#just give me some whiskey. play any video game

[m1suse]

okay but,,, imagine not wearing a bra,,, using some sort of forgiving shibari instead,,, wearing it under your clothes ever so peacefully through the day,,, until they innocently drag their dominant hand up and down your back,,, that ends up underneath your shirt,,, that turns to you being dragged by that rope to another room,,, that turns into being held down by the binds accentuating your chest looking oh so perky and bite able,,, that turns to another piece of rope appearing in front of you, that is about to restrict you further_,,, im droolling

[duc-kie]

Could you write about Lando after his p2 in Singapore and he goes full dominative on you? Maybe that you went out before with Carlos and a couple of the other drivers to celebrate the Singapore podium and you have been teasing him the whole night and he’s completely done with it?

Okay I know I took a really long time to answer and I’m genuinely sorry. I’ve been going feral over the video below. It also inspired me to make this blurb🤭

This looked better in my head tbh. Written it just feels really random and idk. Still hope you like it though!

THE FINGERS, THE RING, THE GENTLENESS, JUST HIM IN GENERAL

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

You were enjoying yourself on the dance floor with some of your friends, while your boyfriend Lando was celebrating his podium with some fellow drivers. This whole night has been crazy, full of sexual tension and teasing touches between the two of you.

You've been craving Lando the whole day. All you wanted was his touch all over you and he knew it. You tried to seduce him but he wouldn't give in, so you decided to wear the sexiest dress you own to the after party for his Singapore P2 finish.

His eyes widened when you arrived with your girlfriends. You enjoyed a few drinks and were quite tipsy and consequently even hornier so you made your way to the table where Lando and his friends were chatting and having drinks. You greeted them all before sitting on Lando's lap and taking a sip of his whiskey. Licking your lips, you leaned down to kiss him.

When you started moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his already semi hard dick he had enough. He excused you both and basically dragged you to a just slightly more private corner and pinned you against the wall. His knee found it’s way between your legs, pressing on the spot where you’ve been craving his touch for a while. "You still wanna play games?" he asked wrapping a hand around your neck. "but what about all the people Lando?" you asked looking around to see if anyone is looking at you. "you didn't seem to care before, did you?" he asked and before you could answer he shoved his tongue down your throat.

You couldn't help but start grinding on his knee that was still between your thighs. letting our quiet moans.

You pulled away from the kiss catching your breath and looking around wondering how many people are watching you. he grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him telling you to keep your eyes on him. "these people are too drunk to care what we're doing, don’t worry" he reassured you before taking your hand and leading you through the crowd to the VIP area.

There was no one there so you felt slightly more at ease. Lando didn’t waste any time and quickly continued what you started. Pinned against the wall you felt his fingers drag your panties down your legs. He took them off and stuck them in his pocket.

His lips then quickly found their way to your neck. He knew where all your sweet spots were and he made sure he left a mark on every single one. Moans and needy whimpers left your lips from the wet and warm feeling on your neck. Your hands made their way up his arms to play with his hair.

Lando reached down to gently rub your clit, soaking his fingers in your pre-cum. "mmm so wet" he quietly murmured into your neck. "Lando please" you moaned out, desperate to have his fingers shoved deep inside you. "what do you want princess, use your words." he encouraged you, continuing to rub your pussy painfully slowly.

"I want you to finger fuck me" you said, adding a "please". That wasn't enough for him though. "beg for it" he said looking straight into your eyes. You were so desperate for at least just a little more friction in your sensitive areas, words and pleads just spilled out of you. When you were practically on your knees begging, Lando was finally satisfied.

He stopped rubbing your clit for just a minute to quickly taste you on his fingertips, humming in satisfaction. A finger quickly found it’s way into your pussy, and he was quick to add another one. They slid in with ease since you were so wet you were practically dripping on the floor from the buildup of desperation throughout the whole day.

You were clenching around his fingers, chasing release. It didn’t take long for you to reach your high and spill cum all over his soft fingers. Moaning his name you grabbed his shoulders for support, nearly collapsing. While you were trying to catch your breath he shoved a finger into your mouth expecting you to suck it clean, and you obviously obeyed.

After you regained balance he walked you out of the bar. Your cheeks were extremely red walking through the crowd of people that probably saw everything, not to mention you were in a really short dress without panties underneath.

You can probably imagine how the rest of your night went after you came home.

[radioisntdead]

Hi again so I was wondering if you could do a angel dust x fem listener where we comfort angel dust and he talks about when he was a alive and the

Struggle he went though and he probably mentions his sister Molly

Good evenin' my dear! My apologies for this taking forever to get too! I did tweak it a little bit, Angel and reader just kinda talk about their siblings and being alive here, not really comforting each other but talking?

Late night talk

Angel dust & F! Reader

Warning: drugs, both reader and Angel are intoxicated, and canon divergent because I don't think we know much about Angel's being alive, ending is kinda abrupt.

It was some unspeakable late night hour and the two of you were in some rundown motel room, far away from Valentino, surrounded by all types of drugs, alcohol, a first aid kit and empty food wrappers.

The two of you were quiet, Angel was dangling off the bed while you were laying sprawled on the cold floor, staring blankly into the ceiling that felt like it could collapse at any given moment.

"Ya' know, I'm a twin," Angel dust said breaking the quiet, his eyes focused on the yellowing ceiling.

"Twin?" You glanced over.

"Yeah, I had a' sister, her name was Molly."

"Oh neat."

Silence filled the air again as a few minutes passed before he spoke up again,

"Ya' know I don't think I stood a' fuckin' chance when I was alive,"

You glanced up at him, only seeing the white fluff of his head, "Weren't you born in like, the big scary spaghetti mafia?"

"Ya' mean the Italian Mafia, the spaghetti mafia sounds like we were doing pasta crimes."

"Well you were doing crimes with olive oil,"

"Okay that was not me, I do not fuck with the olive oil!"

You broke into a laugh, "You haven't yet! No idea what grape man might try next." You heard him gag.

More silence passed before he popped up, "But seriously, I never stood a' chance, ya know my brother and I started bein' taught about the family business when we were like, twelve?"

"Yeah that's pretty fucked, I remember being twelve and playing video games not being taught how to commit crimes,"

"Right? gave me my very first gun for my birthday" Angel turned over on his stomach looking over at you, He was right honestly didn't stand chance, he never did.

Born in a mobster family as the second son, with a horrific father and a mother who could do nothing but watch as her sons were raised to live a life of crime, she wasn't the greatest person either though.

His sister on the other hand, was lucky, kept away from the whole crime business due to being born a daughter as opposed to a son.

"Who the fuck gives a twelve year old a gun?!" "My Pa did, twice."

You simply blinked, you were no saint, clearly, but you wouldn't give a kid a gun and just go, 'here kill people!'

"Ya' know the first time my brotha and I had to dispose of a body together we accidentally dropped it? The bag it was in ripped open and I just saw this guy with no face, torn clean off, It was jarrin' at the time,"

You grimaced, "Ouch, imagine getting your face torn off, he was probably alive during that too, eugh."

"Mhm, painful process I can tell you that much."

You got up from your rather comfortable position on the floor to grab a water bottle you had tossed aside on the table in favor of liquor instead earlier.

"Pass me the bottle o' whiskey' will ya?" He asked, you lazily grabbed it and tossed the bottle over to him, one of his four arms catching it.

"You know I had a sister too," you said as you popped the cap off of the water chugging it.

"Huh, Ya' always kinda stuck me as an only child"

"Yeah, well I practically was, she was prepping for college by the time I popped out," you wiped the residue of water off your mouth with your sleeve before setting the half empty water bottle back on the table and going back to lay on the floor, still slightly warm from where you were laying.

"I used to look up to her when I was younger, she was the cool big sister who stopped by every holiday or break, the one that said I could 'Tell anything too' and she'd be there for me," you let out a rather dry laugh, "honestly a load of bullshit."

"Damn," He took a swig of his drink, drinking the rest of the liquid before tossing the now empty bottle aside, you could hear the bottle crack on the ground.

"You know what's kinda funny? My sister was the only one in my family to get past the pearly gates."

"Huh, mine ended up down here, girl didn't last a week before extermination day," you went quiet for a few seconds, "What the fuck even is this conversation?"

"No clue, I was talkin' about how my sister went to heaven and you're over here talkin' about how yours is double dead."

"One twin going to hell and the other heaven is some book tragic book trope nonsense,"

"That nonsense is what happened,'' he said pointing a shaming finger at you, Sometimes he wondered how Molly would react to how he was now, she would be disappointed or maybe she'd pity him.

Maybe both.

After all he overdosed, ended up in hell and sold his soul to a purple psychopathic freak, and well look at him now! Laid on a cheap motel bed, under the influence, sharing stories about his sister and parts of his life on earth to someone called a friend.

Sometimes he wondered that maybe if he was born into a different family, in a different time things would've been different, maybe he would've ended up in heaven.

His sister was the only family member he could stand.

They drifted apart when they grew older, as he began to indulge in drugs, from cocaine to PCP to whatever he could get his hands on.

His sister tried to get him to quit, and to be fair he did try, a few times only to end up back snorting white power up his nose, and well, he ended up overdosing.

"I remember once our parents went out for the night, Molly took out a bunch of her dresses and had me pick one, then she did my makeup n' everythin' and we were just talkin' as she did it, just causal no judgement, nothin' just us bondin' I guess, I miss that.''

"Honesty I'm jealous, the best I got from my sister was her saying she was a safe space, that I could go to her about everything and then turning around and throwing it in my face," you took a moment to sit up, "Thank fuck I didn't tell her much, I can't remember exactly what she said but it just gave me this like, sickening feeling that just said 'You wouldn't be safe around this person if you told them what you are."

"I know that feelin' fuckin' hate it."

"Yeah."

"I'm hungry, I want whatever hell's equivalent to McDonald's is,"

"What the fuck is a McDonald's?"

"How the fuck do you not know what a McDonald's is?!"

Good evenin' folks! I do hope you enjoyed this, I edited this fic and decided to get it out today as opposed to Wednesday or Thursday, because my somewhat estranged brother is supposed to make an appearance tomorrow and I am positively nervous so this was fitting! I tried a little different way of editing dunno if it's noticable but I think I'm gonna stick with it! Also why did I think to write so much dialogue??

Anyways as always thank you for tunin' on in and I do hope you all have a wonderful night!

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #1

(I don't know if someone has already written this idea yet. If someone has tho please give me the info/link so I can read it. 👀

This might be the only prompt I do, because my brain likes to keep my creativity behind bars a majority of the time. That and anxiety. I've never done a post like this before. Also, most of my knowledge is from DP not DC. Please forgive me if I get something wrong.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

short prompt #1 →

short prompt #2 →

✦

Lair of Mystery

The House of Mystery is Danny's lair or vacation lair(1) and ever since he outlived his friends and family(2), he's been coming to the House of Mystery whenever he needs a break from his kingly duties. Since it's the Infinite Realms, the HoM exists in every universe, but due to it not always being in the form of a literal house and difficult for outsiders to enter, it's never found. At least until now.

One day when he goes to the lair after (insert amount of time) he finds that the Justice League Dark have set up in his home. Initially, the JLD attack him but Danny puts a stop to that fast. It's his house, he can control anything inside it which includes anyone he deems an intruder. An interrogation more or less takes place, both parties are confused by the others presence, both sides get answers and are shocked by them. Danny because the JLD are a subdivision of a superhero agency that specializes in magic/the occult and the JLD because they've literally been using the house of a very powerful monarch without even knowing it.

Danny isn't angry the JLD are inside his house once he gets over the surprise. In fact, he's rather happy to have company of the non-ghost variety and is curious about their world full of superheroes and aliens. He comes to a decision. He will let the JLD continue to use his house as a base of operations if they are willing to agree to a few terms.

1. No one is to touch or use any artifacts they may find inside the HoM without his explicit permission. Some things are too dangerous for human hands to hold.

2. They seek him out of there is anything of the dead/occult variety threatening their world that they are unable to handle by themselves. (The JLD are shocked to learn of the King's past as a young hero as his explanation for this term. He misses those times and helping the JLD will also be another way to fulfill his obsession besides him being King.)

3. They spend time with him. Being the ruler of an infinitely expanding dimension gets pretty overwhelming and lonely at times. Even he needs a break. On top of missing his hero days, he misses the simpler times of being just a regular guy.

The JLD easily agree to his terms. From then on, they peacefully coexist in the HoM for many years to come. Danny is happier than he's been in a long time and so are the JLD because he's a wonderful host and has actually helped them with a few of their personal issues. Danny, having seen straight through his Captain Marvel form, gave Billy a fully furnished bedroom fit for a growing teenager and hidden from the others in the house. Danny and Billy hang out and play video games whenever they need to unwind with someone their age(3) with no secrets between them.

