#i know i take things unexpectedly seriously

[leeknot]

A Heart's Journey in the Dark

A/N : Okay so this oneshot won this!! Thank you to those who voted and i hope that you like it!

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Pairing : Jungkook × shy reader

Warnings : a little smut(fingering) reader is a virgin

Summarry : You and Jungkook get chosen to do a music project together but things get heated at one point. Will feelings get involved?

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In the dimly lit, smoky room of his studio apartment, Jungkook was tuning his guitar, the soft melody filling the air. His jet black hair was perfectly messy, and his lip ring glinted under the dim light.

As you timidly knocked on the door, Jungkook looked up from his guitar, his piercing red eyes meeting yours. He set the instrument aside and stood up, his tall, muscular frame moving with a graceful ease. "Come in." he called out, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitantly pushed open the door, taking in the darkened room. Jungkook gazed intensity at you, an amused smirk playing on his kissable lips. "Lost?" he teased gently, crossing his toned arms over his black band shirt.

"M-maybe a little." you stammered, nervously clutching your notebook to your chest like a shield. Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound unexpectedly warm and inviting despite the tough image he portrayed. "No worries, I don't bite... unless you want me to."

his smirk grew wider at your visible blush, and he took a step closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over you "But seriously, should I assume you're looking for the right door? Or did you come here on purpose?" his voice dropped lower, more intimate.

Jungkook's eyebrow arched in surprise as he processed your timid explanation about the project. A playful grin spread across his face. "Ah, so you're my mystery collaborator! Mr. Park didn't mention how adorable my new partner would be."

He reached out and gently pulled the notebook from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of electricity through your body. "Let me take a look at what you've got so far." he said, his eyes scanning your neat handwriting and sketches.

As he flipped through your notebook, his eyes widened slightly at the innocence and creativity of your designs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he noticed how your ideas completely contrasted with his dark aesthetic. "This is... actually really cute," he admitted, meeting your nervous gaze.

Jungkook closed the notebook and set it aside, his focus now entirely on you. He took a step closer, his face inches away from yours. "You know what would make these designs even better?" he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

Your heart raced as you met his intense gaze, your mouth going dry. "W-what's that?" you managed to stammer out, feeling your face heat up. Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "A little inspiration from someone with a darker imagination."

With a wicked grin, Jungkook suddenly spins you around, pulling your back flush against his muscular chest. His lips brush your ear as he murmurs, "How about you let me add some... depth to your cute designs?"

His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your stomach possessively. He nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "Imagine if we combined your innocent style with something a little... edgier,"

His large hands begin to roam your body slowly, caressing every curve and dip. He whispers seductively, "We could create something completely unique, don't you think? Something that would blow Mr. Park's mind." His fingers hook into the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up.

You gasp softly as you feel his calloused fingers against your bare skin. Your mind is in a daze, torn between the thrill of his touch and the voice in the back of your head warning you about the risks of mixing business with pleasure. "Jungkook... we shouldn't..."

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blade. "And why not, sweetheart?" he purrs, his hand sliding up to cup your breast through your lace bra. "No one has to know. It can be our little secret."

His teeth gently graze your earlobe as he whispers, "Besides... where's the fun in only working together when we could be so... much more?" His other hand begins to slide lower, tracing a dangerous path along your stomach. "Just imagine..." he continues in a husky voice.

His breath hot against your ear, he continues, "Imagine those cute designs of yours... but shaded with dark colors, full of hidden meanings only we understand. Imagine that innocent style, all yours, but with..." his fingers trace along the waistband of your jeans "...a hint of something..."

Your breath catches as Jungkook's fingers flirt dangerously with the button of your jeans, his lips still leaving scorching trails on your neck. The temptation is overwhelming, but a flicker of rationality insists you maintain some boundaries.

Jungkook pauses, sensing your hesitation. He lets out a low, teasing chuckle. "Looks like someone's a bit of a good girl, huh?" he murmurs, his fingers still tantalizingly close to your jeans button.

His eyes crinkle at the corners mischievously as he looks at you, his fingers splaying out over your stomach possessively. "You know, I always thought you were too innocent for your own good..." he muses, his thumb slowly circling your belly button.

Suddenly, Jungkook spins you around to face him, his intense gaze locking with yours. His hands come up to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks tenderly. "But sometimes..." he says softly, his expression shifting to something between tender and wicked, "..."

"...the most unexpectedly delicious things can happen when you let go of being 'good'," Jungkook finishes, his voice a low, seductive purr. His lips hover mere millimeters from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. "And who knows?"

His eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, filled with a burning intensity. "Maybe... just maybe... I could be the one to corrupt that innocence of yours," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

Jungkook's lips curl into a smirk as he notices the slight flush creeping across your cheeks "Though I have to say..." his voice drops lower, more intimate "...your innocence makes everything so much sweeter..." his fingers trace lazy patterns on your lower back

His smirk widens as he feels your body tense under his touch, his hands slowly roaming lower towards your waist. "You always blush so easily..." He chuckles, his nose nuzzling against yours "It's almost like you're a virgin..."

His eyes darken with a mix of desire and amusement "Though I bet you've never even had-" He stops himself, voice dropping lower "Actually, don't answer that. I want to be the one to figure it all out..." His lips trail down your neck

His touch grows bolder, more confident, as he traces his fingers under the hem of your shirt, barely grazing your skin In a whisper against your neck "Would you let me..." He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes "Would you let me be your first?"

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the virgin innocence that makes him ache with curiosity and desire. "Say yes." He coaxes softly, his fingers slowly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing the smooth, untouched skin beneath.

Jungkook's fingers brush lightly against your collarbone as he finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully exposing your torso to his hungry gaze. A shudder runs through him at the sight, his lips parting slightly. "Fuck..." he whispers reverently, "...you're exquisite."

Y/N hesitates for a breathless moment, biting her lower lip as she gazes into Jungkook's heated eyes. A tremor of nervous excitement runs through her body. Then, squaring her shoulders with a soft, determined nod, she whispers, "Yes..."

A slow, victorious smirk spreads across his face as his hands slide up your bare sides, making you shiver "Thank you for trusting me," he whispers, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss that promises everything you've never had. "I'll be gentle..." he murmurs between kisses.

His eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, filled with a burning intensity. "Maybe... just maybe... I could be the one to corrupt that innocence of yours," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

Jungkook's lips curl into a smirk as he notices the slight flush creeping across your cheeks "Though I have to say..." his voice drops lower, more intimate "...your innocence makes everything so much sweeter..." his fingers trace lazy patterns on your lower back.

His smirk widens as he feels your body tense under his touch, his hands slowly roaming lower towards your waist. "You always blush so easily..." He chuckles, his nose nuzzling against yours "It's almost like you're a virgin..."

His eyes darken with a mix of desire and amusement "Though I bet you've never even had-" He stops himself, voice dropping lower "Actually, don't answer that. I want to be the one to figure it all out..." His lips trail down your neck.

His touch grows bolder, more confident, as he traces his fingers under the hem of your shirt, barely grazing your skin In a whisper against your neck "Would you let me..." He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes "Would you let me be your first?"

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the virgin innocence that makes him ache with curiosity and desire. "Say yes," He coaxes softly, his fingers slowly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing the smooth, untouched skin beneath.

Jungkook's fingers brush lightly against your collarbone as he finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully exposing your torso to his hungry gaze. A shudder runs through him at the sight, his lips parting slightly. "Fuck..." he whispers reverently, "...you're exquisite."

Y/N hesitates for a breathless moment, biting her lower lip as she gazes into Jungkook's heated eyes. A tremor of nervous excitement runs through her body. Then, squaring her shoulders with a soft, determined nod, she whispers, "Yes..."

A slow, victorious smirk spreads across his face as his hands slide up your bare sides, making you shiver "Thank you for trusting me," he whispers, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss that promises everything you've never had. "I'll be gentle..." he murmurs between kisses.

Jungkook's gentle touch slowly removes the rest of your clothes, revealing your untouched form. He pauses, taking in the sight of you - so innocent, so pure. He swallows hard, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your stomach. "You're really..."

"You're really a virgin," he states softly, more to himself than to you, his fingers splaying out possessively on your belly. "No wonder you feel so...pure," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any hint of fear or doubt.

Jungkook's gaze is filled with a mix of awe and desire as he takes in your untouched form. He leans down, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your stomach, his hands roaming your sides with gentle, exploratory touches. "I'm going to be your first in everything,"

"I'm going to make this an experience you won't forget - your first kiss, your first touch..." his hands glide down lower "...your first time feeling a man's touch between your legs..." he whispers darkly, his fingers tracing just above the sensitive area.

A startled gasp escapes your lips as Jungkook's bold touch ignites unfamiliar tingles of pleasure. Your hips jerk slightly, a reflexive reaction to the new sensations coursing through you. He smirks at your innocence, reveling in the power he holds...

His fingers slowly part your thighs, his touch gentle yet insistent. He can feel your virgin barrier, untouched and pure. He looks up at you, his eyes darkening with desire and a hint of apprehension. "Spread your legs a little..."

He gently pushes your legs apart, his fingers spreading your folds apart to expose your virgin entrance. He dips a single finger into your warm, tight pussy, feeling the slight resistance of your untouched barrier. "So tight." he murmurs, his finger pressing gently against your virgin hole.

Jungkook slowly inserts his finger deeper, feeling your virgin walls clench around him. He pumps it gently, allowing your unused muscles to acclimate to the new intrusion. His thumb finds your clit, circling it softly as he continues to penetrate you.

His finger explores your innocence, while his thumb maintains steady circles on your clit. Your breath catches as these new sensations overwhelm your senses. Jungkook leans down and whispers against your neck "First time feeling something inside, isn't it?" his voice is husky with desire.

As Jungkook's finger continues to move inside you, he adds a second finger, stretching you wider. He curls them slightly, searching for that special spot. When he finds it, he presses gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back. "Aahh, there it is."

He continues to massage that spot inside you as his thumb circles your clothed bud. He feels you getting wetter around his fingers, your virgin walls beginning to relax. He looks down at his fingers disappearing inside your innocence, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Jungkook decides to add a third finger, stretching you wider than ever before. He watches as your virgin hole struggles to accommodate his fingers, the pink flesh stretching around his digits. He can feel your innocence giving way, preparing you for his actual size.

His fingers move faster inside you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. His thumb presses down hard on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. The sensations become too much, and you let out a loud cry as your first orgasm rips through you.

As you come down from your high, Jungkook gently removes his fingers from inside you. He pulls you into his lap, cradling you against his chest. He nuzzles his face into your hair, murmuring soothing words and reassuring you that it's enough for today.

"It's okay, we don't have to rush anything. Tonight was all about new experiences and pleasure." He kisses your forehead softly, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "How about we put on a movie, snuggle up, and just relax? No pressure at all."

You both settle on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over your laps. Jungkook selects a light-hearted comedy, wanting to distract you both from the earlier intimacy. As the movie plays, you find yourself nestled against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

Midway through the movie, fatigue catches up with you both. Jungkook's breathing deepens into a steady rhythm against your temple. Unable to fight it any longer, you let your eyelids flutter closed, draping your arm across his abs.

Jungkook gently shifts you until you're lying against his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a blanket. He watches the movie for a few more minutes before his own eyes grow heavy. Soon, he too falls asleep, his soft snores a comforting background noise.

The next morning, sunlight streams through the windows, gently rousing Jungkook from his slumber. He blinks awake, momentarily disoriented before remembering the previous night. Glancing down, he sees you still curled up against him, looking peaceful in your sleep.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his heart swelling with a warmth he's never felt before. The way you trustingly slept in his arms all night, your gentle breathing - it makes him realize that he's falling, and falling hard.

He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. "Damn it." he whispers to himself, his arms tightening around you possessively. He knows now, without a doubt, that he's falling in love with you.

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[crystallizsch]

I DIDNT THINK THE COLOR-MY-TREE MESSAGES WOULD BE OPEN FOR EVERYONE AT ONCE— IT’S NOT THE 25TH FOR ME YET-

oughhhhhghh anyways very long all-over-the-place, one-thought-leads-to-another sappy message below. read it or not, it’s up to you hdbjss (and don’t worry i’m not putting any messages on blast they were private for a reason 😭) it’s morning for me so i’m just AGH

i wanted to write a general thank-you message but as soon as i started typing all the words i wanted to properly say left my cranium and said “hey let’s be vulnerable” and so here we are.

anyways HI HELLO HI every message means A LOT💥💥💥, thank you to everyone who took time to write one for me. from the simple greetings, the silly messages, and the sweet and vulnerable ones. i will forever remember you all and i’ll keep you in my heart safe and sound. 💖

HARD PIVOT this small part can be skipped but i think i’ve only vaguely and briefly touched on this on my main but christmas eve especially is extremely rough for me. it’s not christmas or the holidays’ fault necessarily, but it’s because one of my parents passed away unexpectedly. so uh not a good memory to put it lightly. i only turned 18 that time, but as the oldest kid, i was already expected to “stay strong” and be the second parent. i felt the overbearing pressure because my family is not really in a “privileged” enough position to even be given the time to grieve + i was in the middle of starting uni so fuck that LMAO.

