melting away. “Seriously? Why?”

Charles grins. “Apparently, they damage the floors. It was enacted in 1898, four years after my ... departure. I always wonder about the story behind laws like that. What outrageous incident prompted such a specific prohibition?”

You settle into a nearby armchair, tucking your legs underneath you. “Maybe a scorned lover stabbed someone with a stiletto?”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “My, what a violent imagination you have. I was thinking more along the lines of a clumsy debutante wreaking havoc on the ballroom floor.”

“Boring,” you tease. “My version is much more exciting.”

Charles chuckles, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Your mind is a constant source of fascination to me.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh? How so?”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering slightly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “You see the world in such a unique way. You’re not bound by the conventions and expectations of my time. It’s ... refreshing.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply softly. “You’re nothing like I would have expected a 19th-century prince to be.”

Charles’ smile turns wry. “Ah, but I’ve had over a century to adapt and learn. Though I must admit, much of modern life still baffles me. Perhaps you could explain to me the appeal of this ���Instagram’ your friends keep mentioning?”

You laugh, launching into an explanation of social media that leaves Charles looking both intrigued and mildly horrified. The conversation flows easily from there, jumping from topic to topic with the effortless rhythm you’ve come to cherish in your nightly meetings.

As the hours pass, you find yourself moving closer to Charles, drawn in by his warmth (metaphorical, of course — he’s actually quite cool to be near) and charm. You’re acutely aware of every movement, every fleeting expression that crosses his face.

At one point, Charles reaches out as if to touch your hand, then seems to catch himself, pulling back with a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Sometimes I forget ...”

You swallow hard, your heart aching. “It’s okay. I ... I wish you could too.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken longing. Charles’ eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the impossibility of your situation crashes over you like a wave.

“Y/N,” Charles begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I-”

But before he can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching the library.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Hide behind the curtain.”

You scramble to conceal yourself just as the door opens. Through a gap in the heavy fabric, you see a security guard sweep his flashlight around the room.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the beam of light passes inches from your hiding spot. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging, your legs shaky with leftover adrenaline.

“That was close,” you breathe.

Charles nods, his form flickering with agitation. “Too close. Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you in these situations. If you were caught ...”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, don’t say that. I don’t care about the risk. Being with you, learning about you and your time — it’s worth it.”

Charles’ expression softens, a mix of affection and sorrow in his eyes. “You’re extraordinary, do you know that? But I fear ... I fear I’m being selfish, keeping you to myself like this.”

You take a step closer to him, wishing more than anything that you could take his hand. “You’re not keeping me anywhere I don’t want to be.”

The words hang between you, charged with meaning. Charles opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again, conflict clear on his face.

Finally, he says, “It’s nearly dawn. You should go, before your friends wake.”

You nod reluctantly, knowing he’s right but hating to leave. As you reach the door, you turn back to look at him one last time.

“Charles,” you say softly. “I ... I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness in it that tugs at your heart. “I’ll be here. I’m always here.”

As you make your way back to your room, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. You’re falling hard and fast for a man who’s been dead for over a century.

It’s impossible, it’s insane, and yet ... you wouldn’t trade these moments with Charles for anything in the world.

But as you slip back into bed, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, a nagging doubt creeps in. How long can this go on? What happens when your vacation ends? And most troublingly of all — what aren’t you seeing in your infatuation with this charming ghost prince?

***

The musty scent of old books fills your nostrils as you hunch over a stack of historical tomes in the palace library. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You’ve been here for hours, your friends long since departed for a day of sunbathing and shopping.

“Find anything interesting?” Charles’ voice makes you jump. You look up to see him materializing near the bookshelf, a curious expression on his translucent face.

You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. “Nothing concrete yet. There’s frustratingly little information about your death in these official histories. It’s always just ‘Prince Charles died tragically young’ with no details.”

Charles moves closer, peering at the book you’re reading. “Ah, Gustave Saige’s ‘Monaco: Ses Origines et Son Histoire’. A rather dry read, if I recall correctly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it might have some clues.” You hesitate, then ask, “Charles, why don’t you just tell me what happened? How you ... died?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “I wish I could. But the truth is, my memories of that time are ... fragmented. I remember tensions rising, arguments with the council, and then ... nothing. Just waking up like this, bound to the palace.”

You reach out instinctively to comfort him, your hand passing through his arm with a chill. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

Charles gives you a sad smile. “It’s been my reality for over a century now. But I must admit, your determination to uncover the truth has given me hope I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

Your heart swells at his words, even as a pang of guilt hits you. Are you really doing this for Charles, or for yourself? The thought of him finding peace and moving on fills you with a complicated mix of emotions you’re not ready to examine too closely.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you turn back to your research. “Well, if these books aren’t giving us answers, maybe we need to look elsewhere. You mentioned arguments with the council. Were there records kept of those meetings?”

Charles’ brow furrows in concentration. “Yes, there would have been. Minutes were always taken. But they would have been considered sensitive documents. Not something you’d find in the public library.”

You lean forward, excitement building. “So where would they be kept?”

“There’s an archive room,” Charles says slowly. “Hidden behind the throne room. It’s where the most confidential state papers were stored.”

You’re already on your feet, shoving books back onto shelves. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Charles holds up a ghostly hand. “Not so fast, Y/N. That room has been sealed for decades. It’s not somewhere a tourist can just wander into.”

You deflate slightly, but your determination doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll have to find a way in after hours. You can get me there, right?”

Charles looks conflicted. “I could, but Y/N, if you were caught ...”

“I won’t be,” you insist. “Please, Charles. This might be our only chance to find out what really happened to you.”

For a long moment, Charles studies your face. Then he sighs, a sound tinged with both resignation and admiration. “Very well. Meet me here at midnight. I’ll show you the way.”

The hours crawl by as you wait for night to fall. You make a show of going to bed early, claiming a headache to avoid your friends’ plans for a night out. As the clock strikes twelve, you slip out of your room and make your way to the library.

Charles is waiting for you, his form glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Are you sure about this?” He asks one last time.

You nod firmly. “Let’s do it.”

Charles leads you through a maze of corridors and hidden passages. Your heart races with every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that might be a security guard. Finally, you arrive at an ornate door hidden behind a tapestry.

“This is it,” Charles whispers. “The archive room.”

You reach for the handle, but it’s locked. “Damn,” you mutter. “Any ideas?”

Charles frowns, concentrating. “There used to be a spare key ... ah!” He points to a small crevice in the intricate woodwork. “Try there.”

You feel around and, to your amazement, your fingers close around a small key. With trembling hands, you insert it into the lock. It turns with a satisfying click.

The door swings open, revealing a room packed floor to ceiling with shelves of documents. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old paper.

“Where do we even start?” You whisper, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.

Charles moves to a section near the back. “The council records from my time should be here. Look for anything dated 1894.”

You begin sifting through stacks of yellowed papers, careful not to damage the fragile documents. Minutes pass in tense silence as you search.

Suddenly, Charles’ voice cuts through the quiet. “Y/N, over here. I think I’ve found something.”

You hurry to his side. He’s pointing at a leather-bound ledger. You carefully open it, coughing slightly at the dust it raises.

As you scan the pages, your eyes widen. “Charles, this ... this is incredible. It’s a record of council meetings leading up to your death. Look at this entry from two weeks before: ‘Prince Charles continues to push for radical reforms. Concerns raised about stability of the principality if plans proceed.’”

Charles leans in, his face a mix of emotions. “I remember that meeting. It was ... heated. Keep reading.”

You flip through more pages, your heart pounding as the story unfolds. “There’s more. ‘Prince’s proposed changes to casino regulations deemed unacceptable. Alternative measures must be considered.’ Charles, this sounds like ...”

“A conspiracy,” Charles finishes, his voice hollow. “They were plotting against me.”

You reach the final entry, dated the day before Charles’ death. Your blood runs cold as you read it aloud. “Situation untenable. Drastic action required to preserve Monaco’s interests. God forgive us.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the implications sink in. Charles turns away, his form flickering with agitation.

“They killed me,” he says softly. “My own council ... they murdered me to stop my reforms.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “Charles, I’m so sorry. This is ... it’s unthinkable.”

Charles is quiet for a long moment, then turns back to you with a determined expression. “We need to take this ledger. The truth needs to come out, even after all this time.”

You nod, carefully closing the book and tucking it into your bag. As you do, something catches your eye. “Wait, there’s something else here.”

Behind where the ledger was sitting, you spot a small leather pouch. You open it carefully, gasping as several folded papers and a small object fall out.

“What is it?” Charles asks, moving closer.

You unfold one of the papers with trembling hands. “It’s ... it’s a letter. From you.” You begin to read aloud:

“To whoever finds this, I fear my time may be short. I write this in haste, knowing that forces within Monaco seek to silence me. My efforts to modernize our beloved principality and free us from our dependence on gambling have made me enemies in powerful places. If anything should happen to me, know that it was not an accident. The proof of their treachery is contained within these documents and the vial of poison they intend to use. I pray this never sees the light of day, but if it does, may it bring justice and push Monaco towards the future I envisioned.”

You look up at Charles, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. “You knew. You tried to protect yourself.”

Charles nods slowly, his own eyes shimmering with ghostly tears. “I ... I remember now. I wrote this the night before ... before it happened. I must have hidden it here, hoping someone would find it.”

You carefully gather up the documents and the small vial, adding them to your bag with the ledger. “We have to make this public, Charles. Your murder, the cover-up ... people need to know the truth.”

Charles looks at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You’re right, of course. But Y/N, you must understand what this means. If the truth comes out, if justice is served ...”

“You might be able to move on,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. The thought sends a dagger through your heart, but you force yourself to continue. “That’s ... that’s a good thing, right? It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering near your cheek as if he could wipe away your tears. “It is. But I find myself reluctant to leave, now that I’ve found something — someone — worth staying for.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles, I ...”

Before you can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Behind that cabinet.”

You scramble to hide, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure it must be audible. The door to the archive room creaks open, and a beam of light sweeps across the space.

“Hello?” A gruff voice calls out. “Is someone in here?”

You hold your breath, pressing yourself further into the shadows. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging from your hiding spot, legs shaky with adrenaline.

“That was too close,” Charles says, his form flickering with agitation. “We need to get you out of here.”

You nod, clutching your bag with its precious cargo close to your chest. “How do we get back?”

Charles leads you to a hidden panel in the wall. “This passage will take you directly to the guest wing. Hurry, before the guard comes back.”

As you step into the secret corridor, you turn back to look at Charles. “What happens now?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression is a complex mix of emotions — hope, fear, sadness, and something that looks a lot like love. “Now, mon chérie, we bring the truth to light. Whatever comes after ... we’ll face it together.”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. As you make your way back to your room, your mind races with the implications of what you’ve discovered. You’ve found the key to setting Charles free, to bringing him the peace he’s been denied for over a century.

But as you clutch the bag containing the proof of his murder, you can’t help but wonder: at what cost? The thought of losing Charles, of never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh again, fills you with a grief so profound it takes your breath away.

As you slip back into your bed, the first rays of dawn peeking through the curtains, you know that the hardest part of your journey is yet to come. You’ve uncovered the truth, but now you face an impossible choice: keep Charles with you in this half-life or set him free and lose him forever.

***

The golden light of a Monaco sunset streams through the windows of your hotel suite, casting long shadows across the room. You stand before the mirror, adjusting the elaborate 19th-century gown you’ve rented for the evening’s ball. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fasten a delicate necklace, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Charles’ voice comes from behind you. You turn to see him materializing near the balcony, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “I wish you could really be there tonight, dancing with me.”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering in the fading sunlight. “As do I, ma chérie. But I’ll be with you in spirit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears prick at your eyes. “Always with the jokes, even now.”

“Well, one must maintain one’s sense of humor, even in the face of ... impending departure,” Charles says, his light tone belied by the sadness in his eyes.

The word hangs heavy between you. Departure. In just two days, you’ll be leaving Monaco, returning to your life back home. The thought fills you with a grief so profound it’s almost physical.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you blurt out, the words escaping before you can stop them. “I could stay. I could find a job here, an apartment. We could-”

“Y/N,” Charles interrupts gently, “we’ve discussed this. You can’t put your life on hold for a ghost.”

You turn away, blinking back tears. “But what if I want to? What if being here, with you, is the life I want?”

Charles is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “My dearest Y/N, you cannot imagine how much I wish things could be different. But I am tied to this place, to this half-existence. You have a whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities and adventures. I won’t let you sacrifice that for me.”

You whirl back to face him, frustration bubbling up. “Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

“Perhaps,” Charles concedes. “But it is also my choice to refuse to be the anchor that holds you back. You deserve so much more than stolen moments with a specter.”

The truth of his words cuts deep, even as you want to rail against them. You slump onto the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling the weight of your elaborate costume.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

Charles moves to sit beside you, the mattress not even dipping under his non-existent weight. “Nor I you. But perhaps ... perhaps this is why we found each other. Not for a lifetime, but for this moment. To bring truth to light, to right an old wrong, and to experience a love that transcends time itself.”

You look up at him, struck by the depth of emotion in his ghostly eyes. “When did you get so wise?”

Charles grins, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Well, I have had over a century to work on my philosophical musings.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as a tear escapes down your cheek. Charles reaches out, his hand hovering just above your skin in a gesture of comfort.

“Come now,” he says gently. “Let’s not waste our last evening together in sorrow. You have a ball to attend, and I, for one, am eager to see how the modern world interprets the grandeur of my era.”

You nod, standing and giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “You’re right. Let’s make tonight a night to remember.”

As you make your way down to the grand ballroom, you can feel Charles’ presence beside you, a comforting coolness in the warm evening air. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as you approach.

You pause at the entrance, taking in the transformed space. The ballroom has been decorated to recreate its 19th-century splendor, with crystal chandeliers, elaborate floral arrangements, and guests in period costumes whirling across the dance floor.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“Indeed,” Charles agrees, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Though I must say, some of these costumes are rather ... creative interpretations of the fashion of my time.”

You stifle a giggle as you spot a guest in what appears to be a mash-up of Victorian and Edwardian styles. “Well, not everyone can have a ghostly fashion consultant.”

You make your way into the crowd, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Your friends spot you and wave enthusiastically.

“Y/N! Over here!” Mia calls out. “You look amazing!”

You join them, smiling as you take in their costumes. “You all look great too. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Zoe nods enthusiastically. “It’s like stepping back in time. Can you imagine living in an era like this?”

You feel Charles’ amusement radiating beside you. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say airily. “I think it might have its charms.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourself swept up in the festivities. You dance with several partners, all the while acutely aware of Charles’ presence, watching from the sidelines.

During a lull in the music, you manage to slip away from the crowd, finding a secluded alcove near one of the large windows.

“Having fun?” Charles asks, materializing beside you.

You nod, a bit breathless from dancing. “It’s wonderful. But I wish ...”

“You wish I could truly be here,” Charles finishes for you. He holds out his hand in an old-fashioned gesture. “Well, my lady, may I have this dance?”

You glance around, making sure no one is watching, then place your hand over his incorporeal one. As the music starts up again, a slow, romantic waltz, you begin to move together.

It’s a strange sensation, dancing with a ghost. You can’t feel Charles’ hand on your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, but somehow, you move in perfect synchronization. For a few precious moments, it’s as if the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the music.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Charles’ eyes widen, then soften with an emotion so deep it takes your breath away. “And I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

As you gaze into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment, a sudden chill sweeps through the room. The lights flicker, and a murmur of confusion ripples through the crowd.

Charles stiffens, his form becoming more translucent. “Something’s wrong,” he mutters, looking around warily.

Before you can ask what he means, a commotion breaks out near the center of the ballroom. Guests are backing away from a spot on the dance floor, pointing and gasping in shock.

You push your way through the crowd, Charles right behind you. As you reach the cleared space, your blood runs cold. Three ghostly figures have appeared, dressed in outdated formal wear, their faces contorted with rage and fear.

“Impossible,” Charles breathes beside you. “It’s them. The council members who ... who murdered me.”

As if hearing his words, the three ghosts turn towards you. Their eyes widen in recognition as they spot Charles.

“You!” One of them snarls, his voice echoing unnaturally in the stunned silence of the ballroom. “How are you here?”

Charles steps forward, his own form becoming more visible to the shocked onlookers. “I could ask you the same question, Lord Beaumont. Or should I say, murderer?”

A collective gasp runs through the crowd. Hotel staff are rushing about, trying to maintain order, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the supernatural drama unfolding before them.

“We did what was necessary,” another ghost, a portly man with a walrus mustache, blusters. “You would have ruined Monaco with your radical ideas!”

“Ruined?” Charles’ voice rises in indignation. “I was trying to save our principality, to secure its future beyond the whims of fortune and gambling!”

The third ghost, a thin man with a pinched face, sneers. “And in doing so, you would have destroyed the very thing that made Monaco unique. We couldn’t allow it.”

You find your voice, anger overcoming your fear. “So you murdered him? Your own prince?”

The ghosts turn their baleful gazes on you. “And who are you to question the affairs of state from a century past?” Lord Beaumont demands.

“She,” Charles says, moving to stand beside you, “is the one who uncovered your treachery. The proof of your crimes has been found.”

A murmur runs through the crowd. You see hotel management huddled in a corner, speaking urgently into phones. In the distance, you can hear police sirens approaching.

“It doesn’t matter now,” the portly ghost says dismissively. “We’re long dead, beyond the reach of earthly justice.”

“Perhaps,” you counter, your voice stronger than you feel. “But the truth will be known. History will remember Prince Charles as the visionary he was, and you as the small-minded murderers who cut his life short.”

As you speak, a strange energy begins to build in the room. The three ghosts start to flicker, their forms becoming less substantial.

“What’s happening?” The thin ghost cries out, panic in his voice.

Charles steps forward, his expression a mix of pity and righteousness. “You’re facing judgment at last, gentlemen. Your unfinished business is complete. The truth is out.”

With a howl of despair, the three ghosts begin to fade away. In moments, they’ve vanished completely, leaving behind a stunned silence.

As the implications of what’s just happened sink in, chaos erupts in the ballroom. People are shouting, phones are out recording, and security is trying desperately to maintain order.

But you only have eyes for Charles. His form is starting to shimmer, becoming more translucent by the second.

“Charles,” you gasp, reaching for him. “What’s happening? Are you ...”

He looks down at his fading hands, then back up at you with a sad smile. “It seems my unfinished business is complete as well. The truth is out, justice, in some form, has been served.”

“No,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Please, not yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering just above your cheek. “My dearest Y/N, meeting you has been the greatest gift. You’ve brought light to my long darkness, and given me peace I never thought I’d find.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sob, your heart breaking.

“Nor do I wish to leave you,” Charles says softly. “But perhaps this isn’t truly goodbye. I don’t know what lies beyond, but I do know this — a love like ours transcends time and death itself. Somehow, someway, I believe we’ll find each other again.”

You manage a watery smile. “You promise?”

“I swear it,” Charles vows. He leans in, and for the briefest moment, you swear you can feel the ghost of a kiss on your lips. “Until we meet again, mon amour.”

And with that, Charles fades away completely, leaving behind nothing but a lingering chill in the air and the memory of a love that defied all boundaries.

As the commotion swirls around you, police and hotel management trying to make sense of what’s happened, you stand still in the center of it all. Your heart is breaking, but there’s also a sense of peace, of completion.

You touch your lips, still feeling the echo of that impossible kiss, and whisper to the empty air, “Until we meet again, Charles.”

In that moment, surrounded by the trappings of a bygone era and the chaos of the present, you know that your life has been forever changed. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with the strength and love Charles gave you, carrying his memory in your heart until, somehow, someway, you find each other once more.

***

The Mediterranean sun bathes Monaco in a warm glow as you climb the steps to the Palais Grimaldi. Five years have passed since that fateful summer, but your heart still quickens as you approach the familiar facade. You adjust the strap of your messenger bag, filled with research materials for your graduate thesis on 19th-century Monégasque politics.

As you enter the palace, now partly converted into a museum, you’re struck by how much has changed. Plaques and displays line the halls, detailing the history of the Grimaldi family. But your eyes are drawn to a new addition: a whole wing dedicated to Prince Charles and his progressive vision for Monaco.

You pause before a large portrait of Charles, your breath catching in your throat. The artist has captured his piercing green eyes perfectly, that hint of mischief in his smile that you remember so well.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” A voice beside you says, startling you from your reverie. “How much history these walls have seen.”

You turn, a polite response on your lips, but the words die in your throat. Standing next to you is a young man who could be Charles’ twin. The same wavy dark hair, the same chiseled jawline, and most strikingly, those same intense green eyes.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. “Charles?” You whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

The young man looks at you curiously, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, yes, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?”