Danny helps Constantine with his soul contracts, seeing how they are fraying his soul and aging him prematurely. They have an easy camaraderie and sometimes share a bottle of whiskey together(4). Etc.

All is good.

Until some world ending threat of the dead/occult variety really does happen and the JLD call for Danny's help. He goes to them in full regalia with chainmail, breastplate with his hero symbol emblazoned on it, billowing, fur-collared purple cape with the cosmos displayed on the interior, a black crown incased in ice above his head with a sword of ghost ice in the hand that wears the newly dubbed Ring of (Peace?)(5). He doesn't even have to do anything. His presence alone is enough to intimidate the world ending threat into complete submission and is easily sent back into the Infinite Realms to face judgement for attacking the Living Realm.

This is how he's introduced to the rest of the Justice League. It's your choice on how they react and what happens beyond this point if you decide to take it further.

✦

This is entirely up for grabs and I wanna read whatever's written.

Notes:

(1) Your choice if it's his original lair or a vacation one depending on if you count Pariah's old castle as Danny's lair or not.

(2) Your choice if any of his friends or family members turn into ghosts.

(3) Danny is able to change the age of his form to an extent, an ability he inherited from his mentor, Clockwork. He uses it when he feels it would make it easier for other people to relate to him. He also has an eldritch form that he doesn't like to use in front of others unless he absolutely has to. You can leave any part of this detail out if you want to. I just thought it would be kinda cool and also a more subtle way of showing how powerful he is now.

(4) He is technically an adult (read several hundred years old) so he can partake if he wants to. Refer to note above this one.

(5) Should the function and name of the Ring of Rage change due to Danny being King or not? Your choice!

(*) Also, I read the House of Mystery is in a place called the Dreaming, a realm ruled by Morpheus the god of sleep and dreams. If this is truly the case, would it be plausible to say that Nocturne is just another one of Morpheus' forms? Would that mean the House of Mystery is in Nocturne's territory? If so, are Danny and Nocturne friends now? 👀

(*) the Dreaming is part of the Infinite Realms.

[thelaurenshippen]

Hello again Lauren! I just wanted to say I really enjoyed this journey with Breaker Whiskey and admire the commitment to have it produced how it was for as long as you did.

I first found Atypical Artists via The Bright Sessions and The AM Archives with my friend as it reminded us vaguely of The Magnus Archives in the sense the interviews of Dr. Joan Bright and her patients had reminded us of the audio transcripts performed by Jonathan Simms of The Magnus Institute, albeit less focused on ghost stories and the like.

I had also found Breaker Whiskey through a tiktok where it had immediately reminded me of one of my favorite story-based games, Oxenfree, where the characters solve what happened on an island while dealing with interpersonal relationships, communication with ghosts, and demonic possession with the main theme being radio transmission (hence the parallel of otherworldly apocalyptic environments focused around a lonely woman and her CB transmissions)

The story telling hooked me almost immediately, where you could see the transmissions being as an audio journal to ground Whiskey as she travels an empty world by herself, knowing there may be people out there but having little to no hope in that the transmissions become little more than something to focus your thoughts and give some sort of feeling that you aren't alone, something to keep you sane as you deal with the unimaginable loneliness for as long as you have. It is a great look on both the coping mechanisms of loneliness and the expression of both joy and fear of finding out someone is out there and you know nothing about them.

I am personally a fan of the first person narrative as well where you don't need all of the exposition and background, but instead it is fed to you over time or via context clues. Learning about the environment of the story as it progresses vs being handed a dictionary outside of the characters perception.

At any rate, I am rambling. I am a fan of your work, the storytelling, and the experiences you give via the characters you share both in how they are created and how they interact. I definitely plan on listening to more from you and your company and thank you for sharing everything you do!

oh my goodness, thank you SO much for this message!!!! I love that TMA brought you to the world of TBS - it always makes me so happy when one audio drama gets people into more of them. and the fact that you saw BW on tiktok also thrills me! I'm still figuring out how the hell to use tiktok so I'm glad its doing something.

and omg, I LOVE OXENFREE. I played a lot of video games as a kid/young teenager and then fell off of them completely until I was in my mid-twenties. Oxenfree got me back into video games in a big way and I owe it so much for that, as now gaming is a huge part of my life. I really think it's a perfect game.

it means so much to me that you like my work and the way I've told this story!! thank you so much for listening <3

[biblicallyaccuratepigeons]

do u have any stuffed animals :3 (if so, what r ur favourites? their names, backstories, funny things that happened with them, etc. TELL ME EVERYTHING)

Hmhmgmhmhmhmhmhmhmhmhmmhmhmhmhmhm...

This one is named Emerald. Once, when I was little, I went with a new friend to see The Tale of Desperaux, which was in theaters at the time. I don't remember much about the movie, but the friend and I hit it off splendidly, so at the end of the day she let me choose a stuffed animal from her mountain, and this is the one I chose. Apparently it's supposed to be a male dragon from a book, but I didn't know that at the time, and at that age, everything ungendered was a girl. She's been watching over me ever since. I don't usually sleep with her, because she likes to perch in high places.

This one doesn't have a name. I don't remember where or why I made him, because it was at some point during the peak of my Teenage Depression. He's filled with rice so he can be a little warm friend, but for the most part he's stayed on my shelf cause I'm not a pussy. He used to have more rubber bands on him, but they burst from the cold. I like him better wormy anyways :3

This, I bought with Christmas money for a friend in 8th grade, but I didn't ever work up the courage to give it to her since it was really something I got her cause I thought it looked cool, and the tweed wasn't any good for cuddling anyway, so what if she didn't like it, and besides she didn't get me anything so what if she thought I was weird or felt indebted or something. And so Sherlock has stayed in my room since I bought her. I'm glad, though; that friend and I didn't work out, and Sherlock deserves to be with someone who doesn't feel guilty to have her.

This lil guy, I won at a crane game (first try 😎). They haven't told me their name, but they hang out on my desk; and look!!!!!

They have a dorsal fin and tail!!!!!!

This one is the one who's been with me the longest. When I was just old enough to remember, my nonna gave her to me, because I'm her Lamby. Of course, there couldn't be a more fitting name for my sweet love. She likes to go with me on long, lonely trips out of state; otherwise, she stays approximately in my room, where I can find her.

This one, I bought once on impulse. How couldn't I? Look at her! She's too cushion-shaped to be for anything but resting on. She doesn't have a name.

This one is the oldest out of all of them. He used to be stored in the bin with all of our Christmas decorations, but one year I decided I liked his sweater and the way he smelled and kept him. His Christmas smell is long gone, but he stays near my bedroll. I don't dare presume a name for him, but I think of him as Old Grizzled. He's the old man down in the corner, drinking whiskey and muttering wisdoms every now and then.

This one was my first adult for-fun purchase! He doesn't want a name, but he likes to follow me around the house and on out-of-town trips. He particularly likes to watch me play video games or watch tv with me. I remember when I first got him, I'd sleep with him all the time, and while I still do sometimes, I've stopped sleeping with him on the couch.

(To be continued)

[smileygoth]

11. Contemplation (If My OC Had Their Own Lo-Fi Screen, Month of Darkness 2024)

This was really difficult to fit into a story! Hopefully I've done alright and given a kind of lo-fi vibe ... I also learned that it is really difficult to spell 'Seneschal' when you're typing it a lot!

CW: Some mild referrals to sex.

Image found on Pinterest, credited to Kerri Ashley Art.

Find the Masterlist here!

Christina opened her front door and ushered Michael inside. ‘This way. Straight up the stairs.’

Her haven – this one, anyway – was a rather modest-looking flat above a bar in Soho. The plain front door at the side of the shop opened on a nondescript set of stairs that went up to another plain door. Beyond that door, however, the flat was anything but plain. Black flocked wallpaper covered the walls above a soft red carpet as they stepped into a spacious living room. A large, plush red sofa stood in the centre of the room in front of a huge tv, mounted above a black entertainment cabinet with smoked glass doors. Long, heavy red curtains framed the windows in the opposite wall, which looked out over dark gardens and rooftops. Between the windows stood a minibar in shining black wood. Doors to the left led to the other rooms in the flat, all of them painted in the same glossy black. The light came from imitation candelabras mounted on the walls.

Sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a video game, Martyn barely glanced up when they first came in. Then he looked again and noticed Michael. ‘Oh, hey,’ he said, pausing the game and standing up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know Chris was bringing company.’ He paused. ‘I’ve met you, right?’

‘Once or twice,’ Michael replied. ‘Michael Saint.’

Martyn smiled. ‘Right! The priest.’

Michael sighed and shot Christina an irritated glance. ‘Not any more,’ he said.

‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ Martyn fidgeted awkwardly, then looked to Christina. ‘Want me to, uh….’ he began, and stopped as she silently smiled. ‘Yeah, um, I was about to knock it off for the night anyway. Got stuff to do in the morning. Just give me a sec to clear my shit up.’

With practiced speed he saved and turned off his game, grabbed his cigarettes and a half- full bottle of beer from the low glass coffee table, and disappeared through one of the other doors. When he was gone, Michael laughed quietly. ‘He’s well trained,’ he remarked.

Christina shot him a disapproving look. ‘We’ve been together for a very long time,’ she said, crossing to the minibar. ‘Well, come in, make yourself at home. Drink?’

Michael shook his head. ‘No thanks.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Christina poured herself a small measure of whiskey into a crystal glass and turned back to the sofa. Michael was sat at the end nearest the door, back ramrod straight, looking uncomfortable and out of place in his sensible suit and blue tie. She fought the urge to smirk and sat down next to him, placing her glass on the table. ‘Just a moment,’ she said softly, pulling her phone from her purse. ‘We need music.’

Michael watched with interest as she tapped on her phone a few times, and the soundbar beneath the tv beeped quietly. With a few more taps, soft electronic music began to play. ‘Amazing how you can do that from your phone,’ he remarked.

Christina smiled. ‘Martyn keeps me up to date with these things,’ she replied. ‘Especially when it comes to music. He knows it’s important to me.’ Setting her phone and purse down on the table, she picked up her glass again and leaned back into the sofa. ‘He put me onto this music, actually. It’s not something I listen to, really, but it makes for wonderful background music.’

Michael nodded politely. ‘And what is it to be a background to?’ he asked, his voice not quite level.

Christina’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer to him. ‘That’s rather up to you, darling.’

His eyes softened, and he leaned toward her, just a little, as if he didn’t realise he was doing it. ‘I, um, I think I know what you’re alluding to,’ he said, dropping his voice so that Martyn wouldn’t hear. ‘And as … wonderful as our last time was, there is actually something I wanted to talk to you about.’

Christina pouted, leaning in close enough that their lips almost touched. ‘Boo. You got me here, all alone, in this frankly stunning dress, and all you want to do is talk?’

Chuckling, Michael leaned back to put some space between them. His eyes flicked down, taking in the black satin evening dress she was wearing. It clung to her curves, accentuating her figure, and in the faux candlelight it gleamed like midnight rain. ‘It is a lovely dress,’ he replied, his voice low and husky. ‘I wouldn’t want to tear it.’

‘Hmm.’ Christina sat back, stretching her arms over the back of the sofa, opening her body to him. She crossed one leg over the other, letting the side split of the dress fall open to reveal an expanse of bare thigh. ‘I could be persuaded to forgive you.’

He made a sound like a growl, deep in his throat, and shifted uncomfortably. ‘Christina….’

She laughed. ‘Fine! We’ll just talk. That’s what I like about you, Michael – you’re always a challenge. What did you want to talk about?’

Something between relief and disappointment flashed across his face, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. ‘Um, well … you know I’m not one to gossip….’

‘Heaven forbid,’ Christina remarked, her eyes wide in mock horror.

Michael gave her a stern look. ‘Indeed. Well, the reason I was asked down to London was because the Prince wanted to consult me on something quite important. You know we’ve known each other for a long time.’

Christina nodded. ‘I remember when you were Seneschal.’

‘Well, that’s the thing.’ He paused. ‘This can’t leave this room.’ Christina nodded her understanding, and he continued. ‘The Prince has reason to believe that their current Seneschal is passing information on the inner workings of the Court of London to someone. They don’t know who yet, but after all the … unpleasantness of a few years back, they don’t wish to take any chances. So there are plans in place to remove them. However, that will leave a position open. And the Prince wanted my opinion on who should fill it.’

Christina sat up. ‘And why are you telling me this?’ She frowned. ‘You’re not going to sit here and tell me how you sang my praises to the Prince, are you? It didn’t exactly end well the last time. If you get me stuck in an even worse job than this….’

Michael held up his hands in defence. ‘No, actually, I didn’t get the chance. The Prince asked me about you directly. They didn’t say they were considering you for the position, but they did seem to think you’d be interested. They asked me to invite you to a meeting about it tomorrow night. The candidates will be there. I don’t think they know that’s why they’re being summoned.’ He paused. ‘I think the Prince wanted me to get you there with some excuse, but you always seem to see through my lies.’