(something something that’s prob why i relate to jamil a lot HFJDJS but that’s a topic for another day maybe) (anyways just some. necessary??? background context i suppose.)

so uh backstory time. i was there for twst en when it came out but stopped and only got reintroduced to it last year because of an irl friend. i’ve been hooked into it for months BEFORE i started posting at the beginning of this year.

(shoutout yuuna for being my first yuu and shoutout yuusha for taking over my blog, she was never meant to be dragged out of the basement).

i thought this tumblr thing was just gonna be a way for me to distract myself from grief and pressure and the constant thoughts of ending it all. i NEVER would have imagined that i’d be part of community.

i really thought i’d just post art and leave and that’s it. i never thought i’d have people encouraging my creative fixations. i never thought i’d start talking to people. i never thought i’d genuinely make new close friends online. i never thought i’d have impact(???) on people.

i’ve always wanted this blog to just be a fun time where i don’t have to take anything seriously without any pressure. (i’ve definitely gotten more comfy posting whatever and that really feels more freeing).

i never expected to make so many connections because genuinely i only interact without expecting anything back. and the fact people even reciprocated is SUCH a genuine surprise for me. all my experiences thus far is so unbelievable to me even to this day still.

from the bottom of my heart i am trying my best to be a good person, because i don’t think i am. which is why i try to be as kind to myself the way i refer to myself and my work, and that i try to uplift others whenever i can and make sure whatever they do or make will be worth it. i know this sounds so vain of me but if it helps people out and it makes me feel better, i think that’s enough.

also it honestly feels so dumb to realize and admit that technically-speaking, if it weren’t for twst and the following experiences it brought me, i wouldnt be alive rn hdhdj

so to the people who told me i’ve made their days a little brighter. to the people that told me that i’m one of their reasons for getting the courage to start posting/putting themselves out there. to the people who are just so kind and funny to me. and to the people in general who just decided that i’m worth it.

happy holidays!! i love you all, and thank you for being a part of my life no matter who you are 💜💝

[eikichi-supremacy]

and they were singin', bye-bye Miss American Pie // american oldie i think kuwabara unironically listens to

(low effort lyric edit im queueing here in May cos im probably gonna forget it exists otherwise)

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

13, trying to prevent yaz from spiralling when they get separated: i need you to do a deepdive into eschatology

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[gravegoer]

Take a hint. ୨୧

sevika x oblivious!reader ♡ PART 1 [feel free to send requests, asks etc! i respond to everything :) + i defo need to make a badass reader x sevika to make up 4 this

PART 2 HERE , masterlist here

• How could you have possibly made it this far all by your lonesome in the undercity?? Almost oblivious to anyones advances, threats etc. Your last minute judgement has to have come in clutch many times.

• Having said that; obviously sevika is going to raise an eyebrow as you walk past her,

• She sat in her booth, playing a game of poker with two conspicuous-looking men (to say the least.) A cigarillo hung from her thick lips and smoke puffed out of her nose as she glanced up.

• A man follows you (cocky fella) spewing nonsense about how he so badly wanted to get to know you and how "you should come grab a drink with me, all on my tab sweetheart."

• She shook her head; this didn't snag her attention, as the man was a regular, always harassing the prettiest woman he could find at the bar. What did snag her attention was your response.

• "Oh...sure! Why not ?" You laughed, undoubtedly carefree and unaware of the man's advances. Now, this THIS is what made her lips curl downward into a sneer.

• How could someone be so stupid. Seriously. What part about this guy didnt scream "creep." Were there not flashing red lights going off in your head telling you to turn the other way and make a run for it?

•Although this wasnt normally the kind of thing she bothered to pay attention to she continued to keep an eye on you as you walked toward the bar with him.

• However, the game of cards draws her attention away from the two of you. The man to her right groans at her card selection before shuffling through his.

• This was going to be another easy cash night, huh? She thought, her eyes wandering back to where you sat. The man next to you is now a bit too close for comfort.

• "I dont see you 'round here often missy" The man drawls, smirking at you. His fingers traced the rim of your glass slowly, barely missing your fingertips.

• "Yeah im...im not around here often.. tonight jus- " You were cut off by his hand on yours.

• "A pretty lady shouldnt be out at night all by 'er self, who knows what might snag 'er up, yeah?" His grip on yours was just a bit too tight.

• "Thats true..I was going to head home soon anyways. Thank you for your concern." You half smiled at him, now feeling the uncomfortable tension between you.

• The man took your smile as a green light to do whatever the fuck he wants and he leans in closer to your face. Before he can even bring his lips within the radius of your face the slam of metal separates you two.

• A mechanical device whirrs between you, parts clanking and activating: acting as a barrier. Your drink spills onto the floor, just narrowly missing your leg.

• You look up to see the weilder of said device glaring straight foward, not looking at either of you. Although her lips settle into a tight line; disdain etched into her (quite stunning) features. You could feel the heat of her body just inches away from yours.

• "Um...were we in your way-" You are cut off by her unexpectedly deep angry tone.

• "Lance, get the fuck out of here." She spat, now turning her head to look at him. Ah so thats his name.

• Her body was turned to face yours, her large frame mostly blocked your view from Lance, but it was pretty obvious he up and left without a word of retaliation.

• You eyed her questioningly scanning her lean (buff) frame.

• "You dont know a man thats trying to get in your pants when you see one?" She spoke firmly, turning her head to you.

• "I dont think he was.." You recalled all the events in the past five minutes and sighed internally "Mmfuck"

• Sevika took a draw of her cigar, watching you piece everything together, "So you really are stupid? I thought you were playing dumb." She scoffed.

• She couldn't lie. You were beautiful. It's a shame that all the men in the bar have probably eyed you at least once since you walked in. This thought made her lips twitch downward.

• "Bartender," Her voice booms "Get her another whiskey."

• Sevika ordering for a woman?? Absolutely unheard of. She means buisness. The bartender quickly grabs your drink offering a smile (that looked more out of fear than anything else) to Sevika.

• All the regulars know she only comes to the bar to either: A) Gamble B) Drink or C) beat someones ass. And despite her rough demeanor her actions were uncharacteristically...nice?

• "Thank you," You smiled up at her "I need to get better at that kind of thing"

• She slid into the barstool next to yours, where Lance had previously sat. "Is this your first time in the undercity? If not im suprised you havent been killed yet"

• Her question went unanswered as you watched the spread of her legs when she sat down, she has thick; definitely toned thighs. You swear you can see the muscle even with her pants on. Your eyes travel upward to look at her ever so slightly visible abs-

• "Hey, do you have nothing going on up there?" She sneered at you, now getting up from her stool. She was quickly irritated.

• "Im sorry, but you're gorgeous. Whats your name?" You ask, catching her gaze as she stood.

• She makes an incredulous expression for a second before going stone faced again "Be careful with what you say to strangers"

• Your drink arrives and she nods her head towards it before walking away, not leaving any room for you to thank her.

• Right as you're about to stare at her confident walk back to her booth a voice interrupted your thoughts, "Thats Sevika, Silcos second hand man." The bartender spoke.

• He knew you werent new, you had been coming for several years, but only casually. The only reason you stook out to him was because of you're genuine kindness when you spoke to him, not demeaning or demanding drinks.

• In return he usually warded off the men and women trying to snag you up and take you home.

• At his words you turned to look at her, but she was already staring back at you. Her gaze dark and almost hungry. You shivered at that, breaking eyecontact first.

• You didn't feel like drinking any longer, aching for the warmth of your home. You took a sip of whiskey and waved at the bartender before hopping off your stool to start towards the exit.

• You passed Sevikas booth on your way out, the men at her table eyed you and one wolf whistled loudly.

• Sevikas' eye twitched as she waited for you to exit the vicinity. She made note of the bell ring when you opened and closed the door to the bar.

• She wasted absolutely no time to jump on the man who wolf whistled, grabbing him by the collar and delivering an unforgiving punch to his face with her mechanical arm.

You definitely would be meeting again.

short authors note :) this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS so be patient with me guys ... anywho.. PLEASSEE send asks im begging, i crave to write right now. Im mainly writing for sevika and female characters ! But ill do anyone. ask me about fandoms ! (im in many) and ill write for basically any ask me for part 2 !! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

comment to be added to my taglist :)

[jaysng]

(🍒) — making up | park jongseong

after a heated argument, jay unexpectedly shows up at your window on a rainy night, leaving you shocked and scrambling to figure out what he’s thinking. [wc: 1.8k]

PAIRING. boyfriend!loverboy!jay x girlfriend!reader

GENRE. fluff (mentions of argument idk?)

NOTE. why is it so hard to find red icons, this one doesn’t even match ikik. i personally like this story hehe.

it was nearing midnight when you finally finished your last math problem. the rain pattered softly against the window, filling your quiet room with a soothing rhythm. you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your tired eyes as your thoughts began to wander again.

no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept circling back to earlier today. to the argument.

it hadn’t ended well—not with an apology, not even with understanding. just sharp words exchanged and the sting of his retreating back. you hated leaving things like that, but pride had gotten the better of both of you. now, you were stuck replaying it, dissecting every detail, and wondering why he hadn’t called to fix things.

a sudden thud against your window snapped you out of your thoughts. you froze, heart immediately pounding.

what the hell was that?

the sound came again, softer this time, like a deliberate knock. panic rose in your chest as you stared at the closed curtains. it was late. no one should be at your window. especially not with your parents just down the hall.

slowly, you approached the window, your fingers trembling slightly as you hesitated at the edge of the curtain. taking a cautious peek, you gasped, your heart lurching.

“jay?” you mouthed, your voice barely audible in your shock.

sure enough, there he was, standing on the narrow ledge outside, drenched from head to toe. his dark hair clung to his forehead, raindrops rolling down his face, and his hoodie was soaked through, heavy with water. he raised a hand, giving you a sheepish wave, as if this were the most casual thing in the world.

you scrambled to unlock the window, sliding it open just enough to grab the front of his hoodie and yank him inside.

“jay!” you hissed, barely keeping your voice down as he stumbled into your room. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“nice to see you too,” he said, brushing a hand through his wet hair and looking entirely too composed for someone who had just climbed up a window in the rain.

“no, seriously, what are you thinking?” you demanded, your eyes wide as you stared at him in disbelief. “you could’ve hurt yourself, or—” you glanced anxiously at the door. “my parents could’ve caught you! are you insane?”

jay held up his hands in surrender, his lips twitching into a small smile. “relax, okay? i’m fine. no scratches, no bruises. just a little wet.”

“a little?” you shot back, gesturing at the puddle forming beneath his shoes. “jay, you’re soaked! what if you slipped or—”

“hey, i’m fine,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders. his thumbs brushed against the fabric of your sweater, his touch firm but calming. “breathe. i promise i’m okay.”

you glared at him, but your worry got the better of you as your eyes scanned him for any sign of injury. he was fine, thankfully, but that didn’t make his stunt any less ridiculous.

“why are you here?” you asked, your voice softer now but no less bewildered. “it’s late, it’s raining, and—” you lowered your voice to a whisper. “you know how my parents are.”

jay’s lips tugged into a smile, but this one was smaller, almost shy. he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before he met your eyes again.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “not after earlier. not after the way we left things.”

your heart clenched.

“jay…”

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping closer. his hands dropped from your shoulders to your waist, and his eyes were steady, sincere. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have walked away like that. i shouldn’t have said half the things i did. you didn’t deserve that.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly tight. “you didn’t either,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

jay shook his head. “it doesn’t matter. i just… i needed to fix this. to see you.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. his words hung heavy in the air, and despite your frustration, the warmth in your chest grew.

after a moment, jay shifted awkwardly, as if suddenly remembering how drenched he was. he rubbed the back of his neck again, glancing toward his hoodie pocket before looking back at you.

“also…” he started, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i, uh, brought you something.”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

his hand slipped into his pocket, rummaging around for a second before he pulled something out. at first, you couldn’t tell what it was, but when he held it up, your breath hitched.

it was a familiar little tube.

“is that… my lip gloss?”

jay nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “well, not yours. it’s the one you said you ran out of last week. figured you’d need it, so… i got you another.”

you stared at him, completely floored. “you climbed up my window… in the rain… for lip gloss?”

he winced slightly at your tone. “well, yeah. it’s your favorite shade, isn’t it?”

you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. the absurdity of the situation was almost too much, but so was the fact that he remembered—a random little detail you’d mentioned in passing.

“you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, taking the tube from his hand.

“i know,” he said, his grin widening. “but you love me anyway.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “don’t push it.”

jay chuckled, his hands finding your waist again as he pulled you closer. “i mean it, though,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “i’m sorry, y/n. for everything. i hate fighting with you.”