You blink rapidly, reality reasserting itself. Of course this isn’t your Charles. It can’t be. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, you just ... you look remarkably like someone I used to know. I’m Y/N.”

The young man’s smile widens, and he holds out his hand. “Charles Leclerc. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that runs through you at his touch. “Leclerc? As in the Formula 1 driver?”

Charles nods, looking slightly sheepish. “The very same. Though today I’m just a tourist like anyone else, enjoying a bit of home between races.”

“Home?” You ask, intrigued despite yourself.

“Born and raised in Monaco,” Charles explains. “Though I admit, I haven’t spent as much time in the palace as I perhaps should have. It’s quite fascinating, especially this new exhibit.”

You nod, turning back to the portrait of Prince Charles. “It really is. The prince was quite a remarkable figure. His ideas were so ahead of their time.”

Charles steps closer, studying the portrait. “You seem to know a lot about him. Are you a historian?”

“A graduate student,” you explain. “I’m here on a research grant, studying 19th-century Monégasque politics at the International University of Monaco.”

Charles’ eyes light up with interest. “Really? That sounds fascinating. I’ve always been interested in history, especially the history of Monaco. It’s a small place, but it’s played such an outsized role in European affairs.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “It really has. Prince Charles, in particular, had some revolutionary ideas about diversifying Monaco’s economy beyond just gambling. If he hadn’t died so young, who knows how things might have turned out?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “Yes, his death was quite tragic. And mysterious, from what I understand. Wasn’t there some recent discovery about the circumstances?”

You nod, your heart racing as you remember that night five years ago. “Yes, documents were found that suggested he was actually assassinated by members of his own council who opposed his reforms.”

Charles shakes his head, looking troubled. “How terrible. To be betrayed by those closest to you, all for wanting to make positive changes.”

“It was a different time,” you say softly. “Change is always frightening to those in power.”

Charles nods thoughtfully. “True, but it’s also necessary for growth. Monaco has come a long way since then, but I sometimes wonder if we couldn’t be doing more to realize Prince Charles’ vision.”

You look at him in surprise. “That’s ... that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking in my research. The prince had ideas about sustainable development and diversifying the economy that are still relevant today.”

Charles grins, and for a moment, the resemblance to your Charles is so strong it takes your breath away. “Great minds think alike, it seems. You know, I’ve been looking for ways to use my platform as an athlete to promote positive change in Monaco. Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m always happy to discuss history with someone who’s genuinely interested.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, pulling out his phone. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? We could meet for coffee and continue this conversation.”

As you input your number into his phone, you can’t help but notice a small charm dangling from it — a miniature racing helmet. “That’s cute,” you comment.

Charles looks at it and chuckles. “Ah, yes. It was a gift from my mother. She says it’s for luck, but I think she just worries about me on the track.”

The casual mention of his mother sends a pang through your heart. This Charles is very much alive, with a family and a life of his own. You have to remind yourself that he’s not the same person you knew, no matter how similar he might seem.

“Well, it seems to be working,” you say lightly. “You’ve had quite a successful season so far. Won your home race, if I’m not mistaken.”

Charles looks pleased. “You follow Formula 1?”

You shake your head. “Not really, but it’s hard to miss the news when you’re living in Monaco. The Grand Prix is quite an event.”

“That it is,” Charles agrees. “You know, if you’re interested, I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour of the circuit sometime. It’s quite fascinating from a historical perspective as well. The race has been run on essentially the same streets since 1929.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are you always this charming with strangers you meet in museums?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye that’s achingly familiar. “Only the ones who can discuss 19th-century political reform with such passion.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse? A tour sounds lovely.”

As you continue to chat, moving through the exhibit, you’re struck by how easy it is to talk to Charles. He’s knowledgeable and curious, asking insightful questions about your research and offering his own perspectives on Monaco’s history and future.

At one point, you pause before a display showcasing some of Prince Charles’ personal effects. Among them is a small, ornate pocket watch.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Charles comments, leaning in for a closer look.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you remember your Charles checking a similar watch during your midnight explorations. “It’s a shame it’s not working anymore.”

Charles tilts his head, studying the watch intently. “Actually, I think it is. Look closely at the second hand.”

You peer into the display case, and to your amazement, you see the tiny hand ticking away steadily. “You’re right! How did you notice that?”

Charles shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve always had a thing for timepieces. Comes with the racing territory, I suppose. Hundreths of a second are everything on the track.”

You shake your head in wonder. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try to keep things interesting,” Charles says with a wink. Then his expression turns more serious. “You know, it’s strange. Being here, learning about Prince Charles ... I feel an odd connection to him. Almost as if I knew him somehow.”

Your heart races at his words. Could it be possible? You push the thought away, reminding yourself that such things only happen in fairy tales. “Well, he is your ancestor, in a way. All Monégasques are connected to the Grimaldi family, aren’t they?”

Charles nods slowly. “True, but this feels different. When I look at his portrait, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. And his ideas, his passion for progress ... it resonates with me in a way I can’t quite explain.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe some things are just meant to be. Some connections transcend time.”

Charles looks at you intently, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? That the past isn’t really gone, just ... waiting to be rediscovered.”

You’re saved from having to respond by the chiming of the palace clock, signaling the approach of closing time.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “I should probably get going. I have a meeting with my advisor in the morning.”

Charles nods, looking slightly disappointed. “Of course. But we’re still on for that coffee and circuit tour, right?”

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. “Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Charles touches your arm lightly. “Y/N, I know this might sound strange, but ... I feel like we were meant to meet today. Like some force in the universe brought us together.”

You look into his eyes, so familiar and yet new, and feel a spark of hope ignite in your heart. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He smiles, and in that moment, you see not just the Charles of the present, but echoes of the Charles you knew and loved. “Until we meet again, then?”

The phrase, so similar to your Charles’ last words, sends a shiver down your spine. “Until then,” you agree softly.

As you walk out of the palace and into the warm Monaco evening, your mind is whirling. You can’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary has happened, that a promise made long ago is somehow being fulfilled.

You pause at the top of the steps, looking back at the palace that has played such a pivotal role in your life. As the setting sun gilds the stone facade, you allow yourself to imagine, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, some loves really are strong enough to transcend time and death itself.

With a smile on your face and hope in your heart, you descend the steps, ready to embrace whatever new adventure awaits. After all, in a world where ghosts can fall in love and centuries-old mysteries can be solved, anything seems possible.

And, as the promise of a new beginning beckons, you can’t help but feel that the best chapters of your story are yet to be written.

***

The sun-drenched streets of Monaco buzz with excitement as Sofia, a die-hard Scuderia Ferrari fan, makes her way towards the Palais Grimaldi. Her red Ferrari cap and matching team shirt make her stand out among the tourists, but she doesn’t mind. She’s here on a mission: to soak up every bit of Monaco’s rich racing history.

As Sofia enters the palace-turned-museum, her eyes widen in awe at the opulent surroundings. “Wow,” she breathes, spinning slowly to take it all in. “Talk about living like royalty.”

She wanders through the exhibits, pausing occasionally to read plaques or admire artifacts. But her mind keeps drifting to thoughts of sleek racing cars and the roar of engines. That is, until she rounds a corner and comes face to face with a large portrait that stops her in her tracks.

“No way,” Sofia mutters, stepping closer to the painting. Her brow furrows as she studies the face of the young prince depicted. “That’s ... that’s impossible.”

Just then, a tour group passes by, led by an enthusiastic guide. Sofia catches snippets of the commentary.

“... Prince Charles, one of Monaco’s most progressive rulers ...”

“... tragically died young under mysterious circumstances ...”

“... recent discoveries suggest he may have been assassinated ...”

Sofia’s head is spinning. She pulls out her phone, quickly pulling up a photo of Charles Leclerc, her favorite driver. She holds it up next to the portrait, her jaw dropping at the uncanny resemblance.

“Excuse me,” she says, tapping the tour guide on the shoulder. “This Prince Charles, when exactly did he live?”

The guide smiles, always happy to share historical tidbits. “Prince Charles ruled briefly in the late 19th century. He died in 1894 at the young age of 26.”

Sofia’s mind races. “And has anyone ever noticed how much he looks like Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver?”

The guide’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Ah, you’re not the first to notice that similarity. It’s become quite a popular topic of discussion lately. Some even joke that Leclerc is the prince reincarnated.”

Sofia laughs nervously. “Right, of course. Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”

As the tour moves on, Sofia remains rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between her phone and the portrait. It’s more than just a passing resemblance. The shape of the eyes, the curve of the jaw, even the hint of a mischievous smile — it’s all pure Leclerc.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice someone approaching until a voice beside her says, “Fascinating portrait, isn’t it?”

Sofia jumps, turning to see a young woman standing next to her. The newcomer is dressed casually in a flowing sundress, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, um, yes,” Sofia stammers. “It’s quite ... striking.”

The woman smiles knowingly. “Let me guess. You couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to a certain Formula 1 driver?”

Sofia’s eyes widen. “You see it too? I thought I was going crazy!”

The woman laughs, a warm, genuine sound. “Trust me, you’re not crazy. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m doing some research here for my graduate thesis.”

“Sofia,” she replies, shaking your hand. “So, what’s the deal? Is Leclerc secretly a time-traveling prince or something?”

You chuckle, but there’s a strange look in your eyes that Sofia can’t quite decipher. “I’m afraid the explanation is probably much more mundane. Many Monégasques have some connection to the Grimaldi family. It’s likely just a case of strong genes persisting through the generations.”

Sofia nods, but she’s not entirely convinced. There’s something about the way you’re looking at the portrait, a mix of fondness and melancholy, that piques her curiosity.

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Sofia probes gently. “Are you a big history buff?”

You smile, turning away from the portrait. “You could say that. I’ve been studying Prince Charles and his era for my thesis. It’s a fascinating period in Monaco’s history.”

Sofia’s about to ask more when she notices someone approaching over your shoulder. Her eyes go wide, and she has to stifle a gasp.

You turn to see what’s caught her attention, and your face lights up. “Charles! I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Sofia’s jaw drops as Charles Leclerc himself joins you, greeting you with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. He’s dressed casually in jeans and an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but there’s no mistaking that face — especially not when it’s right next to the portrait of his doppelganger.

“I had some free time between meetings and thought I’d stop by,” Charles explains. “How’s the research going?”

You launch into an explanation of your latest findings, and Sofia watches in fascination as Charles listens intently, asking insightful questions and offering his own thoughts. It’s clear this is far from the first time they’ve discussed the topic.

Finally, Charles seems to notice Sofia’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Sofia manages to close her mouth, which had been hanging open in shock. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m Sofia. I’m a huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles grins, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Charles. Always nice to meet a tifosa.”

Sofia gestures weakly to the portrait. “I was just ... I mean ... has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like ...”

Charles and you exchange a look that Sofia can’t quite interpret. Then Charles turns back to her with a wry smile. “Once or twice, yes. It’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Sofia nods, still feeling like she’s stepped into some kind of twilight zone. “Coincidence. Right.”

You clear your throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “So, Sofia, are you here on vacation?”

Grateful for the change of topic, Sofia launches into an enthusiastic description of her plans for the next week. As they chat, she can’t help but notice the way Charles and you interact — the casual touches, the inside jokes, the way your eyes continually find each other. There’s clearly a deep connection there.

At one point, Charles excuses himself to take a phone call. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sofia turns to you with wide eyes. “Okay, you have to tell me. What’s the real story here? How long have you two been together?”

You laugh, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. “Is it that obvious? We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. We met right here, actually, in front of this very portrait.”

Sofia’s romantic heart melts a little at that. “That’s so sweet! But come on, you have to admit, the resemblance is freaky. And the way you two were talking about history ... it’s like he lived it or something.”

You get that strange look in your eyes again, a mix of secrecy and wonder. “Charles has always had a deep connection to Monaco’s past. It’s one of the things that drew us together.”

Sofia’s about to press for more details when Charles returns, slipping his arm around your waist with casual familiarity.

“I hate to cut this short,” he says apologetically, “but I’ve got to run to a sponsor meeting. Y/N, we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

You nod, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you at eight.”

As Charles says his goodbyes and leaves, Sofia watches him go with a mix of admiration and lingering confusion. She turns back to you, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy,” Sofia starts, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “but is there any chance ... I mean, has anyone ever considered the possibility that Charles might be, I don’t know, the reincarnation of Prince Charles or something?”

You pause for a long moment, and Sofia holds her breath, half-expecting you to laugh in her face. But instead, you give her a small, enigmatic smile.

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” you say softly. “Sometimes, the past has a way of coming back to us in forms we least expect. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t?”

Sofia’s mind reels at the implications. “So you’re saying ...”

You hold up a hand, your expression turning more serious. “I’m not saying anything definitively. But I will say this: getting to know Charles — the Charles of today — has been like rediscovering a part of history I thought was lost forever. Whether that’s due to reincarnation, cosmic coincidence, or just the magic of human connection, I can’t say for sure. But I do know that it feels like a second chance at something extraordinary.”

Sofia listens, enthralled. It’s like something out of a movie or a romance novel. “That’s ... wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

You laugh, the sound tinged with wonder. “Trust me, I know the feeling. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

As you chat a bit more, Sofia can’t help but feel like she’s been let in on some grand secret. The way you talk about Charles, about history, about the strange twists of fate — it’s all so fantastical and yet, standing here in the shadow of that eerily familiar portrait, she can’t quite bring herself to disbelieve it entirely.

Finally, you glance at your watch and sigh. “I should get going. I’ve got to prepare for dinner soon. It was lovely meeting you, Sofia.”

Sofia nods, still feeling slightly dazed. “You too. And ... thanks. For sharing all of that. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

You smile warmly. “Just keep an open mind. You never know what kind of magic you might encounter, especially in a place like Monaco.”

As you leave, Sofia turns back to the portrait of Prince Charles. She studies it intently, trying to reconcile the historical figure with the modern-day race driver she admires so much.

“Second chances,” she murmurs to herself. “Who’d have thought?”

With one last look at the portrait, Sofia continues her tour of the museum. But now, every artifact seems to pulse with new significance. The weight of history feels more present than ever, intertwining with the present in ways she never could have imagined.

As she steps out of the museum and into the bright Monaco sunshine, Sofia finds herself looking at the city with new eyes. The sleek modern buildings and ancient narrow streets no longer seem at odds, but part of a continuous, living history.

She thinks of Charles Leclerc, of the mysterious Y/N, of a long-dead prince whose legacy seems to echo through time. And as she makes her way towards the harbor, where she knows the Monaco circuit snakes through the city streets, Sofia can’t help but feel that she’s stumbled upon a story far greater and more magical than any single victory.

With a smile on her face and a newfound appreciation for the mysteries of the universe, Sofia sets off to explore more of Monaco. After all, in a place where princes can become race drivers and love can transcend time itself, who knows what other wonders she might discover?

[jacquiarno]

Well, that’s how my summons went with Baizhu, a constellation of Tighnari... I could of been okay with Mona since I still don’t have her after two years of playing, but nope, the game hates me.

I’ve been playing this game since launch and I do enjoy it, it’s one of my favourite games, but the gacha side to it is starting to take its toll on me. Every character that I have saved up for recently and managed to get hasn’t been that great to play, and Dehya is completely awful.

Playing Baizhu in his trial feels really fun and I had a team all ready for him, but the game just doesn’t want me to have fun. I don’t care about the abyss stuff, and I do have characters for it, but when I’ve been playing this game for over two years, I get most of my enjoyment from playing around with different teams in exploration.

I guess at least I got Kaveh, but from what I’ve read, he plays better with either Baizhu or Nahida on his team, and I didn’t get her either..... One thing I like about Honkai Star Rail compared to Genshin is, even though I find the combat less thrilling than Genshin’s, the support character system allowing me to play with other people’s characters is a nice touch because I prefer to play solo.

[13lov]

tethered pt. 2 | jjk

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 10k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, friendship betrayal, mention of drugs/alcohol, smut [ cunnilingus, rough sex, ...idk how else to describe it ] reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. long awaited part 2! the amount of love i received from part one was overwhelming and it means to world to meet that so many people instantly fell in love with this couple. another part is already in the works!

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @ilikekpop-c @busanbby-jjk @xjjk187 @aloverga @kookcobain @mzeji @bxcndd @hoseokteardrop @canyon-lwt @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @jksteponme @parkinglot-nights @chromekingkong @jk97bam [ if i didn't tag u it's because tumblr didn't allow me to! ]

part one | masterlist | ao3 | buy me a coffee?

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?” Somi is glaring daggers at you upon opening the front door, arms crossed across her chest as she eyes you. Her lips are twisted into a disgusted snarl, you’ve never seen her this upset before.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Find out about what?”

She cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at you. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Fuck, you’re screwed. If there were a list of all the reasons why you shouldn’t have had sex with Jeon Jungkook, the simple fact of  him being your best friend’s brother would be number one.

With closed eyes, you let out a relieved sigh. As much as you wanted to wait to tell Somi about hooking up with Jungkook, it’d be an enormous weight off your shoulders not having to hide it any longer. It’d only been a few days since it happened, but you really hate keeping secrets from her.

“How’d you find out?” You question, chewing on your bottom lip.

“My parents told me, duh.”

Holy crap, Jungkook told his parents the two of you had sex? Why the fuck would he do that?

“They did?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“Well, yeah!” Somi finally uncrosses her arms, demeanor completely changing as her gaze softens, “Why didn’t you tell me your sister got engaged?”

Thank God you didn’t elaborate any further.

“Oh! Because they probably aren’t gonna last.” You respond, stepping into the Jeon household once Somi allows you to enter. It’s been a few days since you’ve been here, mostly due to the fact that you were completely avoiding Jungkook.

The empty condom in his trash bin had been plaguing your mind nonstop, you could barely even sleep from how embarrassed you were. Why did he fake his orgasm? What if he didn't fake an orgasm and just shot a blank? Did you do something wrong? Was he not attracted to you? Why was the condom empty? 

Seeing him in person would’ve only intensified the thoughts roaming in your head, so you avoided him at all costs up until now. You’d promised the Jeon siblings that you’d finally see Twilight with them and their friends despite not being able to function correctly around either of them. 

Somi snickers, following you into the living room. “Ooh, that’s not nice.”

“It’s true, though,” you explain, “she’s still so young, only a few years older than your brother. I mean, can you picture Jungkook getting married in a few years?”

The regret from that question fills you almost immediately.

“Sure,” Somi responds, pausing to greet the eager doberman charging at her. “As long as he finds the right person. He’d get married in a heartbeat.”

You want to ask what Somi’s definition of “the perfect person” would be for Jungkook or the type of girl she’d be willing to set him up with. It’d probably be the unnamed, mysterious redhead you recently dreamed about curb stomping (yikes!).

You don’t respond to this, taking a seat on the sofa when the sudden shout of your name has you flinching. It’s Somi’s parents, excitedly greeting you with open arms as you politely stand to properly hug them. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve seen you! How’s your family? We just heard the news about your sister!” Mrs. Jeon ambushes you with questions, all while cradling your face.

“About how she’s making the biggest mistake of her life?” You half-joke.

Mrs. Jeon playfully waves a hand in your direction as she steps into the kitchen, her husband only a few feet behind. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure the two of them will be very happy together.” She turns to her husband, grabbing his hand, “I just can’t believe Imogen is getting married. I still remember when she first started high school.” 

Mr. Jeon sighs in disbelief. “I know,” he mumbles, nodding at you. “You’re up next soon, huh?”

“Maybe she can marry Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon comments, opening her fridge, “set him straight.”

“Gross, Mom. Don’t wish that on her.” Somi groans in disgust as she plops down next to you.

Well, that answers your previous question.

“We should probably get going, right? To make it in time for the trailers?” You ask.

“Yeah, we should.” Somi responds, tilting her head up towards the staircase, “Jungkook! Hurry up and come downstairs! We’re ready to go!”

“Gimmie a minute!” He shouts back, and a chill runs down your spine. It’s been too long since you’ve heard his voice. The last time you saw him, he was lying naked in his bed; you’re not sure how you’ll survive being around him all night knowing what your last encounter was like.

As promised, Jungkook is sliding down the staircase a minute later and nails the landing. He’s wearing a black Twilight shirt featuring the leading couple, black cargo pants, and, of course, black sneakers. He looks like his usual self until you take a closer look and notice the reddish-black eyeshadow that decorated his eyes. It wasn’t much, just enough to make his eyes pop, and it complimented him perfectly. A second later, you see the black nail polish neatly coated on his nails. You have to blink a few times to ensure this is real life and you’re not trapped in a wet dream.