‘That’s because you’re a terrible liar.’ Christina sighed. ‘So am I being considered for the position or not? I’m confused.’

Michael shrugged and spread his hands. ‘I really don’t know.’

Christina scoffed. ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward with the Camarilla, is it?’ She lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed the whiskey in one, relishing the burn in her throat. ‘Well, you can send the Prince my apologies. I have plans tomorrow night.’

‘Really?’ Michael looked confused. ‘I thought you’d jump at the chance, Christina. You’re always saying how bored you are where you are now.’

‘Do you think I’d be any happier being even more firmly under the Prince’s thumb?’ She got to her feet and went back to the bar for more whiskey. ‘They gave me this job so they could keep an eye on me, Michael. I hardly have any freedom as it is.’ She paused, her pride bristling. ‘Besides, if the Prince wants to offer me a new position, they have my number. I’m not interested in competing with a bunch of arse-licking sycophants in some stupid game to win their approval.’

Michael stared at her, bewildered. ‘I really don’t understand you,’ he said.

Christina snorted. ‘That much is evident.’

He got to his feet. ‘I’ve offended you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.’

‘I know.’ Christina waved his apology away. ‘But all the same, I don’t much feel like having company any more.’

Michael’s face fell, and for a moment Christina almost relented and asked him to stay. He looked so crestfallen, she felt like she’d kicked a puppy. But she didn’t. He nodded and straightened his jacket. ‘Of course. I’ll see myself out.’ He turned to go, then hesitated. ‘I’ll be at the meeting,’ he said. ‘Shall I keep you updated?’

Christina shrugged. ‘Sure. You have my number.’

‘Alright. Goodnight, Christina. It was lovely to see you again.’

She watched him leave, then dropped onto the sofa with a groan of frustration. She knew the sort of mind games the Prince liked to play, and she did not want to open herself up to that. But the truth was, she was interested in being Seneschal. She’d been thinking about how she wanted more power that very night! But was this the way she wanted to do it? Being the Seneschal? It would put her closer to the Prince and make her the natural successor, should anything happen. But if she thought her freedoms were restricted now….

Yes, but … Seneschal of London, Chris!

She sighed and sipped at her whiskey. She was going to need to think about this.

[mysteryloversbookshelf]

The Afterparty: Vivían & Zoë

How are you fellow sleuths doing now that the mystery has been solved? I’ll miss the weekly theories and fun but I can’t wait to see how they’ll up the theatrics and clues in season three. Now that the mystery is solved here are my takeaways from the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHO KILLED EDGAR MINNOWS

This episode was full of laughs, drama, and new beginnings and I enjoyed all 31 minutes of it. They surprisingly fit a lot into this episode so I'm going to break it down into parts:

Lights, Cameras, Action!

Someone on Reddit said they wanted to see S3 be an afterparty for a film adaptation of Xavier's murder and it looks like we're getting just that! Seeing Keke Palmer show up had me screaming internally! She's going to be a perfect Danner and I need season 3 now so I can see her mind movie. Also Elijah Wood and Daniel Radcliffe too?! Like they better give this show all the budget money because they're about to sweep award season. I hope they do get Alia Shawkat to play Chelsea like someone suggested since it's been joked about already that she and Ilana Glazer look alike (I personally don't see it though).

"Fetch that, bitch!"

Zoë fighting Colonel and throwing him out the window took me out! The way she was spinning him around and etc and that whole encounter being a horror story was brilliant. And the fact that he survived by landing on Isabel's trampoline?! He really is a hellhound! I love how someone just had that theory earlier that Edgar mentioning a devil was a response to looking out the window and seeing Colonel bouncing lmao.

Travis Becoming the House

Travis beating Sebastian at his own game was so rewarding to watch. The big theories floating around were that he either recorded the confession and sent it to the police or that he was secretly an investigator, but I really like this ending. Now he got back the money lost and in my mind, he took a trip to meet Weronika in person and they hit it off.

Love is in the Air

Happily Ever Aster, indeed! Aniq and Zoë both proposing to each other was so cute and I love how she was the one who proposed first. I don't know if the rings were meant to show the engagement was still on or if they've already married, but I personally don't care to see a wedding between the two. I'd rather hear they had a great ceremony that was drama free and keep it moving. Hannah and Grace living happily ever after is so sweet because we all know how tv writers love to kill their gays or find some other way of ruining their ending. I need them to show up in a future season happy with a quirky little Wednesday Addams type of baby please! And last but not least, Vivian and Feng. You can tell that they both really love each other and I love that not once in the season did we see Feng holding the affair over her head. Like they're really ride or die for each other and I love that for them. And now that Feng's fees are cleared, they can travel and see the world together since they weren't able to before when Vivian danced with Ulysses. Speaking of Ulysses:

Ulysses Killed Edgar

I didn't want to believe it was him because it really did seem too obvious, but that's the same thing that happened with fans last season right? Although last season I did guess Yasper and that was me watching without knowing of any clues or that the subreddit existed (and I watched it like a week before season 2 so there's that). So everything was exactly as a majority of redditors theorized:

-He brewed the tea during the extremely long shower in Aniq's mind movie

-The whiskey glass was poisoned and accidentally swapped when Feng had Edgar taste the baobing; So Feng being high on adderall in the found footage video was correct

-It did all come down to Ulysses wanting Feng out of the way so he could be with Vivian

-He is delusional as all get out which does mirror Yasper's delusional story in S1

-When he ran to Feng and Vivian's room he expected to find Feng dead hence the shocked expression

-He had a knowledge of the devil's trumpet from his work as a shaman

What was missed was that Grace said she hated whiskey in episode 2 and he was swabbing a whiskey glass in his mind movie so that went right over our heads

Danner said he knew Grace wasn't his daughter so I applaud the writers on fooling me bc I spent the whole season thinking there was a paternity thing going on and nope, just Ulysses being a delusional buncle who is now headed for prison!

I find it so funny though that even though I changed my mind on who the killer was, I still figured out that he was sus because of the koumiss. But I'm a bit confused now bc he gave Travis the koumiss infused dutch babies but he used his horn to brew the tea so where did he store the rest of the koumiss? Did he have two horns? Because he tried to stop Vivian from drinking from it but this was after the days' events played out Does anyone know?

The End

All in all, this was an amazing season and I had so much fun sharing theories with you all and getting to talk about the show weekly. Season 3 is about to be off the chain so when the time comes we've got to More Horse it up! See you all then!

[miss--river]

✨️TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS✨️ by @vincentmatthews

wanted to do this for my newest babe who im hyperfixating on! thank you so much for the fun template! it gave me the chance to flesh her out just a little more!

---

♡Name Phoenix Blake

♡Nicknames Phi, Finn, Nix

♡Age 26

♡Pronouns She/Her

♡Sexuality Bisexual

♡Hair Color and style Red, usually up with braids (but lately ive been obsessing over her with her hair down.

♡Eye Color Yellow

♡Height 5'5"

♡Body Type Average

♡Personality She smiles and laughs a lot, loves making other people laugh and smile, extroverted, loves meeting people.

♡Tattoos She has a sleeve of tattoos on both arms.

♡Piercings She has a nose ring, her eyebrow pierced, and her left ear pierced.

♡Any definable features such as: Birthmarks, Scars, Freckles, Beauty Marks, Accent when they talk, Lisp, Natural slurring of words, Walk with a subtle limp, ect. She doesn't have anything yet but I'm planning on giving her some body scars as I plan her story!

♡Hobbies She's a gamer girl lmao! She has an N64, a classic gameboy, a Switch, and a PC she plays on. Also loves playing her guitar occasionally and listening to music, going on walks at sunset, and sometimes will get up to jog before the sun comes up.

♡Gang/Occupation {Mox, Max Tac, etc} Merc with the exception that no one gets killed.

♡Do they smoke? No.

♡Do they drink? Is so, what's their poison of choice? Yes, her favorite thing to drink is whiskey.

♡What do they usually wear on a normal day? The current outfit ive been loving her in is a burgundy tank top, black pants, black boots, black driving gloves, black and white studded bracelets, a necklace with a red pendant, and a black choker, sometimes a jacket, and sometimes yellow round sunglasses.

♡What do they wear when they "Get dressed up"? And what would be considered a "special occasion" to them {such as an "Oh they're gonna be there so I have to look my best." Or an "It's our anniversary".} I haven't dressed her up in anything fancy yet but she'd probably wear a dress. Nothing too eye catching since thats not really her style but something cute for sure!

♡What do they smell like? {For example: they smell like cinnamon flavored liquor, cigarettes, leather, and motor oil.} Cherry scented lotion, she's not really into perfumes or anything like that.

♡How do they walk? Do they sway their hips? Do they walk with a sense of determination? Do they bounce as they walk? Etc. I've always imagined her swaying her hips as she walks but I've also imagined her with a bit of a bounce if she's listening to her music.

♡Are they more of an early bird or a night owl? Kinda both? She loves waking up to go on jogs but sometimes she's just way too tired and will sleep in which leads her to staying up late. Then it's a struggle to get a proper sleep schedule again lmao. She does love staying up late though because she has no obligations at night and she can be cozy in her apartment and play video games!

♡If you had to use one word to define them, what word would you use? Chipper

♡What words or catchphrases do they say that's unique to that character? I based her off Vash the Stampede so her saying isn't really unique to her but she does say "Love and Peace" a lot, but usually as like a goodbye or something.

♡Favorite Season Summer.

♡Favorite type of weather {Thunderstorms, sunny, etc} She loves all types of weather! Thunderstorms and rain are soothing to her, sunny is nice because she likes to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, foggy because it reminds her of her favorite spooky video games, haha!

♡Do they have someone they're with relationship-wise? If so, who? Ok, I know I said I based off Vash but I also ship her with him too!

♡Main Ship/Pairings Phoenix x Vash

♡Side Pairings N/A

♡Favorite/Self-indulgent Pairings N/A

♡How do they show affection to their loved one? She loves buying random gifts that remind her of her loved ones, unless getting random gifts makes them uncomfortable then she'll just call or text them to see how they're doing.

♡How do they sit in a chair? She sometimes likes to slouch back like reeaaalllly far to where it almost looks like she's trying to lay down lmao.

♡How do they sit in a chair {uncomfortable version} Gotta have her feet up in the chair, sometimes she's sitting with her legs crisscrossed. She also has a footrest by her computer if she's going to be sitting there for a while so she can stretch out without standing up.

♡What do they wear to bed? Sometimes just a t-shirt and panties, and sometimes a tank top and shorts.

♡How do they usually sleep? {Side sleeper, back, fetal position, backwards, nest sleeper, blanket mountain, etc} Side and back sleeper but she doesn't sleep on her back too often because for some reason it gives her nightmares.

♡How do they sleep in a place they don't know? {Can't due to anxiety, in small bursts of sleep that are short lived, holding themselves, etc} She's actually ok with sleeping in an unfamiliar place.

♡Do they have to have a form of "white noise" in order to sleep? {The sound of a fan, the sound of rain, the sound of a city, etc} When she's in her own apartment she has turns on the little fan by her bed. It doen't always have to be facing her but she does enjoy the sound. She'll also sometimes fall asleep listening to podcasts or music.

♡What's a place they go to feel comfortable, that's their "spot" they always go when they're upset? Her bed, lmao!

♡What do they do when they're nervous? {Fidget with jewelry, pick at nails, bite nails/lips, play with knife/zippo lighter, etc} If she has something small in her pocket she'll fidget with whatever it is or she'll roll her necklace pendant between her fingers.

♡What is their "tell" for lying? She's very good at lying but if someone really knows her they can tell she's lying about something when the corner of her eye or mouth twitches. It's very subtle because she's learned to control it more but telling lies in general makes her super nervous.

♡What is their favorite color? Burgundy, red, yellow, orange, and black.

♡Favorite flower/plant Hibiscus flower

♡Favorite sweet of choice Donuts

♡Do they have any pets? If so, tell me about them She doesn't have any pets officially but sometimes she does get visited by a little kitty cat!

♡What are their triggers {If they have any}? If so, what calms them down? Currently, she has no triggers.

♡If they could visit anywhere in the world, where would they go and why? Anywhere quiet and not a busy city lmao! She needs a break!

♡What is their favorite comfort meal? Spicy ramen noodles! Sometimes she'll just buy regular spicy ramen or she'll add her own hot sauce.

♡Do they have a food they hate? Mushroom, she hates the texture.

♡What is their favorite {non-alcoholic} drink? Cold coffee loaded with sugar!

♡What are their plans for the future {if they have any}? Make enough money to just live comfortably and hopefully move away from the city.

♡What's a song that "fits" them? Born To Be Wild by Steppenwolf

♡Give me 5 facts/random bits of information about them 1. Her dad taught her how to use a gun but she honed her skills herself as she grew up. 2. Her favorite ways to pass the time are reading comics and playing video games. 3. Her favorite places to chill are either in bed or at El Cojo Coyote. 4. She has a gun she wont hesitate to use but she refuses to kill anyone. 5. She absolutely cannot get through animal movies because she will cry.