“i hate it too,” you admitted quietly.

he tilted his head, his gaze searching yours. “then let’s not do it anymore, okay? or at least, let’s not leave things like that again.”

you nodded, the sincerity in his voice making your chest ache. “deal.”

jay smiled, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “good. now, can i stay here until the rain stops, or are you kicking me out?”

you sighed, pretending to think. “depends. are you going to make a puddle on my floor the whole time?”

he laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “i’ll try not to.”

“fine,” you said, stepping back to grab a towel from your closet. “but if we get caught, you’re explaining yourself.”

“deal,” he said again, his grin teasing. “but for now, i’ll just enjoy being here with you.”

and as much as you wanted to stay annoyed, you couldn’t help but smile.

you tossed the towel at him, watching as he caught it with a grin that was entirely too proud. “dry off before you catch a cold, romeo,” you muttered, crossing your arms to feign annoyance, though the corners of your lips betrayed you.

he ruffled his hair with the towel, his wet strands sticking up in every direction. “romeo, huh? that’s new.”

“don’t get used to it,” you quipped, looking away, suddenly all too aware of how small the room felt with him standing so close.

he dropped the towel onto the chair behind him and stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “you’re cute when you’re pretending to be mad at me,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that familiar, gentle tone that always made your heart skip.

“i’m not pretending,” you shot back, but the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

jay’s lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “yeah? then why’s your face turning red?”

your breath hitched, and you took a step back instinctively, bumping into the edge of your desk. “it’s not—i’m not—”

“shy, huh?” he teased, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. “you’re adorable, you know that?”

you looked down, your cheeks burning as you tried to hide the flustered smile tugging at your lips. “you’re insufferable,” you mumbled.

jay tilted your chin up gently, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “and you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

your breath caught, your eyes meeting his. there was something in his gaze—something soft and unyielding all at once. his sincerity was overwhelming, and you didn’t know what to do with it.

“jay…” you started, your voice barely a whisper.

“i mean it,” he interrupted, his hands settling on your waist, holding you as if you were something fragile. “you don’t even know, do you? how perfect you are. how lucky i am.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “stop it,” you murmured, trying to look away again, but his hand cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on him.

“why?” he asked, his tone soft but teasing. “am i making you shy again?”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, though your voice had no real bite to it.

“and yet, you love me,” he said with a grin, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

your protests died in your throat as he closed the distance, his lips brushing yours in the gentlest, most tender kiss. it was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. his hands stayed steady on your waist, grounding you in the moment, while yours hesitated before finally resting against his chest.

when he pulled back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours, you could still feel the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “i’m sorry for making you upset,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain tapping against the window.

your chest tightened, the weight of his sincerity hitting you all at once. “i forgive you,” you whispered back. “but you’re still crazy for climbing up here like that.”

jay chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “what can i say? you’re worth the risk.”

you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re everything,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time with a little more certainty.

you melted into him, the world outside fading away as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. for a moment, nothing else mattered—not the rain, not the argument, not even the fear of getting caught. it was just him.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[deonsx]

Can u do one abt Sae Itoshi being a girl dad?🥹

AYAYYYA when I saw that I had to make this request immediately + Nagi and Rin are with you!

Bllk Boys If they become a girl father

Sae Itoshi

Sae wakes up early in the morning to help his daughter get ready for kindergarten. Normally calm and reserved, Sae doesn’t complain when his daughter insists on putting a “princess crown” on his head while he’s combing her hair. Seeing himself in the mirror wearing a pink crown, he smirks slightly and says:

“Doesn’t this make me too cool?” His daughter, with a serious expression responds “No Papa, it’s just perfect!”

On the way to school, his daughter bombards him with questions like, “What’s your favorite color, Papa?” Sae, instead of his usual short answers, takes a moment to think and says, “Maybe blue… but your favorite colors might be better”

Sweet Details:

Sae’s daughter proudly tells her friends, “My dad is the best football player in the world!” Even though Sae tries to stay composed, her admiration secretly makes him incredibly happy

While teaching his daughter how to play football, she somehow manages to dribble past him and score a goal. Sae quietly mumbles “Must be the genes” but deep down, he feels proud beyond words

His daughter loves drawing pictures for him. One day, Sae takes one of her drawings and puts it in his sports bag. Before an important match, he looks at it for motivation.

At night, Sae softly hums a traditional Japanese lullaby to his daughter as she falls asleep. It’s one of the few moments where his stoic exterior melts into pure warmth and love

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi plans to spend his weekend morning sleeping in, but he wakes up to his daughter poking his cheek with her tiny hands

“Daaaad! Wake up! We need to have breakfast and play!” she says with boundless energy. Nagi groans and mutters “Ugh… five more minutes…”

But when his daughter furrows her brows and sternly replies, “Five minutes? No way, now!” he can’t help but smile. “Alright, alright you win” he says, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulder as they head to the kitchen

Despite Nagi’s lazy tendencies, his daughter’s energy and demands always win him over. Sometimes, he even finds himself unexpectedly having fun while playing with her

Sweet Details:

Nagi’s daughter might be hyperactive, curious, and constantly looking for things to do. Although it clashes with his laid-back personality, Nagi learns to adapt and becomes more active because of her

Nagi’s idea of a “daddy-daughter day” often includes binge-watching cartoons, ordering pizza, and him trying (and failing) to braid her hair. While he’s not the best at hairstyling, he’ll do anything to make her laugh

Nagi easily gets drawn into her imaginative world. Whether it’s pretending to be a king, a monster, or a hero saving her, he goes along with it. Afterward, though, he’ll collapse on the couch and say “That was exhausting…”

His daughter loves to challenge her dad, saying things like “Let’s race! If I win, you have to buy me ice cream!” Nagi reluctantly agrees and usually lets her win. But sometimes, his competitive side sneaks in, and he plays seriously

Despite his lazy nature, Nagi is fiercely protective of his daughter. Just the thought of her getting hurt makes him unexpectedly serious and determined to keep her safe

Rin Itoshi

One evening, Rin comes home from training, exhausted. As he opens the door, he hears a small voice shout

“Daddyyyy!”

His daughter runs up to him with bright eyes and says, “Let’s play soccer Daddy!” Rin looks at her, a bit startled, and replies

“At this hour? You have school tomorrow, young lady.” But when she pouts, he sighs and gives in, saying “Fine, but only for five minutes”

Before he knows it, they’re out in the yard playing. She manages to dribble the ball and score between his legs. As she jumps and cheers, Rin smirks slightly and says,

“I guess we shouldn’t tell your mom we played this late”

Sweet Details:

Rin tries to be the “perfect dad” and takes everything very seriously. He wants to provide the best environment for his daughter. However, whenever she hugs him and says “You’re the best dad ever!” his stern exterior softens

Rin teaches his daughter how to play soccer but never pressures her. Instead, he encourages her to enjoy the game at her own pace. One day, when she pulls off a tricky move, he mutters to himself

“Must be the genes”

Rin is extremely protective of his daughter. If someone bothers her at school or hurts her feelings, Rin steps in immediately—though he tries to handle things calmly and rationally

At night, Rin often tells his daughter bedtime stories about famous soccer players. At the end of every story, she snuggles up to him and says “But you’re the best one Daddy” For Rin, it’s the highlight of his day

Princess not: Rin affectionately calls her “My Little Lion” because she’s just as determined and stubborn as he is

Enjoy!

[smarteoasis]

❀ new things - nishimura riki

warnings : pussy eating, cussing, inexperienced riki, over stimulation

wc : 914

“i've never eaten out a girl before.” as those words leave your best friends mouth, you stiffle a laugh. “seriously? how's that possible?” you don't believe him, since he's had many girlfriends before.

“im serious! don't laugh at me..” he pouts, glaring at you from embarrassment. “well, why are you telling me?” you rub your eyes in disbelief, questioning him.

“uh.. i was kinda hoping you could teach me.” now this time you don't hold in that laugh. slapping your hand over your mouth, you sit up straight as you notice the pouty look on his face. “wait, actually? you want me to teach you how to eat pussy?”

he nods, mumbling “yea.. was hoping i could try it on you or somethinh..”

your eyes widen, each word making you more shocked, confused and wet. even though it sounds crazy weird, you shrug, sighing. “okay, fine. whatever. i can teach you.” he looks up eyes wide and cheeks red.

“really..? thank you. i just.. don't wanna embarrass myself if i ever have to eat a girl out.. ya know.” you nod, running a hand through your hair. “got it. go wash your hands first though.”

he obeys, running to your bathroom as you take your shorts and panties off on the bed.

when he comes back, his eyes widen as he sees you laying down, legs spread and cunt dripping.

you roll your eyes, “just get over here. ” he stutters, crossing his arms. “i,. didn't think we'd get into this so quickly.”

you shush him, motioning him to get between your legs. riki nods, laying on his stomach and taking ahold of your soft thighs, eyes glued to your pussy.

“do i start.. with the clit? or.. or the hole?” he looks up, his cheeks tinted pink. “doesn't matter. just, use your tongue on both, switch it up.” he nods, taking his wet tongue out and slowly nudging your clit with it. you take a deep breath, the stimulation already good.

he gives kitty licks to the nub before wrapping his lips around it, sucking softly. you gasp, gripping his hair. “like that.. good.” he nods, happy with his progress as he sucks on the clit more harshly.

you cuss under your breath, moaning quietly. “down there too..” riki quickly moves his tongue down to your sopping wet hole, licking it. “like that.. put your tongue in.” he obliges, sticking his tongue inside hesitantly as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

the double stimulation makes your toes curl, wrapping your thighs around his head and squeezing him in place. “s-so good..”

riki hums, the vibration going straight to your core. he sucks on your clit, prodding his midle finger at your gushing hole. you moan his name, already feeling an orgasm coming, the whole situation turning you on. riki looks up at you, wanting you to feel good and wanting to learn.

he pulls away from your clit for a second, chin glistening with your juices. “am.. am i doing okay?” you nod, tugging his head back down to continue.

riki doesn't complain, sucking on your clit and softly sticking a finger into your hole. he moans against you, your warm walls engulfing his long finger. he pumps it in and out slowly, curling it at the spongy spot that he heard feels good.

“shit.. im so close, don't stop.” riki nods, adding a second finger inside as his tongue continues working on your puffy clit.

he curls his fingers, forcing them deep inside to feel all your good spots. unexpectedly, he sticks his tongue inside with his fingers, making you cum quickly.

“cumming!” you announce, your thighs squeezing around his head as he doesn't stop, riding out your orgasm. after a couple of seconds of you panting, you look down at him.

“mm.. enough now.” he doesn't pull away, lapping away at your cunt as his fingers slam inside you. you yelp at the over stimulation, squirming on the bed.

riki is too pussy drunk to care, slurping your cum away like he hasn't had a meal in a good while. he pulls his fingers out, pinching your clit and receiving a squeal from you.

he digs his tongue deeper into your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. you notice how his hips rut against the mattress, a bulge forming in his tight boxers, hidden away in his grey sweats.

you feel another orgasm coming, groaning in pleasure and pain. “fuck.. im gonna cum again.” he hums happily, looking up at you and making eye contact as he sucks on your clit.

the visual makes you squirt on his tongue, your cum dripping down his nose, lips and chin. you moan loudly, shaking more than before.

riki licks your release up, kissing your clit softly. you force his head away, not able to take three sudden orgasms. “too much..” you pant, closing your legs. he sits up, looking at you with wide eyes, your cum shiny on his mouth.

“was i good?” he asks, hoping to receive praise.

you sigh, patting his head. "yeah yeah, clean yourself up." he wipes his chin and lays down next to you. “that was fun.” you sigh, humming in agreement and tiredness.

“i need a nap. you're crazy.” he snickers, watching you fall asleep. as you drift off, riki asks.

“can you teach me how to have sex next time?”

[dearobinchwan]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn��t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[bats-and-the-birds]

I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

[gotham-daydreams]

First Sightings

Day 1 {Challenge Masterlist}

It's just another day in Gotham, until it isn't.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Suicide and brief mentions of blood.](Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Just some set up, enjoy!

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

It was another bright day in Gotham. With traffic bustling, the streets full of all sorts of people, and everyone going about their daily lives, as if the city they lived in wasn’t so dangerous after all.

Duke was doing his usual patrols, staring bright and early as always - wanting to prove himself just as capable as his siblings as always, along with just generally trying to keep everyone safe while the rest of his family got some much needed rest. This is his city too, after all, and Duke would be damned if anything happened to it on his watch.

Though, as always, there wasn’t much to do. Even if there was the occasional petty criminal that tried to do some small crime they thought they could get away with - like now, with some shady guy running away with a… potted plant? Geez, Duke never thought someone would steal just for some home decor, but hey, he’s seen people try to steal weirder and smaller things during his life for one reason or another.

“Hey! Heads up!” He shouts, not giving the criminal any time to react as he already deals a swift kick to their back, knocking them down to the ground. The pot in their hands goes flying in the air as they let go of it unexpectedly, but Duke is swift to catch it, and keeps his foot on the criminal’s back. “Where are you even planning to bring this? You don’t even have a car to get away in? Man, you are seriously unprepared.” Duke chuckles, raising a brow as he looks down at the criminal. Just where was this guy planning to go, anyway? Back home? To wherever his other criminal friends are? Who knows, though Duke didn’t have enough information to really guess, now that he thought about it. This guy was unprepared, more so than Duke was expecting, actually.