He strolls into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from his parents before digging through the fridge. His mom clears her throat, crossing her arms at him.

“What?” He asks, retrieving a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle. 

“Seriously, Jungkook? The makeup? The nail polish?” She questions, clearly frustrated.

Jungkook cocks his head, unscrewing the soda bottle’s lid. “What’s wrong with it? Somi’s wearing the same thing.”

“Son, you know that’s different.” His father interjects.

Jungkook takes a swig of the soda before responding. “Why? Because she’s a girl?”

“It’s not like that, hon. It’s just…we didn’t make a big deal of it when you first started the piercings, and the tattoos, and the hair dye, but this…it’s a little much. Don’t you think?” His mother asks.

You want to step in and remind his parents that Jungkook is old enough to make his own decisions and express himself as he pleases, but it’s not your place. Instead, you cheer silently when Somi surprisingly interrupts the discussion. “Did you guys seriously force him to come back home just to criticize how he presents himself, or would you rather have a peaceful summer?”

“We aren’t trying to criticize him, Somi. We’re just looking out for our child.” Mr. Jeon responds.

“It’s a special occasion, Dad. Is it bad that I wanted to look nice for—” Jungkook abruptly cuts himself short, quickly glancing in your direction before returning his attention to his parents. “...to go see Twilight with my friends?”

What was that about?

Silence passes, and the three stare at each other until Mrs. Jeon sighs defeatedly and says, “No, there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I hope you guys enjoy the movie.”

“We will,” Jungkook responds, closing the soda bottle lid and placing it back in the fridge. He heads for the front door, beckoning you and Somi to follow behind. He’s eager to leave the house, quickly swinging the front door open and jogging towards his car.

You and Somi say goodbye to her parents with a promise to be home by eleven before following in Jungkook’s footsteps, who already has the car running. As you wait for Somi to finish locking the front door, Jungkook rolls down his window and shouts, “Hurry up! Let’s go!”

“Will you calm down?!” Somi throws back, rolling her eyes as she finally removes the house key from the lock.

You follow her towards Jungkook’s car, sliding into the backseat as you pretend not to notice Jungkook watching you through the rearview mirror. He wants you to look at him, but you refuse, busying yourself by buckling your seatbelt and convincing Somi to do the same. Once Jungkook is convinced you’re not going to do so much as glance at him, he puts the car in drive and pulls into the road.

Somi talks your ear off in the backseat about whatever comes to mind while you keep your eyes on the window. It’s hard to not notice Jungkook glancing back at you through the mirror at every red light or stop sign, but you don’t dare meet his gaze.

The movie theater’s parking lot is crowded when you arrive; it takes Jungkook a few minutes to eventually locate a spot. A smile is plastered on his face as he parks the car, eager to see some of his closest friends after being separated for months. He informs you and Somi to disregard anything foolish he friends may say, claiming they arrived early to smoke behind the movie theater, so they’re more than likely too high to function properly.

Jungkook shrugs when Somi asks why people do that, shoving his hands into his pockets as the three of you approach the theater entrance. "Some people say it makes the movie experience better."

You want to ask Jungkook if he's ever been high, but you can barely even bring yourself to look in his direction, let alone ask him a question. So you're silent as the three of you enter the movie theater, instantly spotting Jungkook's bandmates in the far corner.

Well… Jungkook's bandmates and one other guest.

The bubbly redhead greets you guys first, running up to Jungkook with open arms as if they haven't seen each other in a million years. It makes you want to vomit.

You look away as they hug, directing your attention to the concession stand employee who had already been watching you. His name tag reads 'Beomgyu,' and he resembles a younger version of Jungkook, with the same dark hair and similar lip piercings. His eyes stay on you until a customer blocks your path, and you're back to watching Jungkook reunite with his friends.

"Hey, you were the one at that party, right? With Somi?" The redhead asks, squinting her eyes at you.

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, because why in God's name is this girl talking to you right now?

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Scar," she introduces herself, extending a hand for you to shake.

Somi interjects, grabbing ahold of your wrist while glaring at Scar. "Your name is Scarlett."

She drags you along to the ticket booth, mumbling about how she doesn't like nor trust Scar. When you ask for her reasoning, she responds with, "I don't need one. I just don't like her."

At least you're on the same page about that. 

Still, you can't help but wonder why Somi has a distaste for Scar. You have your petty reasoning for disliking her, but Somi (more than likely) has better knowledge of Scar's personality, so whatever reasons she dislikes her could be legitimate. 

You're thinking of this as Jungkook orders the tickets for everyone, asking the employee to give him a minute when the friend you recognize as Yugyeom starts tapping his shoulder. "We should go see Saw instead; it just came out."

Jungkook looks genuinely confused at the suggestion. "What? No, we came here to see Twilight."

"So?!" Jaebeom chimes in, eyes red as the devil, "Come on, dude, you've already seen Twilight. Don't you wanna see something new?"

"Fuck no, we're literally in the middle of buying the tickets." Jungkook reminds everyone.

"I kinda wanna see Saw, too."

"Same."

"Yeah, me too."

"I do, too."

Jungkook whips his head around at his sister, "What? Even you?"

Somi scoffs, "Well, yeah! Twilight just seems boring in comparison."

"Come on, guys," the employee interrupts, "you're holding up the line."

Jungkook turns towards you. "Do you still wanna see Twilight?"

Truthfully, you want to go home; but seeing how excited Jungkook was for the movie made you feel something, so you nod. He lets out a relieved sigh. 

He moves out of the way to allow his friends to buy their tickets first, slipping his sister cash to pay for hers, which she initially rejects. "I don't need your money," she claims.

"Just take it, Somi. I brought it for you." 

From what you can make out, it's enough to cover her ticket and grab something from the concession stand. The pair of siblings may bicker a lot, but it's nice to know Jungkook still looks out for his younger sister whenever he can.

Somi reluctantly accepts the money and purchases her ticket; you watch as Jungkook follows suit, ordering two tickets for Twilight and stopping you from opening your purse. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, it's fine. I have enough." You reassure him.

Jungkook laughs to himself, "Why are the two of you like this?" He questions, fishing out crumpled dollar bills from his pocket and handing them to the cashier, who sighs in annoyance, straightening and inspecting each bill before placing it in his register.

You don't know why Jungkook insists on being so nice to you despite your persistence in not speaking to him. A part of you wonders if he thinks this is some kind of date now that the two of you will be separated from the group. It doesn't matter. You don't know why you're overthinking it.

Once all the tickets have been purchased, the seven of you head towards the concession stand. Somi debates pushing herself to the front of the long line, claiming that the theater should make accommodations for those whose movie is starting sooner. Or something like that, you can't really focus with the way Beomgyu is staring at you. You're used to guys always staring, but they tend to shyly look away upon making eye contact. 

Beomgyu is quite the opposite, staring you down every chance he gets. Your skin feels hot, and you're suddenly anxious under his gaze. 

When the group ahead of you has finished ordering and is heading off into their theater, you're sure to stick close to Jungkook as you approach the counter. Beomgyu eyes him over once before returning his gaze to you. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jungkook takes the liberty of ordering a large popcorn for the two of you to share and doesn't even get mad when you request a slushie instead of a fountain drink. He doesn't let you pay, swatting your hand away when you absentmindedly reach for your purse. "You seriously have to stop doing that." He mumbles, handing Beomgyu the cash.

Beomgyu quickly prepares the popcorn and Jungkook's drink but takes his time making your slushie. He's sure to fill it to the brim, and you're worried it may accidentally overflow and leave a sticky mess. "You didn't want candy or anything?" He questions, handing you your drink. 

You shrug, "Maybe Twizzlers, but—"

Before you can finish, Beomgyu is reaching under the counter and sliding you a pack of Twizzlers. "On me."

"Oh, are you sure?" You ask, hesitant to accept the free candy.

Beomgyu sends Jungkook a cocky smirk before he responds, "Yeah, enjoy the movie."

You thank Beomgyu and pretend to not notice the death glares the two boys are sending one another before walking with Jungkook to your theater. "That guy was weird." He comments.

"Yeah." You agree, but it's definitely not true. Beomgyu was friendly and clearly interested in you, unlike Jungkook, who sent you nonstop, draining mixed signals. If his definition of weird is someone straightforward, then you should start going after weirdos.

Once you're settled in your seats in the back of the theater — per Jungkook's request — he clears his throat and says, "So, I tried messaging you on Facebook. Didn't get anything back."

"Oh, sorry. I haven't been using Facebook that much." You reply, hoping your lame excuse is believable enough.

He nods, eyes bouncing between you and the movie trailers playing in the background. "Yeah, I figured." He says. When you don't respond, he continues, "I would've asked Somi for your number, but I didn't want her to get suspicious or anything."

"That's smart." You admit, nodding in agreement.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks suddenly, his full attention to you.

You finally make eye contact, and the expression on his face makes your heart sink. He looks genuinely concerned and confused by your sudden coldness. You hate being so mean to him, but you're too embarrassed to explain the real reason why you've been avoiding him. So you nod and say, "Just a little tired."

It's clear he doesn't believe this; the same expression is still on his face as he refocuses on the movie trailers. 

You hate how awkward it feels to be around him now. Never in a million years would you have guessed the two of you would end up like this. A week ago, you would've been overjoyed at the idea of being on a movie date with Jungkook, and now you're considering leaving early and catching a taxi home.

The two of you remain silent as the rest of the trailers play on, and Jungkook immediately sits up in his seat when the lights finally dim and the curtains are pulled back further. He's reticent throughout the movie, aside from a muffled chuckle occasionally; he even side-eyes anyone making too much noise.

You enjoy Twilight nonetheless, agreeing with Jungkook that you do, in fact, dress like Bella Swan from time to time. When he asks if you liked it as you're exiting the theater, you tell him it was very nice and that you hope there'll be another movie.

Jungkook smiles at this, tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. "I'm sure there will be. Maybe they'll even cast you as Bella's stunt double since you already have the clothes."

"Shut up." You tease, and it feels nice to joke with him as usual. You may finally have the courage to tell Jungkook why you've been so distant these past few days.

Saw doesn't get out for another few minutes, so you're stuck waiting in the lobby for Somi and everyone else. Jungkook gestures towards the nearly empty slushie cup clutched in your hands, "You get free refills on that, I think."

You take his word, strolling over to the concession stand. Beomgyu spots you immediately and gestures for you to skip around the line. You shake your head, but he still beckons for you to come over. You feel bad, but the line has gotten longer since you were first here, and you really don't want to wait in a long line just for a refill. 

"What flavor?" He asks once you've slid him your cup.

You tell him anything is fine and he gets to work, combining the cherry and blue raspberry flavors. "How was the movie?"

"It was good. The vampire stuff was cool."

"Have you seen Saw yet? It just came out."

"No, I haven't."

"It's so good; if you wanna give me your number, maybe we can see it together sometime."

What is it with guys offering to take you out to a movie they've already seen? You're not complaining; it's just odd.

Beomgyu is clearly interested in you and has offered to take you out. You'd be silly to pass up on this guy just because your current relationship with your longtime crush is at a standstill. So you accept, scribbling your phone number down on a napkin with your name underneath. He promises to call you once his shift ends and that he looks forward to seeing you.

When you turn to meet up with Jungkook, he's gone. You catch him storming out of the theater, hauling ass to his car.

You run to catch up to him, calling out his name and begging him to slow down.

When he finally does stop, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. He gets angry all the time, but this was something completely different. "So you were just using me, huh?"

What? What is he talking about?

"Using you for what?"

"To lose your virginity. You just wanted to get it over with, right?" His voice is slightly hushed now but still loud enough for you to feel embarrassed about anyone passing through the parking lot.

"Jungkook, what are you talking about?"

"You used me to lose your virginity, so when you date other guys you can tell them you've had sex before. Is that what this is?"

This accusation hurts, considering that Jungkook was the only guy you've ever been interested in romantically and sexually. You don't know where this theory originated, but you don't like it.

Jungkook continues before you respond, "I tried reaching out and talking to you, and you just blew me off! And yet, here you are, giving your number to random guys! Am I not good enough for you?!"

"It's not like that, Jungkook!" You don't mean to raise your voice at him, but you can't help it. Both of your emotions were at an all-time high.

"Then what is it like?!"

Here goes nothing.

There are already tears forming as you go to explain yourself. "I didn't reach out to you because…because I was embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed to have sex with me?"

"No!" You yell in reassurance, "No, no, no. Of course not. I was embarrassed because I know you didn't finish. I just thought maybe I did something wrong or didn't do enough."

Jungkook quirks a brow at you, "What makes you think I didn't finish?"

You really hate that he's making you explain this. "I saw the condom afterwards; it was empty."

"You went digging in my trash can to find the condom?" Now he looks more disgusted than confused; this is going so horribly.

"No! I saw it when I went to get my phone off the charger."

Jungkook takes a minute to process everything, scratching his chin in deep thought. You can't tell what he's feeling, but he does look hurt. It makes you regret avoiding him in the first place.

"So, you were prepared to never talk to me again over an empty condom?" Despite his stern demeanor, he's clearly shaking as he questions you.

You want to say no, that it wasn't a case, but you can't bring yourself to lie to him again. So you say nothing. Jungkook nods at your lack of response before turning around and walking towards his car. You remain still, frozen in place, watching as he sits on the hood of his car and smokes a cigarette.

If it weren't for Somi finishing her movie within the next few minutes, you would've walked the entire way home.

This bitch is driving you crazy.

Your older sister, Imogen, is home for a few days to start her wedding preparations. The fake bridezilla persona she's putting on bothers you the most, bursting out in tears at the most inconvenient times or having a breakdown about selecting a theme. Deep down, she doesn't care about any of this bullshit; she's like you about parties or big events.

"This is literally the biggest day of my life, and you're being so fucking difficult." Imogen snarls at you, pouring herself a cup of coffee. You're sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window. Despite Imogen's occasional yelling and snarky comments, all you can think of is Jungkook.

It's been an entire week since the movie theater incident. You haven't stopped by the Jeon household not once, telling Somi you fell ill and don't want to get her sick. It's another lame excuse, but she buys it, opting to talk to you on the phone daily until you recover.

You have yet to speak to Jungkook; it's not like you've tried. The idea of messaging him on Facebook and not receiving a response makes you anxious. It's hard to believe you subjected him to the same torture not long ago. It doesn't help that Scarlett is suddenly all over his page, commenting on nearly every one of his posts, writing on his wall, or tagging him in pictures. Your recurring dream of curb-stomping her is back in full force.

You sigh at your sister, "Whatever you say, Imogen."

She waves dismissively at you, "Please, don't even talk to me right now."

You hop off the counter in annoyance and stomp off towards the staircase, mumbling, "Fucking drama queen."

"Language." Your mom warns you, flipping through one of the several bridal magazines your sister has stacked on the coffee table.

Imogen scoffs, setting her mug on the counter. "I'm the drama queen? Whenever I talk about my wedding, you throw a fucking fit!"

"Why are you pretending to care about this stupid wedding and that stupid boy you barely even know?!" You shout back from the staircase.

"If my wedding is so stupid, then don't come!"

"I don't even want to go to your stupid wedding, with your stupid fiancé and your stupid red velvet cake that no one's going to fucking eat!"

This is probably the dumbest fight you've ever had.

Imogen doesn't respond to this, advised by your mother not to and to let you stomp up the stairs in a furious rage. You make a beeline straight to your desktop, waking up the computer with a mouse shake and entering your password.

Facebook is already open once you've signed in, Jungkook's page staring right back at you. You're ashamed to admit you'd been cyberstalking him, but you had no choice. Seeing him in person would've been too much, but you still want to ensure he's doing okay.

There's a new post up when you refresh the page; you chew on your bottom lip as you anxiously wait for it to finish loading.

It's a picture of his dirty Chuck Taylor's perched upon a wooden stool. You recognize the background immediately; he's in the treehouse in his backyard. You and Somi would spend hours up there as kids, giving each other manicures and exchanging secrets; now, you can barely look her in the eye without bursting out in tears. You hate��how complicated things have become.

A light tap against your door has you swiveling around in your chair. It's Imogen, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed. "Who's that?"

"Somi's brother." You respond, scrolling to a photo that actually shows his face.

Imogen steps further into your bedroom, squinting her eyes at the computer screen. "Oh, yeah. Hasn't changed much, has he?" When you remain silent, she asks, "Would it be wrong of me to assume he's the real reason why you're so upset?"

You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. "You'd be very correct, actually."

She nods in understanding, sitting on the edge of your bed. "So, what's going on? You like him?"

"We kind of like each other, I guess." You mumble. Honestly, you're not quite sure how Jungkook feels about you at the moment.

"And Somi doesn't approve of it?"

You snort, "Somi doesn't know. There was nothing to tell her at first, but things have changed."

"Are you guys dating?"

"No. We actually haven't talked in a week. I may have hurt his feelings."

Imogen nods towards your desktop, “Where is he now?”

You shrug, “Home, I guess.”

She stands, stretching out her limbs. She glances around your room, locates a jacket dangling lifelessly from your doorknob, and tosses it to you. “Let’s go.”

Taking an impromptu trip to the Jeon household had you sweating. What if Jungkook doesn’t even want to see you? What if Somi catches you talking and asks what’s going on?

Each concern you raise is instantly shot down by Imogen, claiming you’re creating excuses to avoid seeing him, how you’re only imagining the worst possible scenarios. You appreciate her overwhelming support but can’t help the nervousness creeping through your body as her car approaches the Jeon household.

“Remember, be apologetic but not desperate,” Imogen informs you, putting her car in park in front of the house.

“I am desperate.” You remind her.

“Well, don’t let him see it. You got this.”

You thank your sister one last time for the advice before stepping out of her car. You’re careful to avoid being seen from windows as you make your way into the backyard; not entirely sure what you’d say if Somi were to catch you.

You scale the tree quickly, silently praying the old wooden steps are stable enough to hold your weight. 

You sigh in relief once you’ve reached the top, only to groan at the sight of Scarlett sitting across from you. She looks up from her iPod with a bright smile, quickly pulling out her earbuds as you enter the treehouse. “Hey, stranger! Watcha doing here?”

Her enthusiasm really makes you sick. “Came to see Jungkook,” you pause to glance around the tiny, wooden deathtrap, “but he’s nowhere to be found.”

“He’ll be back soon; went to use the bathroom,” Scarlett informs you, running her hands through her hair. “So, you guys really like each other, huh?”

What? She knows about that?

“Jungkook told you?” You question, trying your best to appear unbothered. You’re unsure where she’s going with this, but you have no reason to trust her.

Scarlett nods, “We tell each other everything. So when he told me you guys weren’t talking, I may have devised a plan to help you come around. You do use Facebook, right?” She smirks

Holy shit, all the posts of them together were to make you feel jealous enough to have a conversation with him; and your sworn enemy was the mastermind behind it. It was all a ploy to get under your skin, and you fell right into the trap. 

“You’re a stubborn little thing, though. Didn’t think it’d take you so long.” She comments, slipping her jacket on.

You shrug, “I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me.”

“Jungkook always wants to talk to you. I don’t mind it, though. You seem good for him.”

Aside from Somi, Scarlett is probably the last person you would’ve expected to be supportive of your relationship with Jungkook. So, to hear she’d been secretly rooting for you behind the scenes nearly gives you whiplash. You almost feel wrong about your dreams of shoving her face into the pavement.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “So, nothing is going on between you guys?”

Scarlett grimaces as if you deeply offended her, “Of course not! Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute, but not my type. His sister is cute, though.”

Woah.

“Somi? Jeon Somi? You’re into her?” You ask, completely stunned.

“Hell, yes. Hey, do you think you could set us up? Jungkook would never.”

“You do know that Somi can’t stand you, right?”

Scarlett excitedly nods, “I know, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

You hold your hands out to stop her from elaborating any further. Scarlett has surprised you in more ways than one in less than five minutes. You’re sure any new information would’ve made your head explode.

“I’ll…try my best.” You promise; not quite sure how Somi would feel about the idea of Scarlett liking her.

“For what?” A voice interrupts, causing you and Scarlett to direct your attention to the treehouse’s entrance. And there he is, in all his gothic glory. 

“Girl talk, none of your business,” Scarlett responds, making room for Jungkook to crawl in. 

“Fine. You keep your secrets; I’ll keep mine.” Jungkook groans, sitting between the two of you.

“Will do. I’m outta here. Got a hot date with a box of hair dye. See you suckers later.” Scarlett waves goodbye as she exits the treehouse, reminding you of your promise before disappearing down the steps.