♡Give me their backstory {can be long, or brief.} She's still new so I dont really have anything for her yet :((

♡Free Space! Give me any sort of extra information about them you'd like to share -Her voice claim is Moira Kelly who played Nala from The Lion King. -When she was a kid she loved making 'potions' in the bathroom sink but she'd get in trouble for it every time. -She'd also run up stairs like a dog when she was a kid and it embarrassed her parents when she did it out in public.

[dorefasolsido]

10.

***credits to the original creator***

Look out of the nearest window. What do you see? Details, please.

I see the sky and some clouds, a bunch of really tall trees from the nearby park, several apartment buildings on the other side of the park, kids playing on the playground, my building’s parking lot and the neighbours’ cars.

When you think of the word "posh", what springs to mind?

A really fancy British person sitting near a golf course and sipping tea as they laugh in rich. I know posh people aren’t always British, but it can’t be helped.

When you have chocolate, do you eat it room temperature?

Normally yes.

Or are you like me and stick the bar into the fridge first?

Not always, unless the chocolate’s melted already to a degree. Then I have to put it in the fridge for a bit.

What's the most shocking thing that's happened in your part of town?

Well, I don’t know about here, but in my hometown the most shocking thing recently was that a guy shot his ex-wife in the middle of the street at like 9 AM in the morning. That’s super unusual since my hometown is pretty small and uneventful.

Which brand are your headphones/earbuds?

Idk honestly, they’re just some random ones my sister got me.

Do you see planes fly over your house at all?

Oh yeah, I see and hear them a lot.

Are there any constellations you recognize just by looking at them?

My dad showed me a few so I think I would recognize some. That is, if I could see the stars here.

Which room of your house/apartment do you spend the most time in?

The living room.

Which insect do you find the most beautiful?

Butterflies are so pretty.

Did you have crafts/woodwork at school growing up?

Kinda, only we did woodwork only like once or twice, so it wasn’t a class solely dedicated to that.

If so, what was the best assignment you did for it?

I honestly can’t remember what we did, and I’m pretty sure we all made the same generic things.

Do you have a friend who likes to tell you everything?

Yup, a little too much sometimes.

What was the last thing you got very excited about?

Princess Mononoke viewing in an open-air cinema. A friend was supposed to go with me, and I haven’t seen her in a few months so I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, she had to cancel, but I went anyway on my own. It was still pretty cool, but not as cool as it would’ve been if she’d come.

You can go to any city in any country you want. Which city do you go to?

Tokyo. Take me there right away pleaaaase T.T

Do you like gardening? If so, what do you grow?

I don’t, but I have a theory that most people start gardening the moment they turn 50 or so. That happened to my mum and to a bunch of her friends -- they all love gardening and share tips on it all the time. So, maybe my time will come in like 30ish years.

Do you enjoy puzzle games? If so, which one's your favourite?

Yeees, but I like puzzles in video games the most. Especially horror games with puzzles. Because then you’re stressed, but you also gotta think, so it’s exciting.

Is there a substance you avoid at all costs? If so, what is it and why?

I mean, most drugs? Buut one I would 100% stay away from always is heroin. No thanks.

What would you love to live next door to?

A lake, river, or some kind of water. Water just brings me peace.

What gives you nostalgia?

Music, cartoons, and TV shows I used to watch when I was a kid usually. Also, inexplicably, Spring Day by BTS, even though I heard it for the first time last year.

What's the best thing about fall?

The nature is probably at its prettiest in the fall.

What's the worst thing about fall?

Tbh, can’t think of anything in particular. Especially since we barely even have proper fall here anymore and it’s usually still sunny and warm.

Do you get cold easily? Or are you constantly hot?

Neither, actually.

When you think of a classy drink, what comes to mind first?

Some fancy whiskey.

Do you prefer eating out or cooking your own meals?

I don’t cook, so eating out.

Which language do you think is the most complicated to learn?

Okay, so clearly there’s no right answer here, but for me personally, French always seemed impossible to learn. It’s not that the grammar is very difficult or anything, it’s just that they shorten literally everything and it’s quite a task to understand wtf the French are saying. Like the language sounds really pretty, but... yeah, I’ll stick to my harsh German.

Is there a place that you might call your second home?

Sure.

How do you imagine your later life to look like?

Just me travelling around the world, working from various cool places... now that would be the dream.

What is a job you would never in a million years want to do?

Hmmmm, only sex work comes to mind. No hate to those who do, but I’d be waaaaaay out of my comfort zone.

Is there a piece of jewelry that you feel naked without?

My earrings.

Do you ever "go commando"?

Nope.

Do you ever try to make words out of number sequences you see?

Sometimes it happens, but it’s not something I actively try to do.

What's the sweetest thing someone's done for you?

Once when I was visiting my friends and relatives in Germany, one of the friends organized a surprise day of activities for my birthday. Each of them began with a little riddle that was supposed to give me a hint where we were going, and once we made it there, I’d receive a little wish for my birthday. We were unfortunately late for several activities so had to skip them, but nevertheless, it was a super cute thing to do and tbh, I probably don’t deserve that.

Which wild animals are a common sight in your area?

Crows.

What's the weirdest building in your city?

Not sure.

How do you keep in touch with friends usually?

Messaging apps, I meet with some fairly frequently.

Do you get a lot of visitors?

Nah, I live kinda far. Plus, I prefer to meet people in the city, there’s just more to do.

Do you recognize friends'/family's vehicles by sound?

Hmm, I think I can recognize our family car when it drives into the driveway.

Which Disney villain is your favourite?

I think most Disney villains are so cool, but maybe Scar if I had to choose?

On a regular day, what do you usually do at 3 o'clock in the afternoon?

Either work or eat.

What's something new you've just recently learned?

How to cut my bangs so they actually look decent.

Which possession would you not want to inherit from a relative?

Probably a business or something like that. That would just put pressure on me.

What is something you would never dare to do in public? 

Oh, lots of things. I don’t particularly like when people look at me (hello, social anxiety)

Would you/ did you have a hen night/bachelorette party?

I don’t plan on ever getting married, but if I did, maybe something small with close friends.

Has anyone taken you on holiday somewhere? If so, where?

Sure, my mum and dad have. We went to Greece, Turkey and several other countries with seasides.

Have you taken somebody on holiday? If so, where did you taken them?

If taking includes paying for their tickets and all, no.

Who do you see as an iconic star?

Maybe someone like Lady Gaga or so.

Have you ever been to a vineyard?

Yup.

Are there any swans near the area you live in?

Not very close, but yes.

Does anyone in your inner circle struggle with addiction? 

Does nicotine addiction count? If so, loads of people.

Has anyone told you lately that you have a nice smile?

I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that ;-;

How did you spend your last birthday?

First I went shopping for purple dye with mum and then got my hair dyed for the first time. It didn’t really show much on my very dark hair, but I was just happy and excited that I did it. Then in the evening, my parents and uncle and aunt went to a restaurant. It wasn’t really a big birthday, but I usually don’t do much or only celebrate with friends a few days/weeks later.

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 4:Showered in Sin

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Hey guys! I'm sorry that it has taken so long for me to update this. I had an idea of what I was going to write but I had a super hectic week so I wasn't able to write this till now. In order to make up for it, I have given you a treat. A 6,502 word chapter. It kinda beat my ass but I had so much fun writing it. It's sweet, it's spicy, it's all the goodness you guys deserve. I was listening to Duvet by Boa while writing this and I think you should too for two reasons. One, it helps set the mood, but also oh my fucking god it's such a good song. Also, Boa is just a fucking great band. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and message me if you would like to be added to the tag list! Love you guys

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After a game of drunk never have I ever after a long case, Morgan locks Spencer out of their shared room. Shenanigans ensue and you and Spencer share a couple of firsts.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, slight mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slight blood kink (not really, it's just hard to explain), Shared masturbation (male and female receiving), pleading, multiple orgasms, cumming in pants, shower sexiness, aftercare

Word Count: 6,502

Your deep cherry lipstick painted the white seal of the wine bottle you held in your hand as you laughed at something Elle said. Spencer couldn't help but let a small smile pass his lips as he took in your form, hot from the day's work, small strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, a dewy glow illuminating your rosy cheeks.

After a long week, they had found Carl Arnold before he had been able to kill the Dunken family and even coerced a confession out of him. With spirits running high, Elle had suggested some much-needed relaxation before taking off the next day. Since you were rooming alone, you volunteered to host in your room. Morgan had arrived at your hotel room with two bottles of some sort of liquor, one clear and one amber, JJ trailing in toe with your bottle of red wine you had asked for. You pulled out your little corkscrew with the face of an old man on it, knowing she hated his weird little face. You brought it with you on trips, just in case the occasion arose.

And it did arise as Elle suggested a drinking game. Hotch had retired early after calling Hailey to get an update on his very pregnant wife, while Gideon preferred the solitude of a good book late at night. The rest of you sat on the floor surrounded by drinks and snacks. With the supervision gone, it almost felt like a high school party with no parents. You all had all settled on a classic, never have I ever. "We haven't played this in a long time because we already know so much about each other, but it's fun when we have a newbie around," Morgan said giving you a cheeky smile and bumping your shoulder. Already pliable after the couple of drinks you had while Elle explained the game, you nodded before tipping your lips to the cusp of Spencer's ear. "I'll try not to make it too hard for you, pretty boy," you said. The small puffs of air that left your mouth made Spencer's hair stand on end and his feet curl.

He knew you were teasing him that night and he loved it. He decided to keep his knees tucked to his chest for the rest of the night as to not expose the predicament in his pants. He watched the way you lightly sucked on the wine bottle as you tipped it back, a thin river of cabernet leaking from the corner of your lips and trailing down your neck. Spencer wanted nothing more than to lean over and lap it off of you just to see how you would react, but he knew it was the drinks talking. Despite your earlier comment, it was quite obvious that you were targeting him as his head started to spin gently.

"Never have I ever had sex with someone much older than me," Garcia said through her video feed with a cheeky smirk. Derek had insisted on including her even though she wasn't physically present. She sat bundled up in a comfy blanket in her office with a mug of some sort of alcoholic beverage. "HEY! No targeting! Plus, I told you that in confidence at ladies night. How much is much older?" You said, swaying your bottle towards the computer set up on the floor."You know how much older I mean sweetheart." Garcia said with a giggle as you groaned and took a sip."How much older is much older?" Morgan said with a cocked eyebrow, somewhere between impressed and surprised." I was a college student, experimenting with my professor. Not like an old man, but he was 20 years older than me. Definitely not my style anymore though." You said with a grimace remembering him.

Spencer had learned a lot about your sex life during that game, but some part inside of him smirked, knowing that the rest of the team would never know you as he knew you, not unless they too had read your journal. It was the only thing keeping his head clear of the idea of you with anyone else. Not that you were with him in any capacity, but the idea still made him feel something in his stomach. Not the sweet butterflies that came with your smile, but something more like idiotic hornets dangerously bumping against the walls of his stomach.

Spencer hadn't even noticed the uproar of everyone else around the circle at your comment and the second revelation that Morgan had drunk too. He was too busy watching how you had shyly tucked your hair behind your ear, finally letting it down out of your clips for once. You were wearing your pajamas, just a tank top, slouchy sweater, and flannel pajama pants, but somehow you looked more radiant than ever. He had come back down to earth after hearing someone call his name."Y-Yes?" He sputtered out, realizing you had been trying to get his attention."It's Morgan's turn, pay attention." You said, gently smacking your hand down on his thigh.

If he was riled up before, he was unbelievably undone at the slight sting from where your palm had just been. Light enough that it wasn't noticeable, but hard enough that it erupted a Shockwave through his body, centered on the location of the contact. He bit back the whimper threatening to escape his lips as he turned towards Morgan, trying desperately to not watch you from the corner of his eye.

"Never have I been a virgin at 24," Morgan said, beaming in his direction. Spencer took a big gulp from his glass of whiskey."You always do that one, I don't know why you think it's so funny, you're just trying to get me to drink" he said abashedly. He looked over at you, nervous for your reaction, but you seemed unfazed. "Hey, that's a wonderful gift to have, there's something so special about virgins. Maybe it's the idea that everything is new, but I like it. I love virgins." You said, taking a sip from your bottle, gently swaying. You had given up on never have I ever and just decided to drink whenever you felt like it. Maybe it was because you were tipsy, maybe it was the warm flush that decorated Spencer's cheeks, maybe it was the way he was looking at you with sultry, half-lidded eyes. You couldn't tell, but something made you want to find an excuse for you two to be alone.