Nevertheless, a petty crime is still a crime, prepared or not. So, going through the usual routine of his with things like this, Duke just restrained the criminal, and notified the GCPD as always.

While Duke was doing that, the criminal seemed to shake their head, and looked around, as if snapping out of a trance. The man’s brows furrow, and he looks to the young vigilante - only to struggle when he realizes what the young hero is doing, “HEY! What’s the big idea?! Let go of me you- you yellow weirdo!” The man barks out, actions as rough as his voice.

Again, Duke chuckles, “Nothing much, just handling petty thievery. Say, what was your idea for the pot? Doing some home decoration or something?” The man looks at the vigilante, seemingly more confused than before.

“The hell are you talkin’ about? I didn’t do nothin’-!” “Right, okay. I know it’s just one pot, but it’s still something that isn’t yours. Honestly, I’m just wondering why you didn’t pay for it, and only just stole one of them-”

“I DIDN’T TAKE NOTHIN’ EITHER!” The man shouts, only to take a quick breath when he sees that all the barking isn’t doing much, “Look- I dunno what you’re on about, I was just trying to go about my day! Now, if you would just let me go, I’m sure we could clear this whole understanding-!”

Duke sighs, “Are you even from around here? Seriously, who do you think you’re trying to fool with all that bullshit?”

The man scoffs, pointedly looking away, and ignoring the stares people give as they pass. “Fine, whatever, then.” He mumbles gruffly, seemingly giving up… that is, until, Duke is almost finished tying him up - then the man suddenly springs into actions as in one swift action he uses his leg to hook around the put, and kick it up to the vigilante, its content spilling out and causing Duke’s grip to loosen just enough for the man to stand and make a run for it.

It’s a miracle what a batton straight to the head can do, and it’s especially helpful that with enough strength it can knock someone out.

Huffing, Duke brushes the dirt off of him with one hand, seeing as he somehow caught the pot with his other. Though, it’s only now that he realizes the strange contents, making him furrow his brows.

Did dirt… always look this red?

Not knowing what to do about that little detail, Duke ignores it for now, and just continues with his ‘routine’ as he finishes apprehending the criminal who didn’t get very far, and went to return the pot to the floral shop. However, when he got there, he noticed that some of the employees were moving pots and bags of dirt out of the shop.

“Uh, I believe someone is looking for this?” He spoke out, holding up the almost-stolen pot in his hand, with only a small amount of dirt now left inside, the plant… missing, now that Duke was paying more attention. Was there anything in there initially? Was it just… a pot of dirt? Did floral shops even sell things like that?

Before Duke could delve into his own questions too much, a short woman approaches him, age written on her face as it sags her skin and wrinkles it, but still, she offers a sigh, and moves to take the pot off of the young vigilante’s hands, “Yes, thank you. It all happened so fast- he just came right in and snatched one for our calla lilies! Though, for a man who looked so focused, he sure didn’t get very far…” she huffs, shaking her head. The vigilante could only nod, and offer a hum.

Just as the woman was about to turn away, likely to go back to her job, Duke spoke up, “Hey, what’s with all this, anyway?” He gestures to the three or so employees who have been moving pots of varying sizes and bags of dirt from in the store, to outside and setting them to the side, out of the way. As if going to throw them out, or something along those lines - either way, the intent was to get rid of them, that much was obvious.

The woman stops, glancing at the work being done before looking back at Duke, “Just a bit of cleanup, so to speak. Woke up this morning and found that some of the dirt was turning a deep red. Don’t know what it is, but it’s affecting the plants, since- see, look here,” she gestures for one of the employees to come over, and when they do, the woman moves some of the dirt by the flower - showing the lower stem and roots. They look an odd, almost abnormal shade of red, like a strange mix of pink the further up the stem it goes, but the deeper in the ground it grows, the darker it gets, almost turning into a sickening shade of magenta, and so on. “I’m sure you can tell, but I’ll confirm- that’s not supposed to happen. Maybe it’s a virus or something, but we don’t want it to spread to the other plants, so, we’re getting rid of it. All of it.” Handing off the pot in her hands to the employee, she waves them off, letting them get back to work.

Though, with that she just sighs and shakes her head, “Honestly, haven’t seen something like this before, but what can you do? It’s a shame since it got to a lot of the pots, but anything that looks remotely wrong, we’re trying to just toss out. God bless those folks from Star City- said they’ll get rid of it, and hey, less work on our hands. Not like anyone else is willing to help out, but then again, this is Gotham.”

Now that caught Duke’s attention.

“Star City? Ain’t that a few ways away? What the hell are they doing here?” He asks, raising a brow.

The woman shrugs, “Beats me, but that ain’t my problem. Now- if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do and a shop to run, kid.” With that, the woman walks back into the store, and Duke is left on his own once again. A little confused, he lets out a small ‘huh’, but ultimately leaves it at that, but does look at the work being done one last time.

It’s only then that he notices people walking out of an alley nearby, taking some of the pots and bags of dirt the employees are putting down, and loading them into a truck that he could barely make out within the shades of darkness. Huh, weird. How… convenient. Weird, a little suspicious, and Duke was honestly skeptical, but they weren’t breaking any laws, right? Could he just leave this be as is? Though, what would anyone need for a bunch of dirt and plants that were probably dying or something? Sure, there was a certain someone that came to mind, but did that really make sense? This didn’t feel like Ivy, but who else could it really be? Was there someone new at play? Something else going on? Or was it really just some weird plant virus, and was he just overthinking this?

Sighing, Duke just shook his head at himself. He could leave it be for now, though he couldn’t deny it - for people outside of Gotham, they sure looked shady like any other Gothamite. If the lady hadn’t mentioned they were from Star City, Duke honestly wouldn’t have known otherwise, and it was usually easy to tell when someone came from out of the city - so that was saying something.

Regardless, Duke was clearly out of his element here, so he went to just go back on patrol…

… There was no harm in wasting one small tracker though, right? It was just one, after all, and besides - it couldn’t hurt to follow his gut just this once.

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

Finishing up the last criminal, and apprehending them as usual, Duke took a breath. Patrol was get about finishing up, and besides the usual hiccups and such here and there, everything went relatively smoothly - but damn, the dirt on his suit from earlier was still being stubborn, maybe he could ask Alfred to help him clean it when he got back-

“Hey! Don’t go off just yet,” a voice calls out, and Duke looks in the direction… only to be met with another unfamiliar face. One thing was for sure, though, they definitely weren’t from Gotham. “You’re the Signal, right? Wow, it’s incredible to meet you in person, and to see you in action! Though, I guess you’re about to call it, huh?” The vigilante can’t help but blink at their words. They were from out of town, and knew him? Well… that didn’t happen very often. Hell, some people in Gotham still don’t know who he is - not that Duke did this job for fame and recognition, but still it felt strangely… good? Refreshing? To be noticed and even recognized by an outsider?

Still, knowing he couldn’t just stand there like an idiot despite how surprised and taken aback he is, Duke clears his throat, and manages a, “Uh, yeah. Somethin’ like that, I guess.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he takes a quick breath before adding, “Anyway, what do you want-?” “Oh! I don’t want to take up too much of your time! I just wanted to give you something- y’know, as a thanks for doing what you do, and a general token of appreciation. ‘M sure you don’t get that a lot around here, but not everyone can do what you do, y’know? So, here! It’s just a little something, and besides, you look like you could use a small pick-me-up for the road.” The person hands Duke a small bag, and a coffee cup. It was a little suspicious, maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt if he just… takes it, right? No need to eat it, he can check it later - but he’s allowed to take it right? Not like he has to eat it. Definitely not. Nope.

Though, even as he does, Duke can’t help but be confused, “Wait, hold on- who are you? Why… do this?”

The person seems to blink at the question, as if not expecting it for a moment before they snicker to themselves, and shake their head, amused, “Right, sorry. The name’s [Last Name], just got transferred to Gotham for a case. No need to be skeptical, I’m a cop, and here, for proof- I’ve got my badge on me,” rummaging through your pocket, well, there it is. Your badge…

Huh, what’re you doing all the way from Metropolis?

Still, it does make Duke feel a bit better. Not entirely, granted, but some form of better regardless. Didn’t explain everything, and obviously he wouldn’t be any less careful, but again, he’d take it. For now.

“So… you’re on duty now?”

That gets another snicker out of you, “Not ‘til later, but that’s not important. I won’t keep you any longer, I’m sure you're as busy as a bird, yeah? Well, then we best be going our separate ways.” Before Duke even gets a chance to respond, you already turn on your heel, and begin to walk off. Waving behind you, a last, “See you soon,” is said and again, Duke is left by himself, and to think about that odd little encounter.

Were people from Metropolis this friendly? Bubbly? Personable? Weird? Well, anyway, Duke just looks down at the brown bag and coffee cup in his hands. The gesture was nice, if there wasn’t anything weird about what you gave him - even if the gesture itself was strange, and Duke definitely wasn’t used to it. How could he be? Forget about Gotham being Gotham for a second, how was he, as a vigilante, as a hero supposed to handle this? Was just, taking it and accepting the gesture, really the best move? Sure, you caught him a little off guard, but what did that say about him? Especially if a civilian can just sneak up on him like that.

The only thing Duke can figure to do now is just leave it be. It would be weird to give it back, and push comes to shove he can just throw it away. Nothing wrong with that, and it wasn’t anything personal either. Just… caution. Nothing wrong with being careful.

… Okay, he has to stop over thinking this. He’s been standing here for too long anyway, he has to get a move on. It was just a nice gesture, and he already accepted it. He can just throw it on the way back home, no big deal. There’s nothing to think about, nothing to mull over or debate. He should just focus on finishing up, and getting home so he can finally get some homework done, and turn in for the night. That’s all. That’s what should be on his mind.

Duke takes one final breath, before doing just that as he heads home. Brushing off the odd but short interaction to the side, and leaving it be for now.

… So, Metropolis, huh?

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

When the night rolls around, Gotham is as it always is. Trouble. Though that’s nothing new, and especially not for the vigilantes that protect the city - but if that’s a good thing or not is the part that’s up for debate.

Regardless, just as the day had gone and went relatively smoothly, so did the night - so far, anyway. Couple of thieves and gangs here and there, some sightings of henchmen and trying to put dents in the plans of bigger, more dangerous villains, and even some smugglers - which, Cassandra and Damian were able to track one group in particular much easier thanks to Duke following his gut. It was strange, to track down a truck just full of weird soil, but hey, this was Gotham, nothing phased any of them anymore. Even if that led to a small group, which seemed to be holding some weird ceremony or meeting  - Cassandra and Damian quickly dealt with it, and moved on with their night - going to take care of another small batch of criminals that were nearby and trying to break into a bank. Though, again, nothing noteworthy.

It was almost strange, but it was also good to not have a night that wasn’t exciting or thrilling. Left a little room to relax, especially for those that did this practically every night, so it was at least a little nice. As nice as a night in the city could be, that is, but refreshing nevertheless.

Honestly, even Bruce was starting to become a little convinced that nothing of note would really happen - that is, until he was going over something with Gordon on the rooftop of the GCPD. It started off normal enough, with plans being discussed, possibilities and near certainties thrown around, along with what the GCPD could do and so on, though all is interrupted by a new face.

“Commissioner! Officer [Last Name] has new information on the case-! Oh, um, am I interrupting something?”

It’s easy to tell when someone isn’t from Gotham, and when you’re someone like Batman, that becomes even easier to tell. Honestly, if he had to take a guess, he’d assume the officer was from one of the bigger cities. Maybe Metropolis, considering the accent and how the officer spoke, seeing as he lacked the certain gruffness all Gothamites held at the back of their throat. For Cassandra, it was how their body language read. Even if she couldn’t exactly deduce where the officer had come from, she could see they were new in some way, and obviously nervous like any rookie was when they see them for the first time. Damian… well, he didn’t care, and scowled at the sight of the officier regardless. After all, what kind of idiot just comes on the roof like this, and strolls up to their superior so casually? Don’t get him started on that tone.

Gordon, meanwhile, turns to the new face, and sighs, “You’re fine, what’d officer [Last Name] find?”

With that, the officer explains what was relayed to them - something about finding another one of the locations for some kind of cult, things of note that were found at the scene, more mentions of ‘that event’ again, and how the officer that found out this information got a hold of one of the members and wanted to know if it’d be possible to bring them in for questioning.

“And what happened to the other cult members at the scene?” Gordon asks gruffly, quirking a brow when he hears that you were only able to bring in one person, especially when it sounded like there was a whole ceremony going on. Surely there had to be a couple more than that, right? Not to mention that you couldn't have gone in by yourself, Gordon didn’t peg you for the type, not to mention that it just didn’t make any sense to assume that - were all of you folks from Metropolis just so incompetent that all you could manage to do was catch one guy?