Jungkook clears his throat, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "So—"

"I'm sorry," you cut him off, "I should've reached out and talked to you, but I was just too embarrassed and didn't know how to approach you about it. I really like you, and I wasn't using you to lose my virginity. I mean, you're the only person I've ever been interested in. So, again, I'm sorry."

He sighs, "I understand why you were embarrassed, but I promise it had nothing to do with you."

"Then what was it?"

Jungkook anxiously scratches the back of his head before he responds. "It's just that…sometimes…it takes me a little bit longer to, uh…to finish."

Oh.

"Is it because of your…size?" You can't help but wonder.

Jungkook snorts, "What, you think I'm big?"

"I'm out of here." You joke, faking as if you're about to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait." He stops you, "I was only kidding. I never really thought size played a factor in it, but every guy is different. But, still, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy us having sex. I mean, you had already finished, and I didn't want to tire you out just for my sake."

Knowing he had a perfectly reasonable explanation makes you feel even worse about spending all that time avoiding him. You want to tell him you wouldn't mind him tiring you out, that the idea excites you, but you refrain.

A beat of silence passes, and you ask, "But, I'm sure if there's something that you're really into, then it wouldn't take as long for you to finish. Right?"

Jungkook nods, "I guess."

"Then, what is it? What are you into?"

He coughs, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. "Um…I guess I'm into…roughness?"

Ah. 

"That's not a big deal. A lot of people are probably into that."

"I mean, it's fine either way, but I mostly prefer when girls are kinda rough with me. Fuck, this is embarrassing."

"It's not!" You reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."

Jungkook stares at your hand on his knee before placing his own on top. You twist yours upwards and interlock your fingers, not missing the smile that forms on his face. His bangs have swept into his eyes again, and you use your free hand to move them out of the way. "It was my first time, too, by the way."

You snort, "You don't need to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm serious," he continues, "I mean, I've gotten pretty handsy in the past, but nothing like what we did."

You shake your head, "I don't buy it. You seemed so experienced like you knew what you were doing."

Jungkook shrugs, "I mean, I'm not completely innocent. I may occasionally watch certain videos and read certain stories from time to time."

Porn and smut. Beautiful combination.

He shakes his head, "You still don't believe me; how come?"

You sigh, memories of the night before he left for college flashing in your mind. How you ran home in tears, how he only responded to Scar's comment on Somi's Facebook post. It almost hurts to think about. "The night before you left for school, there was an opened condom wrapper on your floor. I just figured…you know."

Jungkook nods at the memory. "I wasn't gonna go to the dorms the next day. I was planning on running away, that's why I gave you that bandana. After my parents helped bring my stuff to the dorms, I was gonna put everything in my car then take off."

You're having a hard time processing this information. Why would Jungkook plan on running away? What does this story have to do with the empty condom?

He continues, clutching your hand even tighter. "I only told a few people I was leaving, and there was this one girl who came over to say goodbye. She'd been really into me for a while and was heartbroken that I was leaving. We were about to hook up, hence the condom wrapper, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" You question.

"Didn't feel right. I wasn't into her the same way she was into me. Just couldn't do it." He explains, eyes staring deep into yours. You believe him; you know he's being truthful.

"What made you decide to stay?" You ask.

"For Somi," he answers, "I couldn't just leave her like that. And for you, too."

Though you've felt it for many years, telling Jungkook you love him is too soon. But you want to, so very badly.

"I'm glad you decided to stay." Your voice is barely a whisper now as you try to stop yourself from tearing up.

He nods, "Me too."

You sit in comfortable silence for a minute, clutching each other's hands. You wish you could stay like this forever. 

"I just realized you never told me if there's anything you're into." He points out.

You shrug, "Just you." And it's true: Jungkook is the only person you've ever been interested in. Everything he says and does is genuinely attractive to you.

He drops your hand gently, using it to tilt your head towards him, and he kisses you. 

You're quick to cradle the back of his head as his hands snake around your waist, deepening the kiss. You move to straddle his lap, slowly pushing him onto his back. He grunts in surprise, breaking away from the kiss. "You—"

"Stop talking." You demand before your lips intertwine with his once again. With one hand on his chest, you reach to grab a fistful of his hair and tug lightly, earning a satisfied moan from him. You're not used to being rough with guys, but you're sure Jungkook enjoys it with the way his erection is already pressing up against your thigh.

Reluctantly, you pull away from him and sit up, staring at him sprawled underneath you in complete awe. "Alright, I'll message you my number so we can text. See you later."

"No! No, no, no. Please don't go." He pleads, holding you in place when you go to stand, "Just stay a little longer, please."

You smile down at him, fighting the urge to stay in the treehouse. "I can't. Imogen is waiting out front. We'll see each other soon, okay?" You promise, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Jungkook nods, fingers drumming against the floor as he watches you crawl out of the treehouse. "Don't be too surprised if I seem extra excited to see you next time." He calls after you.

"Trust me, I won't."

Jungkook is the first boy to ever sneak in through your bedroom window.

He carelessly tosses his backpack in first, cringing when it lands on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. Though you’ve assured him your parents are heavy sleepers, he’s still worried you’ll get in trouble if he makes too much noise and accidentally reveals himself. “Sorry,” he apologizes, wrist gripping your forearm as you help pull him in.

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, “they’re not gonna wake up.”

“Still,” he grunts, using his upper body strength to pull him further into your room. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

It’s a day after the treehouse incident; as promised, you sent Jungkook your number and spent all day texting back and forth. Despite not being big on texting, you admire how Jungkook likes to keep you updated on what he’s doing and how he checks up on you to ensure you’re okay. 

“We’ll be fine, but just in case, I did make room for you in my closet in case you have to hide.” You inform him.

Jungkook stifles a laugh, “Good to know.” He settles himself on the edge of your bed, moving over once he realizes he’d sat on a pile of clothing. “Oh, were you about to shower?”

“I was,” you answer, moving the clothing over to your nightstand, “but I’ll wait until after you leave.”

He has to stop himself from making a joke about joining you in the shower. He nods, leaning down to drag his backpack towards him, “Guess what I got today.”

“What?” You question, legs folded underneath you as you sit beside him.

Jungkook slowly unzips his backpack, careful not to make too much noise before rummaging through it and clutching something in his hand. He momentarily turns his back towards you, clips something to his shirt, then turns back around.

There’s a name tag on his chest now with his name scribbled in black ink and a little star next to it. “A job?”

He nods, “At that music store, Spin City. Need to start saving up before classes start. Plus, I wanna take you out somewhere nice before summer’s over.”

You gulp, “Like, a date?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless… I don’t know. I just kinda figured…” He trails off, suddenly worried he may be scaring you off.

You grab ahold of his hand, “I know, and trust me, you’re perfect, and I want us to be together. But, the night we saw you at that party, I did ask Somi if she would be upset if I was into you. Surprisingly, she said she wouldn’t mind as long as I talked to her before making a move on you. And, well…”

“We made a move on each other without telling her,” Jungkook finishes for you.

You nod, “Exactly.”

He sighs, “So, I’m guessing that means you wanna wait before we make things official.”

“Yeah. No matter what, I still want to be with you. But it’d be best for all of us to get her on board with this first. Show her how much we truly care for each other, and make sure she’s okay with it. So she knows my relationship with you won’t affect our friendship, and vice versa.” You explain. Jungkook’s eyes never stray from yours, listening intently and nodding at everything you say.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, “It’s a good idea. Do you want me to talk to her? Or for us to talk to her together?”

You shake your head, “She’ll definitely freak out on you; it’s best if I do it alone first, then you talk to her afterward.”

Jungkook leans back against your bed, resting his head on your pillow. It’s funny how different your aesthetics are; he looks perfectly out of place, sprawled on your baby pink pillow surrounded by teddy bears. “When?”

“I dunno,” you respond, lowering yourself until your head rests comfortably on his bicep. “Doesn’t have to be right away. As long as it’s before we move into the dorms.”

“We shouldn’t wait too long, though. It’ll only make things worse.” Jungkook mumbles, pulling you closer to him.

“I know. I’ll have a talk with her soon, I promise.”

You interlock pinkies to solidify your promise and ease his nerves. You hadn’t realized how anxiety-inducing this was for Jungkook as well. The idea of Somi not approving of your relationship had him genuinely worried. 

“But, you should know that no matter what—” he starts.

You cut him off, “I know.”

The hands that once purposely dumped slime in your hair are now tugging your panties down your legs.

“Can we try something?” Jungkook asks with a mumble against your lips, your soft blue underwear now clutched in the palm of his hand.

“Like what? I actually make you come for once?” You joke, earning a laugh from Jungkook.

“Don’t worry about me.” He presses another kiss against your lips, “You trust me?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up in Jungkook’s bed as he moves backward, never breaking eye contact with you. He pushes your skirt up slightly but pats your hand away when you go to remove it altogether.

“Leave it on.” He commands, bringing himself at face level with your cunt.

You’ve never felt this shy in your life, grateful your bunched-up skirt created the tiniest barrier between having Jungkook see you all flustered. Never had you been this intimate with a guy, especially not a guy you technically weren’t even dating.

His thumb is circling your clit before you have the time to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to do this just for your sake, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you has you at a loss for words. 

“This okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You respond, tilting your head upwards to stare at the ceiling.

Before you know it, his middle and index fingers are pressed against your opening, eliciting a gasp from your lips. At your reaction, Jungkook slips his finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. He insists on being teasingly slow today, wanting to draw out every moment and observe your reaction.  

He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slow, consistent motion, an amused smirk on his lips when he hears your breathing become ragged. Abruptly, he slips his fingers out of you, moving your thighs to rest them atop his shoulders. 

“Wait, you don’t have to—oh fuck.” You’re cut off by Jungkook pushing himself forward, placing a sudden kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting in the air. His hand grabs your waist and licks at your slit, keeping you in place as he gently returns your body to his mattress. 

His growing erection is the last of his worries, all too focused on dragging his tongue across your cunt. He flattens his tongue, pulling the wetness upward until he’s circling your clit again. In search of something to grab onto, your hands grip the bed sheets until Jungkook reaches forward, moving your hand over to grip his hair.

His eyes are closed when you look down at him, and you swear you can hear him moan as he eats you out. You try your best to keep the noise down out of fear someone will hear, but you can’t help but yell out when he’s back to fingering you, all while circling your clit with his tongue. 

Your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face further into your pussy, and he lets out a satisfied groan. It’s embarrassing how quickly your orgasm approaches; everything with Jungkook is so intense. He knows this, eyes fluttering open to watch your expressions. Black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyelids as his eyes focus on your own, hands gripping your thighs as he tongue circles your clit.

His fingers are relentlessly pumping into your cunt now, contrasting against how teasingly slow his tongue is moving. He pulls his mouth away, lips glistening with your arousal, and asks, “You close?”

You don’t respond directly, but the grip you have on his hair gives him all the answers he needs before he’s diving back in. It doesn’t take much for you to come after that, a final kiss pressed on your clit, sending you over the edge and coating Jungkook’s fingers.

Jungkook doesn’t stop there, still continuing to lick and suck your clit until you’re begging him to stop from the overstimulation.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “Was that good?”

“That was literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You respond. Jungkook lets out a laugh as he crawls up next to you. “I should be upset with you, though.”

“What?” He questions, peppering your face with kisses, “Why’s that?”

“I came over to talk to your sister about us, and you distracted me.”

“How’d I do that?”

“Because! You came downstairs in your eyeshadow. Then you were all like, ‘Oh, hey. I cleaned my room; wanna check it out?’” You mimic a deep voice that sounds nothing like his. 

“I apologize for putting on eyeshadow, bringing you to my room, and eating you out. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I guess.”

You both laugh at this as you move to pull your skirt down. “Hey, how’d you realize you like it when girls are rough with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head as the memory returns to him, a shy smile on his face as he glances over at you. “A couple years ago, I was picking on Somi for something. I don’t even remember why, but it got to the point where my parents were telling me to stop, and I wouldn’t. Then, you just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and I don’t know why, but it was the hottest thing ever. I was in awe. I really thought you were gonna slap me. Since then, it’s just been a turn-on of mine.”

“Wow. That’s actually kind of pathetic.” You tease.

He groans, “Please don’t say that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Laughter is shared between you once again before you lean your head down to rest on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat making you feel calm. A comfortable minute of silence passes before you have to address the unfortunate inevitable, “Somi should be here soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “within the next ten minutes.”

You sigh, “Next time I come over, I’ll have to tell her about us.”

The next time you stop by the Jeon household, Jungkook has you bent over in the backseat of his car.

His finger digs into your waist as his cock is plunging into you at full force, emptying all the thoughts from your brain. You still haven’t fully adjusted to his size, but you don’t care; the pain of being split open makes you come faster. It feels better.

Jungkook insisted on taking things slow, telling you that you’d need to adjust to his size, but the moment you sunk your dripping cunt onto him, he was under your spell. 

Your body lunges forward with every rough stroke Jungkook gives you, hands buried in your hair as he pulls you up against his chest. His hand moves from your hair down to your neck, tilting your head back while applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throat. Your eyes close out of instinct as tears form in the corner of your eyes before trickling down your cheeks. He kisses them away one by one before settling his lips on your neck. You make a mental note to check yourself for hickeys afterward.

You’re coming around him before you realize it, body spasming as you grip the driver’s seat headrest. Jungkook shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; in fact, he’s sped up even faster since fucking you through your orgasm. He lets go of your neck to push down on your back, left hand gripping your waist while the right intertwines your fingers with his. 

A few strokes later, he’s finally coming and jokes about showing you the used condom as confirmation.

You shake your head, gesturing for him to pass you the shorts he’d tossed in the front seat. “I can’t believe I let you trick me again.”

“What?!” He exclaims in utter shock, reaching in the front seat to grab your discarded clothing, “How exactly did I trick you?”

“I came over to talk to Somi, but then you were all like, ‘Hey, come look at my car; I just got it washed.’” You playfully roll your eyes, searching around the backseat for your underwear.

“Can I keep these?” He asks suddenly, the most nonchalant expression on his face as your panties dangle from his middle finger.

You scoff, reaching to snatch them from him, confused when he retracts his hand. “I think I will keep them until you talk to Somi. Since it was you who wanted to talk to her first.”

“Then, I guess I’ll get them back tomorrow because I’m definitely talking to her today.”

Except you don’t.

You spent the entire summer sneaking around with Jungkook and procrastinating about having that talk with Somi. It was anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and you had no idea how she’d react. You tell yourself she won’t be upset as long as you assure her your friendship won’t be affected by you dating her brother. 

You’re scheduled to move into the dorms within a few weeks, so it’s best to sort things out now before you all live under the same roof, unable to avoid one another. Jungkook doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he’d given you a pep-talk the day before you showed up at their home.

“She can’t stay mad forever.” He pointed out, eyes sealed shut as you do his eyeliner.

“I know,” you mumbled, adjusting yourself on his lap, “but that girl can hold a grudge.”

“Right, but this is you we’re talking about. You mean a lot to her, to both of us, actually.”

His words play in your mind as you enter the Jeon household, following Somi into the kitchen. “Baking something?” You ask, a sweet, decadent scent hitting your nose.

“Brownies for some stupid bake sale my parents are having. Help me clean up?” She asks, pouting her lips at you.

“Sure.” You agree, under the assumption that there wouldn’t be much to even clean up. 

Boy, you were wrong. It’s like Somi used every dish in the house to make one sheet of brownies. There’s no backing out now; you already agreed to help, and it’d be best to stay on her good side for now.

She gets to work rinsing each dish before handing them to you to load the dishwasher, moving quickly to get everything done faster.

“What a beautiful friendship.” A familiar voice comments; you fight back a smile as Somi groans at her brother.

“You wouldn’t know; you don’t have any friends,” Somi responds, laughing at her words.

“Neither will you, soon,” Jungkook whispers back, groaning when you swat him in the chest. “Any brownie batter left?”

“None for you. Shouldn’t you be at work?” Somi asks, handing you another dish.

Somi takes a break from rinsing off the dishes to bicker with Jungkook for a minute. You tune out from the conversation, dipping your fingers into the leftover batter bowl and gathering the chocolate on your fingers.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Jungkook says. When Somi finally directs her attention elsewhere, Jungkook takes the opportunity to grab your wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips before sucking the chocolate off them. 

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head, nervously glancing behind you to ensure Somi hadn’t seen anything. You swat at Jungkook’s chest for the second time, and he laughs as if you’re being overly dramatic. It’s odd how surprisingly calm he is about everything. His demeanor would have worried you if you didn’t trust him so much. 

Jungkook wipes the renaming bit of chocolate around his lips before mouthing ‘Good luck.’ You give him a nervous smile, watching as he slips past Somi and leaves out the front door. You get back to work, making small talk with Somi as you help her load the dishwasher.

It’s now or never.

“So,” you start, “we’re gonna be living together soon.”

Somi smiles, “Finally! God, I can’t wait to have some freedom. My stupid curfew is a major cock-block. Right when things are finally getting good on a date, I have to go back home. So fucking frustrating. There’s literally cobwebs in my vagina.”

You snort, loading the final dish into the washer. “Well, you won’t have that problem anymore.”

“I know. And maybe you’ll even find someone worthy even to date you.” Somi jokes, hopping on the kitchen counter.

“Uh, what if I already have found someone…worthy enough?” You question, pressing a few buttons to get the dishwasher going.

“As if.”

“Somi, I’m serious.”

She sighs, still not buying your confession. “Alright then, who is it?”

“...Your brother.”

A beat of silence passes, and then Somi doubles over in laughter, nearly slipping off the counter several times in seconds. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, clutching her collar for support as she regulates her breathing; even tears are forming in her eyes. “Holy fuck, can you imagine? You and my brother? Jesus Christ.”

“Look, there really isn’t an easy way to say this, but we really do like each other. We’ve been…together this whole summer. Well, not officially; I didn’t want to put a label on anything without talking to you about it first.” You finally confess. The weight on your shoulders doesn’t immediately drop as you expected; it’s like the load has gotten heavier.

Somi has a blank expression as she stares at you, eyes darting around the kitchen as she processes the information. “You’re serious?”

You nod.

She shakes her head, “What kind of friend are you?”

Fuck.

“Somi, please, let me—”

She cuts you off, hopping off the counter and inching towards you. “So, what? All this time, you were using me to get close to Jungkook? Out of every fucking guy on the planet?!”

“No! Of course not! Somi, I never even imagined myself in a relationship with him until this summer, I swear!” Your voice trembles as Somi approaches you. The two of you have never been in a physical fight before, but the expression on her face tells you there’s a first time for everything.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe that, huh? So it’s just a coincidence that you guys suddenly got together right before we’re all gonna be living in the same building?”

“I know it doesn’t sound great, but—”

“I think you should go.” Somi cuts you off calmly, her sudden change in demeanor shocking you. A moment ago, she looked angry enough to hit you, but now, she seems a few seconds away from breaking down in tears. 

You nod understandably, telling Somi to take all the time she needs and to call you when she’s ready to talk. 

She doesn’t say a word as you exit her house, and you wonder if you’ve just lost the best friend you’ve ever had. 

“I’ve never seen her this angry, Jungkook. I thought she was gonna hit me or something.” You groan, ear pressed up against your phone as you rant to Jungkook.

It’d been a few hours since you left Somi’s house; Jungkook had promised to call you during his break to hear how the conversation went. You’re still shaking as the memories flood you, how your best friend in the world accused you of using her. What a fucking joke. 

“She’ll get over it, trust me. Y’know, before I called you, she spent five minutes yelling at me over the phone. Five fucking minutes, and I just took it. She’ll be fine.” He says, following up with a loud slurping noise that suggests Jungkook has chosen to have ramen for lunch.

It’s astonishing how calm he’s managed to stay this entire time.

You flip over on the couch, head resting on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. “I just don’t wanna lose her. She’s a fireball, for sure, but she’s my fireball. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I just told you you’re not gonna be without her, okay?”

“...Okay.”

There’s a knock at your front door, most likely from the pizza delivery Jungkook had sent to your house.

“I gotta go. The food is here. Are you still stopping by after your shift?”

“Of course. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” you stand, making your way to the front door. “I’ll save you some pizza.”

He chuckles at that, “You better. I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

He what?

“You what?” You pause, hand on the doorknob.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later.” He hangs up.

You don’t have time to process his words; the knocking at your front door happens again.

Twisting the knob, you’re met with Somi staring back at you. “Somi? What’re you—”

“I don’t care if you date Jungkook.” She claims, storming through your front door, “If you guys want to be together, then I’m not standing in the way. But I will not be your friend if you date him, so it’s either him or me.”