"Geese, we seemed to have caught a succubus tonight." Morgan quipped."A suck-you-what now?" You said, cocking an eyebrow at him. " A succubus, it's a demon or supernatural entity in folklore, in female form, that appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity. According to religious traditions, repeated sexual activity with a succubus can cause poor physical or mental health, even death. In modern representations, a succubus is often depicted as a beautiful seductress or enchantress, rather than as demonic or frightening." Spencer shot out. "Wow, even when you're drunk, your big brain keeps chuggin' along," you said, sloppily ruffling his hair "A beautiful seductress or enchantress, huh?" That time it came out low, inaudible to the others, but it pierced Spencer like a knife."Do you think that's accurate bout me?" you asked, staring up into his eyes, closer than you have been before. Spencer let a cartoonish gulping noise escape his lips as he held back his urge to lean into your touch.

"Ah, it's my turn," you said, leaning back into your spot in the circle and sadly, away from Spencer." Never have I ever done something naughty at our work," you said, looking straight at Spencer "I'll know if you're lying, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," your cocky smirk leaking out of your mouth. Everyone except you and JJ took a shot."Wow, really you guys? Even you Spence? " JJ said in disbelief, looking around the circle."Never have I ever, my ass" Spencer mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, looking over at you, thinking about your pantieless escapades.

"Look at that, Doctor Reid, you need another drink, let me go fix you one," You said as you grabbed his glass in one hand, leaning and gripping hard into his shoulder with the other. It wasn't seen by the others, but between that and the fiery look in your eyes, it sent an obvious message,' keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you.' You used him as leverage to get up, nearly pushing him over as you gracefully stumbled to the hotel fridge. He knew what you meant, but he didn't care, your grip on him went straight into his imagination as he envisioned what that grip would feel like in other places. He kind of wanted to push his luck, just so he could see what he had in store.

And push it he did as you handed him the glass, reminding him that it was indeed his turn to play never have I ever. "Never have I ever slept with my professor," He said, obviously targeting you with a glint of mischief in his eyes."Oh yeah, well never have I ever been a virgin at 24." You said, swaying as you sat down."Morgan already said that, dummy. Never have I ever worn stupid dark red lipstick" He retorted, equally as drunk as you. At this point everyone else had zoned you two out and were focused on other things, refreshing their drinks, counting the ceiling tiles, humming a sloppy rendition of My My Miss American Pie, or in Penelope's case, all three."Yeah, well never have I ever been a complete and utter mommas boy!" You continued, the statement turning Spencer beet red. You watched him clench and unclench his hands, you had obviously struck a nerve. Just as you were about to apologize, he cut you off. "Never have I ever had nipple piercings!" He shouted, pointing at your chest, now drawing attention to the obvious balls framing your nipples that you had once been covered by your long-forgotten sweater.

As he said it, it felt like the world went in slow motion. You could see the instant regret on his face as you dropped your bottle in surprise. It had landed on Spencers discarded whiskey glass and both shattered, wine and whiskey mixing with glass to create a slurry on the ground between them. "Fuck! You Guys!" Morgan said, "You got it all over my clothes." "Me too," Echoed Elle as they both stood up in their soaked clothes. "I think that calls it a night." JJ said, closing the laptop on the image of an already sleeping Garcia." Bye you guys, sleep well," you called after them as you and Spencer rushed around looking for towels to clean up the alcohol with.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Spencer cried as you dropped the last of the glass in the garbage can. As you rounded the corner, you saw Spencer pulling a rather large shard of glass that you must have missed out of his thumb, blood pooling at the tip. Without thinking, you crouched down and sucked his thumb into your mouth." A-ah! What... What are you doing!?" Spencer asked breathlessly, looking down at you with a deep hunger in his eyes. You pop off his thumb and squeeze it at the base, slowing the blood flow."Shut up," You said," This helps slow the bleeding. The sucking applies pressure. My mom used to do this for me... And no, do not psychoanalyze that." You said, wrapping your mouth around his finger, sucking to provide some pressure to slow the blood flow. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you didn't mind, knowing you were helping your friend.

You were helping alright, helping in more ways than you would ever understand. "Yeah, like I'm the only one here with mommy issues," he said distractedly, too busy surveying your lips wrapped around him. You slapped your hand down on his thigh once more, eliciting a small whimper from him. He couldn't help it, you were a sight of beauty, you always were, but looking down on you right then, Spencer wanted to bottle that moment forever. The tops of your breasts peeking out from the top of your tank top, your eyes filled with a hazy glow, looking up at him to make sure he was ok, and your cheeks hollowing out around his thumb as you delicately sucked on his wound. It was as close as Spencer had ever gotten to anything sexual. He could feel your tongue swirling around the cut, lapping up the last couple drops of blood. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was another appendage and not his thumb. You sucked on his thumb one last time, harder than you had previously, and before he even knew what he was doing, his hips bucked up, rubbing his hard cock against his pajama pants, finally relieving his mounting orgasm.

You let go of his finger with a pop as your tongue trailed off of the underside of his thumb. Spencer looked anywhere but you, as a wet patch formed through his thin underwear and pajama pants. He hurried to cover it with his sweater, shooting up from his seated position."Um, Um, I'm g-gonna go shower and go to bed." He said, hurriedly scurrying over to where he had left his room key." Sorry partner, I saw Morgan accidentally grab both of your keys on the way out. He's probably asleep by now." You said languidly, leaning back to take in the sight of the soft boy in front of you. Totally flushed with heat, small beads of sweat peppering his forehead, his hands twiddling suspiciously into his sweater in an attempt to conceal crotch, trying and failing miserably to hide his rapidly cooling cum.

He whined a little, lighting a fire in you. He looked so thoroughly fucked out, and all you had done was suck his finger. You knew that you just had to play with him some more. "You know, you can use my shower, doctor." You said, and he let out a small sigh of relief, heading towards the bathroom. "There is one condition, though," You smirked coyly as he halted his motions, his body facing away from you. It was almost as if he was ready to run away at any moment. You walked over to him, slowly, taking your time to tease him. The silence hung heavy in the air as you looked up into his eyes questioningly, waiting for him to ask. "Wh-what is the condition." He said, unable to return your gaze, hands fisted in the hem of his sweater, pulling it down even further. You smirked, dipping your hands up and under his sweater, nearly brushing his spent cock before gently placing them on his bare stomach, just above his waistband. He sucked in a tight breath as you gently swirled your fingers in the short hair that lead from his belly button down to happier places." Before I ask, do you know about the color scale?" you said, fingers smoothing out over his little stomach." Um, k-kinda?" He said, heat flushing his cheeks."Green means good keep going, yellow means slow down, and red means stop right now, ok?" You said, looking up at him as he nods."Come on pretty boy, I need verbal confirmation. I need to know that you understand, got it." You said with a little pinch to his tummy. "Y-Yes, I understand!" He blurted out, standing stiff as a board." Good boy. Now, for my condition. You can shower if you show me what you're hiding." You said, leaning close enough that if Spencer breathed, your chests would meet each other. "What color, Spencer?" you said, languidly drawing lines up and down his torso with your nails."G-Green, Very green." He sputtered out, finally meeting your eyes."That's what I like to hear, sweet boy." You said before your fingers danced below his waistline, now somewhat crusty from his cum."W-wait!" He says, just as you were about to take him in your hand. You instantly stopped and looked up at him gently."We can stop here baby, it's not a problem." You said, beginning to remove your hand from his pants. He grabbed your hand through his pants, stopping your movement."It-It's not that. I don't want to stop, I just want... well..." He said and looked down shyly. "What do you want baby, anything," You smiled up at him. "Um, I haven't had my first kiss yet and I kinda... Well... I kinda..." He said, shuffling his feet, face beet red. Your eyebrows shot up quickly in surprise before letting out a gentle smile."Do you want a kiss, pretty boy?" You said, gently brushing the hair out of his face. He nodded, and you grabbed his chin, bringing him close. "Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?" You whispered, breath gently ghosting Spencer's lips as he took you in up close. He could see every little pore and dimple of your skin and every color hidden in the depth of your eyes and he knew he needed to have you.

He shakily leaned forward, lips gently meeting yours, so light that if you hadn't seen his actions, you wouldn't have even known if you had touched. You moved your hand down to his throat, giving a light squeeze."Come on genius, use your words," you said as he whimpered. "Please, can I kiss you, please, please?" He begged, leaning into your touch, pleading for you to squeeze again. His efforts shoot straight to your heart. You indulged him in a kiss, not as spicy as the situation would permit, more of a sweet heat. He came in too hot and heavy at first, but you kissed him languidly, gently stroking his cheek to get him in the rhythm. His arms were straight out at his sides, hands clenched as if he was willing every muscle in his body to not touch you.

You let out a small laugh as you melted into his kiss, soft, puffy lips dancing across yours. "You know you can touch me," You said, pulling back, smiling at the smear of your lipstick, now staining his lips, and the endearing puppy dog eyes he was giving you. "Where can I touch you?" He whispered out as if he were telling a secret. "Wherever you want, baby. Wherever your heart desires." You replied, bringing your arms up to wrap loosely around his neck, pulling your bodies closer. He was as stiff as a board as his hands flitted around trying to find a good place to land. He finally settled on weaving his arms around your waist and up to cradle your neck, gently carding his fingers through the hair that fell at the nape of your neck. There was something so sweet in the way he cradled your body with feather-light touches as if you would disappear like smoke if he lingered too long. You reveled in the feeling of you two pressed together, slightly uncomfortable at the stiff material of his pajama pants on your stomach.

"Hey sweetheart," You said, pulling away as he chased after your lips, "I'm feeling kinda sweaty from the day, would you like to join me in the shower? What color?" "G-green, yes please." He said, tentatively pressing a kiss to your collarbone, exposed as the strap of your tank top had fallen down. You unwound from him, taking his hand delicately in your own, instantly missing the warmth his body provided.

You lead him into the bathroom, carefully stepping over the wine-soaked towels discarded on the floor before shutting the door and turning to face him. "I don't want to take this too fast for you because I know it's all very new so always tell me how you are feeling and if everything is ok. I want this to be good for you baby, ok?" You said, squeezing his hand that was still intertwined with yours. "Ok, th-thank you," He said shyly.

"Now, what do you want to do first? You're probably pretty uncomfortable in those pants, do you want me to take them off you?" You said, hooking one of your fingers into his waistband, pulling on in slightly creating a much-needed separation between his sticky cock and his uncomfortable pants."Y-Yes please" He said as you turned on the shower, allowing it to warm up in preparation for cleaning him off before turning back to him. You gently grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of you.

Lean muscles were hidden under a layer of peachy soft skin highlighting the gentle trail of dark curly hair leading from his belly button down past his pants. His arms curled around himself as he watched your eyes carefully, ready for some sort of judgment. "I know I'm not really that s-strong or anything but I can work on it-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss right above his belly button, startling him. You looked up sweetly into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, saying "You are so beautiful, Spencer. Morgan calls you pretty boy, but he truly has no idea. I would have you no other way than you are right now."

You gently peppered his chest with feather-light kisses, making him blush. He finally understood why people liked hickeys because as you trailed down his chest, the little wine red lipstick you had left on your lips left marks trailing down his chest. Some part of him wished they were permanent, showing off to all that could see, and they would know exactly who he belonged to. You dipped your hand into his waistband, asking, "What color?" "Green, very green," he choked out as your breath ghosted across his abdomen. You looked so beautiful, kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking care of him so gently and treating him so sweetly that he could feel his cock begin to harden again.

You looked up into his eyes as you pulled his pants down. He let out a soft sigh of relief as he was uncaged from his unfortunate trouser situation. His cock flipped down out of his pants, nearly smacking you in the forehead as you looked up at it in awe. Even though it was only semi-hard, it was bigger than any you had ever seen before. Spencer looked down at you shyly "it's not that much, I-I know but I've been researching techniques to make up for it in order to give sufficient pleasure for you- I mean for whatever partners I may have, not that I am saying that I won't please you, I dream of pleasuring you! ... I'm digging myself a hole aren't I."He rambled, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. "Spencer, you are huge. Way more than I have ever had before. See?" You said, standing up, gently lifting his cock in your hand, measuring it against your stomach.

Maybe Spencer hadn't noticed because it was proportionate to his body and his big hands, but being held in your petite hands and measured against your stomach, he finally did see how much he would fill you up. The tip of his dick just barely reached past the gems that decorated your belly button piercing. "W-Woah." He said growing harder at the thought of pushing so deep into you. He looked up to your face, which was preoccupied with looking down at how far he would reach up in you.

Tearing your eyes away from him and up to his own, you flushed, knowing that he had caught you staring. "What would you like me to do next?" You spoke softly. Despite being the only two in the room, you two both talked in hushed tones, worrying that anything more than that would burst the delicate bubble you two had created. "Can we match?" He said, and you instantly understood him, despite the odd vernacular. You began to slip off your shirt, but he stopped you with an arm on your shoulder. "C-Can I do it?" He said shyly. "Of course, pretty baby," you barely get out before he drifted his hands under your tank.