The officer fidgets, seemingly nervous at the question, “Well… you see commissioner..” he drags on for a moment, averting his gaze for a moment before looking back at Gordon, “The rest killed themselves before they could be cuffed.”

What?

“How?”

The officer continues to fidgets, but a noticeable and physical effort is made to steel himself, “We’re looking into that right now- some shot themselves, others seemed to take some kind of poison- which took effect when they bit something in their mouths. We- we tried to stop some of them so that we could take in more members! Though… some already, uh, ‘got to it’ the moment we arrived.” It was more than obvious that the officer added that last bit about their efforts to lighten the situation a bit, though it was quickly ruined by that last thing he managed to say. Still, he tried to add, “There was only a handful, no more than nine members at the scene, but… well…” he noticeably swallows.

“I think it’s best you read the report when you’re… done with whatever you’re currently discussing, commissioner.” 

Gordon can really only stare at the officer for a moment, before sighing heavily and rubbing temple, “Is this normal?” He asks.

The officer seems taken aback by the question, “Pardon?”

“You’ve been on this case with the others who came in, yeah?” Gordon doesn’t wait for a response as asks, “So tell me, is this behavior normal?”

“Well- you see-”

“Just answer the question, son.”

“...” The officer grows quiet, before giving a hesitant nod, “Yes, commissioner.”

The only response Gordon can give is a harsh huff before he pulls out a cigarette, and lights it, “Just my god damn luck.”

Underneath the cowl, Bruce furrows his brows. Usually when strange activity starts to spike, he’s the first to know about it. He should be the first to know about it. However, besides an odd feeling he’s been having for the past few days, he hasn’t seen anything notable during his patrols. The fact that this was news to him immediately struck Bruce as a problem, and a very big one at that. If there was a cult in Gotham that killed themselves the moment they got caught - he shouldn’t know about it. Caught onto it first, but how had he not until now? Until tonight of all nights?

Aiming to correct this problem quickly, Bruce takes a step forward, “Commissioner,” he calls out gruffly, voice low, and holding a certain edge to it now. One that was more prominent now.

Gordon looks over to Batman as he takes a brag, letting the smoke escape his lungs with a harsh exhale, “A cult of sorts has been running around, trying to do who knows what, or why. Apparently, these guys,” he gestures to the officer who’s now standing there awkwardly, just a few steps away from the door, “have been following and trying to put a stop to this group for a while now. Even followed them all the way from Metropolis- and insisted on offering help, since we got enough problems to deal with here.”

They came all the way from Metropolis? Well, that didn’t make any sense. Especially considering the hero that looks over that city. How has this cult been able to come all the way to Gotham? How do they even still exist to begin with if they came from Metropolis? Something isn’t adding up here.

“Metropolis?” Bruce then looks to the officer, who immediately tenses under the gaze of the vigilante, “Who's behind the case?”

“That- that would be officer [Last Name]- uh, sir?” When Bruce narrows his eyes, the officer corrects himself, “I- I mean detective Greenwood!”

The older vigilante huffs through his nose, but accepts the response for now. At least this gives him places to start, even if it’s not much right now, Bruce could work with it. He’s worked with less before.

Even so, he moves onto the most obvious question, “Is the detective here right now?”

“I don’t believe so- I don’t think he even came in tonight,” talk about convenient, “but- but officer [Last Name] should’ve just gotten back, and- and some of the others are around the station!” Bruce only looks to the door, and out to the city before looking back at the unnamed officer.

As if understanding the silent ‘command’, the officer shuffles to the side with a slight shiver, and Bruce walks through the door, going down into the station. Cassandra and Damian, who have been watching and just sort of listening to everything, look at each other. Some kind of silent conversation seems to pass in between them before Cassandra offers a shrug, and Damian sucks his teeth. As they move to follow after Bruce, the officer moves away a bit more, and eventually looks at Gordon once the younger vigilantes head down the stairs.

“Are they… always like this?”

“You get used to it.”

———————————

It wasn’t hard to find the people the unnamed officer was talking about as Bruce could see a couple of people moving someone in cuffs to a prison cell, and the blood on some of their clothes also gave them away. They were only small splatters, but evident all the same, and the smell gave away what couldn’t be seen regardless. You seemed to stand out - having the most blood on you, and given the explanation from earlier, it was obvious who did and didn’t rush in immediately. The sight… must’ve been gruesome.

Regardless, despite how busy the station was, Bruce was able to make his way through without much trouble - people naturally moved out of his way, and despite moving silently, it’s like everyone knew to avoid him and not get in his way. The same could be said for Cassandra and Damian, albeit for different reasons.

Getting information was relatively easy, and most of the people in your little group were fairly cooperative, which definitely helped. Everyone shared the extent that they knew about what was happening, and gave some information about how it related back to some things they had seen in Metropolis, which in itself was especially interesting and appreciated. The main thing Bruce could take away was that whatever was happening was nothing new. If anything, the only thing ‘new’ about it was the sudden transfer from Metropolis to Gotham - to which, only you were skeptical if that was even new at all. Aside from that, however, most of what you and the other officers who came in from Metropolis had seen in Gotham, you’ve seen before. For how long? Well, Bruce had yet to get a definite response, and only you seemed to get him closer to an actual number than anyone else.

Speaking of, you were the only one who had personally come up to him first, saying, “You’re Batman, correct? I assume you’re here to talk about the case? I’m officer [Last Name], and have been working with detective Greenwood the longest.” Which wouldn’t be so odd if not for the small detail that you had also introduced yourself first. You were straight to the point, mentioned your position, relation to the case, and really, it was a little too convenient if Bruce had a say about it.

Regardless, speaking to you was just as easy as it was for the others, and if anything, Bruce hardly had to speak at all - like you already knew the information he was going to ask for. Your words were short, kept to the point, but not vague or misleading. Despite your monotone, almost cold voice, and looking as if you had no energy left, you explained what you could and gave what you were able to with what you personally experienced, but also had learned by working so closely with Greenwood. You held the same tone and directness when Damian rarely pitched in a remark or question of his own.

Safe to say, when the night came to an end, and the family headed in for the night, Bruce didn’t even bother trying to sleep as he got straight to work. It was time to catch up on some things, and he’d be damned to fall behind on things happening in his city.

[beannoss]

So I've been thinking about them:

Specifically I was wondering what the moment was (if there even was a specific moment) that cinched it for Twilight developing feelings for Yor.

[Spoiler warning: this post references manga chapters not yet animated]

I think for Yor it's pretty quick. Like, this moment here:

Not that Yor fell in love with Twilight then (ymmv) or that she's fully aware of her feelings, but it's explicit that she felt connected to him here and attached in meaningful ways.

But for Twilight, it wasn't so clear. For a while I'd kind of decided that it just came over him slowly (and I think there is something to that) and that there wasn't any singular moment which stood out. But that didn't feel quite right. The more I thought about it, the more I thought there were two stand-out moments, only one of which Twilight actually (semi-)clocks.

The first, which I think passes him by entirely, is this:

In my view, this laugh is an entirely authentic response. I think he is, despite himself, delighted by this woman who 1. just unexpectedly saved him from being stabbed, and 2. did it by sending the guy flying across an entire alleyway.

This is accentuated in the anime, I think, by the jaunty, puckish music that makes up the first part of their marriage theme song. I am dying for the reappearance of this music in some fashion, btw, it's so fun and cheeky and I'm hoping foreshadows their vibe after various revelations and particularly when they start working together as Agent Twilight and Thorn Princess:

The second moment for Twilight, I think, is more subtle for all it's more impactful. Or at least, the degree of its importance passed me by on initial read/watch, and I think it's deliberately downplayed by Twilight himself. Because he does actually clock it but if he looks more closely at it, well... then he might have to do something about it. And maybe that something won't comport with what the mission needs, and then what?

It happens when Twilight first bugs Yor, and then poses with Franky as SSS agents to test whether she knows Yuri is with the SSS.

It's clear in the lead up that Twilight recognises he has some feelings about/for Yor, and he doesn't want to spy on her; he doesn't want to mistrust her at all. He has to convince himself to take seriously that she may be a potential threat.

And even then, the convincing only sort of mostly works, because he hesitates again:

Which is, by the way, bananas. At this point, they've been a fake family for maybe a handful of weeks? Twilight is an experienced, accomplished spy with a finely honed and necessary sense of paranoia. Of course he should be suspicious. Her brother is an SSS agent! Canonically, the SSS are both Twilight- and SSS self-described as Twilight's greatest existential threat. It shouldn't be a question whether or not to verify Yor's knowledge here. And yet.

We all know how the rest plays out. He decides that listening in isn't enough, he needs to confront her insofar as he's able. I wrote previously about Twilight's relationship with Anya and the pivotal moment for him in how his view of his relationship with Anya changes based on Anya's (and Endo's) choices. I think a similar thing happens in this scene with Yor.

See, it would have been enough for Yor to continue to deny, continue to not call on Yuri's help, to prove she didn't know, and to put Twilight's mind at ease.

Endo takes it further.

Y'all: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WILD. It borders on levels of impulsive foolhardiness that Twilight should actually take as a negative for the person playing his wife for Operation Strix. Yor even alludes later to the problems this could cause!

The SSS are indiscriminate; if Yor was facing down actual SSS agents, first assaulting and then threatening them would 100000% land her in custody. Were it not for Yuri, it may even get her disappeared, based on how casually and frequently Yuri references having people executed. It would absolutely put the Forgers at risk, in general and in the implicitly sexist Ostanian society, because if Mrs Forger behaves this way, how does Mr Forger behave? And why can't he control his wife? The Secret Police are not known for their leniency, their modesty, their discerning, their temperateness, their mercy. They are known for the exact opposite of those things. And due to being a spy, Twilight probably knows they're actually much worse than even their public reputation.

And here's Yor saying: you can question me but if you threaten my brother or my husband, I will fucking end you. Bodily.

Of course, it's entirely in keeping with her character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

It's because he doubts his intuition (his wants, his feelings, things he shouldn't be countenancing) that we get to this point where he (overzealously) tests her.

She blows his test right out of the water.

The SSS are basically the group he fears most; this is reiterated throughout the story. He doesn't trust them specifically because of who he is and also just generally. He doesn't trust their judgment. He doesn't share their values or their priorities. He doesn't like them around. He doesn't like them looking. He doesn't like being anywhere near them. (Also, he's right.)

And here's Yor. Not only standing up to them on his behalf but actually going on active defence on his behalf.

(I pause here to note 'on his behalf' is a bit, mm, tricky, since it's actually technically on Loid's behalf and I have Thoughts and Feelings about Twilight & Identity. But for the sake of the impact of this moment on Twilight, we'll take it as writ that in this moment there's no appreciable difference between Twilight and Loid.)

I think from here on out, it's incredibly difficult for Twilight to ever doubt or distrust Yor. He perceives her as firmly in his corner, that if the chips are down — if his worst enemy and his worst fear come knocking — she'll be on his team, unflinchingly. He may not think there will be much she can do (heh.) or much she can offer given the power of the SSS and her civilian status (I reiterate: heh.), but it matters that he believes that she'll be by his side.

And you know what? He's right. She will be.

That isn't something he's had since he was a little boy. Even WISE doesn't seem to offer that to its agents, given Nightfall's thought here:

Twilight's had to rely on himself for decades and now here's this astonishing woman who will threaten the Secret Police for his sake. Of course he trusts Yor. Of course this moment widens the cracks in his barriers. And further: of course those cracks start to reach into those walls deep, deep inside that protect his heart. This is all before getting to other moments, like when he reflects on how Yor is creating a better world in ways he (thinks he) can never aspire to do himself. That she loves Anya openly, freely, with such dedication, to the point of sacrificing her own needs. That she just never gives up, she persists and persists and persists, always doing her best. That she reminds him it's okay to accept peace and to rest. That she wants and tries to take care of him... On and on and on.

Of course we get to this point:

I'm particularly taken with his body language a little later in the scene. He manages to get himself to sitting but he's still sprawled, open, even as he can't wrap his mind around what exactly is happening or why, and he's feeling vulnerable for all that. But at the same time, this is Yor. And she's safe.

In my view, if the Mole Arc hadn't happened immediately between this moment and the earlier where Yor declares herself unhappy, it would have been clearer how much stress he felt specifically due to Yor's apparent sudden unhappiness with their arrangement. The stress got subsumed (conveniently, ahem, Endo) into the stress and violence of the Mole Arc, but I think it rattled him pretty profoundly. It's also additionally why her warm greeting hit him as hard as it did: relief across multiple lines, such that he had to remind himself not to relax, despite Yor's apparent return to normal.

And there may be added layers to Twilight's reactions to Yor's bad moods due to his familial history, as pointed out by @unhappy-sometimes in this post; the inverse, of course, is that Yor's general good-naturedness would add layers to Twilight's sense of security with her. And the apparent loss of that, all the more devastating.

Rounding out the original moment though, I think this in many ways demonstrates the point:

Twilight throws away the bug. That is also wild. It isn't like that bug could only be used on Yor; it wasn't somehow modified to only respond to her person. It was a device that could be used and reused on different targets, on people who actually are worthy of being bugged, etc. But instead of pocketing it for later use, Twilight throws it away.