You follow Somi into your living room, your pulse quickening upon hearing her ultimatum. “Somi, that’s not—”

“Before you choose…as a girl, and as your friend, I have to be completely honest with you.” She sighs, fingers nervously raking through her hair as she sits on your couch. “I called Jungkook after you left, and he talked to me about you guys.”

You nod, taking a seat next to her. “Okay, and…?”

She sighs again, taking your hand in her own. “Everything he’s ever told you was a lie.”

[gaozorous-rex-blog]

Oooooh, that'd be so fun! But also, this little scene popped up in my head as soon as I read, "Jazz as Oracle":

Just as Tim was about to leave the Cave after delivering the latest samples from a Rogue attack, the Bat computer's screen lit up with a picture of Oracle on it.

She... Looked so much like Jazz it hurt. Well. A very, very overworked and underpaid Jazz. Which, was exactly what one Barbara Gordon WAS. To be honest, most superheroes were. At least in this life he got a great paycheck and an actual future to go with all the shitty trauma. Hurray for trust fund babies, I guess. Even when dropping out of highschool, you can get an amazing job.

"..im?! TIM!?!"

..Ah. He spaced out while staring at her. Awkward.

"Hey Babs. Sorry about that. What do you need?"

"Are you okay, Tim?? I called you like 10 times..."

"Yeah, just a bit tired. I'm going to sleep for like a week after this case," he jokes. Like they ever had time for that much sleep, but he's incredibly tempted to go on a damn vacation from his day job just to get over himself enough to get work done as efficiently as possible again. These memories were incredibly inconvenient, especially when it involved regaining past powers when one worked on a team of POWERLESS individuals. Yeah... Life hates him.

"Living the dream right there," she jokes right back, but he can tell through her eyes that she's still worried about him. "Anyway, I'm just doing another info drop on the case, and just wanted to check in on you, what with that fight with Scarecrow a week ago... You know you can rely on the girls and I to cover for your patrol or talk to any of us about what happened if you want, right? You aren't alone, Tim. We're here for you if you need us."

Sigh. Of course. Ever since that night and after recovering enough to function, then basically telling them to fuck off in more polite words (and then later in less polite words when they kept bothering him), they've all been hounding him with all of this feel good shit they don't even actually believe in when it comes to him. He was so over it it's not even funny. He couldn't repress his bitter chuckle.

"Are you kidding me? I'm definitely not useful enough to you to ask for that sort of thing. See ya, O. I got shit to do."

And with that, he turned around, marched to his bike, and revved out of the Cave like the hounds of hell were after him. He didn't notice nor care to notice the absolutely stunned face of one Barbara Gordon as she watched him leave.

This... Definitely complicated things. Bruce was going to have a conniption. Dick... Oh, DICK... Barbara was already getting a headache over the wailing he'll no doubt be doing once he finds out what Tim thinks of them all. If she could get them all to stay alone in a room with a therapist, she'd literally beg Harley to help them with as much of their issues as possible. But it was like trying to herd CATS with these idiots. Tim especially. He was the wiliest cat of all of them. Sigh. Well there goes her already booked evening. She's so glad her couch is the comfiest cloud to rest on. She's gonna need it after this shit show of a debrief. (But if it could somehow help Tim, then she would consider it worth it.)

Screaming into the night

Danny is reborn as tim.

Tim gets his memories back near the beginning of his robin run when he still has a rocky relationship with Bruce. He’s scared and keeps his mouth shut. This goes on for years never getting the right time to be revealed.

It isn't until the scarecrow uses a new fear gas that it comes up. Tim is hit and has to relive the portal incident. He is screaming with no brakes and does not respond to anyone.

The bat family has idea what he is seeing but they do find out from scarecrows taunting that the gas makes you relive your most painful memories. The entire family is wondering when this happened and when Tim wakes up he is not going to be very forthcoming.

[hyewka]

𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢 | c.bg

synopsis: wanting to try a new sexual route with your boyfriend but not knowing how to approach the situation drives you to beomgyu—your best friend since the dawn of time, under the rule of what you call a buddy system.

warnings: sub!gyu, dumbification, basically infidelity but they don’t really fuck, butt plug

tags 🏷️ @b3omitus @beomiracles @bambammtori @jakeslvt @subby-men-forever @iijustread @strwbrryjaem @rikiwaify-blog @yyeonzi @skz-smut-reader @kyuuuie @fairfootedflekk @badwicht @handsomejin25 @itaehynz @soobabby

No matter what angle you look at it, it’s weird. You wouldn’t even think of asking for a favor so indecent if it wasn’t—well if it wasn’t him. And maybe that’s the blaring problem.

“What’ya thinking ‘bout?” Beomgyu muffles, mouth stuffed. You quirk your lip, kicking him under the table. "Don't talk with food in your mouth idiot."

He immediately shuts his mouth, but doesn't miss the chance to retaliate and return the kick, only he aims poorly and hits the table leg instead.

You snort, suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. It takes you right back to when your biggest problem was hiding a bad report card from your then-overbearing parents and trying to find knock-off drug store products to cover your gross pimples.

A simpler time when all you saw was your best friend across from you, wedged into the booth at Shake N Shack, stuffing his mouth with fries, sauce on the edge of his lips as he rants about some latest absurd conspiracy theory he had stumbled upon online.

“So?” he pulls you out of your reverie, looking up at you once he’s finished chewing. His eyes dart nervously between you and his plate as he swallows the last bite when you keep silent. “Why’re you really here? You haven’t been around much lately.”

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. "I can't just visit you for old times' sake?"

He exaggeratedly winces. "Damn, already demoted to a nostalgia trip?”

You sigh, feeling a pang of guilt despite the lightheartedness in his tone.

You know Beomgyu— like the back of your hand, like the way your favorite song plays in your mind, you know how he hurts and how he likes to cover it up. Ever since you started dating Youngjae, you’ve completely abandoned him, and so his words hit harder than they should.

“You know what I mean,” you mumble weakly.

“Do I?” he replies, tilting his head. “Last I checked, people don’t usually show up at someone’s door at ten-thirty PM during a thunderstorm just to reminisce for “old times sake”. Are you here to drop some kind of plot twist on me? Did you kill someone? Is this an alibi visit?”

You let out a frustrated groan—leave it to Beomgyu to be as annoying as humanely possible as you try to get him to forgive you for your sins. "No, I didn't kill anyone. I just…I’ve been caught up with y'know like...everything and-”

You pause, glancing at your feet as you try to find the right words, the ones that make this moment make sense. You’d gone over this moment in your head a thousand times, but now, in front of him, it all seems so much harder to say.

“And?” he prompts.

“And in the middle of all the stupid exams and projects, I had this epiphany. Like, holy crap, when was the last time I actually saw my best friend? The one person who gets all my dumb jokes, who knows all my weird habits, and somehow still puts up with me.”

His face visibily softens and he nods slowly, picking at the crumbs on his plate. "Epiphany took a long ass time.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Without thinking, you stand up from your seat and walk over to him. He looks up just in time for you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. It only takes him a moment before he completely melts into the embrace, his arms circling your waist. “I missed you, you dork,” you whisper into his hair.

He leans into you, seemingly satisfied. “That’s all I get?” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but there’s no mistaking the smile in his words. “A quick hug after you’ve been ignoring your best friend for, like, forever?”

“You’ll get a little present later, besides you love me too much to stay mad.”

He nestles his head against you, his grip around your waist tightening just a bit. “Yeah, I really do.” he murmurs.

The Buddy System.

You don’t know if that rollercoaster is any good? The Buddy System. Beomgyu can go on it and tell you if he thinks it’s possible for you to ride without throwing up right after. Beomgyu’s feeling squeamish over that plate of food? The Buddy System— you’ll try it out for him and accurately determine whether it’s gyu-gestable or …not. Years of practice has had you know exactly what his picky habits can allow him to consume.

Those are the more normal instances you’ve used it, there were other peculiar times like when Beomgyu asked you to test out the temperature of his bathwater—with your elbow, like you were checking a baby’s bath. He stood there, fully clothed, watching you as you leaned over the tub, dipping your elbow into the water with the seriousness of a professional thermometer. “Too hot,” you’d say, adjusting the faucet until he gave a nod of approval.

Actually, now that you’re really going over every instance you’ve used it, you think all of the weird ones were Beomgyu’s doing.

Like the time when it was the summer of senior year, the last summer before you went off to college, Beomgyu had recurring nightmares and was convinced that if you fell asleep holding his hand, you’d somehow end up in his dream and could “fix it” from the inside. You tried to explain that dreams didn’t work that way, but he wouldn’t budge. So, there you were, two grown teenagers, lying in a dark room, hands clasped like some kind of paranormal experiment. It didn’t work, of course, but Beomgyu insisted he slept better knowing you were “on the job.”

So therefore…asking this of him would just…even it out, right? Right?

Beomgyu sits up abruptly, causing the carefully arranged pillows to collapse around him, and a few stuffed animals to topple over onto his lap. His eyes are wide, and his voice cracks as he practically yelps, "What?"

Holy shit, who are you kidding.

“This was the little present?”

You shift uncomfortably in the small, now even more cramped space, suddenly wishing you could burrow into the pile of blankets and disappear. “It’s weird, I know, like really weird and it’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

You take a deep breath. “I just—I want to try it with him and—I don’t know, maybe it won’t feel good and-"

“You thought I’d be the one to—” he waves the box around, his voice higher than usual, “—to test this out for you?”

“I mean, buddy system, right?” you offer weakly, your confidence crumbling completely. “We’ve done other things for each other… not like this, but…” your voice trails off as you fidget with the edge of the blanket beneath you.

Beomgyu just blinks at you. And in the long, awkward silence that follows you realize how absurd your request sounds. Hey, can you try out this butt plug for me because my faith in this relationship with my boyfriend is so fragile I’m afraid I might ruin it completely by doing the normal thing of suggesting and exploring different ways of pleasuring each other? Don’t forget that it’s a butt plug! I’m asking you to insert something up in your ass. Up your ass.

The fairy lights cast soft shadows on his face—he’s staring at you, but you’re too caught up in your embarrassment to notice the way his gaze lingers just a little too long, or how eventually, his expression softens.

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Does he know you’re here?”

You freeze, caught off guard. “Who?”

“Your boyfriend,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Does he know you’re here? With me?”

“Uh, no… he doesn’t,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably again. “I mean, it’s late, and I just wanted to see you. It’s not a big deal, right?”

Beomgyu swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the stuffed bear in his lap, which seems to be staring back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Yeah… right. No big deal.”

The silence stretches on, thick and awkward, until finally, he lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay,” he resigns. “This is, hands down, the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do, but… yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

You blink again, not expecting him to actually agree. “Wait, seriously?” A huge smile breaks across your face as you lean forward, your excitement palpable. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying yes! Oh my god, Gyu, thank you! I thought for sure you were going to think I was crazy and—”

But then, almost as quickly as your excitement flared up, it dims slightly, and you glance at him with a more serious expression. The guilt’s creeping up. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? It’s been a while since we’ve hung out and I mean, I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you or anything—”

"Are you holding a gun to my head?”

“No, but-"

“Then I’m fine,” he says, though his voice softens as he adds, “Seriously, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Who cares.”

You pout looking at your best friend because for the millionth time in your life, you feel that familiar warmth in your chest at the reassurance that no matter what, Beomgyu’s always there to back you up.

“You’re the best, Gyu. You don’t even know it yet, but you’ll probably be responsible for our wedding,” you say, sighing dreamily, “I’ll make sure to shout you out.”

Suddenly, his expression changes. He frowns deeply, and before you can process it, he grabs the nearest plushie—a soft, squishy bear—and hurls it at you with a grumble. “Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Your mouth falls open at the bear hitting you square in the chest. The audacity! But before you can even think about launching a counterattack, Beomgyu is already on the move.

In one swift motion, he snatches up the pink box, waving it above his head like a white flag of retreat, quickly scrambling out of the fort, the pillows and blankets collapsing behind him in his rush to escape.

You take back everything nice you’ve thought of him thirty seconds ago.

Beomgyu’s cheeks are a bit pink when he comes back twenty minutes later, and you notice it when you look up from your phone, where you’ve been meticulously studying the app’s settings. He looks uncharacteristically bashful, avoiding your gaze as he settles back in with you— the fort looking almost as good as it did before Beomgyu nuked it and ran away.

“Did you put it in?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction.

He glances at you briefly before quickly looking away, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "Yup. Lubed it up pretty well."

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Did you really, or are you fucking with me?"

Beomgyu's response is immediate, and a little too defensive. "Do you want me to show you my asshole or something? I have it in!"

"God, okay!" you say in exasperation, throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

Your mood takes a complete flip as you grin wickedly, wiggling your phone, the app open and ready. "So... ready for the fun part?"

His eyes widen slightly, and you catch the way his breath hitches as he realizes what you mean. His cheeks flush even more as he swallows hard. "Wait, you're not actually gonna…”

There isn’t any incentive for him to lie but you still don’t fully believe him. You’ve heard that first times have guys struggling a little, he’d be a lot more fidgety than he is now. You narrow your eyes as you glance from your phone to his face, experimentally turning up the setting to its highest volume, just to see if he's really telling the truth.

The reaction is immediate. Beomgyu's eyes widen in shock, and blood rushes to his cheeks, turning him a deep shade of red. His whole body tenses as he grips the blanket beneath him, his breath hitching.

"Hey! Turn it down! It—it-fuck!" he stammers, his voice strained and breathy as he squirms in place.

You quickly dial back the intensity, watching as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to recover. You didn't mean to push him that far, but now there's no doubt in your mind that he wasn't lying. He really did go through with it.

"I didn't think it'd be that intense," you say, genuinely concerned. "Are you okay?"

He hangs his head low, nodding.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction, though you feel a little guilty for pushing him so hard. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."

He gives you a look that's somewhere between a pout and a glare, still clearly embarrassed. "Well, now you know. It's definitely in, and it's definitely working."

You ruffle his head. "Alright, I won't push it any further. Just let me know when it's too much, okay?"

Beomgyu groans, his voice dropping a little, betraying a note of something more than just embarrassment. "Why do I let you talk me into these things?" he mumbles, mostly to himself.

You ignore him, grinning as you observe him, slowly turning up the vibrations to a slow, steady hum. “Notes? How does it feel?”

Beomgyu stiffens, his eyes widening as the first wave of vibrations hits him. "Oh... my god," he squeaks, his voice shaky and a bit breathless. "This is... this is so weird."

You narrow your eyes. “Bad weird or good weird?”

He looks at you, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, as if he’s not quite sure how to articulate what he’s feeling. “It’s just… weird, okay? Full. Like, not bad but… not normal either. It’s… it’s like—ugh, why are you making me explain this?”

You fold your arms, deciding to push him a little more to get the information that you actually want. “Is it, like, ‘I can get used to this’ weird, or ‘please stop this right now’ weird?”

Beomgyu huffs, clearly flustered. “I don’t know! It’s… kind of both? Like… it’s weird, but maybe kind of good? I don’t know!” He’s squirming now, obviously uncomfortable but not entirely hating it either.

“So…you’re saying you’re into it?” you tease, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin, wiggling your brows playfully.

The words slip out before you can fully think them through, the playful energy between you both making it easy to forget the boundaries that normally exist. Especially considering that you have a boyfriend of seven months waiting at home.

You’re too far gone to care.

His eyes widen even more, his blush deepening as he quickly shakes his head, shuffling away from you a bit. “N-no! I mean… not like that, I just—” His voice trails off, and he swallows hard, clearly struggling to find the right words.

You bite your lip, gradually increasing the intensity, curious. His expression tightens, and a soft, involuntary moan escapes his lips before he can stop it.

"Okay, okay, that's... that's enough!" he says, his voice a mix of panic and something more, his breathing coming out in quick, uneven gasps as he clearly tries to hold himself together.

Interesting.

A slow smirk spreads across your face, “Just a little more,” you coax. “You’re doing great.”

“Fuck, stop teasing me!” he whines, but his voice is breathier now, and there's a definite edge of something more in the way he looks at you, his pupils slightly dilated.

You watch him, the way he tries to keep his mouth in a thin line, a façade that crumbles the moment you notice the way his left leg shakes— you’re intrigued. You've never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so out of control—and it's both unsettling and fascinating. If there’s a possibility this is exactly how your boyfriend would act with something up his ass, you’d spend hundreds on a collection.

You clear your throat, realizing its been silent for too long. “So?”

He’s fast to catch on. “I—I don’t hate it. I think it’s hitting my prost—holy shit, d-did you just turn it up again?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting away from his. “No…” you mumble, the lie unconvincing even to your own ears. The accusatory stare he gives you is impossible to ignore, burning through your feigned innocence.

Eventually, you give in, sighing in defeat. “Alright, only to a different rhythm. Is it worse? Should I—”

You pause abruptly when you see his reaction. Beomgyu’s eyes tightly screw shut, his jaw clenching and for a moment, you worry that you’ve pushed too far, that this time you’ve actually overstepped. But then he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“If it was worse, you would be pure evil but uh—no, no, it’s okay. It’s… better.”

You can’t let the genuine relief washing over you run its full course because you feel a spark of something more exciting running down your spine. You gulp— the hot, stuffiness of the fort becomes increasingly unbearable by the minute. “Better?”

He nods, though his movements are slow, deliberate, like he's testing the waters before fully committing to his answer. "Yeah... better," he repeats, his voice more certain this time. His eyes flutter open, and a cute, determined face replaces the more bashful Beomgyu you were getting pretty comfortable playing with.

For the second time tonight, an awkward silence overtakes you both and he leans back against the pillows, fiddling nervously with the drawstrings of his hoodie, his fingers picking at the fabric as if trying to find some distraction.

The silence stretches on until suddenly, Beomgyu moves. Without warning, he starts to pull at the hem of his hoodie, yanking it up and over his head in one swift motion.

“Whoa, whoa, what’re you doing?” you blurt out as you watch him toss his hoodie to the side, leaving him in just a thin undershirt. You’re completely caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the sight of his flushed skin and tousled hair making your heart, for the first time, race.

For …Beomgyu.

He looks back at you, sheepish. “It’s hot,” he says simply.

You blink, still processing. “Yeah, but…” you trail off, realizing you don’t really have an argument. The air’s pretty darn thick and stifling.

“Okay, fair enough,” you say finally, trying to play it off with a casual shrug. “I mean, it is pretty warm in here.”

“…Right.”

You’re acting weird. Even Beomgyu’s noticing. You’re losing the upper hand.

“Uh, th-there’s another setting,” you stammer, quickly looking down at your phone in your hand, avoiding his gaze. “Wanna try it out? To see which one feels better.”

He hums in approval, his response casual, almost nonchalant, like he's confident nothing can catch him off guard.

But that confidence doesn’t last long.

The second you make the switch, his body jolts, a gasp slipping out before he can stop it. “How…how is it?” you ask anyway.

Beomgyu’s response is more of a whimper than anything else, his lips parting as he struggles to form coherent words. “It’s…oh god…it’s—" His voice catches in his throat, and it happens again. Loud and unrestrained. This time, it’s unmistakable.

Beomgyu's eyes widen in horror as the sound leaves his lips, his hand flying up to clap over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle any more noises. His cheeks flush a deep, burning red, and you can see the sheer embarrassment etched into his expression as he tries to hide his face, mortified by his own reaction.

You didn’t plan this. Not at all. But you cannot for the life of you even get yourself to feel an ounce of guilt for the way your underwear uncomfortably sticks to your heat.

Your gaze drops lower, and there it is-the clear strain in his pants, “Uh…Gyu…?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flicker back up to his face.

Your mind is spinning, caught between disbelief and the sudden rush of arousal that floods right to your lower abdomen.

Beomgyu doesn't respond immediately. He's too busy fighting his own body, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as he tries to regain some semblance of control. His hand remains firmly over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if he's trying to will himself to disappear, to erase the moment that just happened.

It's overly dramatic, of course-classic Beomgyu, always a tinge extra when he's overwhelmed. But instead of finding it annoying like you might have at any other time, it strikes you as incredibly…endearing.

The way his reactions are so genuine, so unguarded, makes him seem almost innocent in a way that tugs at your heart. He looks like a confused, flustered puppy than anything else.

The way he's covering his mouth, is almost comical in its futility-especially when another small, muffled whimper slips past his fingers. “Beomgyu,” you call out, your voice soft but insistent. “I need you to look at me.”

"I-I can't—" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to form coherent thoughts. "This is... it's t-too much..."

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No! Just... I don't know..." he breathes out, his voice strained, as if he's not entirely sure what he's asking for. “Please.”