He slowly lifted your top over your head as he took in the soft smooth feeling of your skin against his, goosebumps pricking up wherever his fingers trailed. You stood in front of him, shirtless as he took in your form. He had imagined what your breasts would look like. Nipples always hard due to your piercings, what your jewelry would look like, but nothing could prepare him for the glimmering moonstone gems that adorned your nipples and navel. Everything matched exactly, including the delicate necklace you wore around your neck.

The only thing he liked more than the perfection of your body was the features that made you, you. Some might call them imperfections, but to Spencer, all he could see in you was beauty. The gentle bruises on your skin from tangles with unsubs, the soft stretch marks that adorned your hips like little valleys and winding rivers, the slight blemishes, and hairs. He loved it because you were the embodiment of the confidence he wished for in himself. While he was always nervous about his body and how others perceived him, you loved yourself for exactly who you were, and you loved him for exactly who he was.

He pulled down your pants, gently following the twist and turn of the stretch marks as they winded down your hips, making sure to kneel down to pull them all the way off of you as you delicately stepped out, gently grabbing onto his hair to keep your balance as you swayed. He moaned softly at the gentle tug of your fingers while he stared up at you in awe. You took his hand in yours, coaxing him to stand.

You both stood there, taking in each other's forms for a moment, hands still connected as if by a thread at the pinky before you spoke. "We shouldn't waste water. Let me clean you off, sweetheart." He nodded before following after you into the gentle spray of the shower, steam now filling the room. He marveled at the way that the water droplets cascaded down your body, gently running down your curves. "Come here," you said, pulling him into a gentle embrace under the hot water.

Your two bodies pressed gently together, and Spencer couldn't help but think that you were molded for each other. Not in the way that a sculptor may stick two unmatched pieces of clay together with slip, more like one rock that had been split by the earth finally returning together. Something about your touch felt like home as you gently cradled him under the water.

He was so enthralled in your being that he didn't notice you gently scrubbing him with a washcloth until the scent of your body wash permeated the air. You gently scrubbed his back, washing off the sweat of the day and replacing it with you. He melted into you as your hands reached up, lathering his hair with shampoo. He wasn't sure if it was because he realized you should probably be getting washed too or because he desperately wanted to ride his hands along the planes of your body, but he decided to lather up his hands and wash you as well. "You are such a good boy. Thank you for cleaning me up" You said, resting your head gently on his chest, softly swirling the soap around his back, now finished scrubbing all you could from that angle, waiting to turn him around.

He moved carefully, avoiding your butt, still too nervous to touch. "Make sure you get everything, sweet boy. I like to be clean when I go to bed." You said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling it down to cup your butt. He inhales a sharp breath as he indulged in a gentle squeeze, continuing to wash you. He washed your back but his hands would occasionally drift down to your ass, growing more confident as he unknowingly rocked into you slightly with every squeeze, letting out soft keening noises.

You peeled yourself off of him as he rutted into the air, whining at the loss of friction. "Slow down, naughty boy. Bad boys don't get to touch. Are you a bad boy?" you asked as you placed a finger on the tip of his cock, swirling it in the precum pooling there despite the water's efforts to wash it off. "No, no! I'm a good boy! You're just so pretty, and you feel so good, and you smell so nice, and I wanna touch you, and I want you to touch me, please." He blurted out, looking at you with hungry eyes, begging for more friction. "Where do you want to touch me baby?" you asked as his eyes raked over your body, taking in all of his options. "I want to touch your boobies and your- your-" "My what? You can say it, naughty boy." You cut him off in his stammering. "Your pussy, I want to touch your pussy." He said, the hot water spreading the blush from his cheeks down his chest, tingeing his cock with a pretty pink hue. "What naughty words from such a pretty boy. You can touch-" he cut you off, lunging towards your body before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing experimentally. Not too hard, not too soft. He moaned, and you felt the vibrations traveling up your hands."Let me finish what I was saying. Naughty boys don't get to touch. They get spanked." You said as he mewled." What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that you can touch, AFTER I wash you and after you finish washing me. Only after, you got it?" you said, squeezing a little tighter. "Y-yes." he croaked out. "Good boy," you replied.

You washed out the shampoo in his hair, replacing it with conditioner as he did the same for you. You squirted more soap onto your washcloth, preparing to test him. You took the washcloth in your hand, slowly working over his legs, arms, and chest, teasingly brushing over his overspent cock before returning to cleaning him. He washed you thoroughly, taking care to wash your legs before making sure your stomach and belly button piercing were thoroughly cleaned. Finally, he reached up to wash the leftover makeup off of your face. He touched you like a porcelain doll, worried that you would crack under even the slightest pressure, making you giggle. He flinched, thinking he hurt you, but you grabbed his face in your hands, delivering him a kiss that covered his face in soap.

You both stood there, laughing for a second, relishing the moment before you let out a shy smile. "You can touch my chest now, but make sure you clean my piercings carefully." He looked down at your chest, and now that he'd been given permission, he didn't really know what to do. You could see the puzzled look on his face so you grabbed one of his soapy hands in yours and brought it to your breast. He squeezed experimentally, and you let out a gentle moan. You had been keeping in your arousal to draw out his teasing, but you couldn't hold yourself back as you felt his large hands grasp around your chest and roll your nipple in his fingers.

There was a sweet dichotomy in the harshness of his grasp on your boob, coupled with the gentle twist of your nipple. It was as if he was worried to hurt your piercings, so he made up for it in his grasp. You brought the washcloth down to his cock, hard against his stomach, and began to work him. He whined at the harsh material. "I need to clean you up, baby. You still have a cummy cock. If you beg hard enough when I'm done, I will touch you." You said into his ear as he rested his head on your shoulder.

He was overstimulated, and you could tell, so you decided you wouldn't take as long as you wanted to tease him. But you would still draw it out for your own pleasure. He was bucking and mewling into you as you roughly got him off. It shot you straight to your core, the heat from the shower mixed with his grasp on you, physically and visually, had you closer than you wanted, and deep down you just wanted him to touch you.

When you deemed him clean enough you let the rag drop to the floor. "Beg" you moaned out. "Please, please touch me, I want your hand on me, that's all I want." He whined, bucking into the air. You took pity on him, grasping him with your soap-covered hand. He hissed as your soft touch replaced the rough rag and you could tell he was close. "Touch me, Spencer." You said and his hand shot to your core. His tentative moves giving way to a natural confidence. As he slipped a hand between your folds he could feel you dripping with desire. "O-Oh my god," was all he could stammer out before sinking two of his fingers into your depths, thumb circling your clit. You knew his fingers were long, and you had even fantasized about this exact moment, but nothing could prepare you for his actual length. He had said he did research but that was proven by how quickly he found your g spot and clit. You doubled over in pleasure as his fingers thoroughly fucked you out.

"Spencer, I'm so close, baby. Be a good boy and make me cum." You said, slumping against his shoulder, rubbing yourself against his hand. "Mommy, I'm cumming." He said, looking into your eyes as his body shuttered. His words ricochetted around in your brain, sending you over the edge as you cum all down his hand. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your scream, just as he matched you, cumming down your hand.

You came down from your high as Spencer nearly collapsed onto you. You took extra care in making sure he was all clean before helping him out of the shower and into a towel. He leaned against you the whole time as you got him ready for bed. You forced him to brush his teeth before dragging him to bed.

He sat at the edge, eyes bleary with sleep, taking in the events of the day. You sat behind him, gently toweling off his hair before brushing it and putting lotion on his body. He leaned into your touch, appreciating being cared for, feeling as if everything had been a dream. "C-Can I sleep here? I mean Morgan locked me out and I don't have pants and-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss."Of course, sweetheart, do you want to cuddle? It's ok if you don't or if you want this to be a one-time thing, it's all up to you, baby." You said, gently sweeping his hair out of his face as he looked up with eyes the size of dinner plates. "We can do this more than once? You'll let me? For real?" He asked. "Only if you want to sweetheart. This is all about you." You said, giving him a small smile tinged with a slight sadness. "That's not very fair, I want it to be about you too. What do you want?"

The question knocked you off guard. You're not used to people asking what you want. Usually, people just take and give none in return. The fact that Spencer Reid, your adorable virgin coworker was asking you what you wanted with such a sincere look, caused tears to prick into your eyes. "No one has asked me that in a long time," you smiled, "I would love to do this, and more again with you Spencer. Whenever you want." He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down so you were lying next to each other on the bed. "Whenever we want" He corrected, cuddling into you.

You surveyed the bite make you left on his shoulder, running your hand over it. "Sorry for marking you up, I didn't mean to hurt you." You said softly as he blushed. "I-I was actually wondering... well... could you maybe give me a hickey? I like that you marked me." He said. You obliged him, giving him long kisses and sucks, gradually working up your force until a large purple bruise had formed on his collar bone. He was gently moaning the whole time, but you didn't want to work him up again as he had already cum twice that night and you didn't think he could handle more. He looked down at it as you pulled away, and you could see a question lingering on his mind.

"What's up?" you asked, smoothing his hair with your hand. "You said you hadn't been asked what you want in a long time, and I was wondering, well... who gave you your piercings?" he asked tentatively and you laughed." You have been reading my book too much, how many chapters have you read?" You said and he looked up at you surprised."You knew? and... well... only 3 chapters. I didn't want to pry into your private life." He said. "You just pried enough to know I want to get pierced by someone?" You asked raising an eyebrow. Before he could get an excuse out, you cut him off. "Well for a genius, you obviously didn't read it that carefully. I said I WOULD like to be pierced during sex, meaning I have not before. These are just standard piercings from a piercing shop, not a big deal, I just like the way they look." You said and he let out a sigh of relief. "Why? d'you get jealous?" you questioned him. He looked down and nodded shyly.

"I can be a lot of firsts for you but if you play your cards right, you can be a lot of firsts for me too. You already gave me a first tonight. You called me mommy. No one's done that before but it was really hot. I liked it a lot." You said matter of factly. "But that is a conversation for another day. It is 2 am and we need to be on a flight at 7:30, so let's get some sleep." You said, turning off the lights and cuddling up close to him. In a matter of seconds, you both were asleep, tangled into each other's arms, both of you feeling, for once, safe and sound.

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Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Well wasn't that a doozy. I had so much fun writing that and I think it paid off for sure. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to my beloved tag list, speaking of which.

@spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos

[anecdochexiv]

pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive content

warnings: drinking, cursing, mentions of one night stands, grinding, kissing, implied sexual intercourse

wc: 2.2k

summary: it's shoto's birthday and some of the class goes out to celebrate. izuku finds himself talking to the prettiest girl he's ever seen and then one thing leads to another.

authors note: this is based off of 'the geeks get the girls' by american-hi-fi. super catchy and made me think of izuku lol. i hope you liked it. not proofread.

Midoriya has no idea what he’s doing here, this is the first time he’s ever gone to a bar and the only reason he’s here is because Shoto turned 21. They were just gonna hang out and watch a movie or play some video games but then Kaminari and Kirishima convinced them all to go out in celebration. Shoto figured it would be fun and Tenya convinced Midoriya to go that way they could watch over the others.

So now Midoriya finds himself sitting at the counter occasionally drinking from his glass of whiskey. They’ve been there for an hour now but no one seems to wanna go home and no one is really paying him any mind. Tenya was talking to him but once Kaminari got drunk enough he was rushing over to stop the blonde from jumping on a table and injuring multiple people. The two were outside with the blonde puking his guts up while the blue haired boy was ranting about how you should know your limits.

He plans on leaving but suddenly from the corner of his eye he sees a girl walking towards him. Initially he brushes it off as the girl wanting a drink, but then the stool next to him is pulled out and she's so clearly facing him and expecting him to talk. Fuck, what should he say? Should he open with a pick up line like Kaminari does? No, she probably isn't interested like that, why does he even want to flirt anyway?

Before he speaks he chugs his drink and turns to the girl shyly. She isn't directly facing him, but enough so that shows she's interested in conversation. Midoriya decides a simple hello should do the trick so he does just that. Only, he doesn't really know if he spoke at all, until she faces him with a kind smile and replies back. His face turns red, it was already red, but he can feel the warmth radiating off of him. Part of him wonders if she feels it and he gets warmer from embarrassment.

"Too shy?" She remarks him, kindly. He laughs a little, hoping she doesn't hear how nervous he is, and knowing she definitely hears how nervous he is. Why is he so nervous anyway? He talks to girls all the time, does he always get this way? The answer is yes, but Izuku doesn't like to admit that women make him nervous. Izuku needs to stop getting nervous, girls aren't into that. Izuku also needs to stop rambling and actually speak, girls like when you speak.

"U-uhm..." He stutters out, worried she's going to run away. "Do you like astrology?" He doesn't really register what he's saying. Girls like astrology right? At least that's what he hears. She laughs next to him and he realizes he said that out loud and turns away. Izuku really needs to stop rambling, especially out loud. Girls don't like guys who talk a lot. At least that's what he hears.