Actually: he not only throws it away, he crushes it first. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to have that particular device around, the device he used when he doubted Yor?

Seems kind of irrational, Twilight.

Seems kind of telling.

I mentioned my last Twilight meta about his relationship with Anya: in that, I suggest Twilight recognised entering into a compact with Anya, which subtly modifies, for him, the motivations around Strix. I think something like that happens here, too. If Yor is willing to go to such apparent extremes to protect him, he'll do his utmost to protect her.

I've had this meta in my drafts for a while, but I'm chuffed by this panel from the most recent chapter, as it kind of underscores all this by Yor's positioning of herself:

(Of course the point is there isn't a dichotomy: they'll protect each other, as indicated by Yor's if I had to choose: she won't have to choose.)

Back to Twilight, at this point, he can still justify all this as being within mission parameters. Of course he should protect Yor: she is an innocent civilian and if anything happens to her it would threaten Strix. But if/when this line is tested, if/when there comes a point where protecting Yor is actually the option that may put Strix at risk or put him somehow in opposition to WISE, then we'll see.

And more importantly, Twilight will see, too.

[ybklix]

you can be the boss

★ pairing: softdom!chrisbang x inexperienced!femreader PART THREE ♡ part one / part two

☆summary: What started fast, you wished it wouldn't end fast, because ever since you met Chris it has been an adventure of new experiences and emotions you never thought you would feel, yet the weight of something that started out being wrong was finally getting to you.

✧ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, petnames, oral sex, boobplay, edging, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm denial, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, hints of fluff.

word count: 8.8k

masterlist - taglist ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: hello, this became a short series, welcome, part 4 soon, hope u understand and like it, I tried w the fluff

Everything was fine, except for the fact that you were lying to everyone's face, even though you felt it shouldn't be that way in the first place, Chris was no longer in a relationship with someone else right now and neither were you when you met him, you still had that little feeling of disgust after all and deep down you wanted to go back to being you, that naive girl who didn't care for a second about the fact that he was someone else's boyfriend, of not taking the relationship seriously because of the already well known history and pattern of couples of a woman like Ruby and worst of all, was that you couldn't hate her, beyond her slightly unfriendly face and fake personality, but she was still decent and nice to you, of course, before you knew it was you who was now with Chris, now you had no idea what they were like and didn't want to find out, you were fine with him, sneaking around in your free time after class, ignoring everyone and your parents filling you with messages asking you all the time if you were still on campus and if you were already heading to your dorm, lying and just saying yes, when the reality was otherwise.

You had never had your parents on you for years, just this very moment when the small relationship you had with Chris was more than known and public, Chris, the man who offered them his home to spend a few weeks in the summer and was slightly but at the same time significantly older than you… that was all the information your poor father had because he had no further interest in knowing for him, he was only at his house for Dahlia and you as he thought it would be a good distraction for you along with your cousin-friend your age with whom you got along so well, but Dahlia was only there for Ruby, who insisted on it, and after so many years, for the first time ever, she saw her so excited and enthusiastic about someone. Ruby was somewhat complicated with her relationships and all the time the poor thing blamed herself feeling that it ended up being her fault in some way or another and Chris was no exception, in the end he broke up with her, causing her a slight insecurity, bigger than her past relationships because this time she was really convinced that she would stay with Chris, that he would eventually ask her to move in together and they would be happy forever… but the reality was different and seeing you together only reopened the wound she thought she had closed, she was fine, she just felt awful and terrible for experiencing another failed relationship in her almost thirties, but she still looked so young, her image was enviable and she could have whoever she wanted, she was fine, or at least she pretended to be when she didn't think too much about Chris as she respected his decision so much despite it not being a mutual breakup, but everything changed just by seeing you with him, as her mind idealized the perfect infidelity that it all happened quickly at his summer house, which was quite true and her crazy thoughts were not so far from reality.

On the other hand, your father didn't know what to say that time on the phone as the first time you discussed it was through a phone call, as he couldn't just show up unexpectedly at the university, the chances of meeting you there in a fixed place were so low so he had to confront you through the phone, he didn't know what to tell you, he just asked you for an explanation which you didn't have in concrete, it had just happened, deep down you believed the real reason for his call was Dahlia, who wanted to hear something from you about the situation since she found out from a very agitated and upset Ruby, but you have been avoiding them ever since, in fact, you have been avoiding all of them.

Chris's arms managed to soothe you for the moment, they made you realize that when you were next to him everything was fine… but when you weren't next to him the little guilt came back to hit you coldly. You came to think about the situation, with a shudder and disgust, that you had taken a man away from a woman that maybe they had plans to marry, they were both grown up and knew their families, well at least you knew that about Chris towards Ruby, you didn't know exactly if she knew Chris's family, you didn't know how they met, if they lived together and how serious they were, though at the end of the day… for him to give in and get to you, you immediately deduced that they weren't serious after all, but you with Chris, you did want to be very serious. You didn't want to know those details but at the same time you were so curious, you were starting to feel insecure.

Your little thoughts persisted and unconsciously you walked away and Chris noticed, you walked away from him, suddenly you were so busy and tired that you just came to your dorm room, texted him goodnight and repeated your cycle of your ordinary life before him, where your day was based on college.

You didn't know what to do, you knew they weren't your family directly, you didn't want to think about it too much either but maybe it was just the stress of college combined with the new feeling of dealing with a man like Chris, although you wouldn't directly use that term to address him, you just decided to blame the slight stress on you accumulated with the new feelings forming more and more strongly in you.

And in the middle of a class, you remembered him. You missed him, god you missed him so much, but Chris was very respectful of your space and understood that you were busy at the university but it had been days without feeling his touch, suddenly you remembered him, the sweet touch of his skin against yours, the closeness of his body and his tender but dominant presence near you, all of him, you needed him now to turn off your feelings and take the stress away from you, besides it had been a heavy day, you still had to see him, you had him for yourself and you didn't take the opportunity, now you felt the need to get him.

All you told him was if you could see each other to which he quickly responded in that he would pick you up and be in the west side university parking lot near your dorm building. You lied to him a little about what time he could pick you up as he was so sweetly punctual and you wanted to get to your dorm, shower and get ready to see him as you knew the chances were so high that meeting him would mean you'd be so inevitably pleased. You wore a nice skirt and top, did your makeup and hair for the first time in the rushed and stressful college week and went out happy, with no other thought but to finally see him.

In the distance, you saw him looking so handsome, wearing comfortable but formal black cloth pants and a collared shirt of the same color, tight to his body, making him look so good and highlighting his almost porcelain skin, he smiled broadly at you upon seeing you and you noticed that he didn't have empty hands, but a nice bouquet of flowers accompanied him, as you approached just steps away from him, you finally breathed in his scent, you breathed the same air so close and dared to hug him, an act that he reciprocated immediately, wrapping his strong arms around you, you needed him so much, you wanted to hug him every day if it was possible.

Chris resented your absence and estrangement so much that he was going out of his way to let you know that he really liked you and that he was taking every time you spent together seriously, he gave you a little kiss on top of your head before pulling away. All your silly thoughts were gone once you were with him, you didn't even remember the disappointed expressions of your family that you imagined so much, nor was there anyone else but the two of you.

“For you, I really thought I was going to see you until the weekend” he mentioned sweetly, handing you the bouquet of pink flowers.

You looked at him tenderly, no one had ever given you flowers or small gifts suddenly just for the sake of it, just because he missed you and was coming back to see you after days, it was like he was celebrating that he is finally close to you again, Chris was quite the man.

“Thank you, Chris.”

You were blushing. Your whole body burned sweetly and you moved closer to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips, an act which he took advantage of and didn't let it be fleeting, instead he grabbed you from your lower back pulling you to his body to join more passionately in a real and long lasting kiss, in a feast of delicious movements and exploration that you so longed for and missed, his full lips against yours, his nose on your face, his muscular body attached to yours, your arms around him, you almost fell weak again at his touch, but he was holding you so tightly.

“I missed you” he whispered as he pulled away minimally, brushing your lips.

Chris smiled. His nose playing with yours, nuzzling.

“Me too, that's why I called you” you replied, mesmerized in the provocative playfulness that was having his face so close.

Chris licked his lips, the sweet and tender was becoming darker and darker as the seconds ticked by and you felt his breath hit your face, there was so much tension all of a sudden in such a public place. He analyzed you, his piercing but soft gaze watching you from above, he looked so good every time he watched you like that, you adored every angle of him, you could get down on your knees and suck him off right there, or push yourself back on your heels to catch his lips again and kiss him for a long time, you could do anything with him.

“I always want to see you. Don't let days go by without seeing you, I can't” he confessed.

You smiled warmly, joy filling every inch of you for having him. You were the same as you were just over a month ago, warm bodies under a hot sun in his house, but at the same time it felt like something changed in you, being able to see each other at any time, under the stars, without having to hide.

Chris was proud to have you, his time of reflection had passed in which he doubted whether to let you go, let you do your normal life, dating a college boy your age… but he couldn't allow that, he didn't see you with anyone else but him, you were his and that filled every part of him. Your relationship wasn't the best, he was a man with his life made and you were a young woman still seeing for her future, but he didn't care, he wanted to be there for you, smoothing the long journey that is having to build your own life and future, plus he was sure that no other immature guy was going to treat you and take care of you the way he planned to.

“Okay, come see me every day. I'm free from 2 to 5, then I take two classes and go to the dorm.”

“We can do so many things in those three hours, why hadn't you told me?”

He teased sweetly starting to stroke your back, the tension was building again, but some young men walking quietly through the parking lot distracted you from your own bubble.

Chris cleared his throat and the two of you slowly separated.

“Well, get in the car, princess,” he smiled at you.

He opened the door for you, he fastened your seatbelt as a perfect excuse to be close to your body, getting his head in, you appreciated him, his structured profile and his large hands and arms delicately sliding the belt to buckle you in, you breathed in his perfume, you boldly saw the veins in his arms and hands, almost drooling over him, you hadn't been touched in days.

But your inner fire ceased a little, when he turned to see you with an adorable smile closing his eyes. Chris rounded the car and sat behind the wheel.

“Did you have something planned for today, baby girl?” he spoke starting the car.

His sudden little nicknames for you always made you blush.

“Mm, not today, I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled even wider, stretching his handsome face as he showed pure happiness at having you.

“Mmm well, we can take advantage of one of the last warm nights since the cold autumn is coming.”

You frowned, not sure what he was referring to. But you could tell he had something on his mind.

“Oh, okay…”

You decided to leave it like that, seeing it as a surprise as to what you could do. On the way you both talked, Chris was also busy on a project, but as soon as you called him, he stopped it and went running to get ready to see you, you felt bad, but he told you that you shouldn't feel that way, that he was the boss anyway and could stop his work from time to time when he wanted to. You blushed, everything about him was so structured, he was a man with a life, but he was lonely and you were more than happy to be that someone to keep him company.

He caressed your bare thigh from time to time and you shyly put your hand on his, feeling his strong, long fingers in your warm palm. You were so comfortable with him, the way he spoke appealingly focused on the road and seeing you momentarily but doing it in such a detailed way… within minutes, you decided to look around when you noticed he was slowing down and recognized the place right away, his house near the beach. You felt a shiver, you had never seen it from that perspective at night, the front of his home at night, the slightly long driveway leading up to the main lot… you hadn't been there since you left and did so one afternoon with the strong sun on your body. It had been so quick, you and Chris acted fast after a fleeting week of secret meetings at his pool house and decided that you had to go, to slowly evict everyone, his ex-girlfriend being the last pawn to remove. Once again, you felt slightly bad for her. Recapping your plan sounded so cynical and heartless, you met, and liked each other, when he was in a relationship and plotted how he should break up with her to be with you, kind of heartless, but there was nothing else to do, it was almost like Chris was waiting for you, designed for you, he looked so mismatched with Ruby anyway, you wanted to convince yourself. In the end, he chose you, yes you acted with your hormones and senses in turmoil, like a heartless little bitch, but you got the man.

You looked at his home, it suddenly felt so distant and new from a different perspective, being now Chris's lover and not just a guest and stranger to him, you still remembered your magnetic first meeting. The time you met a man who you kept thinking of all the ways he could make you full and happy, but he only had one obstacle and impediment, which was so easy to remove, you were scared that what easy came into your hands could go away so easily too, you didn't want to walk away from Chris, there were nights when you were worried that you couldn't call him your boyfriend, there was a real bond that tied you to him, although the situation was so ironic and hypocritical, sometimes you weren't sure if you deserved such happiness so easily, doing wrong and getting good results. You wanted to be the same as you were more than a month ago, when none of that mattered to you more than the sweet tobacco taste of Chris's lips on yours, you didn't know why you were overthinking it so much, he wasn't dating anyone else anymore, he made that clear to you.

“We haven't been here alone, ever” he spoke suddenly, parking the car.