Something stirs within you, and before you know it, you’re moving closer to him, reaching out your hand to rest on his arm—you think it’d help comfort him. But he only takes that opportunity to bury his head in your neck a few seconds later.

Your heart pounds in your chest but you try to not give it any more attention. You’re supposed to be here for your friend.

“You’re doing so well, Beom,” you whisper, your voice steady and reassuring as you gently rub his arm. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just us here—you can let go. It’s just me.”

A soft, almost cute whimper escapes him as he nods against you, his breath warm against your skin.

Beomgyu's eyes flutter shut, and you can tell your words are having an effect on him, his resolve crumbling with each passing second, the twitch in his pants making it clear he’s barely holding on. “It’s okay,” you reassure.

Maybe it’s not. But you technically weren’t doing anything physical—it’s not wrong on your behalf, right? But as you rub your thighs subtly, trying to relieve something, that guilt is just as incessant.

You watch the way Beomgyu’s hand moves—hesitantly at first, as if he's not sure what he's doing or if he should even be doing it. But then he turns his head up to look at you, and you’re once again, caught off guard. His eyes look like they’re searching for something, focus shifting from one place to another. And you’re left feeling like you’re under a microscope, until it seems like he found what he’s looking for because his fingers finally brush against the waistband of his pants.

“Are you—are you sure this is okay?” he asks softly. And you nod. Almost too fast.

Maybe you should close your eyes. If not for the respect of the relationship that you’ve completely forgotten of once you had Beomgyu in your arms, at least for your best friend’s pride.

Actually, you don’t think he minds. If the strangled groan that comes out his pretty lips were anything to go by. He fumbles for his hard, aching cock, flinging it out and stroking it furiously almost the second he gets his hands on it and your eyes only manage to widen at the sight.

For lack of better words, you gawk.

“It’s not disappointing or anything, huh?” he tries to joke, but his breaths too strung out, too gone for even that.

Your mouth dries. Far from it.

This is the one time your boyfriend comes to mind in a while, and its not favorable. Beomgyu’s not bigger—he’s not small either, but that’s not your focus—rather the pearly bead that bubbles atop of the tiny slit, the head a deep pink, the way its veins pulses as his pace falters at your silence. That small bead of fluid oozing down his shaft, tracing the lines of the delicate veins. The curves, every little detail. He’s perfect. More perfect than you’ve ever seen.

It seems you took way too long for Beomgyu’s liking and self confidence so he looks elsewhere, “Is…it?”

You blink, almost forgetting your predicament, lost in your admiration of him. "No, no, of course not. It's—it's pretty," you reply, your words tumbling out in a rush as you try to reassure him.

But instead of calming him, your words have the opposite effect. His shoulders shake, and suddenly, he's burying himself back into your shoulder, his hand completely abandoning his cock. "H-hahh-" he pants, his breath hitching as he begins to hiccup, overwhelmed by his emotions.

“Are you—are you crying?”

“You just called my dick pretty,” he seems to sob a bit more at that, soaking your shirt, feeling the dampness spreading across your chest. “You hate it. It looks bad.”

You're at a loss for words, completely thrown by his reaction. You struggle to pry him off you, your hands gently but firmly gripping his shoulders as you try to pull back just enough to look him in the face. "What?! No!" you exclaim, your voice rising with urgency. "Pretty means pretty. Fuck, don't cry, it's perfect, Beomgyu. It looks perfect, I swear."

His hiccups slow as your words sink in, and you can see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. He sniffles softly, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand, his breathing gradually becoming steadier. As the emotional intensity lessens gradually, you with no control of your own, redirect your attention to his poor cock. It’s rock hard. He looks like he needs some soothing so you think to do the sensible thing. The…right thing?

Beomgyu lets out a small, shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite everything that's just happened. "Man... I think this plug’s really messed with my vulnerability or something," he jokes weakly, his voice still wavering as he tries to regain his composure. “Had me crying pretty fas—"

His rant pauses at a hilt. He meets your gaze as you fully wrap your hand around his shaft after he just witnessed you quickly spit on your palm.

He doesn’t question it. At all. In fact, the moment your hand’s on him, there’s no hesitation in the way he spreads his legs wider, his pants responsively moving down to pool around his ankles.

A soft, whiny sound escapes him, and he leans into your touch, his eyes drooping, face contorting cutely. “O-oh…I…I..”

“Shhh, I got you pretty,” you whisper. His cock’s soft to the touch, and wet. When you glide your hand up and down, even slowly, it makes an unpleasantly wet, dirty sound.

He’s very reactive to the endearing nickname that feels almost too natural slipping out of your lips of all people. “P-pretty..” he repeats, sighing, almost dazedly. A complete goner.

You squeeze him and he lets out another needy, low moan and wraps his arms around your waist. Your heart pounds at how clingy he is, it feels like it’s about to burst. "Ahhh...f-fuck…” He moans against your neck, a highly pitched sound only a woman could make, feeling a trail of saliva traveling down from the corner of his mouth.

You almost cum untouched at the sight of him, at the pretty, almost perfectly described as heavenly sinful sounds he’s making. A sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, his hair damp at the edges, and it somehow makes him look better.

His body tenses beneath your touch, you can feel the warmth of his skin, the sweat slicking his brow, and the way his breath catches in his throat. Then, suddenly, he lets out a choked cry, his voice breaking as he bucks his hips just slightly. The movement is involuntary, desperate, as if his body is moving on its own, seeking out the final bit of friction it needs.

And then it happens.

Beomgyu gasps sharply, his body going rigid as he reaches his peak. He shudders violently, his chest heaving as he shoots strings of his load, the warm, sticky fluid spilling out. You react quickly, instinctively guiding the release towards him, watching as it lands all over his tummy and a bit on his chest.

You're struck by how quickly it happened—how you'd only had him in your hand for a few seconds before he came. His chest heaves, his breathing ragged and uneven as he slowly comes down from the high.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of his breathing, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady himself.

Finally, he looks down at the mess on his stomach and chest, a soft, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

And for whatever reason, that has an effect on you. He looks so endearing in this moment—his lips slightly parted, his lashes brushing against his flushed skin, his hair perfectly tousled and falling over his eyes—

You're completely lost in the sight of him, practically mesmerized by how perfect he looks and your mind starts to drift until suddenly his voice breaks through your thoughts.

"Did you hear me?" he asks. "Doofus, turn it off. It's starting to make my asshole sore."

Your romantic daze shatters like glass.

Blinking rapidly, your face transforms into a shocked scowl, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. "Wait, what?" you stammer.

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at you, clearly expecting a response. But as the moment stretches on, your brain lags behind as you try to process what he just said.

Then it clicks.

"Oh, right!" you gasp, fumbling with your phone as you quickly find the app and turn off the plug, mortification creeping up your spine. What an absolute bust.

a/n: well well well. in the first draft he was made to eat his own cum but i felt maybe this fic wasnt the one for that😊😊 Unfortunately for some, fortunate for others🤔 anyway tell me how u enjoyed beomgyu getting his ass stimulated in a poorly made fort lol

[pokegalla]

Requested/traded by @veiled-rebel

I actually forgot about this one??? Well fuck it. Part 2 but whole different fandom-

Angel Dust and Husk with a crazy rich S/o who loves spoiling them

Angel Dust:

* Oh he knew you were rich honey, let’s be honest. You got the cash, he’ll flirt and get some after a quick fuck. A win win scenario. At least….that was his initial intentions. But damn he actually started liking you. You were….different to say the least. You both exchanged numbers and the rest is history✨

* He had his guard up when you kept spoiling him. Did you want another favor? Did you need something from him? No? Just a gift? He’s not used to so much gifts without expecting bad news attached to it. He might need some time to get used to it…..(constant reassurance really helps too!)

* Once he’s more comfortable, he’ll happily wear the outfits you picked out for him! Even on the outings to the mall or fancy restaurants! But honestly nothing makes him feel more comfortable with you than you giving him so much freedom as well. You gave him your credit card?! To buy anything he wants?! That’s a major trust thing holy shit- he almost feels like he’s using you. But your reassurance makes him feel at ease.

* He’s never felt this loved before….and he’s got you to thank.

Mini story time!!!

You watched as the spider demon came downstairs. Your face flushed as you saw him wearing the dress you had bought that was custom made just for him. He chuckled and closed your jaw that was hanging low from shock.

“Gonna attract flies hun,” he chuckled, a little flattered at your reaction as well.

“Heh….i hope I’m attracting your kisses too,” You answer back with a playful grin.

Angel giggled a little, “Keep that up and you’ll be attracting MUCH more tonight~” You both share a kiss and walk out together, hand in hand with no shame as all of hell watched you too. You didn’t mind what they said. What mattered was him and his happiness.

That was enough for you❤️

Husk:

* He knew instantly you were a rich kinda person. As a bartender, he picks up on stuff like this all the time. He actually didn’t like you at first. Thought you were some kind of showboat. But you did shock him when you said you were more focused on him than anything else. He was a tough nut to crack but after many visits to his bar and getting to know each other, he FINALLY gave you a chance.

* Spoiling this lil shit was HARD. He didn’t like a lot of things. But you did get his favorite booze. And booze of all kinds. He actually was impressed by how much you knew but told you not to spoil him so much- but his favorite gift was a cute bow tie you got for him. He wears it to special events✨

* You really do try to respect his wishes on not spoiling him but seeing him look so exhausted after a long day of dealing with crap at his bar? Oh you HAVE to do something! So slick little you actually decided on the perfect date! A date to the spa! You never seen him get so relaxed before! Thoooough he did figure out you were trying to spoil him again…but this time he won’t complain✨

* He finds it hard to argue when you look so happy…..

Mini story time!!!

“Yah think yah reeeeal slick don’tcha?” Husk said suddenly while sipping his martini.

CURSES- he’s figured it out already?! You had JUST finished the massages! Oh damn here comes the scolding….huh? Wait he’s giving you a headpat?

“I’ll hand it to yah. I didn’t even realize it. I’ll let yah get away with this one…..” He grumbled a bit.

Your eyes sparkles, “HAH!!! FUCK YEAH!!!”

He actually smiles a little as he sees you practically glowing, so happy that you spoiled him. You were so weird…..

Fuck he loves you-❤️

[inkedells]

look at me a little more | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

A/N: first of all, SMUTTT so much smut up ahead. holy crap this is the longest thing i've ever written (pathetic, i know, blame the commitment issues) enjoy lovies!! also lmk if you want a part 2 maybe possibly!?

m!dni | requests open.

summary: dbf!neighbor!joel accidentally drenches you (virgin!reader) while washing his car and you can’t help but notice the way he eyes you up. it’s only once he’s in your bedroom, fixing your closet door as an apology, that you realize the best person to rid you of your virginity and teach you precisely how to please yourself and others had been right in front of you the whole time; it's getting joel on board with the whole idea that's the hard part.

word count: 5.5k

tags/warnings: SMUTTTT, virgin!reader, dbf!neighbor!joel faces moral conflicts (to fuck or not to fuck!?!?), porn with plot, sooo much tension, dirty talk, use of pet names, blowjobs, handjobs, cumplay, reader eats joel's cum, grinding, making out, oral sex, no!outbreak au, reader's innocent in the sense that she doesn't really know how to do a lot of things when it comes to sex but still has a ton of desires

masterlist

There was a certain shame that came with being infatuated with your dad’s best friend.

You were sitting around on the porch on a hot summer afternoon, wearing your shortest cotton shorts as you sipped the juice box brand you had loved since you were a little girl. Legs crossed, foot tapping the air, and most importantly, eyes absolutely trained on the ripple of Joel Miller’s biceps as he washed his car.

You didn’t know why you liked to stare at him so much. But you did know it was wrong. Immoral. Eyeing up someone in their forties? What was wrong with you? That was your dad’s best f—

“Hey, Mr. Miller!” You called over, shutting down every ounce of doubt in your mind.

He turned around without hesitation, and when he did, you waved. The first time you’d done that, he had to work a little harder to figure out the source of the voice, eyes searching in random directions before finally settling on you. But now, it was like he knew exactly where to look—And, well, that was all it took for you to decide you would be spending the next hour washing a car if it meant spending time with Joel.

So you settled your juice box down on the wooden floor of the porch and skipped over to his house. He must not have heard your footsteps behind him over the sound of the hose, so your simple tap on his shoulder resulted in him whipping around, hose in hand, as he consequently drenched you.

You yelped, breaking out into nervous laughter both from shock and how cold the water was. Joel fumbled to turn off the hose as he began profusely apologizing. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry—”

Then he properly saw you. From Joel’s perspective, your clothes were reduced to translucency, practically melting into your skin.

But you didn’t know that. You never fully grasped just how vulnerable you had become from his accident, so when you caught him averting his gaze as quickly as he could, you were a little confused.

“You—Uh—I,” Joel stumbled before clearing his throat, “There’s clothes. Inside. Sarah’s. You can, um, you can go and… y’know. Change into them. Walkin’ all the way back to your house doesn’t seem like a… viable… option.”

By then, a blush had already risen to your cheeks just from how delicately Joel was treating you. As if you were something he had to be careful with, like if he didn’t think long and hard about every word coming out of his mouth, there would be consequences. 

“Lead the way.”

Joel gave you a firm smile before swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning for you to follow him as he walked. Once he had the front door open, he let you go in first. Even as you carefully walked past him, you could feel his eyes staring at you.

“Up there,” Joel gestured, “Um, first door on the left. I’ll… be outside.”

As he explained, you subconsciously scanned over the planes of his body—probably a habit you picked up from the multiple weeks of watching him work. But then he was turning to leave, and you could tell he was still really tense. You didn’t know why a simple accident had him so tripped up, but you had the urge to alleviate his worry.

“Hey,” You called, arms wrapped around yourself in an effort to stave off the cold. He turned around, concerned until he saw your soft smile and relaxed a little, “On a scale of one to ten, how sick and tired are you of washing that truck?”

There was only one way to break Joel out of his nervous state; you had to make the situation lighthearted; you learned that from years of watching him hang out with your dad.

He searched your eyes for a beat, eyes completely unwavering, before muttering, “Like a fifty.”

You both breathed a laugh at that. For the briefest moment, you thought you noticed Joel’s gaze flitting to your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could do a double take, his eyes were glued to yours again.

“So then,” You started, regathering yourself and pushing away whatever your brain was conjuring up, “How do you feel about replacing one lousy chore with another?”

“What kinda chore we talkin’?”

“Well, my closet door’s all screwed up. And you know, instead of apologizing for soaking me by way of expensive concert tickets and a brand new car, like how I know you were planning on doing—”

“—Oh, of course,” Joel sarcastically remarked, playing along as you quickly noticed the worry on his face faded into a crooked grin.

“Well, I really think I can just settle for the closet door fix. Go ahead and save the brand new car for when you break my toaster.”

“Okay, okay,” Joel laughed, “I get it. Go change, then you can lead me to this broken closet door.”

-

Sarah’s clothes definitely belonged to a fourteen-year-old. Not your taste, but then again, if you were fourteen like her, you probably would’ve dressed like that too.

You couldn’t settle on a top, all of them were either too small or bore a graphic design too childish for you. You did find a pair of stretchier shorts that fit alright though, so you decided you’d just pick up one of Joel’s shirts from the pile of clean laundry you saw sitting atop the washing machine downstairs.

When you made it out the front door, the hose was away and his toolbox was resting on the ground by his feet. Joel was drying up his car with a cloth, and when he heard you hop down the steps and subsequently turned your way, you weren’t exactly expecting him to completely stumble at the sight of you in his shirt.

“Oh—You, uh, I thought you were gettin’ Sarah’s clothes?”

“I was, none of her tops fit so I grabbed one of yours from the laundry downstairs.” You absorbed Joel’s cryptic reaction and began to worry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I really should’ve asked—”

“—No, no, it’s fine. Really. Doesn't matter.”

Joel picked up his toolbox, then the both of you began walking over to your house. It wasn’t that far away at all, probably a couple of hundred feet at most, but he opted into small talk anyway.

“Um,” Joel began, “What’d you come over for in the first place? Didn’t really get a chance to ask ‘cause of this whole… debacle.”

You giggled at his old man vocabulary. Debacle.

“I wanted to help with your car, but looks like those plans got derailed.”

He breathed a polite laugh. “Yeah, well. Guess it turned out that way.”

Before an awkward silence could fall upon the both of you, your brain settled on something to bring up.

“Hey, my dad’s having that July 4th barbecue the day after tomorrow. You’re coming right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, honey.”

Honey? Honey. Honey honey honey honey—

He cleared his throat. “Where is your dad, anyway?”

You were both standing on your porch now, Joel’s eyes raking you over as you fumbled with the front door.

“Um, I think he’s out working.”

“Great.”

Great?

Before you could ask him what he meant, Joel realized what he had said. “Wait, no, not great. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You pushed the door open. “Hey,” You brought a hand up to his chest and patted it, “You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you keep assuming all your mistakes are colossal and worthy of that much panic.”

His shoulders seemed to relax a little at that—you weren’t sure if it was your hand or your words that did it.

Eventually, you both found yourselves in your bedroom. You were sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched Joel work. Kneeling on one knee with a screwdriver in hand, he fumbled with one of the closet door’s hinges as he muttered little things to himself under his breath.

“Thanks for this, Mr. Miller.”

He turned to you, nodding as he seemed to process that he was in your bedroom. Your bedroom.

“So,” Joel began, as he dug through his toolbox, “Is your boyfriend visiting too? Or, y’know, girlfriend. Three months is a long ti—”

You softly smiled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.”

He turned to look at you again as he turned a screwdriver, this time scanning you over. “Hm, I don’t believe you. Sweet thing like you? Single?”

“Oh, stop,” You blushed, shooing him off.

Joel stood to his feet, dusting his hands off on his thighs. “All fixed. Next time you ne—”

“—I’ve never been in a relationship before. Actually.”

Joel stared at you for a moment before diverting his gaze to the ground. “I, um…”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t wanna know about my completely nonexistent dating history,” You lightly smacked your forehead, “Wait, it’s existent if we count the boy I dated for a week in fourth grade.”

Joel laughed, sitting down next to you on your bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t really dated anybody since Sarah’s mom, either. Long-term, anyways.”

“Yeah, well at least you’re not a virgin.”

Joel seemed to tense at that, and you immediately regretted saying it.

“Oh gosh,” You cringed, hands gripping your head, “I really just say anything, don’t I?”

Joel chuckled, head hung between his shoulders with his eyes squinted shut. You eventually laughed, too, simply because—and you realized it sounded stupid—Joel’s laughter was contagious.

“Alright, alright,” Joel beckoned, “Lemme be serious for a second. C’mere.”

You slumped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling before turning to make eye contact.

“That’s not something you have to worry about. You got time, honey, you’re in college. All that crap about late blooming isn’t real. It’s about whenever you’re ready, and whenever you find the right person to do it with.”

You smiled up at him softly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel. Just Joel.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. So you stayed like that, searching his eyes for something you didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

“Joel,” You echoed, repeating his name back to him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I, uh…” Joel trailed off, his gaze flitting down to your lips. “I…” He tried again, but it went nowhere.

You exhaled, and almost immediately, his hands cupped your face as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your lips.

It was warm, and gentle, and amazing, and you didn’t know if you could ever let him stop kissing you with how delightful the scruff of his beard felt against your skin.

He did break the kiss after a few seconds, though, and it left you breathless. “Joel…”

His muscles seemed to visibly tense as he mistook your speechless state for confusion. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why—”

“—No. No, I liked it,” You smiled softly at him, “I, um, you know. Wouldn’t mind if you kissed me… again.”

With reassurance that you weren’t absolutely appalled, his limbs relaxed. He leaned forward again until he was kissing you. Slow at first, languid. But then it turned fervent and desperate, breaths being exchanged into one another's mouths as lips slotted together like fingers intertwined—so perfect, as if they were biologically designed to do so.

It wasn’t long until he had your back flat against your bed, and you felt his growing hardness dig into your hip.

“Y’know what that is, don’t you?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“You know why it’s there?”

You shrugged.

He gripped the fabric of your—no, his—shirt as his voice rumbled, “You prancin’ around in my shirt did that.”

Without a second thought, you clumsily palmed him there through the thick fabric of his jeans and reveled in the consequential shuddering moan he let out

“Joel, I don’t… I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, honey, I’ll teach you.”

Propping himself up with his elbow, he placed his hand atop your own and guided the movements of your open palm. Things like pressing your hand further into him so as to increase the pressure between his legs, and encouraging back-and-forth motions that had his hips rutting and his breath hitching.