"Yeah, astrology is cool, but I'm not huge into it ya know?" She touches his shoulder reassuringly and he wills himself to turn back to her. He nods at her understanding, he doesn't trust his mouth to open, at least not yet. Izuku should probably let her speak, girls like to talk. At least he hopes they do.

She takes a swig of her drink before giving Izuku a big smile. "What's your sign?" She then tells him her sign and Izuku has to rack his brain for his sign. When has he ever looked at his sign, once maybe? His face heats up, why did he bring up a conversation he can't interact in? Fuck, he's losing his chance with such a pretty girl. "Ah! I'm sorry!" Izuku is talking out loud again and really needs to stop thinking so much. He chugs more whiskey.

She laughs and it's the most reassuring and beautiful sound he's ever heard before. Her laugh helps him untense, but Izuku stays on edge hoping to not embarrass himself any further. "Ya know..." She trails off biting her lip and Izuku stares at it. His body becomes warm all over and the sober part of his brain is screaming at him to stop thinking such dirty thoughts.

"I think you're kind of cute. That's why I came over here to talk to you." He doesn't reply, just stares off in the distance in shock and he swears his brain is short circuiting. Did he suddenly get a new quirk or does this just happen when girls compliment you? Maybe Kaminari walked by and accidently shocked him, but the blonde is still outside with Tenya.

Izuku gasps and sputters out some form of a reply. Trying to say something like thank you and you're cute too. He has no idea if she understands anything but she's smiling so kindly he assumes she understands him just fine. Eventually he blurts out that he should stop talking and covers his face looking away from her. He can feel his whole body on fire when he hears her giggle at him.

"We should go dance! Have you ever danced?" Even though Izuku isn't the best at dancing, he silently thanks Mina for all the dancing she forces them to do for fun, this is the first time it's come in handy. "Uh yeah, I dance sometimes." He sighs out a reply, hoping she doesn't hear how relieved he is to be doing something other than talking.

If he's being honest, Midoriya thinks he's a pretty great talker but right now? Right now he's tipsy and in front of him is the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, so if dancing is the only option here to not embarrass himself, he'll take it. She sends him a genuine smile, something full of excitement and something he knows but can't quite place just yet.

As she leads him to the small dance floor he passes by Shoto who sends him an awkward smile and a thumbs up. Izuku flashes him a nervous glance but silently thanks him for the encouragement. Once his feet hit the dance floor his body is freezing up, he's not really sure what to do, but then she turns around and she's suddenly so very close.

She's close enough that he can see the different hues in her eyes and see all the little scars that litter her face from age. He's reminded by how incredibly gorgeous she is and the breath is leaving his lungs when she wraps her arms around his neck and starts guiding him to the rhythm of the music. She gives him a light smile when he places his hands on her hips, which he's nervous about doing but this is dancing right?

Yeah dancing is about feeling the rhythm and not caring about anyone who stares. Dancing is about looking into your partner's soul and memorizing the way their body moves and feels. Well, whatever dancing is, Midoriya can get used to this as long as it's with her. Even after dancing with Mina all the time, he's never seen someone so graceful and light and he's absolutely enamored with her.

A gasp leaves his lips when she turns around, her hands are caressing his face and her hips are pushing back into him. Izuku has never felt so warm before, not even all his fighting against Kaachan and Shoto can compare to this warmth he feels and he's desperately trying not to get turned on. His efforts prove futile when she turns her head and gives him the lightest kiss he's ever experienced.

Before he can register the words he's asking her if they should go to her place or his and Midoriya almost punches himself for blurting that out without knowing how she even feels. Girls are difficult for Midoriya, but most people are hard for him to read. Instead of replying she just gives him a smile and giggles before detaching herself and leaving the dance floor.

Izuku is so embarrassed that he doesn't let his gaze follow her to see her leaving the bar. He runs to the bathroom to throw water on his face and get his thoughts together. As he stares at himself in the mirror he thinks about all the times before when he's had a one night stand. It was so easy, almost too easy, to get girls in his apartment because of his hero status. This one is different and that makes him want to search for anyone that might have her number, he doesn't want to let her leave his life so soon.

"Hey, sorry to leave so soon but I've gotta go. Happy birthday dude!" He tells Shoto, who returns a knowing glance and a small smile. As soon as Izuku exits the bar he's greeted with the girl standing there looking at the sky. She turns to him and smiles and his heart starts racing again. "What took so long?" She quips out with a laugh. He can feel his face heat up but he laughs back.

"Let's go to your place." She lightly nudges his arm and he smiles a little too big at that before leading her to his car. The ride is quick and quiet and the tension in the air has Izuku fidgeting and squirming all over the place. When he opens his apartment he mentally scolds himself for the mess him and his friends left. As soon as he goes to apologize she's already latching onto him, arms draped around his neck and lips crashing into his.

The kiss is slightly messy, but surprisingly gentle and he melts into her quicker than he'd like to admit. He doesn't waste time with leading her to the bedroom and along the way they're both losing clothes and throwing them wherever. He starts to trail down her neck as he slowly places her onto the bed and Izuku thinks he could die right there with the pleasant moan she lets out.

It all goes by in a blur, air filled with passion he's never felt and moans he's never heard or even made himself. He lets himself be drowned in the feeling of her and doesn't care about the consequences of what tomorrow could bring. He thinks this time might be different as they fall asleep cuddled up next to each other and he relishes in the softness of her body.

When the morning comes he feels an immediate sense of dread. Midoriya opens his eyes to an empty bed, the only occupant being him, and lets out a long sigh. Maybe all those feelings were just the alcohol talking cause he can't explain it any other way, nothing has ever felt that good before. He turns and buries himself in the covers and pillows and tells himself that he'll start today with a long cold shower, rinsing away all those feelings.

"You awake yet?" When he turns to the sound the last thing he expects is to see the girl he was just moping over, but there she is in his bedroom doorway with a glass of water and a mug of coffee. "I thought you might have a headache and got you some water. Oh!" She gestures to the coffee, "I made some coffee, hope you don't mind me making myself at home!"

Her laugh brings all those feelings from last night back and Izuku hopes she doesn't see the relief in his face as he sits up and takes the water. He chugs it quickly and sets it on the nightstand before chucking to himself. "I thought you left honestly." He gives her a gentle smile and is surprised to see her sad face. "Why would I leave?"

Midoriya doesn't know how to reply, he's never seen anyone look sad at the prospect of leaving him alone before. "Umm..." He trails off, "'Cause I'm a pro-hero and girls are always after me you know? Isn't that something girls fantasize about or something?" He's laughing dejectedly and isn't ready for the reply she shoots back.

"Well..." She's nervous as she plays with the mug in her hands, "I don't know much about pro-heroes, but I meant it when I said you were cute." Her face is red, such a pretty red that Izuku wants to take a photo and frame it in his mind forever. "Last night meant a lot to me and..." She fixes him with a deadly stare.

"I'd like to be your girlfriend, or friends if you don't wanna rush things." The thought is stuck in his head and instead of rambling like usual, Izuku finds himself staring at her in complete shock. Only when she starts to get nervous and shake does he snap out of it. "I-I'd really l-like that!"

They both just kind of stare at each other and smile like idiots before giggling and then full on laughing. She sets the mug down and climbs onto his lap, wasting no time interlocking their lips and grinding down onto him. They giggle into each other's mouths and Izuku thinks about how he'd love to wake up to the view of her on top of him every morning.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[lockefanfic]

The Girl with the Purple Hair

A/N: No smut here, guys, sorry to disappoint you - just some fluff. I wrote this fic literally four (!) years ago - one of my first k-pop fics and my first non-smut fic. I never reposted it here for some reason, but an ask I received recently got me to re-read it and I remembered how proud I was of it when I wrote it, so here it is. Please don’t judge me :P

---

Purple.

 It’s the first word that comes to mind when you see her. And how could it not be, given the color of her hair? It’s not like purple hair is a common thing - not like there are other people in the noisy, crowded bar that have purple hair. In fact, this is probably the first time you’ve seen someone in person with purple hair. Normal people had normal colored hair, like black or brown or blonde. Her hair isn’t some lazy dye job, either, with shades and highlights and a gradient to the violet strands.

 You don’t want to be caught staring, and so you steal glances at her every now and then, and every time you look her way, the first thing you notice is the wavy strands of purple as they play about her shoulders, falling lazily down like a waterfall on an alien world, where the water happens to be purple.

 Beautiful.

 It’s the next word that comes to mind, because were anyone to look just a little past the eye-dazzling color of her hair, they’d find a beautiful face, made with delicate, small features. She is traditionally beautiful in the sense that any man or woman  would agree with you if you said “here is an attractive human being.” There is a timelessness, a universality to her beauty. She could have been born a hundred years ago and still be considered pleasing to the eye - purple hair aside, she could be a painting of a woman from a time gone by, dressed up in the fashion of a model from the magazines of today.

 There is a playfulness about her features at the moment, as she indulges in conversation with the three other girls at her table. Her three friends are nothing to sneeze at, but she makes them all pale in comparison - part of it is the ridiculous, daring color of her hair, but there is something more than that. She possesses a magnetism, an allure that makes her stand out amongst three girls that, were they anywhere else, would easily be the most attractive girls in the room.

 You’re not alone either, sitting as you are with a few of your friends at your own table on the other side of the small bar. It is Friday evening, and as is custom with your co-workers, you all headed to the bar to celebrate another week gone by. But they are currently immersed in a conversation about some work-related topic, some absent co-worker or client (you weren’t really sure anymore) that was frustrating them. Uninterested in the topic, you found your attention drifting, naturally, to the girl with the purple hair.

 You notice that she has a certain aloofness about her, a certain detached nature from the conversation her three friends are having, and for a moment you wonder if perhaps she is in the same boat as you - stuck at a bar with friends who are babbling about co-workers or video games or guys or shopping or cars or clothes or those girls in the random k-pop video playing on one of the big screen TVs, when clearly you’d rather be anywhere but there.

 The other three girls seem like average girls, typical of the type you’d see at a downtown bar on a Friday night, out to have a good time with friends whilst under the influence of perhaps one too many alcoholic beverages. They are the type that would head to a club after they are sufficiently liquored up at this bar, spend the night dancing, post a group picture on Instagram when the night is at its peak, and then make a post on Facebook about how awesome it was the day after.

 But the girl with the purple hair seems different from the other three.

 She lets her gaze wander, and for a split second you are afraid again that perhaps she would catch you staring, but thankfully her eyes drift in a direction opposite from you. She lets a small, almost imperceptible sigh escape her lips, and you wonder if perhaps she would rather be somewhere else, perhaps at home on the couch binge watching some random show on Netflix, or playing Overwatch, or indulging in some random artistic pursuit that you didn’t even know existed.

 She seems like the type that would play Overwatch. She seems like the type that paints, or makes her own earrings that she sells on Etsy, or likes to watch movies in foreign languages. Maybe she watches them with the subtitles off sometimes, just to see if she can understand what they’re talking about simply from the universality of gestures made by foreign hands and the tones of foreign voices coming from foreign mouths.

 The sudden realization that you are framing this random girl in your mind rattles you a bit, and you smile to yourself as you shake your head, as if to rid those stupid, childish thoughts. You didn’t know this girl, not even in the slightest, and it was wrong of you to impose a character, a personality, on someone you knew nothing about.

 You play idly with the small glass of whiskey in your hand, watching as the amber brown liquid swirls about. You take a sip and appreciate the warm taste of it in your mouth and down your throat, appreciating the soft burn, the soft warmth it leaves behind.

 You take a moment to try to tune back into the conversation your friends are having, but they are knee-deep in a conversation about a Super Nintendo game. You loved vintage games - there was something about the original plastic in your hands, and the classic, blocky pixels on your screen, that made it feel more authentic in the way an emulator on a modern console could never be.

 You are about to join in on the conversation, about to tell your friends about some random game you picked up online, when a movement on the other side of the bar catches your attention - the girl in the purple hair is raising a glass. One of her friends is speaking earnestly, it appears, and after finishing her little speech the brunette girl next to her gives her a hug - perhaps it was a toast? Perhaps it is the brunette’s birthday? It probably was. Either way, the girls clink their glasses together, and down their shots in one gulp.

 The girl in the purple hair scrunches her face as she forces the strong liquor down her throat. Immediately you think that perhaps it the cutest thing you’d ever witnessed, and you find that a small smile has appeared, unconsciously, on your lips.

 The four girls share that wonderful post-shot reaction with each other, complaining about how awesome that small bit of alcohol they just had was. Together three of them tease the orange-haired, thin girl who is struggling with the alcohol and having a coughing fit. They laugh and one of them grabs her phone to take a picture of the poor girl, who, to her credit, is laughing along with them, probably out of embarrassment.