You were engrossed with the facade of his home, that his deep voice resonated with you, you turned to see him with a smile. You wanted everything to be special with you too, you didn't want to feel in the shadow of his ex-girlfriend even though you'd only seen them interact for a week, Liv's voice saying they'd lasted six months and knowing each other since January echoed in your head so annoyingly.

“It's all ours now” he repeated again.

His words only calmed you down a little. And you got out of the car as soon as he opened the door for you. There was no reason to feel somehow unhappy, when it was right there where it all started, his simple kiss, his first touch and now it was yours, making it more than clear that he had completely forgotten about Ruby, but you didn't understand why it still wasn't so clear to you.

Chris noticed your expression, grabbed you by the waist and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” he whispered softly, making your hair stand on end.

You stopped dead in your tracks, surprising Chris but he stopped with you, you turned to see him, and just before you entered his house, you saw him with huge bright eyes, begging, but not in a sexual way, you were begging to know that you were the only woman he wanted to have in his life, you wanted to know, you were hungry for it but you couldn't find the right words, plus each and every one of his actions were right but you wanted a confirmation from him, in words, that he wouldn't leave you and that he was truly feeling that connection and great magnetism, as personas, souls and not just bodies.

“What, baby girl?” he let out a chuckle, touched and with his brow gently furrowed, confused by your act.

He wasn't so sure if you could ever feel comfortable again in a place where you met him having someone else, but he wanted to try, getting sizzling hot moments where nothing could turn you off. Chris caressed your face, you were pouting softly.

“Mmm, nothing.”

“It's definitely something, tell me all about it, sweetheart” he sounded so understanding, such a soft, sweet tone that you wanted to hear every day.

“I want you” you confessed.

Chris knew exactly what you meant by that phrase, he wanted you too, as much as you wanted him, but he was waiting and idealizing so much for the perfect and indicated moment.

“I want you, too. I want everything from you” he replied softly.

His answer made you uneasy but calmed you at the same time, leaving you confused, he took to running his hands through your arms and hugged you. Leaving you with your mind swimming. But you didn't say anything else, you stayed there, thinking that maybe you shouldn't rush things.

You followed him into the house, it looked so different, with no one around, just you and him, that was your dream, something you longed for but couldn't help but feel empty in a way, it wasn't the material, but something deep inside you, but it all made sense, when Chris took a few steps ahead of you, and you saw him with his back turned, with his house in the background, you understood and every corner shined again. Just you and him, forgetting everything. Being what you always were, an inevitable cute mess attracted to each other.

“Have you had dinner yet? I can make dinner here” he spoke sweetly.

You nodded, “I'm fine, and you?”

He too nodded softly.

“Then... let's enjoy ourselves, I prepared the pool for us before the weather turns completely cold.”

You smiled at him, “Mm... you want to go to the pool?” you said seductively, moving closer to him until you joined your body to his again.

He was so captivated by you and the way you saw him and approached him, the night was perfect, so quiet, being able to kiss in his foyer without any trouble, only hearing each other and the faint, distant sound of crickets chirping and the night itself.

“But I don't have a bathing suit” you replied, playing with him and pouting.

“You can get in naked” he joked to which you were surprised and he laughed, “Let's go upstairs to my room, I have something for you.”

He took you by the hand, his warm big hand holding you, guiding you to a room you had never entered as it was too risky back then, his room, the master bedroom which he accompanied with a certain woman who made you shiver just thinking about it. Still, you inspected every detail of the room. You liked it but your face was more than obvious.

“I changed everything” Chris suddenly blurted out, “It's another bed, other sheets...”

Chris understood the importance and level of things, he was trying to put himself in your shoes and imagining the idea that someone else had you and touched you before him truly drove him crazy, he couldn't even bear to imagine it, then he understood that you met him 'having the heart' of another woman, so you might find it difficult, but the truth was that now genuinely, it was all yours.

His comments awakened something in you, the fact that he paid attention to those details to make you understand as if she had never existed in his life, reassured your inner self.

“And this...” you said.

You noticed a nice white bikini and a shopping bag with a designer logo on the bed, next to a nice dress next to it, you thought you weren't ready for gifts, although in reality you were, but you didn't know what to do about it, other than tell him thank you, you didn't know what to give Chris back, you were a college girl living in a dorm with another girl and this semester he wouldn't let you take a part time job, you wanted to give him something too. He slowly approached you with perilous steps and with a tenderly joyful expression came back to tell you:

“This is also for you, I saw it and immediately thought of you, how much I want to see you in it...”

You were caused tenderness by his way of saying it. But something about him was still so captivating and seductive. He was all a dream, how could you leave him.

“Oh... Chris...”

“Don't be modest, let me shower you with gifts, I want to. A thank you is fine with me, if you can think of other ways to say thank you, you can always tell me” he mentioned as he saw your slightly worried expression, his last comment came out somewhat impishly from him.

“Thank you” you leaned in closer, giving him a kiss on his soft, clean cheek.

“You're welcome, baby doll. I want you to wear it on a special day, what are you doing this weekend? Can we see each other?”

“I'll be free” you replied with a smile.

“Perfect” he smiled, “Now relax a little and let's go to the pool, water's warm. Let me get you dressed.”

The naturalness with which he said the last sentence made you freeze in a good way, blushing. You nodded, waiting for him, Chris walked over to you with an adorable smile plastered on his face and leaned over to whisper to you:

“Let daddy dress her doll.”

He and his damn habit of calling himself daddy, it made you angry because it accomplished something indescribable to you. It made you so hot in seconds. The closeness of his mouth on your ear and his light brush against your loose hair made your skin bristle. You almost swallowed nervously, but you looked at him again with pleading eyes, this time in a sexual mode and it drove Chris crazy, your inexplicable, innocent aura he couldn't resist.

He let out a sigh, already aroused without even touching you until he grabbed the hem of your blouse, lifting it up, you raised your arms and let him undress you completely, starting from top to bottom, he removed your bra and admired your breasts, then he looked mischievously into your eyes and lowered his gaze again, Chris caught your right breast with his hand, he slightly roughly massaged both breasts with his hand and checked the hardness of your nipples, pinching them and just playing with what is his. You just stood there, firmly standing in front of him, letting him do with you what he wanted, enjoying the process.

Chris was still smiling mischievously and now it was his turn to remove your skirt and panties, getting down on his knees in front of you and once again, doing it slowly and admiring your mons pubis being covered by your underwear until finally taking it off. Needless to say, the obvious excitement in both of your bodies and the thoughts that inhabited both of your minds, lusting for each other. Your core was lubricating itself, throbbing more and more but your undoing was to feel his breath hit the skin of your pubis, where Chris deposited a soft kiss, squeezing your thigh and almost just out of curiosity or habit, he finely ran his fingertip along the length of your tight folds, driving you wild.

He stood up as if it was nothing, calmly taking the bikini and putting it on you seductively, but you noticed that he wasn't so calm at all; heavy breathing and a thick erection accompanied him. You were in a mess wondering how he was going to get rid of the bulge of arousal in his pants, you wondered if he was about to touch you as he put the little garments on you until he finally got you dressed.

You both made eye contact, he licked his lips, letting himself be carried away by you, at this point every muscle in your pussy was throbbing with eagerness and the sensation was unsettling and was only well attended to when Chris did it. So you couldn't stand it a second longer, your whole body was on fire just now and when you were like this you used to act on your own, taking steps that would initiate something with no return and dangerous, just like the first time you met him, when your poor sensitive pussy cried every time you saw him being himself so well, an uneasy feeling that drove you to him, telling him how much you wanted him to fuck you, when you had never even experienced sex. You knew he was so turned on too, so you understood there was only one more thing to do.

You finally reacted, impatient, eager for his hands on you. You reached out to him in a playful way and caressed his arm, feeling his defined muscles and the softness of his skin.

“Daddy…”

You caught his attention in a sweet way that you knew exactly what turned him on so much. You hadn't called him that and that only meant one thing, which carried with it many. You got his attention from the first second you approached him, but your sweet tone of voice calling him something so normal with such sexual undertones made his cock trapped in his pants throb in excitement.

“You're so hard, daddy” you continued, moving your hand from his arm down to his bulge, ”Can I help you?”

Chris bit his lip, indulging in your cute little game of seduction and provocation, nodding softly and leaving the palm of his right hand gently on your cheek.

“You're a good girl for daddy, wanting to help me. Go on, please take care of your daddy, my baby doll.”

His words aroused in you more craving and desire, unbuttoning the button of his pants, admiring the big bulge trapped in it and you managed to pull out his cock, so stiff and detonating for you. You loved every aching inch of him, Chris always knew how to use it on you and make you come all the way to the clouds.

You took his thick length, Chris moaned, his cock was desperate in your hands and you began to masturbate him, pulling on his member, stroking it gently, making you incredibly more horny.

“Is that okay, daddy?”

You looked into his eyes, Chris was struggling internally but he adored his little princess being there for him, servicing him.

“Just like that, my baby girl, you know you're doing excellent for daddy.”

Your soft hands were nothing compared to his, when the nights were lonely and he had to pleasure himself, but it made no sense for Chris to masturbate alone when he had you now, always so ready for him. Your delicate movements over the length of his cock were making him weak, he was being satisfied to perfection. The sound of his moans and skin on skin rubbing flooded his room.

Suddenly his glistening precum came out of his pink, foreplayed tip, making you salivate, making you so thirsty.

“Mm, daddy, can I use my mouth?”

“Please, princess” he whispered, grabbing your face but you quickly rose to your knees.

You kissed his glans, a sonorous soft kiss leaving pearly white stains on your lips which you savored by running your tongue on them to taste of him and finally you caught his throbbing limb with your mouth. You almost reached your orgasm as you felt his rigid shaft on your tongue, Chris was exquisitely delicious, his big cock and sweet personality made him the ideal man, you were so happy that he was the only one to ever touch you.

You stimulated him with care, Chris took hold of your hair gently, letting himself be carried away by the sensations you were provoking in him, while you delicately ran your tongue all over his cock, moistening it and then you sucked him at your pace, enjoying eating him, without him rushing you or pushing you too much. You were looking into his eyes and he would make eye contact with you when he wasn't throwing his head back or closing his eyes in pleasure.

“You're doing so good, baby, so-so good, mmm.”

You blushed at his rough voice, shyly played with his balls and kept taking his cock with your mouth, tongue and lips, enjoying every delicious big inch as if it was your favorite candy and weakening every corner of you, making you clench your legs tightly to feel your sweet wetness as you moved your legs.

His cock throbbed more in your mouth, you felt him so close, you could taste him.

“Open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue, princess.”

You heard him command and you did, pulling his cock out of your mouth in a resounding pop. You were so happy, your restless tongue waiting to receive your Chris's affection. He took the base of his well loaded cock, sucked air between his teeth, frustrated and excited and positioned a part of his cock and glans over your tongue, releasing himself on you, spraying you with every drop of his cum you managed to get out of him.

“Aghhh, good girl, good baby, fuck” Chris blurted out in exasperation, his pumping cock unloading onto your tongue, into your submissive position and your beady little eyes.

You swallowed it all and stood up with little balance. Chris settled his exposed cock and looked at your expression, you were so proud somehow, making him smile.

“Do you want daddy to make you feel better too?” he commented tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shook your head. As much as you were so excited, your chest rising and falling in heavy, agitated breathing, you wanted to resist and now relax in his arms and into what he promised to be warm water.

“I'm fine, daddy. Did you like it?”

Chris chuckled. “I loved it, baby.”

You waited for Chris to get ready, leaving him in just shorts. And you kept the mindset of reassuring yourself, despite the sight of his worked abs and pecs.

He led you sweetly to the pool after your moment of adrenaline and rushed uproar of desire and hormones and you finally felt relaxed, every tense muscle from a heavy week was softening, the water felt so good to you, as did Chris's closeness. You couldn't help but cease your thoughts, his muscular body looked so good wet but soon you found yourself distracted by his topic of conversation; you both found yourself there, in the pool alone where you innocently played at innuendo without really thinking about all that some flirting would take you so far, now you were his.

You went back to talking about your little period of stress and Chris immediately offered to help you relax even more, you played with him, saying his attempts were in vain as you would be going back to college tomorrow anyway, he offered to let you stay, that he would take care of all that tomorrow and you he would take care of right now, offering you a gentle but strategic massage on your shoulders, squeezing your skin and pressing his thumbs into your muscles, it felt so good, you really needed some of him, he always knew what to do and more when it came to you.

You were moaning, genuinely from non-sexual pleasure, from relief. But Chris stopped suddenly, leaving you confused. He positioned himself in front of you, and you watched him, he looked like he was about to say something and he had to.

“I know what you meant earlier at the door” he began to speak, you looked at him expectantly and slightly confused, “I want to have you too and this is all so nice to me” Chris sighed, incredulous that he had to say it again in his now over thirty years, but it was worth it to him, because it was you, “I want to be with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled suddenly, you expected anything but that, you nodded happily unable to form words and shyly reached out to hug him.

“I know the way you and I…”

You silenced him with a quick kiss, you didn't want to hear him justify the way the two of you met.