Once you got the hang of it, he removed his hand from your own. You felt his hand snake down your neck, then the side of your torso. 

“I trust you,” You whispered, fingers playing with the happy trail peaking Joel’s pants, hoping to absolve him of any guilt or doubt.

But the second Joel’s fingertips grazed the waistband of your shorts, he froze. He was staring off somewhere to the right, so you followed his gaze until you found what he was so disturbed by.

A framed photo on your nightstand, one of you standing next to your dad on vacation in Maui.

You understood immediately; that picture was an astute reminder of exactly who’s daughter Joel was about to debauch.

Your hand fell away from his crotch as he leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands through his hair with worried eyes.

“Joel?” You whispered, but then he was completely backing off of you as he muttered curses under his breath. “Hey, no, come back. What’s wrong?”

It was a dumb question. You knew what was wrong. Even though you were well beyond legal, it seemed to mean little in the situation—the facts were, if he touched you, it was betrayal.

“This is…” Joel panted, standing to his feet and raking his hands through his hair, “I shouldn’t have… Fuck. Fuck. I have to go.”

And just like that, he was gone.

-

That night, your lights stayed on and you didn’t close your curtains.

You stripped yourself of Joel’s shirt first, going excruciatingly slow in case Joel happened to be watching through his neighboring window. You occasionally shot glances at his window on the off chance that the window illuminated, but you quickly realized if the two of you made eye contact that wouldn’t be good either. You’d gotten all the way down to your underwear before you spotted his light flick on from the corner of your eye.

So you did the first thing that came to mind; You turned your back to your window. Panties halfway down your legs, torso bent with your knees straightened as you slowly shed your clothing. Hoping. Hoping for him to avert his attention ever so slightly and accidentally catch you like this. Hoping he would think of it every time he talked to you.

Without ever making eye contact, you would never know if Joel actually saw anything, and he would never know you hadn’t actually “forgotten” to close your curtains.

No pressure on either of you.

You went to sleep with a hand shoved down the front of your panties as you thought of all the things you wanted Joel to do to you.

-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jesus. What time was it? You stretched until sleep left you and opened your eyes as wide as you could (not very wide at all). From what you could gather, the sun was definitely up. You, however, did not have the willpower required to read off of your phone screen 5 seconds after waking up, so you answered the phone without reading the contact.

“Hello?” You groaned, voice gruff from sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You knew that voice anywhere. Almost immediately, you shot upright and cleared your throat as you rubbed your eyes. “Oh, hey Mr. Mill—uh, I mean, Joel,” You breathed a nervous laugh before remembering his question, “No. No, it’s okay I was like, basically awake already, um, so… what’s up? Why’d you—Why’d you call?”

“Right, so just to preface, I understand things are not... ideal... between us right now. But to be honest, you’re the only person available who I trust with this, and… let me just explain. I got called into work unexpectedly and Sarah’s gonna be home alone. Lately, she’s been getting into these rebellious fits, and I just don’t want to risk another situation where she sneaks out at night to meet up with her boyfriend again.”

“Sarah and rebellious fits? Really?”

“Yes, believe it or not. So do you think you could just hang around my place for, to be honest, a long while? It’s looking like I’m gonna be home really late tonight. Oh, and I can pay you.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not paying me.”

Joel exhaled appreciatively through the phone. “Okay, well I’m home right now if you wanna come by and eat some breakfast. Least I could do. I gotta leave in like thirty minutes by the way, so. Take your time but also don’t take your time?”

You smiled, hoping he could hear it in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Oh god. There it was again. You thought you might actually pass out, but you quickly turned off your racing brain enough to mutter a small “mhm” before abruptly hanging up.

Okay. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, who was this close to absolving you of every ounce of innocence in your body… just asked you to watch his daughter. What could go wrong?

When you got to his house, he had left already (you definitely took too long in the shower). He did leave out a plate of food, though, along with the message, “Thanks again. Enjoy the pancakes,” scratched out on a post-it note.

And boy did it turn out to be a long day. Sarah wasn’t that much of a handful, she mostly took care of herself. The hard part was lunch.

You attempted to cook something for the two of you, but it only ended in disaster when you left the quiches in the oven for too long. Then you decided Penne a la Vodka couldn’t be that hard, and you couldn't be more wrong. A whole box of pasta was ruined because Sarah didn’t realize the pasta went in after the water boiled, not before. Eventually, you both just accepted defeat and ordered Panera Bread.

Later, Sarah popped into the living room to let you know she was going up to her room to take a nap, and you figured you’d do the same on the couch.

The last thing you read was the time on the cable box; 7:37.

-

Metal clanking. The turn of a key. The creaking of a door. The blaring siren of an alarm system.

“Jesus—Fuck. I thought I told her to turn off the alarm at 8.”

And Joel’s voice.

You jolted awake, blinking wide as you moved to sit upright on the couch. The time on the cable box was 11:50.

Soon, the alarm stopped, and not long after, Joel’s figure came into view. He was wearing a denim button-up with work pants and work boots.

“Hey,” Joel called, setting his things down next to the kitchen island.

“Hi,” You replied, “How was work?”

Joel gave you a polite smile before pulling open the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. With his head still poked inside the fridge, he replied, “The usual.”

“Well, what was the usual li—”

“—Were you asleep?”

“Uh…" You cleared your throat in an effort to stall as you debated whether or not you would lie. "Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

Joel took a swig of his beer, staring at you from across the room for a minute before blurting out, “The usual is busy. Extremely busy and tedious. But, um, how was Sarah? Hope you weren’t asleep too long.”

“Nope,” You lied, “I Wasn’t asleep long at all. Sarah was great. We had a bit of trouble with lunch, but everything ended up fine.”

“Good. Good. Well you can head out now, thanks for taking care of her.”

No. You did not want to "head out." You rose to your feet. “Joel?”

He looked around as he swallowed his beer. “Uh, yeah?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you. About yesterday.”

He peered down at the ground, swishing around the bottle in his hand. “That’s—That’s okay, honey. I think it’s best we forget that happened.”

“What? But why?”

Joel crossed the room and sat down next to you, leaning back against the couch while you sat back down on the edge with your elbows resting on your knees.

“Come on,” He started, “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly why we’re… this… is impossible.”

“Joel, I—”

“—I’m sorry. You should get home now.”

You turned around to face him. “Joel. No one has to know.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry. I handled yesterday… terribly. There were a million different ways to go about that, and I somehow chose the worst one. But we don't work. We can't work.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to push the feeling down.

“Hey, hey,” He lulled, the hardness of his attitude falling away as he noticed the sad shine in your eyes, “Don’t cry.” He pulled you against him, rubbing your shoulder firmly.

“Joel,” You mumbled in a small voice, sniffling against his denim shirt with a frown.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to justify what he was quickly realizing was inevitable. You were an adult, somebody else independent of your father. It was your choice who to get involved with, just like it was his. This was mutual.

He knew he would regret it later, but your innocence and desperation allured him to the point of no return.

“It’s late,” Joel began, voice gentle as he offered you one last out, “You should go home. You need sleep, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“No,” You replied, removing yourself from his body so you could look him in the eye. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to… I want you to do what you said you’d do.”

Knowing exactly what you were talking about, he redundantly asked in a whisper, “And what’s that?”

You wiped a stray tear as you clumsily moved to straddle his lap. Almost automatically, his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the slivers of skin peeking between your cami tank top and the waistband of your shorts. But it seemed at some point his consciousness realized what he was doing because his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. And, well, you just wouldn’t have that, so you grabbed hold of his wrists and returned them to where they were settled on your hips before you rested your own hands on Joel’s chest.

“You remember, don’t you?” You shifted in his lap, “You said you’d teach me.”

“How to have sex.” He said it more like a confirmation rather than a question.

You blushed at his blatant use of the word. It was like every fifth thing coming out of his mouth was sending your brain spiraling. You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, sex. Blowjobs, orgasms, literal sex. All of it.”

Silence for a beat. “I have one condition,” Joel warned.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The second I suspect your dad is onto us, that’s it. It’s over. No more messing around, none of it. I can’t lose my best friend.”

You nodded. You probably shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but you didn’t actually think you and Joel would ever get caught.

“Okay, then,” Joel whispered. “Good. What do you wanna do first? Start off easy.”

You looked around the room nervously, careful not to make eye contact as you spoke. “Like. I dunno. Maybe for right now, I could just… touch you. Touch it, I mean.”

Joel nodded, and when your breathing began to grow the slightest bit uneven from nervousness, he noticed and rubbed your upper arm reassuringly. “Hey. Relax. Climb down and sit right there on the ground between my legs, and I’ll show you where to start.”

And so you did. Joel peered down at you with heavy lids as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and thus began your first lesson.

“Unbuckle my pants.”

With shaky hands, you removed his belt and undid his fly. You couldn’t explain why, but as soon as you caught sight of the bulge in his boxers, your mouth watered.

“What…” You began, “What now?”

“Whatever feels comfortable.”

With a light, feathery touch, you delicately traced a singular finger along the outline of his cock. Joel shivered at the contact, hands shooting to grip the sofa. Touching it felt different this time, more intense because you could feel every ridge and vein; you blamed it on the much thinner fabric dividing your fingers and his cock.

Your breath shuddered before speaking, “Can I take it ou—”

“—Yes, God, yes.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling downwards until his cock sprang free. It was thick, long, and wet at the tip, and you found yourself instinctively leaning further into it.

“Okay,” Joel sighed shakily, “Now just form a circle with your fingers and stroke it.”

You did as Joel said, and when your fingers finally made contact with his cock, you sighed at how velvety the skin was there. Soft and smooth, except for the trimmed hair surrounding the base. You stroked him steadily, biting your lip as you watched the wetness leaking from his tip spread down his shaft.

“Twist at the tip, honey, twist at the—Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re doing so good.” You couldn’t help but smile when Joel tilted his head back from the pleasure of it all.

With Joel still reeling from the contact of your hand, you took his momentary refusal to look down at you as an opportunity to surprise him a little.

You leaned forward and kitten-licked his tip, and it had him finally making eye contact with you as he whispered, “Oh, do that again.”

And so you did, adoring the look of pleasure strewn across Joel’s face.

Joel offered you a quick, crooked grin. “How’s it feel?” He asked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip as your tongue played with his tip.

You pulled away for a moment to respond, “How’s what feel?”

“Licking a man’s cock.”

You let the spit that had gathered in your mouth drip down onto his length. “I have the urge to do more with it.”

“Like what?”

“Like put it all the way in my mouth.”

And so kitten licks turned into long stripes up his shift, which turned into eager suckling on his tip, which turned into forcing his cock down as far as it could go without making you gag.

Joel’s hand gripped the back of your head, but he never pushed you down. Whenever you did accidentally end up gagging, he petted your hair, mumbling encouragements as best he could through the blinding pleasure. Things like, “Yeah, honey, doing so good. That’s it. Just a little more. Mhm.” And his affectionate nature, his gentleness, his reassuring words—he was exactly how you hoped he would be like. Not to mention, the general hotness of it all had your hips canting down against nothing, in desperate search of relief.

“M’close, sweetheart. Take it—Take it out.”

“I don’t wanna,” You replied in a hoarse voice as you jacked him off.

“You’re not ready for that, honey, just take it out. Take it out.”

You reluctantly complied, removing him from the tight heat of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you stroked him rapidly.

“Joel, I… I think I’m wet.”

He moaned a curse at that, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as his orgasm approached him. “Jesus f-fuckin’… Tell me more.”

“I need you to touch it for me next time. Please. Maybe you could… Maybe you could put your mouth on it like how I put my mouth on you.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, I’m cumming, don’t stop stroking it,” Joel moaned, hot white spurts shooting up and all over your hand as you stroked him through it.

With his breathing still labored, he panted out in a high voice, “You’re lying. You’re f-fucking lying. Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“This isn’t—You’ve done this before. No way you made me cum this hard and it’s your first time.”

“Well,” You breathed a nervous laugh, “That’s flattering. But you’re my first. Trust me.”

When his orgasm fully subsided, Joel lay slumped against the sofa with his legs spread wide. You remained between them with your head resting on his thigh as you just stared at his cock. Took it all in, every curve, every vein, and inevitably, the cum that spurted itself over the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” Joel chuckled, petting your hair as you smiled.

“I’m… I don’t know really. I just can’t stop looking at it.”

But then curiosity got the best of you, and you began to drag your fingers through the mess at his base. It caught Joel off-guard, his entire body stiffening as he watched you.

“What does it taste like?” You asked quietly as you examined the cum on your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” Joel groaned through his labored breathing, “I swear, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll be hard again in five seconds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” You joked, bringing your finger to your mouth and licking it clean, ultimately wincing at the taste. “It’s like, bitter. And salty. And kinda sweet. But mostly bitter and salty. To be honest, it’s kinda nasty but I can see myself getting used to it.”

“Wow,” Joel sighed, “You just really know how to set the mood. Make things real romantic.”

“Oh, shut it,” You huffed, playfully swatting his thigh before getting up and plopping down next to him on the sofa as he got to work stuffing himself back into his pants despite the mess he made—that was a problem for future Joel. 

“Gonna miss you, little Joel,” You joked to his crotch.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Joel chuckled painfully with his fists in his eyes. “I’m never letting you near ‘little Joel’ again.”

“Mm, no, because I just made you cum so hard you thought I was lying about being a virgin.”

He sighed at that. “You got me there.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

You both laughed at that; In fact, you both were laughing a lot. And at everything. In your head, you blamed it on the ecstatic high of being in each other’s presence this way.

When the mutual laughter died down, Joel looked at you for a moment, admiring you. Then, slow and hesitant as ever, he leaned in to kiss you.

“Do you taste it?” You whispered, breaking the kiss as you fought another giggle.

“Yes, actually. Wait, don’t say it please, this is actually a nice moment—”

“—Your cum!” You loud-whispered.

Another sigh. “My cum.”

You eagerly kissed him back after that, swearing off mood-breaking jokes for the rest of the night. Eventually, you even became too tired to kiss, simply letting your forehead rest against his. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand snaked up your leg and inched under the leg of your shorts, using force to push your legs open wider.

“Need me to take care of this?” He asked into your mouth before letting his kisses travel down to your neck.

“Joel,” You breathed, breaths beginning to come out in rapid succession as your hips gyrated in response to how dangerously close Joel’s hand was to your pussy. “I… I’m tired.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a thing,” Joel breathed, removing his hand from beneath your shorts in order to pull down the waistband. “It’s a yes or no question. Just give me a yes or a no.”

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes and stared at the little bit of empty space left between you and Joel. The throbbing between your legs was bad, but it was something about the delayed gratification of saving things for later that stopped you from saying yes. “No, I… I think that’s it for tonight.”

Joel withdrew his hand, reassuringly cracking a brief smile. “Hey, uh, spend the night. It’s way too late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but what about Sarah?” 

“I came home super late, you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

You thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. But I’m taking the couch.”

“What? No—”

“—Joel. I’m taking the couch.”

He looked at you skeptically but then agreed. “If you change your mind just let me know.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Joel squeezed your leg before getting up and making his way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

masterlist

A/N: strikethrough means i can't tag you, check your settings

taglist:

@basicoccult @myhusband2cool @fleuraimer @chunguk @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucufifluclu @pintsizedsunshine @s1eepy-bear @daddysuperduperlonglegs @worhols @evyiione @criesside @saph-cyare

@gswizzsstuff @baloobalee @gessmiller05 @trynasurvivelol @yazsos @marchai @pompii @alyssa1216 @daddy-din @msmagix4 @blooming-bubs @huffle-punk @whorrorain @iliketoeatstrawberrypocky @onlineplant @totallynotastanacc @hiddenbabynyc @thedoctorofpoop @kamcrazy123 @afterglowsb-tch13

@redplaidedandcladed @simping-soldat @martyluvsu @mingiast @teddybonkers1960 @brittmb15 @ellswilliams @laurasunsole @senaar-ika @whore4ellie @harrysbitvh123 @atremises @silkiers @bbyanarchist @pawnshopbluess222 @https-hann @cassiesolos @xanqels @jawgrinder

@daylighthrry @victoriamay1357 @jeezkiddo @its-spooky-these-days @pedro-luvr @chibimosa @sagethephantom @loathsome-gargoyle @alejaa-a @greenclues @june-julie @spenciesprincess @donttamethebeasts @alec0 @djarinsimp 

[mxnhoo]

falling (n. rk)

synopsis : tonight, it was only you and ni-ki. genre : romance, fluff, ni-ki is so sweet it's insane brah pairing : ni-ki x reader (ft ive) w/c : 3.6k a/n : heeyyy guys. haven't written in a while so i wanted to take the time to make something so my account doesn't completely die yet LOL. been getting into chase atlantic and falling has been on replay, so i just had to write something inspired by it. not proofread cos i rushed this since i still need to do schoolwork, but hope ya'll enjoy this~ + the coloured text keeps glitching so pls ignore it LOL

now playing : falling - chase atlantic paradise - chase atlantic

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"All done!" a voice informed you, the sensations you felt on your face disappearing as you opened your eyes to see your friends, smiling at you. The one directly in front of you was holding a make-up brush, on the table beside her were multiple make-up products, a few from Clio, Flower Knows, Dasique and other brands. You looked around the room to see your friends looking astonished staring at you, loud squeals filling up the room after a few seconds.

"Babes—" your friend, Wonyoung, who was doing your make-up, put down the make-up brush she was holding, taking your hand with both of hers and flashing you such a gleeful countenance. You were worried about what she was gunna say, did you look bad? "You look drop-dead gorgeous."

Upon hearing her compliment, warmth filled your heart and a shy smile filled your face, making you look away as you felt flattered. A different voice behind Wonyoung added on, "You literally look so fucking hot". You shot your head up and realised it was Yujin talking, her raising her eyebrows and smirking at you.

"Oh stop," you giggled, curling your wrist at her and playfully rolling your eyes. Yujin spoke again, "You're literally gunna be prom queen".

Liz, who was sitting beside Yujin, added on, "Ni-ki's gunna love this, he's so lucky". Upon Ni-ki's name falling onto your ears, you slightly jumped, heart skipping a beat as you realise that he was going to see you like this. He was going to see you all dressed up and pretty, and you were nervous as to what he was going to think.

"No way.." you brushed Liz away, taking the pocket mirror that was resting on the table along with the rest of the make-up to see how you looked like, because no way you looked that good, right? But oh. My. God.

You were gorgeous. Your lips were a pretty shade that matched you perfectly, your base looked absolutely flawless, eyelashes looking so long and lustrious, contour making your features seem sharper, your eyeliner was on fleak, and a hint of blush on your cheeks adding cuteness to your whole look. You felt so confident for the first time in your life. "Holy crap, how did you do this.." you quickly turned to Wonyoung, features of confusion and shock filling your face as you stared into Wonyoung who was now proudly smiling.

Wonyoung shrugged and gave a smug look, "I have my ways, you're welcome babes". She caressed your hand and looked at you with such loving eyes. You couldn't explain how thrilled you were, to be able to show Ni-ki your prom dress, your make-up look, and your hair that was nicely curled up and styled by Rei before the make-up.

"Are you guys sure he'll like it?" you nervously questioned, unsure as to whether Ni-ki will love this sight of you.

Your friends groaned and even rolled their eyes, retorting back in unision, "He'll love it!". You jumped at how united they were to nag at you, and if you said you weren't happy, you'd be lying. You giggled and covered your mouth, feeling so appreciated.

You were packing your belongings into your handbag that nicely complemented your sparkly black dress, and as you were about to pack your phone inside, you received a notification causing your phone to buzz and turn on. You swiftly checked your phone for the alert, and felt as your heart melt when you received a text from the one person you wanted it to be from.

ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : bet you look so pretty rn ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : i can't wait to see you gorgeous :)

Your heart rate picked up the pace as you shyly smiled at your phone screen, increasingly getting excited to see him. You knew he was going to be dressed up in the suit that you loved so much. You couldn't wait to be able to see how handsome he looked in person, and at the same time you hope that he would feel the same way.

y/n! : me too y/n! : i love you :)

You giggled to yourself before you heard a voice from outside the room, "Y/N, time to go!". Your eyes shot up to the door before you responded, "Okay, I'm coming!". You shoved your phone into your handbag and zipped it up, putting on your heels before walking out of the room to be met by your friends. "Let's go!" you cheered out.

You were nervously walking inside the ballroom after you and your group of friends had checked in at the reception centre. You looked around at your surroundings to realise that everything looked so luxurious, you probably haved walked past 6 chandelier's by now, the roof being higher than you expected, the white cloth that covered the chairs and tables being a high-quality polyester, and you realise that there were a hoard of people that filled the room at every corner. You kept looking for one person, walking at all directions. By now you've already walked away from your friends, alone as you desperately tried to find Ni-ki.