 The girl with the purple hair joins in on the fun, saying something that must have been hilarious, for all three of her companions burst out in laughter - including the thin girl struggling with the shot. The girl smiles, and her eyes narrow to thin half-arcs. In that moment she is the picture of happiness and joy.

 She says something else to her group - you assume it is her declaring that the next round is on her. She stands, and the girls make way for her to leave their table.

 For the first time you get a glimpse of her from head to toe. She is wearing a short, black dress, and what appears to be a grey patterned collared shirt beneath it. The dress is plain and relatively short but not overly so, showing off her long, slender legs without being improper or overly suggestive. It’s an interesting outfit; classy enough to be worn to work, whilst casual enough for a night out with the girls.

 Here again she differs from her compatriots, who appear to be dressed in typical club girl outfits, with short tops and skirts, heels and small, glamorous purses and accessories. If ever there was a club girl starter kit, they were perfect models.

 But the girl with the purple hair, as you’ve come to see, is a little different from her friends.  

 You watch as she approaches the bar. There is an elegance in the way she walks, which is admirable considering the alcohol you presume she’s consumed thus far this evening.

 Later on, you’ll wonder where your sudden burst of confidence came from. But at that moment, when the girl with the purple hair reaches the bar and tries, unsuccessfully, to flag down the overly busy bartender, you see an opportunity.

 Hastily, you mumble something to your friends about grabbing the next round, and step away from the table. Out of the corner of your ear, you hear one of your friends wonder where you’re going, and another say that you still have an almost full pitcher at your table - but they are irrelevant now. Nothing else exists aside from the thirty feet between you and the spot at the bar next to the girl with the purple hair.

 Where did this come from, this sudden burst of confidence, this sudden need to get up and go over to this girl to talk to her? Was it the liquor, the liquid confidence coursing through your veins? No. It was the desire, nay, the need to speak to this girl, the need to see if she really was everything you’d built up in your mind. You needed to speak to her, to ask her her name, maybe find out a little about her. Even if she shot you down before you could get a sentence out, well, at least you had tried. You couldn’t bear the thought of wondering what might have been had you not done something.

 Ten feet away. You take a deep breath, and ready what you are about to say in your mind. Some comment about her hair? A stupid, corny joke, just to break the ice?

 Five feet away. Maybe some witty comment about bad bartenders?

 Two feet - and suddenly your thoughts disappear, and your mind goes blank as the girl with the purple hair turns her head and makes eye contact with you. Later you would realize that moment seemed to go on forever. You were hardly the mushy, sentimental type, but you finally understood why the movies slow that moment down, why the soft music plays in the background during those scenes. You wonder if this is what it feels like when someone who will be important in your life looks at you for the first time.

 You are relieved, beyond words, to see a smile appear on her lips.

 You smile back, although you wonder if perhaps the nervousness coursing throughout every fibre of your being is having an effect on your smile, and if you are actually grimacing oddly at her instead of smiling. But your mouth and lips miraculously follow the orders sent to them by your dazzled mind, because her smile widens a little bit in the way that smiles do when they are returned.

 It is just a second, maybe two, of the many billions of seconds in your life, but it felt like an eternity.

 You reach the bar, your legs - your wonderful, reliable, stable legs - by some miracle not failing you and delivering you safely to the bar without collapsing due to sheer nervousness. You remember who you are, what you came here to do, and you try to act as casual as your nerves could allow you to. You make a show of trying to flag down the bartender, but he is busy on the other end of the bar catering to some especially loud patrons.

 Your mind is racing, trying and failing to remember what it was you were going to say to the girl with the purple hair, your nerves suddenly afire at the mere proximity of the young woman you’d been stealing glances at all night. You were far from inexperienced with the opposite sex, far from being some timid fool when it came to approaching them. But this one was different. This one was special.

 Maybe you should just say hi. Start simple, y’know? But dammit, that never works. You needed something witty, something memorable, something that would make her laugh and giggle and think ‘clearly this man’s shirt is made of boyfriend material and I should throw myself into his arms posthaste.’ You don’t get that with hi!. No one gets that with hi. Girls want someone cocky and confident and sure of himself. No one ever just says hi! You know who approaches girls and says hi? Single guys, that’s who! Don’t just say hi!

 Dammit! What were you going to say? Your mind races, tries to think back to other times you’d approached girls, tries to remember what you said to them when you were successful. Gah! Your mind fails you, returns only a simple blank slate, as though your mind had put on its hat and jacket, hung up a sign that said “you’re on your own, kid,” and then started to walk home.

You tap your fingers nervously on the bar surface, trying, and perhaps failing, to appear as casual as possible as you stare, blankly, in the general direction of the too-busy bartender as he struggles to pour the correct kinds of alcohol in the correct kinds of glasses in the correct proportions.

 Clearly you needed to make some witty comment to break the ice. A small joke, perhaps? A corny one, or a genuinely funny one? What was a good joke… dammit! Damn you, mind, and your vacation time! Perhaps mention something… about… sports! Yes, it was a bar, and there were sports playing on the TVs. Maybe she was a hockey fan? Or soccer? What if she liked one, but not the other? Which sport had the highest proportion of purple haired fans? What if she thought sports were stupid, a male-dominated dick measuring contest that wasn’t worth her time or attention, and she thought less of you for liking them? Dammit!

 Maybe you should comment on her hair? Maybe something along the lines of… perhaps… using her hair to get the bartender’s attention? Then segue into how it got your attention. That’s it. Hahahaha, you laugh nervously in your mind’s eye. Then she would say how she was hoping you’d come over to talk to her, and you’d say she was awesome and you’d go on a date the next day and get married a month after that and later you’d have kids and live happily ever-

 There is a soft tap on your forearm. You turn, nervously, to the girl with the purple hair, and the sight of her face, her eyes locked on yours, that bright smile once again on her lips, causes your heart to skip a beat like it was a crack on the sidewalk.

 The next day, when you’d recovered from the whirlwind of the night’s events, you’d realize that her first words to you, the first sounds you’d hear from her voice, would sound like music. And it was crazy, considering it was just a single syllable, a single word, but someone could have told you that the entirety of Beethoven’s works were held within that syllable, and you’d have believed it.

 The girl with the purple hair’s mouth opens, her lips part, a she leans towards you with a soft smile and says:

 “...Hi.”

[melisa-may-taylor72]

Record Mirror- 08-25-1984

Ministry Of Works

Did you know that Freddie Mercury wants to make a reggae record? And that Roger Taylor would be selling flowers if he wasn't in Queen? Read on for more fascinating facts

MAYHEM IN Munich! Freddie Mercury is cavorting with a scantily dressed transvestite and it's only three in the afternoon. Are you man or woman enough to read on? Then swallow your vitamin pills and follow me.

Queen are limbering up for their forthcoming tour in Germany and to celebrate another single rising majestically up the charts, they're holding a little press bash in Munich's P1 club. A place even more decadent than the South Finchley Whiskey A Go Go.

The ghost of Adolf Hitler probably wanders around here on dark nights, as The Fuhrer used to store his paintings and other plunder in the club and the building next door. Unfortunately there's nothing left around today.

Instead, the club has gems of another kind. A selection of Queen's videos including the notorious 'Body Language' — and champagne and wine flowing like Niagara Falls.

The cabaret is Freddie's own idea: a group of well passed it drag artists, so outrageous in G strings and lingerie that they make Divine seem as tame as Marjorie Proops. Freddie's more than willing to join in when one of the girls does a rendition of 'I Want To Break Free', but the rest of the members of Queen look on shyly from the comforts of the bar. Everybody, but everybody is here to witness the event, including a film crew from the US air force, tramping around in full combat gear making a nuisance of themselves.

Freddie's doing well considering he's in quite a lot of pain. He remains tight lipped about the full details but he injured his leg after an incident in a club. A physiotherapist has been pummelling at it nearly every day.

"This c+ + + kicked me," says Fred. "I'm hoping my knee will be ready in time for the tour, but it's still giving me a lot of trouble. It might mean I will have to cut down on some of my more elaborate gorgeous stage moves."

FRED'S ALSO been hobbling around a Munich recording studio putting the finishing touches to his first ever solo album which should be out in January. Gadzooks, could this be the start of a split with Queen? Is it true Limahl's going to take over?

"Not at all. I've wanted to do a solo album for a long time and the rest of the band have encouraged me to do it. Some of them are even featured doing a few bits and pieces to help me out.

"There are a lot of musical territories I wanted to explore, which I couldn't really do with Queen. I wanted to cover such things as reggae rhythms and I've done a couple of tracks with a symphony orchestra. It will have a very rich sound."

Fred's also done some work with Michael Jackson, but he still doesn't know when this is going to see the light of day. They've done a selection of tracks together in Michael's home studio. For a while, Fred was even in the running to do 'State Of Shock'.

"I was out of town at the time so Mick did it instead," he says. "I don't mind at all. I'd like to release something with Michael because he is a really marvellous person to work with. It's all a question of time because we never seem to be together at the right time. Just think, I could have been on 'Thriller'. Think of the royalties I've missed out on.

"Michael has been a friend of ours for a long time. He's been to our shows and enjoyed them. We make a great team."

One of Fred's songs 'Love Kills', is being used on the soundtrack of the reactivated 'Metropolis' film and he hopes to make a 20 minute video using four or five of his own songs.Freddie and all the members of Queen have a long standing appreciation of 'Metropolis', which originally came out in 1927. Their stage set, in the shape of a futuristic city, has been inspired by it.The lighting rig measures 74ft by 50ft and the original design was so heavy they had to change it because it was in danger of bringing theatre roofs down. What a way to go, crushed by your own equipment.

AFTER THE European tour. Queen will be taking the whole shebang down to South America, headlining a 10 day festival in Rio. The place they will be playing is an amphitheatre down by the sea that can seat 300,000 people a night. It all makes Castle Donington seem like just another night at the Marquee. A local radio station in Rio held a survey to see who the most popular bands were and then some local promoters went out and booked them for the extravaganza. Naturally, Queen came out top.

Queen will also be doing some shows in South Africa. This is more than just a little bit controversial. Especially with the memory of Nelson Mandela still very warm.

"We've thought about the morals of it a lot and it's something we've decided to do," says Brian May. "This band is not political, we are not out to make statements, we play to entertain anybody who comes to listen. The show will be in Botswana in front of a mixed audience."

The band wanted to play Russia but the authorities objected. This situation might change now though, considering that Iron Maiden have been let into Poland to wreak havoc. *

"The Russians still think we're very decadent," confides Roger Taylor. "We want to play China as well, and Korea. John and I spent a holiday in Korea and it's a fascinating place. They're finishing work on the Olympic stadium for the next games!

Perhaps the Ruskies heard about Roger's high living on Ibiza. He's bought a house there and enjoys powerboat racing. Play time is over for the time being, though. After their two year break. Queen have been working more than 12 hours a day rehearsing.

"It's strange how rusty we are, and so we're trying to blow the cobwebs away," continues Roger. "It's taking a lot of work. Usually we rehearse until about nine and then we eat together and decide what we're going to do in the evenings. The clubs here are really fun. Something to cater for every taste or perversion.

"On the tour we'll be playing a lot of the old material and we'll be giving the audience what they want. A lot of the music I hear in the charts today doesn't interest me. I just can't see how anybody can get excited over Spandau Ballet. It doesn't send shivers up my spine. I like listening to Bruce Springsteen."

They might be old stagers, but Roger claims that tickets for Queen's British shows sold oul in three hours flat and they could have easily played another 12 nights here.

"We still have the rock and roil gypsy mentality," he says. "Even after 12 years without a line-up change we still really enjoy the buzz from playing live and the fact that we have hit singles. Some bands in our position might take it all in their stride, but we're still like kids, we get very excited.

"You've got to have a laugh haven't you? If Queen wasn't any fun, then I'd jack it all in and go and sell flowers."

Robin Smith

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy, @briianmaay, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @aslongasthereismusic, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @drivenbybrianmay @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance,  @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury,  @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @foxmonkey, @deakysgurl, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks-deactivated2, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @autumnscenemcyt, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @frejudy, @drivenbybrimay, @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @saik-ava, @omb-xx, @sassymaylor, @somekindofroger, @starlightmay, @freddiemercuryismylife, @sunshine112, @chrysochromulina, @glitteryloveravenue, @deakyislife51, @0-primejive-0, @just-a-skinny-lad, @bluewillowmom, @sassiesillie, @stesichoreanpalinode, @mrfahrenheitmercury @tayloredofqueen, @0-my-fairy-queen-0, @scandalacious @izzy-is-slightly-mad @39-volunteers-to-space  @zodiacaldust, @deakytaylor, @queenband70s, @deakyeveryday, @drivenbybrimay, @70smay, @brianharoldmay39, @everybandsnotqueen, @johns-diqi  @oneandthreeseventh

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3