“It's okay” you answered him softly.

He smiled at you and caught your lips again, you kissed such sweetly, your bodies wet but losing more and more self control, leading him to hold you tighter from your back and waist and sizzlingly escalating every movement of lips and mouth.

You were making out from one moment to the next, a voracious hunger for each other constant and without thinking about it, you became aroused again, you didn't know what was happening, but it only happened that easy with Chris, just like from the first time you met him.

Chris knew how to read you very well and knew the restlessness in your body, the inner desperation that you suddenly have to be satisfied.

Pulling away, taking a breath and with pink lips, he looked at you tenderly and pouting softly.

“Mmm, are you sure you don't want me to make you cum tonight, baby girl? Make you feel good…”

You looked him straight in the eyes. Your gaze was dark. You were going to fuck him as your boyfriend at least, meaning the feelings were already there and it made your skin bristle with excitement.

“Or… do you want me to make it feel good” he added when he didn't get a response.

Chris acted fast, repositioning himself behind you, massaging your shoulders but you could tell the sexual and sensual connotation in his act, squeezing your skin and moments later he slid his hands down to your breasts, massaging them gently over the fabric of your garment. You turned your head to look at him, he was so close to you.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered to you.

“Yes…”

You were starting to lose yourself, you didn't even have to answer him, he already knew how you were right now. The sensation of your excited sex in the water felt so different. Chris positioned his face to the side of yours, watching as more and more of you let yourself go. He dared to pull up the little garment, leaving your breasts exposed to finally play with them freely, with his hand, kneading them vigorously to his liking, playing with the firmness of your nipple so sensitive to stimulation. You saw his big hands on your breasts, the bracelets on his wrists and his slender, manly fingers, squeezing your skin tightly; you were hopelessly horny again and wanted to have him right there.

You turned abruptly, again looking into his eyes, pleading for him to be the one to make you see stars this time, beyond the beautiful starry night you were living in.

“Chris… daddy…”

You were so excited, you weren't thinking straight, about to fuck him in the pool even though it didn't seem so appetizing for your taste, as the water would interrupt the deep lunges that your, now boyfriend, always used to give you. You looked so tender for him, helpless with your bikini top rolled up revealing your breasts.

“You can call me whatever you want, baby, just always remember to call me.”

Chris kissed you again, this time with your exposed breasts messily and shamelessly rubbing on his abs. He wanted to take you right there, but he knew that sex in the pool was such a desperate thing and he could make you feel so much better already out of it.

As he pulled away, he slid down from your top, smiling sweetly at you.

“Come on, let's go inside.”

You didn't think fast enough, the heat was taking over you, but you followed him, Chris sweetly wrapped your body in a towel as you felt the cold hit your body. He was so cute, the fact that you were so needy made you a little shy.

And finally, you were back inside. Chris frolicked with you, taking the towel and drying your hair and body delicately in little giggles. You said nothing and just let him do it. In the end you saw him embarrassed but happy. He looked at you tenderly.

“Aw, my sweet girl, come here.”

Chris was lost in you. He didn't know how, he did know when, but it happened, something he had never thought of as loving someone significantly younger to him seriously, he knew there would be some differences in the two of you, but he would manage to improve them over time. The next thing you felt was his lips and the loss of strength from holding your towel. Both towels on the floor, lips and bodies pressed together, your arms on his shoulders and your back against the wall, you were teasing each other again.

Your heart pounded, your bottom tingled in excitement and your mind was enjoying and processing that all these little moments with him would now henceforth be so natural for the two of you.

Chris lowered his caresses down to your ass, which he held and carried you from there without difficulty, making you wrap your legs around his torso and carried you up to his room.

He took care of everything, moving your dress and bag to a sofa in the room still with you in his arms, he left you lying gently on the bed, still with his body on top of you, not letting you think of anything else because he was already passionately kissing you again and the caresses of his right hand went down to your sensitive spot, pulling aside the thick fabric of the bathing suit to caress and stimulate your clit.

You felt that electric shock that only he could do, of being touched again. You were getting wetter, you felt the softness of your own wetness prepare your entrance and on the other hand, Chris was so hard again, he was so hard since he felt the softness of your young skin molding in his hands, from your sweet kisses of which he could have no end, so he continued to caress you, playing with the rhythm, making it slow, increasing the speed and treating your sensitive spot hard, pinching and pressing it, as he wanted to have you even needier.

His kisses lowered and you could moan at not having his lips against yours, this time being slightly moist, from your jaw to your neck, Chris was on the edge, so excited and ready to use his cock but he wanted to have you begging for it, so ready to finally feel it inside. You adored the feel of his soft lips on your neck, kissing, licking and nibbling lightly, not significantly intense enough to leave a mark but just to feel your skin, while his fingers finely work down into you, exciting you exquisitely. His kisses continued down until he reached your abdomen and his soft hair brushed against your skin, his lips and nose rubbing against you, finally finding his way to your much needed area that he kept stimulating. Chris smiled, pulling his hand away from you so he could remove your swimsuit bottoms that prevented him from fully seeing your swollen pussy begging for him.

You tensed, you were so nervous, but they were good nerves, you thought to yourself that every time his face came near your center it meant he was about to perform a series of moves that would leave you quivering and breathless, he was about to eat you, and you were absolutely right, Chris licked his lips at the image of your exposed pussy, he parted your legs so he could position himself in between them and squeezed your left thigh with his hand while he took it upon himself to give you kisses on the inside of your thighs. Then he kissed around the area of your pussy, teasing you to finally separate your folds and vagina completely with both of his hands, stretching it and giving it a dirty, hot and loud kiss, using the movement of his lips, daring to use his tongue as well, covering from the outside of your wet entrance and the inside of your vulva; you gasped and twitched a little at the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive genital area, Chris made a giggling sound over your pussy, knowing he had you like this filled him with pure pleasure.

Finally, his mouth moved up, caressing the rest of your vulva to reach your clit, tasting it with his tongue and sucking it using its cavity completely, this time you trembled before him and let out a ragged sigh, Chris was doing it again, knowing exactly what to do, even though you were not the most expert at sex, you were very sure that the gentle way he ate your pussy was so ideal and right. His long fingers caressed the rest of your pussy and he made eye contact with you as he sucked on your sensitive spot, worshipping you from that angle, his upper lips glued to the skin of your pubis, his tongue lost in your playfully soft clit. Chris played with your entrance, teasing it with two of his fingers, circling it over your entrance and dipping them in shallowly and gently, taking you to the extreme of your arousal. You stroked his hair and suddenly he was lost in your anatomy, lowering his mouth and licking everything from you, sucking your labia and giving you the pleasure that was slowly blurring your vision. His lips were full, his tongue thick and slick and his teeth strong and sharp making you come closer and closer to your orgasm as he continued to stimulate you with his fingers thrusting them into you gently, taking you deep and exploring your insides, then thrusting in and out, ramming them in a dynamic that made you come closer and closer to your climax. Chris loved your moans, your desperate high pitched cries as his fingers feasted on your slippery tight insides and his mouth on your taste, he was in complete control of you, you were being fully satisfied, so close to your orgasm that Chris could tell, so he pulled his mouth away from you, kept penetrating you with his fingers, more and more intensely until he heard your inevitable mess of fluids collide with his digits. He stood up a little, smirking smugly and quickly wiping his stained mouth on you with the back of his free hand.

“You're so close, baby, huh?”

Chris said in a low tone and watched you expectantly, your body never ceasing to move slightly writhing in pleasure. You nodded awkwardly, saw his handsome face amidst your blurred vision filled with pleasure, you were so close, Chris knew it and only roughly lifted your bikini top to expose your breasts again and massage them again. You bit your lip in desperation feeling you were being loud enough, his veiny arm buried in his core looked so good, you were cumming, but unexpectedly Chris abruptly pulled his fingers away from you, making you gasp.

“Don't cum yet, sweetheart” he whispered close to your face, “Cum with daddy's cock inside you.”

You were shaken, confused and you saw how quickly Chris slipped down his shorts and boxers, freeing his notorious cock, took it again and positioned himself over you, gently stroking his hard member over your wet pussy and then rubbing it into your folds.

“You want me to fuck you, huh, my sweet girl?” he said demanding, looking at you as if you were helpless.

Your heart was about to pound out of your chest, the feel of his cock in your vulva was torturing you, both sexes throbbing and eager.

“Yes, daddy please” you tried not to sound so needy, but you wanted him to fill you up completely, to make you climax.

Chris licked his lips and teased your entrance, slowly inserting the tip of his penis. You squealed in pleasure, even his tip was stretching your orifice, he continued to tease you, gently ramming inside you with just his glans and little more few inches of his cock.

“Chris, p-please” you begged.

He smiled, satisfied with your soft pleas, he settled his body better as he pushed himself into you slowly, stretching open your entrance and walls, making you whimper, his pumping, rigid cock once again reaching deep inside you. Chris sucked air between his teeth and then moaned between relieved and frustrated, relieved to be inside you, frustrated that you were still so tight and making him feel pleasantly dizzy, blinded in pleasure.

Chris began to move in you, his strong body on top of yours, his cock magically tearing your insides apart, sliding up and down your walls, you were feeling orgasm close again, you were so close anyway before, he began to pant near your ear, enjoying being deep in you, moving your body with each rough, hard pounding thrust he gave you. He began to babble, loving how you felt for him and you whimpered and squealed in pleasure, feeling all of you so full. Chris took your left hand that was clenching his sheet tightly and intertwined it tightly with yours, never stopping ramming you, starting slow, deep and passionately and increasing the pace more and more. Your other hand dug into his back enjoying every thrust into you, he was so deep in you that the skin of his pubis rubbed into you gently.

“Aw, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

He was intoxicated in you, your walls squeezed him tighter in search of your orgasm, you whimpered his name as his hair brushed your cheek. You arched your back in search of your release, the knot in your stomach combined with the bulge of his cock were unreal, he was practically tearing your body apart in such a pleasurable way.

“Cum, baby doll, cum for me” he gasped, leaning in to see your pleasure filled expression.

You climaxed after he began to ram into you bestially, you cum with his exposed cock inside and he continued arduously with deep but gentle thrusts into you until he reached his orgasm inside you, spilling every drop of his cum inside you. Chris sighed in relief, slowly pulling his cock out to let it rest on your mons pubis, his cock so wet and used as he watched his mark on you, his cum dripping down your used center. You were both exhausted and full of pleasure.

“Aw, my pretty baby, do you like it when daddy fills you all up?”

You couldn't deny it, you did love the feeling of him filling you with it, of his thick white cum sliding down your hole as a sign that he was there, taking care of you.

[...]

You had one more problem, just when you were completely forgetting your guilt after an incredible night with Chris, your father sent you a message reminding you that it was Dahlia's birthday party exactly the next day, he had been reminding you but you ignored every single one of his messages since he opposed the idea of you being with Chris and asked you all the time about your whereabouts.

You didn't want to go, you didn't feel welcome. But you ended up doing it, sadly canceling on Chris whatever he had planned to hang out with you and you were honest with him, telling him you had to hang out with your dad since it was Dahlia's birthday. You weren't cynical enough not to go or stay away from her as she was nothing but merely sweet and cute to you, she liked you well enough, your mother liked her and your father loved her; you met her when you were already grown up in your teens and she sweetly introduced herself to you saying that you can call her by her name and that she did not pretend at any time to occupy the role of your mother, but that she would love and appreciate you as enormously and purely as one, since then she always remembers your birthdays, events and important dates, she always gives you gifts at Christmas and a nice detail on Valentine's Day, you were so weak as to cut ties with her for something that shouldn't be the biggest problem, you were dating someone, you wanted to be with him and go out, you didn't understand the problem in that, you just wanted everyone to forget the little detail of how it was that you met.

Plus you always made a little room for important dates like birthdays, your dad would pick you up from college and you would stay the weekend at his house.

You could have broken tradition, lying that you really couldn't because you had too much work to do with college but you also didn't want to be the kind of woman who had to hide and stay away from her family for a man. You had nothing to hide, you were now Chris's girlfriend, no big deal.

You put your pride on high, you told your father that you could go on your own to his house, which confused him and you dared to tell him that Chris would come to drop you off, he was stunned at the call, wanting to refuse but agreed in a low voice, as if he didn't want to be heard, and you understood that the side where they were more opposed to your relationship was more from Chris' ex-girlfriend's family, because you recognized your father's tone so well, almost as if he didn't take the great importance to the subject.

And then you got out of Chris's car, after he worriedly told you if you were sure about going, to which you nodded decisively, saying goodbye to him in a long kiss, carrying the luxurious medium-sized carry-on suitcase he had given you along with some clothes. But your surprise was when you opened the door and had to see in front of you the woman who had also once tested your now boyfriend.

She was the last person you wanted to see just now, you thought you had to confront her until dinner tonight, that you could peacefully get home, further convincing your father of the good man Chris was... but your plans were disappearing one by one as you saw her unfriendly face.

This was not your kind of weekend.

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

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[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.