Scanning the crowd, you finally spotted him. Holy fuck, he was so handsome. He was in the black suit that he usually wore for special occassions, but it will always catch you off guard. The suit easily portrayed his well-built figure, his shoulders looking broad. His hair was nicely slicked back with gel with a few strands resting on his forehead. He was breathtaking.

Without even realising, your legs started moving towards him, bumping into multiple people but your eyes remaining locked onto him.

"Ni-ki." you called once you were near him. "Yes-?" he turned around to the direction of your voice before he stared at you, his jaw dropped. He looked at you up and down, his eyes meeting yours and looking completely astonished.

"Fuck Y/N.." was all he could say after he saw you. He let out an amused scoff before continuing, "You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.". A blush crept up your cheeks, and he held his hand up that was holding a bouquet, "Some flowers for the prettiest girl here". You took the bouquet into your hands, leaning forward to peck a kiss on his cheek before you muttered out, "Thanks, love". He continued to stare at you, realising he was such in a lovedaze. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you against his body before placing his lips on yours. It caught you off-guard, but you slowly closed your eyes as you melted into the kiss, your free-hand resting on his chest.

His movement was slow, steadily tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you feel so alive, your heart now rapidly beating. You couldn't care about the loud conversions around you, or the loud music. At this point of time, it was just you and Ni-ki. His hands travelled up to your face, cupping your head as he brought your face closer. You felt so lost in his lips, cherishing the intimacy between you and him. As you slowly started to feel breathless, you lightly pushed his chest and pulled away, panting as you both looked into each other's eyes with such an intense gaze while resting your forehead on his.

"I feel like the luckiest man on earth, you're literally perfect." He complimented, and you felt the same way. You felt like you won the lottery knowing that THE Ni-ki was your boyfriend. You chuckled as you closed your eyes, your free arm slowly making it's way up to wrap his neck. Before you knew it, loud voices started cheering, making you open your eyes and lean back to see what the commotion was about. There were 2 figures now on stage, Gaeul and Leeseo, that was all the way at the front of the ballroom, holding mic's as they loudly cheered, "Let's get prom started!".

Loud cheers filled the room, and you chuckled, looking back at Ni-ki to see that he was still checking you out, looking at you with such loving eyes. "Stop looking at me like that.." you teased, chuckling at him.

He shot back, "How could I not when you look like this?". You playfully smacked his chest, before taking his wrist into your hand.

"Let's go to our table, the rest should be waiting for us." you said. He looked reluctant, but he didn't want to turn you down, so he nodded and you happily led him to the tables.

You walked around the ballroom, checking the stand numbers on the table, looking out for the number that you and your friends have booked together. You finally spotted the table, and you called out, "There's our table!".

However, before you could pull him towards the table, he pulled you back and you turned around to face him, confused on why he wasn't following you. When you both made eye contact, he softly asked, "Can we get out of here?".

Your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him, confused as to why he would want to skip prom when he had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You questioned him, "Why..?".

He gave you a warm smile, before leaning in, his warm breath now hitting your ears, "I wanna have you to myself for the whole night". Your heart skipped a beat as you rapidly blink your eyes, trying to remain your composure. You slowly tilted back to look at the table where all of your friends were, then slowly back at Ni-ki. Your hand that was on his wrist slowly went down to his hands, interlocking it before you gave him a smile of approval, nodding and quickly answering, "Of course, honey".

He mischeviously chuckled before he ran towards the exit, pulling you with him and you laugh too, enjoying the moment you were having with him. You passed by many people, who had glanced at the both of you, confused to why you both were leaving prom when it barely started, but you both couldn't care less. You both laughed as loud as possible, dashing past all the luxurious furniture and the chandelier's that were above the both of you. He pushed the tall doors open before leading you to the outside of the building, the sky being a pitch black and the chill air immediately making you shiver. He instantly noticed and quickly let go of your hand to remove his blazer, wrapping it around you.

"T-thank you," you nervously spoke out, giving him a soft smile.

"Anytime baby." he grinned. He took your hand again, interlocking it before walking, swinging your interlocked hands up and down. You enjoyed being with him, but realising that you were leaving prom, you had no idea what you two were going to do now.

"Ni-ki, where are we going now?" you questioned.

He playfully looked back and smirked, "I don't know, let's just see where our feet takes us."

Tonight, the world only consisted of you and Ni-ki.

Next thing you knew, you were at a bowling alley with Ni-ki. The bowling shoe that the alley provided felt so much better on your feet, and you both constantly kept laughing at each other. Considering that it was night time, there was now a lot of people, but once again, you both couldn't care less. You cheered at all the strike's that Ni-ki managed to get, and he teased you everytime you got a gutter.

When you were getting annoyed at the fact you were having a gutter streak, he stood up, walking behind you as he held your arm and waist, guiding you through the momentum. The way that your bodies were so closed made you feel so flustered, and after he taught you, you quickly picked up a ball and threw it the same way he taught you, scoring your first strike. As soon as all the pins fell down, you looked back at Ni-ki who was sitting down behind you, smiling and cheering. He cheered as loudly as you, congratulating you and running towards you to give you a hug.

Now, you two were at a Billiards to play pool. You watched as the few strands of hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down to find the correct angle to hit the white ball. You looked at him with such loving eyes, and once he hit the white ball in, one solid ball went in, and he immediately looked up at you and smirked.

"We already know who's going to win" he teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes, gripping the pool stick you were holding onto tighter.

"Sure.. sure.." you replied sarcastically.

Spoiler alert : You won because you were too good, and Ni-ki helped you out. Mainly the latter.

You two were walking on an empty street, the streetlights only being the source of light when your feet started to hurt from your heels. You tried to hide it but the way you were limping practically gave it away. Ni-ki halted to a stop, making you stop as well. "Stop here," he ordered. Your eyebrows raised at him, worried that he realised that you were hurting, "W-why?".

"You're limping. Your heels hurt, don't they?" he asked. You tried to deny, "It's okay! It doesn't hurt that much—" "Sit down there, now." he said, pointing to the bench that was an arm's length away.

You sigh as he guided you to the chair, resting yourself on it. You placed the bouquet he had gifted you earlier and was about to remove the heels by yourself, when he stopped you.

"Stop, I'll do it." he said, kneeling down in front of you to remove your heels. He was gentle with your feet, knowing that it was probably sore from walking around with heels for the entire night. You watched as he treated you with such gentleness, and your hand made it's way to his head, caressing his hair and patting him. He didn't say anything, but you noticed a curl at the corners at his mouth, making you grin.

After he had removed your heels, he stood up and started to remove his own shoes when he got stopped by you, "Wait what? What shoes are you going to wear then?!". You were concerned for him, not wanting him to walk around barefoot.

He chuckled, successfully removing his shoes and responding, "It's okay, I have socks on anyways". You tried to fight against the idea of him walking around with only socks but he kneeled down and gently inserted your feet into his shoes, which were significantly more comfortable than your heels.

You felt guilty that you were being a burden on him, but he stood back up, now face-to-face with you before he spoke out, "The prettiest girl in the world deserves to be comfortable at all time, okay? Now let's go." He held out his hand, the other hand holding your heels and you took his hand, using your other hand to pick up the bouquet.

Next thing you know, you both were at a karaoke studio. Considering it was now super late, there were many rooms that were available so you both could easily book a room. You both enterred the room, noticing the mini disco lights lighting up the dim room. You sat yourself on the couch as you watched Ni-ki close the door behind him and sit himself beside you.

"Any song in mind?" you asked him. "I have one." he responded, before he gently placed down your heels on the area beside him and picking up the machine that allowed him to pick songs and control the song queue. You patiently waited and hummed, thinking about what songs you two could sing when a song started playing, breaking your train of thoughts. You looked at the screen, and the song title was nicely displayed on the screen.

Falling - Chase Atlantic

He picked up the microphone that was nicely set on the table and stood up, walking over to the opposite side of you and started singing,

"Pour another bottle to the floor, love.

he raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a soft smile.

Pushin' for it, oh you know I want some.'Cause everything you do is screaming says it's 'more drugs'.It's kinda sad, but it's awesome."

He shook his body on beat, preparing to sing the pre-chorus.

"Oh, we've lost it. Screeching off with no name, she said 'watch this'. With her hands in the rain, call it conflict, as you should. And you ain't gunna stop this, stop this.

He quickly cleared his throat, preparing for the upcoming chorus. He wanted to sing it to you. This song was only for you, dedicated to you.

And you keep on falling baby, figure it out. Drive slow, straightforward or I'm walking around. And your dad keeps caling, tell him, 'Cut that shit out'. Just keep steering, keep steering, now."

You gazed at him affectionately, you felt like you could explode right now from the way your entire face was red and your heart was beating so fast. You stood up and ran up to him, bringing him to an embrace and connecting your lips with his.

You checked your phone, and it was almost 1a.m. You had multiple missed calls and messages asking where you were from your friends, but you were too carried away to worry about them. Right now, you were at a photobooth with Ni-ki that was conveniently placed beside a convenience store. You sat beside him, not knowing what poses to do. He inserted the cash into the machine, and the screen instantly displayed a countdown, indicating it was time to take photos. You quickly panicked and looked at Ni-ki not knowing what to do. He chuckled before he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you closer.

First photo, he was wrapping his arm around you and kissing your cheek. You had a shocked expression on your face.

Second photo, you both were folding your arms, back-to-back as you both had cool and mischevious expressions on your face.

Third photo, you two were holding up finger guns to the camera and biting your lips.

The last photo.. You two were kissing, his hands cupping your face and your arms wrapping around his neck.

After the photobooth, there was suddenly awkwardness between the both of you. You always kissed him, but something about that kiss in the photobooth made your heart race more. You cleared your throat, trying to break the silence. You looked at him and realised he was staring at you, and you chuckle, "You're literally going to stare a hole into me".

He grinned, before taking your hand into his. "It's getting late, I'll bring you back to the dorms, yeah?". You nodded at him, and he pulled out his phone to call a taxi driver.

When you were in the taxi, you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb caressing your hand and his other hand gently squishing your thigh. You felt sleepy, and he softly sang a lullaby, his deep voice making you feel more at ease. You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to sleep.

Once you woke up, you quickly looked around to see if you were still in the taxi, but no. You were already nicely laid down on your bed, and the first thing you wanted to find was Ni-ki. As soon as you were about to get up, your bedroom door opened and it was Ni-ki. He was shirtless, and his pants already changed into the clothing he had left the last time he came over. He noticed your awake figure, and chuckled, slowly making his way to you.

"You're awake?"

You mentally cursed at yourself. You initially planned to sleep only until the taxi has reached your destination, and not burden Ni-ki to carry you all the way home, "I'm so sorry..". You ruffled your hair and groaned, feeling guilty.

"For what?" he sat beside you on the mattress, looking at you.

"I didn't mean to be a burden, I mean, wasn't it hard to bring me hom—" "Not at all. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tucked a hair behind your eyes and smiled.

You nervously spoke up, "And won't your mom kill you if you stay the night?". He raised his eyebrows, "She knows it's you, it's okay baby, don't worry about it."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Are you sure? I don't want to give you anymore trouble..".

He embraced you and brought you down the bed, hugging you tightly. "Why would you be giving me any trouble?", he asked.

You hesitated, thinking of an answer but he continued, "I don't find you a burden at all, baby."

You remained quiet, ruffling your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, okay? So don't ever call yourself a burden." he reassured, playing with your hair and patting your back.

You felt so lucky that this boy was your boyfriend. This boy was like the lottery, and you can't believe that you won him, you couldn't believe he felt the same as you.

"Ni-ki." "Yes, love?" "You know I love you so much, right?" you looked up at him, and he looked back down at you, a smile evident on his face. "I love you so much too." he responded, leaning closer to place his lips on yours.

[shojizbae]

Rave Baby

Spencer Reid x Reader

After a long case, some of the team pitstops at your apartment, and Morgan takes the liberty of searching through some memories. He comes across some scandalous photos that light a fire in Reid.

This last case was challenging. To make it worse, the power had gone out in DC due to a blackout. With a chirp, I told the team that I always had a generator and that we could cool with some coronas in my fridge. Hotch had declined, stating the necessity of returning to his wife and son. I had thrown open all the windows and cranked the AC, attempting to push out all the hot air. With my permission, Derek had distributed beers from my fridge and found a bag of chips.

A battery-powered radio was located, and my CDs were run through to find something to unwind with. With a sigh, Emily sank onto my couch and sipped her beer.

"Uhh, I can't tell you how nice your apartment is."

"Yeah," JJ groaned from the corner, holding her hair up and sticking her face in the AC vent. Derek was still looking through my belongings when he came across a Scooter CD.

"Well, well, well, where did a girl like you find this type of music?" I looked at the album cover.

"Oh, that's from my college days." I tried to dismiss it. This isn't the sort of stuff I would share with my coworkers.

"Really? Let's go ahead and pop this in."

"No don't!" I tried to launch it at him before he could open it, but it was too late. A few photos I took the night I bought that CD slipped into his lap.

"Woah ho ho!" Spencer, who had been content to sift through my shitty romance novels, peaked his head up like a prairie dog at the sound of Derek's chuckle. "What do we have here?" He held up one photo, and I hid behind my beer bottle.

"That was years ago," I whined

"What is this?" Spencer came to the group, attention fully peaked

"It's (Y/n). At a rave." Spencer snatched the photo out of Morgans's hand like a cat but Emily nearly yelled

"Shut up, let me see." she slammed her glass bottle on the table and grabbed one of the photos from him

"No way," JJ stated, following Spencer into the circle to look at the evidence. "I could never imagine you at a rave. I've seen you get upset that you left your clothes in the washing machine."

"They'll get moldy," I whined

"Holy shit. Where was this?" Emily inspects a photo of me in a bikini, fluffy leg warmers, and a matching bucket hat. "Look at your butt where were you hiding this." She makes an attempt to check me out, but I sink further into my couch

"I don't know, I was never sober in the 72 hours around a rave."

"Oh yeah? What did you take?" Morgan begged

"All sorts of crap, mostly hallucinogens. My rave mentor told me music is better when you're high."

"So why'd you stop going?" Emily asked

"I grew up."

"You grew up?" JJ asked, putting the photo on the table

"Yeah," I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh and sighed. I wasn't entirely ready to trauma-dump the team, but here I was. "My uncle, who basically raised me, passed on Thanksgiving in the sophomore year of my bachelor's. Hallucinogens made it easy not to grieve, and loud music blocked my ability to think. I would dance around and tell everyone that 'tonight was the night,' and I was 'finally free,' but I would just see him after a while. He would ask me, 'Why are you doing this, my dove?'. I couldn't ignore him anymore, so I just stopped. Put all my teeny bikinis in a box and put it past me." I cleared my throat, realizing that I had put a damper on the mood

"We could play the CD. I think I'll still remember the rhythm." I switched in the discs and let the synth radiate through my living room. Immediately, I felt the groove, letting it carry my limbs airily around me. I felt myself disconnect as the beat continued to pump. Before I could drift away wholly, Emilie's voice brought me down to earth.

"You packed all this away? That means you still have it?"

"Yeah, in a box in the back of my closet." before I could discover my mistake, she darted to the back of my apartment, and JJ took off with her.

"Oh hell, I gotta see this." Derek got up and dropped the last of the photos. Reid dutifully packed them up and sifted through the photos, stopping on one.

"What did you find, Spence?" I crawled toward him slowly. I gasped at the photo. My Rave mom, Zoe, who was only 4 months older than me, and I were posing together. He sifted through the images with it and stacked them. I gasped at the image. The photo on the top was of Zoe throwing up a peace sign, showing the neon pink paint on her palms, and a green hand was playfully on my throat. Both of our bodies had been splattered with neon ain't, but noticeably, I had two big hands brink on the triangle bikini we wore. One pink, one green.

The picture below was of Zoe and I very dramatically kissing. Zoe had made smudged hand prints on my ass. I had a leg up on her hip, and you could see drool and lipstick around each other mouths.

"I hardly even remember that night, and I thought it was trendy to act gay." I pulled the pictures from his hand and returned them to the case. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Why are you apologizing? Y-you had fun."

"Yeah, but you're my colleague. This is embarrassing and you probably are ashamed of me."

"Actually, I'm jealous. In college, I had no friends and didn't go to parties. I was, I am, a loser. You had fun."

"Did you not hear my spiel about using drugs not to think?"

"Yeah, but you were hot." That shocked you. He was only two beers deep, and Reid was spilling his secrets.

You laughed in shock.

"Spencer, you can't say things like that." I slapped at his chest playfully.

"WELL!" I could hear Derek's strained voice. "This!" he put the giant plastic tub on the floor next to us. "This is one heavy bucket of slutty clothes."

"I want to try something on!" JJ greedily popped the snaps on the cover. With giggles, JJ and Emily started pulling out bikinis that looked like they were made out of spider webs.

"Woah ho ho!" Derek giggled, holding up a low-rise thong. "I hope you wore a jacket."

"Alright, that's enough!" I grabbed it from his reach

"Hey, could I borrow one of these?" JJ asked. "Will has been asking for something new."

"Yeah, but don't borrow it. I don't want it back." I made a face of disgust

"Yeah, I might want to just wear one around my apartment?" Emily held something balled up

"Take as many as you want. I won't wear them again. I should sell them. I could finally go on vacation."

"Woah woah woah, if you sell these, what will you wear on vacation?" Derek joked

"Clothes." I snatched another piece of hosiery from him. My knees cracked as I stood and got another beer from the kitchen. "Now, get out of my panties." I swatted him with the bottoms as I walked by

by some stroke of God, the lights flicked back on, and across the street, I could see the surrounding building come back to life.

"Well, I've got to get to my house before my ice cream spoils." Emily stood and collected a few pieces of fabric.

"Yeah, and completely unrelated. I have to call Will." JJ juts out her lip in an admission of guilt. They snuck out the door, giggling and tucking crazy fabric in their bags.

"I should get going too, wonder boy. You need a ride home?"

"No, I should be fine. There's a train in the next hour." Reid was still immersed in the photos.

"Well, don't bug her too badly." He left with a wink

"Why are you still looking at those? They're ancient."

"The date on the back says 1998, making you 20 years old. You're 28." Finally, he puts the photos down. "I'm having a hard time picturing you going to a rave. You only read sappy novels from the seventies. I saw three copies of Tuck Everlasting on your shelves." All the talk from my coworkers and the five beers in my system made me more than angry and bold.

Stupid ideas were my biggest export when I was inebriated.

"Well, I know the FBI has kept me in shape. I'm going to my bedroom and try these on." I gave a coy smile as I took a handful of sets and strutted off to the back of my place.

"W-what do you mean you're going to try them on."

"I've gotta see if they still fit."

[foldingfittedsheets]

Jesus Christ how many stores have you worked at (/nbr/gen)

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED!

First I worked at a dog kennel. I liked working with dogs but I didn’t like the crazy owner or working holidays so I jumped ship after eight months to-

Red Robin! I’d always wanted to work there as a kid. I wanted to be a server but couldn’t get a promotion she said I wasn’t personable can you believe? and switched over after two years to-

Pizza! I got a pay bump and a very unhealthy work environment for eight months before I got fired! So then I applied at the-

Sex shop! I adored the job but the pay was absolute crap so after three years I got a job selling-

Mattresses! It was ”holy shit I’m above the poverty level for the first time” money. It was also hands down the most racist/sexist/homophobic place I ever worked. But ultimately I left to move to Arizona with my at the time long distance girlfriend and I sold-

Oil and vinegar! It was artisanal olive oil and vinegar that we bottled for them which was kinda neat but the pay was crap so I tried to get a job at-

Sleep Number! But the manager used the word “opportunity” fifty times in one day and I couldn’t stand it so I left to go back to oil after a week. Then my girlfriend dumped me and I moved back home to-

More mattresses! Again great money, awful culture. I did that for two years before my company got sold and the good pay went away so then I-

Sold jewelry! This was hands down the best company culture I’ve ever experienced, which made up for the medium pay. A coworker literally told me she thought it was a cult based on how gruntled we all were. But I realized sales was kinda killing me (along with an undiagnosed viral infection) and I went to-

School! If it hadn’t been for covid I couldn’t actually have done this part but because classes were virtual I was able to keep up despite my illness thanks to extremely careful time management. Now that I’m graduated I’m-

Unemployed! I’m applying at my old standby, mattresses, while keeping an eye out for rigging positions in the gaming field.